Faithful
readers of the Galli Report know of my interest in and concern about
Christian men—or the lack of them, to say it more plainly. On any given
Sunday women make up 60–70 percent of the bodies in church. This is not a
new phenomenon, as Aaron Renn at
urbanophile.com shows in
“The History of Church and Men.” I’m familiar with most of this, but I’ve not seen as good a summary as he has put together.
What
this means is that either (a) men really are more evil than women, so
of course they rebel against the Christian faith more stubbornly, or (b)
the church has emphasized aspects of the faith that make it more
amenable to women, and thus have made it seem like religion is women’s
concern. I suspect the latter because I happen to believe that women are
just as wicked as men—no offense intended. And the fact that Jesus
attracted some pretty tough characters in his day—fishermen, zealots,
and tax-collectors (along with a fair number of less-than-genteel
women). These men had been hardened by life and then toughened up even
more by Jesus so that they were willing to endure torture, burning,
beheadings, and crucifixions (upside down in the case of Peter) for his
name and his cause.
The
reasons for the shift are complex and long-standing, so there is no
easy solution, as in the masculine Christianity movement of the late
19th century or Promise Keepers in the 20th. But I appreciate that men
like Renn are thinking and praying about it in a concentrated way.
What’s Before Identity Politics
This
next piece gave me more empathy for people who are deeply invested in
identity politics. I’ve noted many times how unhealthy I think this has
become, but I hadn’t considered the root of the passion so many have to
understand who they are and do so by fixating on their culture,
ethnicity, gender, sexuality, disability, or whatever.
Nathanael Blake at Public Discourse argues that it goes back to Nietzsche’s proclamation of the death of God.
Without
a transcendent worldview, all that remains is what we can see and
touch—that’s the only reality left to find meaning in. But we also
recognize how contingent and relative: “Consequently, tribal identity is
no longer a secure psychological retreat into a stable source of
meaning but a contested construct. Getting ‘woke’ and engaging in
identity politics are attempts to find meaning in something that is an
acknowledged social construct.”
This
is behind the increasingly common claim that to challenge people’s
sexual behavior or gender identity is to question, deny, or attack their
humanity and even their existence. This seems insane to those who still
reside in a Christian cosmos, for whom sexual desire or one’s feelings
about gender are not at the core of one’s identity, and for whom
criticizing sinful acts is a far cry from enacting a genocide of the
sinful. But to those whose experiential sense of self is only that which
they have created or adopted from their culture and their own desires,
this makes sense. If self-creation is the fullest expression of our
humanity, then critiquing someone’s self-constructed identity is to
critique his humanity.
‘The Healing of Willow Creek’
This is my attempt
to understand some of the dimensions of the issues there. Many
commentators have rightly focused on the need for us to think more
deeply about the issues of sexual predation and abuse of power by church
leaders. I wanted to focus instead on the pastoral challenges at such
moments in a church’s life.
Sadly,
our Catholic brothers and sisters are dealing with the same issues, but
at a level of evil that is desperately wicked, as
the grand jury report of Catholic churches in Pennsylvania reveals. They could use our prayers as well.
Walking for the Sake of Walking
On a lighter note is
this poignant rumination of Gracy Olmstead
about walking with her grandfather. I admit to having succumbed to one
of the great temptations of our age, that is, doing things of intrinsic
worth but for practical and useful reasons. I walk to make sure I get in
my steps, to help me lose weight. That I might walk like Olmstead’s
grandfather:
For
Grandpa, walking was qualitative. It was about a series of stories: a
process of taking in—and, when I was with him, sharing—a series of
histories and truths, anecdotes and memories. My quiet grandfather,
wearing his red jacket and baseball cap, seemed a fountain of
information and love for this place, these streets where he had walked
for decades. He didn’t just walk as a means to some quantifiable end;
for him, walking was the whole purpose and point.
Grace and peace,
Mark Galli
Editor-in-Chief, Christianity Today
