A memoir about survival and the theological questions it raises
Elie Wiesel has died. Reading the obituaries, the thing that astounds me is the thing that has always astounded me: how young he was. Eighty-seven now, in 2016. I’ve been burying World War II veterans throughout my years of pastoral ministry. How could Wiesel only be 87?
Where independence and freedom were proclaimed, dependence on African slavery persisted. As Jesus was preached in this land, everything that Jesus taught against was practiced.
Why does the church participate in modern-day lynching, or at most turn a blind eye, rather than protesting as our faith would dictate?
When I read the book of Joshua, it is easy for me to miss God's call for genocide.
We are endlessly being misdirected in search of the crude “hate crime.” After centuries of racial oppression and violence, our society eventually became uncomfortable with the overtness of the racism of the past. Slavery is taken for granted as a horrific thing, something that couldn’t be assumed a few generations ago. For mainstream America, to be accused of being racist is to have been labeled something despicable. Few would willingly accept this charge upon themselves, defending themselves adamantly against such accusations. However, even worse than the racist label for those within the dominant culture, is for a person to be accused of a hate crime. Hate crimes have been created to isolate the most heinous of offenses that have been committed because of prejudice.
In 1920, not long after the Great War, a little-known agitator gave a speech in Munich on the topic, "Why Are We Anti-Semites?" The speaker concluded that it was important to prevent Germany “from suffering a death by crucifixion." Of course this agitator became quite well known—it was Adolf Hitler—and we know what his antisemitism led to.