Prairie View

Wednesday, February 24, 2021

Speak No Ill of the Dead

In the wake of Rush Limbaugh's death, people of certain sensibilities cite the adage in the title as the explanation for remaining silent.  Some are no doubt silent because they don't have the gall to speak highly of someone who specialized in being obnoxious, recognizing the cognitive dissonance of lauding such a character while ostensibly rejecting the traits in themselves and in those to whom they serve as role models .  Others who experienced the acid burns of Limbaugh's caustic words feel paralyzed by the rush of emotions that surface when they think of Limbaugh.  They have much to say, but feel no freedom to say it because they can't go against the obligation to avoid speaking ill of the dead.  

As most of my readers know, Limbaugh had a long and lucrative career (he earned 85 million dollars in at least one year) in the broadcast world, first in radio.  His stints in radio were typically short, and he was fired from multiple radio jobs. Later he transitioned to TV, and gained fame when he worked for Fox News.  His manner was crass and bombastic.  His career took off after the Fairness Doctrine expired in 1987 (which required that all publicly aired opinions be balanced with air time for opposing opinions), and he became a darling of those with conservative political persuasions.  Unfettered by the earlier restraints on what could be legally flung into the airwaves, Limbaugh became increasingly radical and increasingly popular. 

Many Christians had already become deeply invested in Limbaugh's fear-based views and rhetoric (which sadly are too often stoked also in Christian circles*), and they followed him willingly as the radicalization took place.  He focused on grievance and served as a spokesman for all those who felt aggrieved by the circumstances of their lives, particularly those who felt wronged by "them."  "Them" included mainstream media, Democrats and other liberals, feminists, and minorities.  Those to be feared included some on the "them" list, but "Socialists" were added.  Limbaugh was unarguably a kingpin in fostering the dissension and division that serves as the most prominent feature in the current American political scene. David French wrote perhaps the most nuanced assessment of Limbaugh's influence here.

I've pondered the prohibitive injunction in the adage on occasions previous to Limbaugh's death, and often wondered where it came from, or if the "command" has any validity.  This time I actually did some minimal research and learned that the origins of the maxim are as ancient as the Greek civilization of Sparta.  A philosopher from there apparently first uttered these words in Greek.  Most significantly, I learned that there is no direct evidence in Scripture that the adage constitutes an obligation.  

Jesus certainly was speaking ill of the dead when he said in Luke 11:47 and 48 that the ancestors of those he was speaking to had killed the prophets.  In the context in which he said this, he was pronouncing woes on members of his audience, who were putting on a show of righteousness.  They were religious leaders.  Apparently they had built tombs as if to honor prophets, but Jesus points out the irony of this, since they were at the same time continuing in the tradition of their murderous forefathers.  Jesus does not mince words in drawing a straight line between the objectionable behavior of the forefathers and that of the Scribes and Pharisees in the audience.  In both timeframes, Jesus saw behavior that called for public denunciation. Although other parts of Scripture mention speaking ill of others in a negative light, Jesus' example nevertheless offers us guidance for how we speak of the dead.  

In the passage cited, Jesus was trying to reach the hearts of members of his audience.  It seems that in order to do that, he knew that it would be necessary for them to acknowledge their own sins.  Otherwise they had no need to accept what he offered them: a new life, full of meaning and hope.  Speaking ill of the dead was an attention-arresting way for Jesus to bring home the truth of the heart condition of his listeners. A desire to accomplish that same result in listeners may at times justify speaking ill of the dead in our time.

I don't believe, as some do, that prayers for a person after their death accomplish improvements in their fate. The good thing that is left to those who remain after a death is to turn to God in their bereavement.  A heart turned toward God in humility always invites exposure of the sin that lurks there.  In the presence of a loving, forgiving God, this is not a disastrous process because the remedy shows up right along with the crushing weight of the problem.  Whatever a person feels after Rush Limbaugh's death, the answer always is to turn to God with the emotion.

One of the articles I read after Limbaugh's death was written in 2009 and quoted a cleric who had officiated at many funerals.  In one particularly challenging case, he had heard nothing good from anyone about the deceased. He decided that the best way to handle the situation was to address it directly.  So he began by saying something this: 'Let's be honest, he could be a pretty cantankerous so-and-so.'  He reported that an almost palpable sense of relief swept over the audience at these words.  He interpreted the response as affirmation that being honest about the unpleasant realities associated with the life of a deceased person can be a step in the process of healing for those who have been wronged.  

I've seen such honesty demonstrated by others, and engaged in it myself at times.  I've been challenged for my own actions, and tried to learn from it.  I'm not sure that I've learned what my challengers believe was necessary:  Don't say anything bad about a person who has died.  Really?

In general, my words have been very mild--like saying privately "Life just got a lot simpler for _________________ [survivors]."  Publicly I have said something like "He wasn't perfect, but he was a good man."  Of course, the first phrase in the public expression is not strictly necessary, since everyone already knows this mildly-stated negative thing.  It may not be fair, since the person being spoken of can't defend himself.  It certainly is not socially expedient (largely because of the ingrained notion in the adage).  But to forbid saying any negative thing of the dead?  I don't think so.  Doing so can help others see you as a trustworthy person, since you're obviously not OK with maintaining pretenses.  If you go overboard with the bad report, you risk being seen as mean-spirited and vindictive instead of being trustworthy--and you may, in fact, be such.  This isn't OK either.  Here is an article written by someone who avoids falling into this trap on the occasion of Limbaugh's death, managing in the same article to point to an inspiring contrast instead.

I think the story of the cleric above illustrates perfectly why sometimes saying something negative about the dead is actually a way to introduce a healing element into the realm of possibility for those who have been wronged by a deceased person.  Picture with me a situation where a parent has repeatedly been an embarrassment to his children because of his adversarial and mean-spirited public behavior.  Acknowledging at least the difficulty that this person's behavior caused others could be enormously affirming to those who suffered in silence for decades.  Being seen is a powerful encouragement to anyone who has felt like their suffering was invisible for too long.  It could cast all those associated with the hurtful individual in an admirable light (look at what they became in spite of those formidable odds).  Beyond that, I believe that being truthful about even unpleasant realities is the only way we ourselves can learn something valuable from another's life.  

I've seen the hazard of pretending that bad things never happened.  This charade subjects its "players" to a lifetime of repeated avoidance maneuvers.  Otherwise, the pain comes flooding back.  It may surface in forbidding others to speak of anything related to the hurtful behavior or the one who inflicted it.  Staying away from such forbidden subjects then becomes the burden of everyone else who desires to maintain a good relationship with the one who was wronged.  This too is damaging behavior--not redemptive in any discernible way. 

One other prominent feature of Limbaugh's rhetoric which resonated with evangelicals was patriarchy. This article connects that thread of his ideas with James Dobson and Tim LaHaye.  I can think of other names I'd add to such a list.  The writer of the article sees patriarchy in a  toxic light.  I believe it can also be a benevolent force, but agree that it has sometimes not been practiced that way in Christian circles.  In Limbaugh's iteration of patriarchy, masculine toxicity apparently prevailed.  The environment he inhabited treated women as sex objects.  He married a succession of four women, punctuated by three divorces.  

Nothing I might think of to say about Rush Limbaugh is the final verdict about who he was.  I heard one defender say that he spoke recently of having a personal relationship with Jesus. I hope that is true, and I'm sure that other good things could well be said of him.  My goal is to say only what I believe to be true and which could potentially serve "for our learning."  I hope we gain resolve to avoid stoking fear, vilifying "others," being dishonest about a person's legacy, or promoting toxic masculinity.  These would be worthwhile reasons for reflection on Limbaugh's life and death.  

Being exhaustive would be impossible, and the effort would be exhausting.  I do know that there are no gaps in knowledge about Rush Limbaugh for the Final Judge of all the earth.  He is for sure not constrained by any obligation to "speak no ill of the dead." Even if we can't hope to get everything right, Rush Limbaugh will be rightly judged.  Whether or not we are OK with speaking ill of the dead or whether we learn anything at all in thinking about him, I hope we can all agree on that.  

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*I'm reading a wonderful book right now that brings home the idea that Christians often traffic in fear-based responses to life.  This tendency makes them ripe for exploitation by others who are not fearful primarily of the judgement of God, but fearful of things like loss of control over their own lives, loss of personal wealth,  loss of political power, loss of public favor, increased restrictions on behavior, increasingly limited choices, etc.  The book was written by someone who teaches at the same university where my brother Caleb has taught for many years--Messiah University in Mechanicsburg, PA.  Believe Me:  The Evangelical Road to Donald Trump by John Fea.  Fea is himself an evangelical and a historian.

   


Sunday, February 14, 2021

A Zoomed-out Version of the Impeachment

I watched a livestream of most of the impeachment proceedings this week, although I completely missed several hours at its beginning, and my attention was divided at many other times.  The most recent thing I watched was Mitch McConnell's speech after the conclusion of the process in which he had voted to acquit the president of the charges.  Essentially the speech was an explanation of his vote.  

McConnell was until recently the majority leader of the Senate.  He is a Republican who has been at times referred to as being the most powerful person in the world--even more so than the US president, because he could control what legislation made it onto the Senate floor.  I did not know until recently that his wife was a cabinet-level official in the Trump administration.  She was one of several who resigned abruptly in the aftermath of January 6.  

McConnell said almost nothing publicly during the Trump administration that countered him, but he was furious about the events of January 6 and promised to consider [impeachment] .  I'm not actually sure that he used that word; hence the brackets.  It was clearly a switch from his earlier "go along to get along" habits.  After the Georgia run-off elections for the US Senate, when the Democratic candidates won both contests, McConnell lost his position, since the chairman always comes from the party with the most members in the Senate.  In this case, since the number is a 50/50 split, the majority leader comes from the same party as the president of the United States (it's actually the same party as the VP, since that is the person officially presiding over the Senate), so Charles Schumer replaced Mitch McConnell. McConnell is now the minority leader of the Senate.  

McConnell's speech after the vote that resulted in acquittal was not only a statement of his own position, but was widely regarded as the official word on where he hopes to direct the Republican Party in the future.  He clearly hopes that the Republican Party completely cuts away from Trump, going forward.  He denounced Trump's actions in strong terms. He explained in technical terms the seeming contradiction between blaming Trump and casting a vote for acquittal during the impeachment hearings, saying that Trump could not be impeached because it was too late to do so, although, had he still been in office it would have been appropriate.  

This argument falls pretty flat to those of us who remember that McConnell was the one most single-handedly responsible for the fact that the impeachment hearings were not conducted sooner.  He had specifically said that if someone from the House sent impeachment papers to the Senate, he would turn them back at the door.  This ensured that the trial would not happen while Trump was still in office.  It seems disingenuous for McConnell to cite a situation of his own creation as the condition that prevents impeachment from being legal--a conclusion that most constitutional scholars take issue with.   It served his purposes  nicely, however.

From a purely political standpoint McConnell's maneuverings make perfect sense.  He is trying very hard to do at least two things at once.  He wants to steer away from Trump because many business leaders who typically donate big money to Republican Party machinery announced after January 6 that they would no longer contribute to the party.  In other words, they can't stand Trump anymore.  This loss of funding strikes at the core of McConnell's goals to keep the party in an ascendant position, and he wants to prevent this money drain at all costs.  The second thing he is trying to do is hang on to the future votes of Trump loyalists.  Too many of them exist for him to risk alienating them by voting to convict the former president.  The Party needs their votes in the next election.  McConnell tried to thread the needle by both denouncing Trump and voting to acquit him.  I think he looked long enough to land on a legal argument that he thought could provide him some cover.  

I'm not convinced that it will work as McConnell obviously hopes it does.  He clearly wants a robust Republican party without Trump playing any part in it.  I suspect that what will happen instead is that the party will effectively split, with some leaving the party entirely, and others choosing either the Trump camp or the McConnell camp--for lack of a better term.  I understand that a group composed of former Republican office holders has already formed for the purpose of promoting a Republican primary challenger in every election where a Trump-loyalist is running.  This would align with what I am calling the McConnell camp.

The fact of the matter is that the count of former Republicans has been growing fast since January 6.  In plain words, the Republican voter pool has shrunk because of Trump.  Among these people, McConnell's actions have likely solidified their conviction that this is no longer their party of choice.  These are people who no doubt hoped that McConnell would vote to convict Trump.  If this had happened, they might have found a reason to stay.  As it is, they're done with being part of the circus.  

Meanwhile, die-hard Trump fans are doubling down.  I see them celebrating the acquittal.  I see people I know excoriating on Facebook people like McConnell for not being a true Republican.  One person I know begged him publicly to leave the party, presumably to keep it safe again for Trump lovers.  From seeing how others link their desire for revival in America to Trump's political successes, I presume these people too see the acquittal as a God-ordained victory.  I can't find any way to think well of these sentiments. 

If the die-hard Trump fans would think about this a little longer, maybe they would see too that sticking with Trump is a vote--not for traditional Republican values like fiscal conservatism, law and order, limited government, etc.  It is, instead, a move toward authoritarianism, which will be essential to quell the lawlessness and chaos that results from the loose-cannon style of governance that we've seen during the Trump administration.  Many of the safeguards against tyranny that were built into the American system of laws and institutions were violated and destroyed during the Trump years.  He regularly fired civil servants and his own hand-picked underlings and appointed people to take their place who were more loyal to him than those he ousted.  Other positions were simply left unfilled, in this way ensuring that no one could use their power in those positions to oppose him.  These are authoritarian tactics--plain and simple--and unprecedented (to this degree) in the American presidency.  

Too many people don't seem to see that authoritarianism poses a far bigger and more immediate threat to freedom than socialism does.  In fact, what some decry now as movement toward socialism is largely affirming the same ideals that were once held by Republicans, Lincoln, T. Roosevelt, and Eisenhower among them.  The central element in old-style Republicanism is that government has a role to play in promoting the good of the common people.  Coalescing the Republican Party around Trump means solidifying the promotion of an authoritarian style of governance that benefits the already-wealthy more than it does those who work for them.  I think McConnell sees this, as do Mitt Romney and a few others in Republican congressional office.  I'm sure that this is not what any of my friends truly wants, but this is what I think they'll get if they get what they want now:  a Trump-styled party.  

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Watching the impeachment proceedings was both a pleasure and a trial for me.  I watched heartfelt and human expressions coupled with masterful and convincing presentations.  The evidence supporting the charge was simply irrefutable, as McConnell and others affirmed.  The presenters on the impeachment team were a diverse group.  Several were Caucasian, at least one of them Jewish, and another a woman from Pennsylvania.  One was from the Virgin Islands (she was a non-voting member of Congress) and there was at least one each who had Asian, Ethiopian, and Hispanic immigrant parents.  The  lead impeachment manager was US Representative Jamie Raskin, a professor of constitutional law.  He seemed at once polished and humble.  He is also dealing right now with personal grief.  On January 5 was the funeral of his 25-year-old son, who had committed suicide on December 31.  The trivia of a most unusual very sizeable bald spot on the back of his head is garnering almost as much publicity as the fly on Pence's snow-white hair did earlier.  When you see him only from the front, he appears to have a full head of thick brown curly hair.  I think the world is still trying to figure out why.  Would wearing a yarmulke do that?

The defense team was composed of white men.  Period.  From one of them I saw heated and snarling rhetoric (yes, literally, complete with narrowed eyes, curled lips and loud and fast spitting words). Lies were uttered.  I was underwhelmed.  I felt a little sick actually.  

The whole process reinforced for me that politics is a terribly messy business, full of hard work if you're going to do it well, and staying very far away from involvement in it is a perfectly reasonable choice.  I have no doubt that uppermost in the minds of at least 44 senators was what a vote against Trump would mean for their chances of prevailing during the next election cycle.  For some of them this is happening in two years.  They voted in keeping with what looked like the best option for being re-elected.  In this calculation, they didn't need to stick around to hear the evidence, but they still showed up to vote in keeping with the result of their calculation earlier.  To McConnell's credit, he did stick around and listen--unlike about 18 others from his party, at one point at least.

I do have a profound respect for anyone who can operate with integrity in the political sphere.  More than anything, I marvel that God's purposes can be accomplished, regardless of what happens in the political world.  Unlike what happens with individuals whose fortunes may rise and fall depending on who is in charge politically, God's reign is secure.  Those who stand with Him will be on the right side of history--the zoomed-out version for sure.   They'll also be on the right side when they face judgement at the end of life.  At that point, the next election cycle will mean nothing at all. 

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Quote of the Day:  Rarely has a politician been more blatant in attempting the impossible feat of running with the foxes and hunting with the hounds.--E. J. Dionne, speaking of Mitch McConnell.  (Washington Post, Opinion:  "The beginning of the end of Trumpism,"  Feb. 14, 2021)