When Herman Cain, standing knee-deep in seawater, finally conceded what was obvious to the rest of us, that his once full-steam-ahead presidential campaign had indeed hit an iceberg, he fell back on an ancient political tactic: He blamed the iceberg.
"These false and unproved allegations continue to be spinned ... and in the court of public opinion," Cain said to his dazed followers, referring to rumors of marital infidelities, "so as to create a cloud of doubt over me and this campaign and my family."
If there were not so many tragic overtones for Cain and his family in his downfall, this pointing the finger of blame at the media would be even more risible than it already is. Not only is Cain responsible for his own moral missteps, but also without the hyperbolic attention of the media, there would have been no Herman Cain phenomenon in the first place, no edifice to come crashing down. From start to finish, the whole Cain brouhaha was a publicity stunt gone haywire, and if the media had the power to bring him down it was only because the same media had latched onto Cain, an affable and loquacious retired pizza executive vastly out of his political depth, and puffed him up.
But even when the cry "I've been sabotaged by the media" is an obvious ruse, it still manages to gain some traction in the popular mind. Partly this is because many have a jaded, Fox News-fueled image of the press as biased and predatory. But, ironically, some of the response flows not from cynicism but from the wells of human compassion. Watching reporters chase Cain down the street, thrusting microphones mercilessly into his face, seeing the press camped night and day outside former Penn State Coach Joe Paterno's door, viewing Michael Moore wrest a "gotcha" interview from a mentally struggling Charlton Heston arouses at least a measure of sympathy for the pursued, regardless of how much schadenfreude we may feel over another's unraveling. At some basic level, we can imagine ourselves caught in the same unpleasant crossfire of interrogation. "You know it's going to be bad day," goes the old joke, "when you see a '60 Minutes' news crew waiting in your outer office."
WATCH: Hiding Behind Faith
At a much more profound level, though, blaming one's disgrace on the media is often an effective ploy because it taps into a deep and universal human fear of exposure. In a world where no one can claim moral perfection, we wonder if some inquisition will finally disclose our ugly and shameful side. We wonder if some probing question hurled at us will reveal at last the truth we hoped to keep hidden, that our posture of moral integrity has its cracks. At this level, the media represent not only a quest for truth but also a zeal for judgment, searching eyes that submit human weakness and transgression to the full glare of public scrutiny. We fear that if our names are Googled some dreaded secret may surface, or that the next YouTube video may catch us in some embarrassing, personality revealing moment. The searchlights of the media are everywhere. As New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman told the National Press Club, "In a world where everyone has a cell phone with a camera, everyone's a paparazzi. In a world where everyone has a blog, everyone's a reporter. Now ... everyone else is a public figure, leaving digital footprints everywhere."
The fear about exposure and judgment comes to white-hot focus in a remarkable biblical story, told early in the Gospel of John, about an investigative team dispatched from the capital city to interrogate an enigmatic preacher named John the Baptizer. The narrator tells us little about John; it is assumed that the reader already knows a bit about John's reputation, that he worked in the wilderness area along the Jordan River and that people who wanted to make a fresh start in their lives would come to him to hear his message and to engage in an act of ritual washing.
But John was not just a rural preacher; he was also a threat to the powers that be, even to the Roman government. Because his message was, "Make straight the way of the Lord," he challenged all those from Jerusalem to Rome who depended upon ways being crooked rather than straight, who rested their fate and fortune on the ways of greed or power rather than the ways of God. He was a prophetic version of the Occupy Wall Street movement -- easy to caricature, but not easy to dismiss.
So down from the capital came the interrogators, and the result was a fierce press conference. "Who do you think you are?" "Do you think you're the messiah?" "Are you representing yourself as Elijah?" "Why are you baptizing like this?" "What do you say about yourself?" The questions ricocheted like rifle shots off canyon walls. The aim of these queries was not to imply something false, but rather to reveal some damaging truth, to show that this threatening figure of John was just a cracked and broken cistern like the rest of humanity. Maybe he did think he was Elijah incarnate, or worse, fancied himself the actual messiah. If so, John would be splayed out like a mere politician on the campaign trail, revealed as a damaged and flawed human being, full of worldly ambition, hubris and self-delusion.
But John's answer was surprising. "It's not about me," he said. "I'm pointing beyond myself to one who comes after me, to the Lamb of God. My whole life has now become a gesture to what God is doing to shake the foundations of the status quo and to re-create the world." Because John had a holy vocation, not merely a human ambition, the fear of exposure before the glare of interrogation vanished. "Find all the flaws you want and smoke out all the vanities you can find," he seemed to say. "The meaning of my life is not in what you think about me, but how you respond to the one to whom my life points."
In this Advent season, would that our politicians have the faith to point, not simply to their schemes, programs and proposals, but also to something beyond themselves, to the possibility that human life, yes even political life, might hope for something greater, might expect God to shake the foundations and to recreate the world not along party lines but according to justice. It would restore confidence in our public speech. And it would enable leaders who do not fear, even under the glare of scrutiny. As Martin Luther King Jr., who was as pursued by the press as relentlessly as any public figure could be, said in his final speech in Memphis, "I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man! Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!"
Editor's Note: ON Scripture is a series of Christian scripture commentaries produced in collaboration with Odyssey Networks. Each week pastors from around the country will approach the lectionary text of the week through the lens of current events, providing a religious voice that is both pastoral and prophetic.
Joel S. Baden: The Problem With Rationalizing the Bible
John 1 NIV - The Word Became Flesh - In the - Bible Gateway
Gospel of John - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Story Of The Storytellers - The Gospel Of John | From Jesus To ...
Whichever it is, your argument lost credence as soon as those words were typed and put on display. What you fail to realize is that your understanding of the world is but one understanding among a sea of similar, but different understandings.
Additionally, once outside the sphere of thought pollution that religion inherently creates, you are able to look with great clarity on all religions.
So I challenge you. Stop going to church for a time and avoid all discussion and news of religion. Sit down, study your chosen religious book and draw your own conclusions for once. Avoid relying on past sermons. You will find that you too will see it in a somewhat different light. Probably not negatively, but you'll have made your first original thoughts on the subject. Those are more important than the thoughts forced on you by others.
Mark Twain "rewrote" The Battle Hymn of the Republic in 1901 during the Phillipine War against annexation by the United States (1899-1902):
Mine eyes have seen the orgy of the launching of the Sword;
He is searching out the hoardings where the stranger's wealth is stored;
He hath loosed his fateful lightnings, and with woe and death has scored;
His lust is marching on.
I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;
They have builded him an altar in the Eastern dews and damps;
I have read his doomful mission by the dim and flaring lamps—
His night is marching on.
I have read his bandit gospel writ in burnished rows of steel:
"As ye deal with my pretensions, so with you my wrath shall deal;
Let the faithless son of Freedom crush the patriot with his heel;
Lo, Greed is marching on!"
We have legalized the strumpet and are guarding her retreat;*
Greed is seeking out commercial souls before his judgement seat;
O, be swift, ye clods, to answer him! be jubilant my feet!
Our god is marching on!
In a sordid slime harmonious Greed was born in yonder ditch,
With a longing in his bosom—and for others' goods an itch.
As Christ died to make men holy, let men die to make us rich—
Our god is marching on.
Go Mr. Clemens!
Well, if you want to fashion a rod for your own back, feel free. But I'll fight you every step of the way.
I never considered it, but the folks at Singer are likely going straight to heaven!
What that is saying, is only without fear, can you make good choices. Is god moral? If you fear him, then of course you are going to say yes. If you do not fear him, then no, he is not moral.
Now for the big question, is instilling fear a moral action? Is telling someone that they will suffer an eternity of suffering unless you follow my rules OK? Would you accept the government saying to you, that you must do this, if you do not, we will torture you to death? Or maybe your father telling you must perform some action, if you refuse I will beat you?
Now consider in my examples, that the action is to rape, torture, mutilate and kill someone. Would you still follow that authority?
There is something severely messed up when the party that is supposed to be all about religious morality, celebrates candidates that are far less virtuous than the side that doesn't make a big deal about it.
Although, I doubt Herman Cain feels fear. He is too much of a narcissist. All he feels is indignance. Not fear, not shame, not guilt. He's just pissed off because his book tour got derailed.
I doubt there is any sincerity in his "faith" either. In his mind he IS god. Not that I value sincere faith, but I would choose a deluded person over a liar.
Because a deluded person can be treated, whereas a liar cannot be, and hence is more dangerous?
Agree with your synopsis, BTW.