Idolization of the Extremes

Christians go back and forth on whether ours is a religion of moderation or extremes. On the one hand, we are meant to abstain from indulgences such as sexual promiscuity, consumerism and materialism, and overeating. Purity and health are both important to us, and as any good nutritionist or fitness trainer will tell you, moderation is key. We should not hoard wealth. We should turn the other cheek. On the other hand, Jesus could easily be painted as a revolutionary. He braided whips and flipped tables. He told off the Pharisees. He called us to live in a radical way; the same standards that require moderation could also be seen as extremist when compared to the sedentary lifestyles of many—give up everything you have and follow me? In a way, it’s flattering to think of Christianity as a religion of extremes. We are supposed to be “not of this world,” after all, right? We are special. We are different from others in a profound and fundamental way.

I recently came across two different articles that changed the way I think about these questions of moderation and extremism. The first was an article on BBC News that described the heroic acts of a teenage girl who saved a middle-aged man. The girl, Keshia Thomas, was eighteen when she was witness to a KKK demonstration in Ann Arbor, Michigan. She attended with a crowd of black protestors. A white man with an SS tattoo and a Confederate flag t-shirt was noticed in the crowd of observers. They, along with Thomas, began to chase him out. At some point he was knocked to the ground and the crowd began to kick and beat him. Thomas threw herself down on top of him and fought off the attackers, quite possibly saving his life, had the blows escalated.

The second article, found in The Washington Post, is a profile of Nadia Bolz-Weber, a progressive Lutheran minister who heads a small church, House for All Sinners and Saints, in Denver. Bolz-Weber grew up in a Christian home but felt marginalized by the church and was heavily involved in drug abuse, surrounding herself with “underside dwellers . . . cynics, alcoholics and queers” for several years before eventually getting clean and becoming a minister. She has become well-known for her foul mouth and tattooed physique, and her church prides itself on being accepting of people from all walks of life.

I did not react to these stories as positively as you might expect. Do not doubt my esteem for Kehsia Thomas and what she did. Her selflessness and bravery brought tears to my eyes (which doesn’t hap—okay, it does happen often), but I fear for what many may take away from her story. My first thought was that I would probably never have such an impressive opportunity for goodwill. I will probably never be seen as a hero, I will never be caught in a mob or a riot or a warzone and I will never throw my body over an innocent or a grenade. This can be a very damaging way of thinking. No one should sit around waiting for their “big moment” to come. Waiting for a notable opportunity can cause procrastination on smaller goals. When you don’t feel like you can do any good from where you are in the world right now, it will not seem worthwhile to practice small kindnesses and general friendliness in everyday life. It is a mindset that cripples many, and it is noticeable on Houghton campus, in the numbers of students who have a longing to help others in a big way and yet do not take part in community service projects in Alleghany County. No one is ever going to be in the perfect position to make a huge impact. That is rare and happens to few people—people who were spending their days engaged in doing good work for the world in small places for a very long time before being noticed. As Teri Gunderson, a woman who was impressed with Thomas’ actions, says, “The voice in my head says something like this, ‘If she could protect a man, I can show kindness to this person.’ And with that encouragement, I do act with more kindness.”

The Bolz-Weber profile portrayed her church as a haven for those who have had rocky relationships with the Church (sadly a frequent occurrence), and it is indeed a beautiful thing that Bolz-Weber is giving those people a chance to connect with God in a refreshing church setting. Says one congregant of the experience, “House has a lot of people burned by religion, and this still holds for me. It’s the only church I can stomach.” But the article took an odd turn when it began to describe what happened when Bolz-Weber’s congregation started to expand. “Normal people,” i.e. Christians without torrid pasts, began to attend. “It was awful,” wrote Bolz-Weber. She claimed that the normal Christians were “f—king up [her] weird,” and a church meeting was actually held to discuss whether or not the newcomers should be allowed to continue to attend. This struck me as outrageous, considering that House was formed as an antidote to the unwelcoming nature of other churches. Bolz-Weber’s attitude represents another kind of extreme: the belief that one is not “real” or authentic or cannot know true forgiveness without having first dragged oneself through the rigmarole of sin and depravity. Bolz-Weber prides herself on her honesty and appears apathetic on matters such as chastity and foul language, behaviors that come with explicit guidelines in the Bible. Yes, being open and inviting are strong tenets of the Christian faith (“Come as you are”), but along with that approach comes the condition, “now go and sin no more.” By the end of the article I was left with the feeling that Jesus—a man who spent the first thirty years of his life working as a carpenter and the last three years preaching by lakesides—might not have felt comfortable in the House for All Saints and Sinners. And yet who could understand the message of salvation better than He?

Christians like to embrace extremes. You’re not “good” until you’ve adopted two third-world children, published a novel, and thrown yourself over a man to protect him from a mob. You’re not “forgiven” until you’ve done hard drugs, have a tally of sexual partners in the double digits, and, if possible, have spent at least four years in prison. But God does not call us to make momentous, heroic sacrifices when we find a perfect opportunity. God calls us to make the slow and steady sacrifice of our entire, day-by-day, minute-by-minute life.