Emotions are running high. Emotions have taken over the asylum.
Perhaps we should have known. Emotions trump truth every time. Emotions are more powerful in the public square than truth can ever be. Because the reality is . . .
No one knows the truth!
And that’s not even controversial. This is so reminiscent of the OJ trial. I still remember where I was when I heard the verdict on that case. And back then, we actually knew a whole lot. Nevertheless, the U.S. split along race lines.
This time, it’s split along party lines. Republican vs. Democrat. How odd that those who believe Blasey Ford are Democrats and those who believe Kavanaugh are Republicans? Hello, can we please bring in some reality here?
Outside the main protagonists, no one knows the truth!
We’ve been presented with two versions and . . .
No one knows which is right or even if neither is right.
We do know that Christine Blasey Ford can’t remember when the assault took place, or how she got home that night, because she told us. But then again, she can’t remember many of the details. That doesn’t mean the assault didn’t take place. It just means . . . well, it just means . . . repeat above sentences.
Sadly, the Me Too movement will pay a severe price for this. When a woman comes forward with an allegation, her testimony should be investigated. In most cases. But this isn’t a straight case of alleging sexual assault. This is an historical case steeped in politics. She was immediately in touch with Diane Feinstein, for goodness sake!
So, now a movement championing justice for women has become deeply politicised. Bogged down in party politics of the worst kind. It’s awful to watch it play out. Getting at the truth in an even-handed way, well, that’s the casualty. And Me Too will suffer for it, by openly supporting a stance which, on the face of it, seems to embrace party politics.
I’m afraid the ‘why accuse him right now?’ retort is a legitimate question. Which is awful, because it’s possible, quite possible, that Blasey Ford was assaulted. By whom we don’t know. And then again, maybe she wasn’t. We just don’t know.
Getting that yet? We don’t know. Time for a big word. This is about epistemology. How we know things.
So onto the investigation.
An FBI investigation of a 36 year-old ‘he-said-she-said’ case? In one week. No court of law would hear such a case. Do you remember details from one night 36 years ago? Any response is tainted, as the conclusion of the investigation will be. Talk about a rock and a hard place for the FBI.
And I don’t see a way out from that.
So why is this happening? It’s hard to avoid the conclusion that it’s because this appointment will tilt the Supreme Court to the right. And possibly do it for a generation. That’s important for unborn children. It’s important for immigration and race relations and all sorts of issues. Some I feel strongly about, some I don’t. But they all have a huge impact on human life. And that matters.
To the women who are stating ‘you’re saying I don’t matter,’ my reply is ‘on the contrary, all human life matters, including yours.’ That’s the whole point of this hoo-ha. The Supreme Court matters, because its decisions can determine life and death and everything in between.
Sadly, the soap opera has been embraced by the nominee. Brett Kavanaugh made a big mistake by accusing the Democrats. HUGE. Because a justice on the Supreme Court is supposed to be impartial, interpreting the Constitution without a clearly expressed political agenda. Having said that, Kavanaugh is overtly political, having supported Republican causes throughout his career. But to respond in the way he did during a nomination process? That’s never done. Until now.
And that’s why, in the end, his combative response to questions may sink him more than the accusations.
Click here for an interesting perspective on the politicisation of Supreme Court appointments.
So, just one final question. And here my cards are placed clearly on the table.
Should a possible crime committed 36 years ago, and which can never be proved in a court of law, be sufficient to destroy this nomination?
In all the uncertainty, I think we do know the answer to that question.
‘Do not judge!’
‘I said, do not judge. You’re judging people and that’s wrong, so don’t do it.’
‘I’m sorry, but isn’t what you just said . . . er, a judgement? A judgement about my judging of others?’
‘Yes.’ Harrumph . . . bluster and more bluster.
If the Boss says it, he must mean it, right? And he definitely said it. See Matt 7.1-2.
So, what’s going on?
First, let’s admit that judging is hard-wired into us. We judge all the time. What do you think of Donald Trump? Colin Kaepernick? Taylor Swift?
What do you think of the driver who cuts you off? Or the ex who rejected you? Or loud people? Or rude people? In fact, much of life revolves around trying to assess how other people are behaving and then responding appropriately, sometimes cautiously and hopefully, graciously. Furthermore, Christ tells us that we’ll know people by their fruit. You can’t talk about fruit, unless you make a judgement.
So, what’s going on? A couple of options. The rabbi Hillel, who preceded Jesus, wrote this: “Do not judge your fellow man until you have been in his place.” This is progress, I think. Certainly, it induces humility, because of course none of us has lived another’s life. And it is inching us closer to what Jesus is saying.
Which brings us back to his statement in verse 2: With the measure you use, it will be measured to you.
It looks like an Ultimate Judgement is in view here. When will I ever be in a position to truly judge another person fully? Never. I cannot mete out judgement on another person. Only God does that. At some point, a judgement will take place and it won’t be me – or you – who is doing the judging. It will be God.
At this point, we should all experience that horrible sinking feeling at the pit of the stomach. Oh my gosh, this is not going to end well. In front of everyone, my petty moral judgements of others will be unmasked and my own deficits will be revealed. When I judged my brother for his impatience and unkindness, I forgot to consider my own impatience. I’m not what I should be.
God, help me.
So, go ahead and judge. Assess the world around you and don’t feel bad, because there’s a lot about the world that isn’t right. But if you are ever tempted to put on a divine mantle and set yourself up in judgement over others, then just remember . . .
Oh my gosh, that’s not going to end well.
Hero worship. What seems to be the problem?
‘Ooh, be careful,’ they say, ‘don’t put mere humans on pedestals. Only God is worthy of worship.’ Well, obviously.
But I must say, I love a bit of hero worship. In fact, I think we’re built for it.
Which brings us to the great Roger Federer. He of the sublime tennis shot, able to conjure shots which mere mortals can only gawp at and applaud. Go on. Take a look at this video later.
It’s no doubt because tennis is ‘my sport’ that I love to watch King Fed (as we call him in our family). When you’ve played tennis for years, you know better than most that the shots Federer plays aren’t really possible. Or at least they shouldn’t be. Because those ten shots in the video are ‘just ridiculous!’ ‘Come on!’ shouts the commentator, ‘you’ve got to be kidding me!’
And so it is with Messi and Kobe and any number of sporting geniuses.
Do you have your heroes? I hope so. I think it’s healthy. Here’s why.
Hero worship is a pale reflection of true worship and as such, it reminds us of what is involved in true worship. How so?
Take Roger Federer. He plays tennis. Really? I’m not sure he’s playing the same sport as me. What he can do doesn’t really seem possible . . . and yet there it is, the ridiculous through the legs shot at a crucial point in the match, which leaves us all in awe. And yes, he did mean it.
So, first, he’s both the same as me – playing tennis – but he’s utterly different to me. He can do things I will never, ever be able to do. That’s the source of my admiration. That explains the dropping jaws.
This should remind us of holiness. God is like us – we are image-bearers – and yet he is utterly separate and different. The Jews used to call him ‘other,’ essentially a being quite different to humanity. And so he is.
And he is capable of accomplishing things we cannot do and never will be able to do. He creates ex nihilo. In Christ, he saves the world. We are but pale reflections of our creator, just as my forehand is a poor imitation of Federer’s . . . although I’m working on it, I’m working on it!
Second, I admire Federer because I want to be like him. No, I don’t want to be married to Mirka and have two sets of twins. My three are quite enough. And I don’t want his personality either, though the guy is very smooth.
I want to play tennis as he does. The skills he displays, I want those too.
True worship should draw us in that direction also. In worshipping God, we draw close to a loving father, who desires our growth. He desires for us to become like his Son. Worship should change us, motivate us to live lives worthy of our maker. It’s not indulgence and mushy feelings but transformative at its best.
Finally, there’s the issue of beauty. Nadal is raw power, Djokovic is metronomic, the supreme athlete, but most commentators are agreed: no one has ever played tennis with such grace, balance and beauty as Roger Federer. The combination of power and control, the way he floats around the court, it’s balletic and beautiful.
So to admire his tennis is to appreciate beauty. And where would we be without beauty? Beauty is one of the great gifts of this earth, based as it is on ultimate beauty. The beauty of God finds pale reflections in our experience here on earth. Yes, we are flawed, damaged and in need of restoration, but we are still able to perceive beauty and of course, we long for it. Beauty calls to us, speaks of divinity.
Are you moved by beauty? I hope so. The Puritans, who disdained it, have a lot to answer for, don’t they? Yet, how much more might we be moved by the creator of the universe? A being who is not simply the source of all beauty, but to use Plato’s language, its pure form? For God is Beauty. Capital B.
So, thank you, Roger. As your career nears its end (please stay a little longer) I’m grateful for the effortless grace and beauty of your tennis, which separates you from mere mortals. You will be sorely missed. Watching you has drawn me towards the worship of ultimate grace and beauty.
Of course, sports fans are especially prone to idol worship. But that’s not me. I’m never likely to mistake the reflection for the real thing. You may be an idol of mine, Roger, but let’s be clear . . . you’re no idol.
I’m after the real thing.