Three years later, and after countless black deaths by police, I find myself being asked by the editors here at RD to write about the deaths of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, and about the five policemen shot and killed in Dallas.

I know. You want me to say something profound, the hard thing. You want me to say something passionate, something to rally you, something to make you feel like there is hope, and that we’re going to change.

But that’s not what this piece is about.

You see, I’m done believing. I’m done believing that writing words about this shit is going to make it better. I’m done believing that religion will help Black people get justice in America. It isn’t. Black men and women are still dead, Police are still jacking us up and shooting black people for minor infractions, and white Americans are still yelling, “We want to take our country back.”

I’m tired of giving you the fiery words of a prophet. I was right in what I wrote three years ago: America is reaping the bitter fruits of the racist, white supremacist crap it has sown.

What’s next? Hell if I know. I can hazard a guess: the streets this summer will be full of pain and protest. Police will be even more fearful—and trigger happy. White suburbanites will buy more guns to make themselves feel safer, and Donald Trump will look like a savior. Meanwhile Black parents will talk to their children in hushed tones, Philando and Alton’s relatives will cry bitter tears (and be approached by predatory lawyers hoping to catch a civil case) and children will have nightmares and call out for their fathers.

Preachers will ignore, or call on people to pray, but not to act. The rest of us will drink, fornicate and forget.

I’m done saving you, good white folks. You want Black people like me, who like you, to say the prophetic thing, and bail your ass out for not speaking up, for remaining quiet—while you get your work, vacations and scholarship done this summer. Meanwhile, I try to hold it together to write a 800-word piece without crying and wanting to tear my hair out about the pain of my people.

I’m not writing prophetic words to you anymore. You fix this shit. I’m done carrying the cross of America, its false promises of democracy and inclusion, the documents that excluded me and called my ancestors three-fifths of a person. You figure it out.

I’m about comforting Black people now. We need each other. I can’t help you feel less guilty about maintaining a violent, racist, gun-obsessed nation called America.

As for you black folks calling out to Jesus, hoping for redemption, I envy you. You can sing the gospel songs, and hope for redemption. I don’t see it coming. I see fire. I see blood. I see the fire this time.

I long for the day I can pack my bags and leave the United States. I want to live as an expat, returning to visit my family from time to time. I won’t miss much. I won’t miss the horrible cable news, or the sanctimonious preachers, or the respectability blacks who wish we’d all just get out of the streets and stop protesting. I won’t miss the well-meaning white people who try to commiserate, but won’t have a substantive conversation, or commit to fighting for justice and equality for brown and black people. I won’t miss the large majority of the Asian American community that remains silent. And I sure as hell won’t miss the fake Christianity of conservative white evangelicals.

Yes, I am bitter. I am tired. I am broken. This battle is for those who have strength, who have hope. I teach the history of American religion and African American religion. I know better than to have hope in this nation to heal its original sin of slavery and racism.

Because wearing masks helps to stem the spread of the coronavirus primarily by preventing infected people who aren’t experiencing symptoms from infecting others, people around the world now regularly wear them to protect others in their communities. But in America, not wearing a mask has become a political statement — and it’s a statement increasingly being made by avowedly devout Christians.

For example, attendees at the Students for Trump rally at the Dream City Church in Phoenix on Tuesday mostly eschewed wearing masks and did not socially distance, instead relying on pastors who had claimed they’d installed a system in the church that killed 99.9 percent of COVID-19 in the air. (The pastors later took down a video of the claims, which were debunked by experts who noted that the virus is primarily spread by respiratory droplets by people within 6 feet of each other.)

Whether what follows — in a county currently in the middle of a spike in community transmission, with 1,231 new cases reported Tuesday alone — is another spike in cases won’t likely be clear for two weeks. But, if it is, it won’t be the first time that a church has been the locus of transmission when they had the knowledge not to be.

Since the pandemic-related stay-at-home orders began in March, we’ve had pastors arrested for holding church services in violation of them, numerous outbreaks of COVID-19 traced to churches, and even a certain man in a white house who wanted Easter Sunday to be not just the celebration of Jesus coming out of the tomb, but the edict for going back to church. From singing in churches to attending funerals, churches have become serious vectors for the spread of the virus — and yet some pastors seem to have missed the memo.

In Oregon, the Lighthouse Pentecostal church in Island City is the site of a major outbreak of the coronavirus. The church held services in April and May even though the state of Oregon put size restrictions on gatherings; weddings and graduation events were also held at the church during that time. Last weekend, 66 percent of 356 people at the church who were tested ended up positive for the virus. While the church had videos of various events without social distancing up on its website, those have now been taken down, and the leadership has gone silent.

Across the country in West Virginia, Graystone Baptist Church has also contributed 41 cases to a broader coronavirus outbreak in the area. The pastor encouraged but hadn’t required parishioners to wear marks, and stopped the handshaking part of the service but didn’t stop parishioners from doing it anyway; he told the Register-Herald, “The bottom line is this is the attack of the devil on my church.” State officials have linked most of the cases in the broader outbreak to either church services or tourism to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.

Even a priest of a Catholic church outside Sacramento, California, who did not wear a mask while giving Communion on June 13 and 14 — ignoring the guidance from the diocese said that they should do so— tested positive for the virus. To date, at least, none of his parishioners (or the unmasked deacons who also gave out Communion) have tested positive, according to news reports.

It seems like it is time to ask an important question: Is the recalcitrance of Christians — and, predominantly evangelical Christians — to wearing masks and limiting their churchgoing killing their neighbors? Or, alternatively: Why is it such a big deal for churches and the faithful to wear masks, or worship online at home?

The answer to these questions lies in understanding something that’s become implicit about some faith traditions in America: For many, their religious activities are not just about their faith, it is also about their politics. And since a simple face covering has become the focus of the new political culture war — going without a mask is standing for freedom, according to those who don’t want to wear one because they are following the president — it’s not surprising then that churches, especially conservative ones, are hotbeds for unmasked worship, limited social distancing and, thus, the spread of the coronavirus.

It is, after all, important to love one’s neighbor — but in America, individual freedom is often more prized than biblical admonitions. The churches that pressed to open their doors early or even meet in defiance of stay-at-home orders did so not because they were afraid their members’ faith would fail in 90 days. Pastors prefer to preach to members (who then open their physical wallets when a basket is passed) rather than a computer screen of people. Pastor Tony Spell — who was placed on house arrest for opening up his church in Louisiana in defiance of state stay-at home orders — is an excellent example of a pastor whose demands seemed to be less about meeting the needs of his members and more about attaining broader recognition for himself and the church.

Not all churches however, have forgotten how to love their neighbor; many churches in America are being careful, implementing distancing requirements, forgoing singing and requiring members to wear masks. A pastor in Orange County, California, asked the board of supervisors to reimplement a mask requirement (and was ridiculed for her efforts, rather brutally).

Or take the Houston Northwest Church — which, like Phoenix’s Dream City Church that played host to the Trump rally, finds itself in the middle of one of the new rapidly growing epicenters of COVID-19 in America. It has decided that all attendees should wear masks. According to pastor Steve Bezner, they began to see masks as, and explain to parishioners that masks represent, a “love of neighbor.” When in-person services resumed in early June, masks were required to be worn upon entering the sanctuary and, once inside, if members did not wish to wear a mask, they are required to sit in the maskless section, while those wearing a mask sit together, as well.

Other churches, of course, are forgoing meeting in person altogether until the situation improves.

While the virus rages across America, to mask or not to mask isn’t really so much a question of politics as it is an imperative of public health. So if Christians truly believed that they should love their neighbors as themselves or obey the golden rule, then wearing masks ought to be a no-brainer. Unfortunately, for so long, many churches preached that Republicanness was next to godliness — and now a strict adherence to the gospel of Trump all but demands they ignore those of Leviticus 19:18, Matthew 22:39, Mark 12:31 and Luke 10:27.

But if we are ever going to end this pandemic — and grieving over Zoom and iPads — people of faith are going to have to listen to science and the Bible, care for each other and our communities as much as ourselves and our political heroes, and wear our masks.

https://www.nbcnews.com/think/opinion/trump-s-phoenix-megachurch-rally-proves-how-much-faith-face-ncna1231992

Translation: “we got played, but this is not our game in the first place.”

The fact that the Vatican actually issued a statement after Vatican spokesman Fr. Lombardi said he wouldn’t comment is amazing enough. It would be a mistake, however, to make simplistic assumptions that either the Pope is in the tank for Kim Davis, that Liberty Counsel’s Mathew Staver’s version of the meeting is the truth, or that the Pope proved he was really a culture warrior who lied about everything he said in the US. To quote Facebook: it’s complicated.

While this feels like a break up between the Pope and all the great press he received for his welcoming tone in America, the truth is more complicated.

The best explication of what most likely happened has come from Charles Pierce in Esquire, who verified (correctly) that Archbishop Carlo Vigano, the nuncio, is the person who hastily arranged the meeting between the Pope and Kim Davis.

Archbishop Vigano is a Pope Benedict XVI supporter involved in the Vatileaks scandal. Vigano has lied about his own brother, with whom he is involved in a dispute about their considerable family inheritance. Or, to put it another way, Archbishop Carlo Maria Vigano is the Petyr Baelish of this particular iteration of Vatican “Game of Thrones.” The Archbishop decided to wade into the culture wars at the behest of parties yet unknown, or his own spite at being driven out of Rome.

Whatever the reason, the Archbishop is the key to this festering mess. Kim Davis, who has her own popularity issues, is simply a pawn between two patriarchal organizations—The Vatican and Liberty Counsel.

What Mathew Staver and Liberty Counsel have done well, is to manage the media narrative. They announced the meeting around 2am in Rome, while everyone was asleep, got Davis on Good Morning America, and left the Vatican media apparatus flatfooted and flailing. Liberty Counsel has also issued a rebuttal to the Vatican’s statement on the meeting, which is naïve at best.

Staver lying at the Values Voters Summit about 100,000 people in Peru praying for Kim Davis proves that he’s willing to stretch a story to fit the narrative of Kim Davis as a Martyr and “conscientious objector.” No matter how much he may continue to assert that “Vatican officials approved the visit,” I would suspect the only Vatican official he most likely spoke with was Archbishop Vigano, who let Kim Davis and Staver in the back door of the Nunciature (Vatican embassy).

Not the first time that’s happened either. Remember, Pope Benedict’s personal butler gave his personal documents to the Italian press.

For everyone understandably mad and hurt about the Pope meeting Kim Davis, those feelings are valid. Looking at this from an American media or political perspective misses the real point—the Papal visit was hijacked by the Nuncio and Matt Staver as a power play with several objectives: to both change the tone of the Papal visit, to promote Kim Davis as the “saint” of the battle against same sex marriage, and to hijack the beginning of the Synod on the family which may or may not have the potential to make some interesting changes in the church.

The real meeting about religious liberty was the visit of Pope Francis to the Little Sisters of the Poor, not Kim Davis. Kim Davis was used to upset the non-confrontational narrative of the Papal visit, particularly on culture war issues like same-sex marriage, abortion, and homosexuality—all issues on which the Pope is very clear about upholding current Catholic teaching. As Sarah Posner said, “The Pope is still Catholic.”

Trying to read Vatican politics through the lens of American politics and media concerns is not helpful in this particular instance. Rather, parsing out the players, the mess, and potential outcomes will yield a better understanding of what the stakes are for Pope Francis and the upcoming Synod. Kim Davis impacts his “reputation” but the substance was always the same. Don’t expect Mathew Staver or Liberty Counsel to understand the intrigue and power plays that happen inside the Vatican. They made a great play here, but that play was a gift from the Nuncio, who has managed to be in the middle of both Vatileaks and the Kim Davis Papal blessing.

Stay tuned. There will be more “ratf*cking” to come, to borrow Charles Pierce’s colorful description. Pope Francis may want to take a page from the Anglicans and get himself a Walsingham to prevent the next big event from going bust.

http://religiondispatches.org/pope-francis-v-kim-davis-a-vatican-game-of-thrones/

Trump, despite his divorces and “worldly lifestyle”, appeals to evangelicals because he is wealthy, powerful and pays them lip service. They support him because they are tired of losing the culture wars, and are addicted to the perks of power.

While evangelicals have not had their choice in the White House for the last seven years, they have had a Republican Congress, Senate and a rightward-leaning supreme court. Recent decisions by the court on same-sex marriage, abortion restrictions and religious freedom have eroded conservatives’ ability to maintain these restrictive laws legislated by their political operatives on the state level.

Evangelicals, in other words, are losing their political positioning. Backing Trump is their best chance to influence a nomination for a supreme court justice who will support their religious beliefs, and to help the down ticket races with Republican incumbents and candidates who will continue to support evangelical political causes.

Trump also speaks the language of apocalypse, coupled with the language of preference. Evangelicals’ views resonate with both. Trump, despite his shallow depth of biblical knowledge, plays into both the apocalyptic end-time fears of evangelicals, and their nostalgia for a “small town” America.

Trump skillfully pushes these buttons by his laments about the decline of America, Islamic terror and Isis taking over. At the same time, Trump also promises to take care of terrorists through torture, and to make America strong again.

These depictions play into the ‘crusade’ language that George W Bush deployed after 9/11 to support the Iraq war. Trump may be scary, but he can also protect them through strength. He may not be their best choice, but is a pragmatic choice. Voting for Trump will either hasten the return of Jesus, according to evangelical belief, or to allow evangelicals to regain political power in the White House. Either way, it is a win-win situation.

Trump’s blatant racism and demonization of Muslims, Mexicans and immigrants also serves as a foil for white evangelicals. By othering these groups, Trump allows evangelicals to persist in their belief that white Anglo-saxon protestantism, is the default for true American Christianity and is best suited to lead America as a “Christian Nation”.

While Ted Cruz tried to become the choice for evangelicals by touting a theocratic vision of government, Trump’s promise to “Make America Great Again” is a dog whistle that evangelicals understand: Making America Great by allowing a white man to lead it again.

The recent twists and turns of James Dobson, the prominent conservative Christian leader, to prove Trump is a “born again Christian” is also in the service of convincing evangelicals to vote for him. Leaders like Ben Carson, Jerry Falwell Jr, Michelle Bachmann and others who have signed on in various ways to support Trump on his evangelical advisory board are engaged in a political calculus. They believe supporting Trump, rather than opposing him, with bring them the relevance and power they hope to maintain, while shoring up their evangelical belief system.

Trump speaks to the core of what many American evangelicals really want: to win. If evangelicals were consistent about privileging their beliefs over politics, then perhaps the Billy Graham evangelistic association would not have removed Mormonism from the list of cults in October 2012. That was done so that evangelicals, who had been taught Mormons were not really Christians, could coalesce around Republican Presidential candidate and Mormon Mitt Romney. Now, Romney stands as one of the lone Republicans willing to repudiate Trump, and withhold his support.

Trump promises over and over that Americans are going to be “so proud” of their country and that they are going to win “so much, you may even get tired of winning”. For evangelicals who have recently lost many big battles at the supreme court, winning, even with Trump, is preferable to losing the White House to Democrats once again.

Supporting Trump however, may create a permanent split among evangelicals who dislike Trump’s lifestyle and politics. Those who have sided with Trump, however, will make up the solid core of voters that the Republican Party has pandered to and exploited since the 1970’s, with success. Evangelicals who really believe in Jesus rather than the Republican party may be the ones who are truly “Left Behind”.

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/jul/06/evangelicals-voters-donald-trump-political-issues