The Christian moral obligation to refugees (or why I'm sick every time I open Facebook these days)

"Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple." (Luke 14:26)

This passage has always been a stumbling block for me. It fits alongside several other examples from Jesus' teaching of leaving family behind for the sake of becoming a disciple (cf. Mark 10:29, Luke 14:20, etc). I've always assumed Jesus talks like this to emphasize the importance of the kind of life that God offers over the life we can find in the world; that even love of family cannot hold a candle to the love of God. Contrasting these verses with Jesus on the cross in John's Gospel telling the beloved disciple that Mary, the mother of Jesus, is now to serve as his mother, and vice versa, has always struck me as a difficult tension. A person can't seriously argue that Jesus doesn't value family, but a person can't really argue that family is the most important thing either.

I think about this quite often, but it hit a sweet spot for me in the last couple days as the political world has erupted on the subject of refugees in light of terrorism in Paris, ISIS, Syrian ties and all that. The reason this strikes me is because I see many Christians opposed to refugees coming to America (or Europe, or wherever they might be), and I must confess I have a hard time understanding the logic. I understand if my atheist friends don't want Syrians in their towns; after all, that feels pragmatic and they have no political-moral obligation to them. But Christians do have a moral-ethical obligation to refugees. It's about as clear as any ethical obligation in the Bible, and I am struggling to understand how Christians can come to the understanding that it is OK to close their doors to those in need on the off chance they might do them harm.

Unapologetic nationalism and other great things about the Olympics

In my more idealistic moments I resonate strongly with Eugene Debs' famous quote: "I have no country to fight for; my country is the earth, and I am a citizen of the world." I tend to think that the things that separate us, especially nationalism in all its various forms, are exactly those things that dehumanize and vilify "others." In the long run, I'm not sure there's much difference between lifting up the virtues of one's nation above all others and lifting up one's race or one's ethnic heritage--with the small distinction that you can sometimes, but not always, choose your national residence. And yet, I am the most single-minded champion of rooting for Team USA in an array of sporting events every time the Olympics come around.

Stephen Colbert's satirical 2010 poster

Count me a hypocrite, I guess.

Sports are certainly not immune to violence in their nationalistic passions, so it's not as if I can excuse my enamorment for team USA on the grounds that nothing significant is on the line. We have to look no further than the Munich massacre at the 1972 Summer Olympics or the bombing at the 1996 Atlanta Summer Games to find the real-life cost of sport. And yet, here I am, cheering for the home team, and, perhaps more importantly, cheering against the rest of the world.

In order to rationalize this, we have to start with the essence of competition in sport: the desire to win. There's a rather (in)famous quote from Herm Edwards, in response to a question about his team playing meaningless games, where he lets loose with a punctuated and direct retort, "You play to win the game!" The goal is simple: win. Now, it might be too simple to keep emotions and passions out of that one objective, but at its heart sports is not about demoralizing or dehumanizing the opponent; it is about winning.

Things get more complicated when you introduce fans into the mix. Fans are crazy beasts. They don't know what they are doing and they have less justification still for their beliefs and passions. Some come armed with stats, but in sports everybody has stats and stats alone never won anything. The chasm between statistical evidence and actuality is a gulf we are hardly closer to bridging even in the sabermetric era. Fans try to justify their superiority, they get caught up in prideful arrogance and they lack even a grain of objectivity. It's the reason half the fans in the stadium will yell "Balk!" when an opposing pitcher wheels to throw to second while twiddling their thumbs when their own pitcher does the same thing. Fans are the folks who cause problems; fans are subject to the mob mentality.

That's why it's even more abhorrent that I have this passion for team USA since I am very much a fan. Yet, I'm hopeful that that's where the similarities end. There is something about the Olympics that encompasses more than nationalistic pride. For every controversial moment (including tonight when the USA will almost certainly not dip our flag to the queen), there is something about coming together in an event that rises above nationalism. My pride in team USA has little to do with dislike of other countries--even if there are certain athletes and even teams I cannot stand. The Olympics is a time when we don't need an excuse to root for those of us in our midst. It's not so different from rooting for the home team, except there is a clear sense that every American is in this together.

So I'm OK with rooting on team USA. It's not going to stop me anyway, but I hope the games remain more than that. I hope that even when the Americans lose the humanity of the games wins out. Sports are kind of a silly thing to make such a significant difference in the emotions of people all over the world, and yet, they are in some ways the fairest of grounds to meet one another and discover our common humanity.