I heard John Bell say, “God has blessed me with a mediocre singing voice. That way when I start leading a song, other people think ‘I can do better than that’ and they join in.” I loved this reframing, because so many of us believe that our voices are not good enough to be heard singing. But the real power of our voices comes not from singing solo, but in groups.
Group singing is powerful. Researchers have discovered that the heartbeats of choir members sync up together. Some of the most transcendent and energizing moments in my life have happened during group singing, and I think that music has spiritual power not only to shape communities, but create real social change.
That’s part of the reason I’ve always loved protest songs. The fact that they are designed to be relatively simple, or that they use call-and-response, makes them perfect for *group singing* (unlike most contemporary worship music). What I hear recorded from anti-ICE protests in the streets of Minneapolis, Chicago, LA, and New York is a revival of public spirit, of communal consciousness. It is a movement of the Spirit that is bigger than any denomination, bigger than religion. I’m struck that one of the best songs out of this moment is a song about conversion (“It’s okay to change your mind …you can join us any time.”) There’s also exhortation (“Hold on …here comes the dawn.”) “Liturgy” means “the work of the people,” and this is a liturgy for spiritual formation and resistance.
I realize my Christian pastoral and theological lens on protest singing may not be shared by participants in this work for justice, and that’s perfectly fine. I have no interest in co-opting anyone else’s work or baptizing other people’s work into Christian hegemony. But I do think clergy and worship leaders have a unique opportunity to remind their own people what rich grassroots resources we have that are not mass-marketed by Hillsong or the for-profit worship industry.
In our Methodist youth group on Sunday nights, we used to sing Bob Dylan and Cat Stevens and protest songs from the 60’s, so my view on what constitutes “worship music” is probably different from folks raised on Chris Tomlin or Jeremy Camp. My formative worship music was about standing up to bullies, tenderness toward the Earth, following the sacrificial and discipline way of Jesus, and the gracious abundance of God. I still think that singing these things out loud, in public, makes them manifest.
The fact that churches are hosting mass events to teach singing for protests thrills my heart.
Luke 13:31-32: At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.” He said to them, “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work.”
Some people haven’t reckoned with the fact that Jesus was not above calling names.* “Fox” did not mean foxy or sly — it meant something more like “weasel,” a pest or parasite. In the Bible, foxes are associated with ruin and devastation. Like our own authoritarian leader, Herod liked to imagine himself a lion, an apex predator, strong and royal. But “fox” or weasel is better, because such dictators are bottom-feeders and carrion-eaters, nepo-babies who produce nothing of value and only gain their power by stealing, cheating, and protecting the criminals around them. We mean something similar when we use the phrase “vulture capitalists.” Jesus used the right word to describe Herod.
Jesus goes on to contrast his healing work with Herod’s scavenging of the dead. And he sarcastically implicates the religious and political leaders in Jerusalem, and maybe rubs it in a bit that Herod was not as big a boss as his daddy was, and couldn’t reach him in Jerusalem.
Of course, Herod DID catch up with Jesus in Jerusalem. And I don’t doubt that, with the insult ringing in his ears, he passed Jesus back to Pilate with some degree of satisfaction.
Anyway, our would-be-dictator president likes to compare himself to animals, so I think this scripture is an appropriate reminder that Jesus has a better comparison. And while I appreciate reminders from my clergy colleagues that all human beings are made in the image of God, folks who police outrage directed toward this president are often trying to be holier than Jesus and baptize this Herod asshole into the communion of saints against his will.
And when I say “asshole,” like with “fox” or “weasel,” I mean no disrespect to actual anuses or foxes or weasels, which serve an important role in nature. I would be sorry if I did not have an asshole to perform its important function, and for that reason I think both foxes and anuses are hurt by the comparison to Herod or our current president, but that is the way metaphors work sometimes.
(Below is a photo of a rabid fox, shortly before he was put down by animal control, poor thing.)
Bolivian icon of Paul depicting the road to Damascus (right) and diverse people groups, including indigenous ones (left).
Mike Johnson’s recent essay offering White Christian Nationalist of the fascist assault on immigrants does not deserve a serious point-by-point rebuttal. His essay is a rehash of white supremacist enslaver and colonizer theology, cherry-picking scripture to defend the incarceration of children, the murder of protesters, and the corruption of private prison profiteering.
Contrary to what Johnson says, the Bible does not present a univocal theory of divine and government power. Some of its authors supported monarchy while others hated it. Jewish tradition is very skeptical of state power (with good reason), and the early church had none, so trying to shoehorn a few passages from Paul and some Levitical codes into modern politics is a bit like reading tea leaves or horoscopes (at best) or fascist propaganda for the status quo (at worst, which it is).
What the Bible does give us, fairly consistently, are stories, usually from the perspective of oppressed people. It certainly gives us many examples of tyrant kings and spineless government officials, which is particularly appropriate for our context. Here are just a few:
Pharaoh, whose heart was hardened against cries for liberation (Exodus 7:13). He failed to stop the Exodus, and his army was drowned in the sea.
Pontius Pilate, who tried to wash his hands of his complicity in injustice (Matthew 27:24). History has not let him off the hook.
Foul-mouthed Rehoboam, who was more concerned with looking tough than prudent governing (1 Kings 12). His macho posturing started a civil war.
The Rabshakeh of Assyria, who believed that military might was proof of God’s favor (2 Kings 18). All their armies could not stop an epidemic.
Mad King Herod, who massacred infants because he was determined to hold on to power against imaginary threats (Matthew 2).
These stories are important for informing how Christians should relate to state power and authoritarian leaders. But it also gives us stories of exiles, refugees, and those who come to their aid:
Ruth, the immigrant whose devotion to her mother-in-law (not even a blood relative!) and hard work earned the respect of her community (Ruth 2).
Jesus’s own family, who fled persecution in their home country (Matthew 2).
Joseph, who was sold into slavery in Egypt but rose to greatness (Genesis 37).
The “good” Samaritan in Jesus’s parable who came to the aid of a wounded traveler (Luke 10)
While these stories do not tell us how to make policy about immigration, they fly in the face of the ginned-up fear of minority populations in our midst. In these stories, immigrants are blessings, not burdens, which modern research confirms. Immigrants commit fewer crimes than citizens in this country, and often contribute both economically and socially while getting little in return.
Mike Johnson’s essay is an example of bearing false witness (Exodus 20:16, 23:1). He continues spouting the lie that immigrants are more dangerous than the general population of citizens. In this way, Mike Johnson and others in this fascist regime (like Steven Miller and Kristi Noem) are playing the part of Haman in the Biblical story of Esther, who lied about the Jews in their midst by claiming that they were not following the king’s laws. He claimed they were dangerous:
“There is a certain people scattered and separated among the peoples in all the provinces of your kingdom; their laws are different from those of every other people, and they do not keep the king’s laws, so that it is not appropriate for the king to tolerate them. If it pleases the king, let a decree be issued for their destruction, and I will pay ten thousand talents of silver into the hands of those who have charge of the king’s business, so that they may put it into the king’s treasuries.” (Esther 3:8-9).
In this passage, we also see how bribery and xenophobic policies go hand-in-hand. Likewise, our current fascist president cares mostly about enriching himself, taking every opportunity to put more money into his own pockets. Anti-immigrant policies provide all kinds of tax-payer-funded opportunities for for-profit prison companies and other self-dealing entities.
Anti-immigrant rhetoric and policies also fuel economic and sexual abuse. Immigrants who fear law enforcement are less likely to report crimes committed against them, like wage theft or rape, which allows powerful men (like Trump and Epstein) to commit economic and sexual violence against foreigners. This is the primary sin of the people of Sodom (Genesis 13, Ezekiel 16).
Mike Johnson also relies on a tired trope in his essay, that liberal Christians are emotional bleeding hearts who cite this passage from Leviticus 19:33-34 out of context:
“When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the native-born among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.” (Leviticus 19:33-34)
He claims that this passage is about individual morality, not government policy. But “oppression” is not the action of an individual—it is the action of powerful actors (like governments) who enact policies that are unjust. The prophets are full of condemnation for government officials who use policy to do harm:
Woe to those who make iniquitous decrees, who write oppressive statutes, to turn aside the needy from justice and to rob the poor of my people of their right, to make widows their spoil and to plunder orphans! (Isaiah 10:1-2)
So, no, this is not an emotional appeal to Leviticus, but an appropriate analysis of what “oppression” actually is. Leviticus is a book of rules, not sentiment, but it puts love and empathy as the guiding principles at its center. “How would you like to be treated if you were an immigrant?” is not only empathy, but the foundation of any ethical system we would want to claim. Love is not naive sentiment: it is a foundational ethical principle.
I’ve already given Johnson’s essay more attention than it deserves, but I think it’s important to drive a stake into the vampiric heart of White Christian Nationalism and its perversion of the teachings of Jesus and Christian tradition. Johnson uses the language of slave-owning preachers and colonizers to justify unjust laws and cruel policies, baptizing violence and oppression in the name of Jesus. He reinforces the individualistic, self-centered theology of white evangelicalism to weasel out of prophetic scriptures against economic justice and hate-filled policies. His religious views belong in the trash-heap of history, or, as Jesus referred to it, gehenna — hell.
Dave Barnhart 