Commentary

WEST VIRGINIA’S schoolteachers went on strike on Feb. 22. Although West Virginia has a proud labor history, the state’s two teacher unions (West Virginia Education Association and American Federation of Teachers-West Virginia) do not have the right to strike. After decades of labor movements failing nationally, the Trump age has not seemed like a prime moment for a revival. And West Virginia’s government is firmly in the hands of Republicans.

Fast-forward to March 7. Schools reopened after a statewide strike that lasted two weeks. Teachers procured a 5 percent raise, not only for themselves but for all state employees, from state police to highway maintenance workers to clerks at the DMV.

When schools reopened, the Charleston Gazette-Mail interviewed a woman dropping off her grandchildren at Horace Mann Middle School. She said the children wanted to support their teachers, who every day stood in the cold outside their school. “Every time we’d pass by the teachers [picketing] outside, they’d say, ‘Blow it, Nana. Blow the horn.’”

I AM A CHRISTIAN. That means that I serve a savior who told us he came to free prisoners. At the same time, I live in a nation with more than 2 million prisoners, more than any country in the world.

I am also an affluent white person living in a country that unequally and selectively jails people of color and poor people. And I don’t just live in this country, I help govern it.

As a state representative in Michigan, I am responsible for this situation. The government directly chooses who goes to jail and who doesn’t. Of course, since our democracy practices government “of the people,” that makes all of us responsible for government actions.

How should Christians who are also citizens take action for justice in our law enforcement system? Responding to mass incarceration as Christians can seem daunting, but there are obvious places to begin. One of the clearest places our current system fails the test of equal treatment under the law is in the detention or release of those accused of, but not convicted of, a crime.

PURPLE IS THE liturgical color for Lent. “Purple” is also the political identity of America’s houses of worship. We are a mixture of Republicans, Democrats, and independents who come together for worship, fellowship, and service. No political party owns religious truth.

In 2017, some in Washington, D.C., made a concerted effort to undermine churches’ congregational political mix through the repeal of the Johnson Amendment, a provision in the tax code since 1954 that protects the independence and integrity of not-for-profit organizations by prohibiting them from endorsing or opposing candidates for public office.

The Johnson Amendment does not specifically target churches; it applies equally to all 501(c)(3) organizations, religious and secular. Under the current tax code, churches are assumed to be 501(c)(3) organizations (c3s) but can opt for another tax-exempt status. Most churches remain c3s because in addition to being tax exempt, congregants’ tithes and offerings are tax deductible. Despite some hysterical claims, churches and charitable organizations can address any issue—no matter how controversial or unpopular—under the current tax code. The line is drawn, however, at c3 organizations telling people who to vote for or against.

During the fall debate on the largest change to the U.S. tax code in 30 years, the House version of the tax bill would have effectively repealed the Johnson Amendment. The Senate version never included such language, nor did the final version of the bill that became law.

We might have seen the end of this longstanding tax provision if not for the outcry from nonprofits, foundations, and people of faith. Can you imagine? Candidate commercials played during worship services. Candidate flyers included in every bag of food given out by the local food pantry.

THIS TAX DAY, some middle-class Americans may be tempted to celebrate. Under the new law approved in December, the bottom 60 percent of earners (those making less than $86,100 a year) are expected to receive 2018 tax cuts worth $407 on average.

But if you think you’ll be among those who owe Uncle Sam less under the new law, don’t get your party hat out yet. These tax cuts come at a high price.

For example, a typical preschool teacher (single, with no children) who makes $30,000 per year can expect a tax cut of $457. That’s enough to pay for a new refrigerator or several months of electricity bills. But other changes to the tax code could put this teacher’s job in jeopardy. State governments have been expanding pre-K programs in recent decades, but many of them are expected to have their education budgets squeezed because of the new tax law’s caps on state and local tax deductions.

In the meantime, the preschool teacher could have more hungry children in her classroom. The new tax law reduces incentives for charitable contributions, including for food banks and other services that early-childhood programs rely on. Donations to nonprofits are expected to drop by as much as $20 billion this year, according to the Tax Policy Center.

What about middle-class families who are making significantly more than the typical preschool teacher? Let’s look at a couple who run a plumbing business in Louisiana, with $135,000 in joint income. The Tax Policy Center estimates they’ll get a tax cut of $609 in 2018. But that same couple can expect to be slammed with a spike in their health insurance premiums of $1,900—triple their tax cut! That’s because the new tax law repealed a key part of the Affordable Care Act that requires individuals to have health coverage if they can afford it. This could lead to an estimated 13 million more people becoming uninsured and huge increases in premiums for those who remain in the individual market.

These are just some of the immediate effects of a tax law that overwhelmingly favors the wealthy and big corporations. In the longer term, the costs to working families will be much more painful.

“IS GREEK LIFE Worth Saving?” asked a recent U.S. News & World Report article. It’s a question others are asking since Indiana University became the seventh university to suspend the activities of its fraternities and sororities. Four deaths in a year attributed to the fraternity pledge process are a clear sign that “Greek life” has a problem.

Yet fraternities aren’t going away. In fact, journalist John Hechinger estimates that at least 380,000 male undergraduates belong to Greek-letter organizations, a 50 percent increase over the last decade. And while millennials are flocking to Greek life, even more are abandoning the church.

A 2015 Pew study found that only 27 percent of millennials attend a religious service on a weekly basis. It’s something college Christian organizations are noticing, and why InterVarsity now sponsors “Greek InterVarsity,” purporting that one can be both “Greek” and Christian.

It’s an interesting approach. However, considering these deaths—and the numerous sexual assault allegations made against fraternity men—some wonder if InterVarsity is making the right decision. It’s time to ask how people of faith can effectively combat the toxic behaviors—prejudice, misogyny, and addiction—that are allowed to flourish within the Greek college and university systems.

IN THE 2016 ELECTION, white Catholics and evangelicals voted overwhelmingly for Donald Trump and the Republican party’s “pro-life” platform. Since Trump’s election, the United States has also seen an unprecedented rise in hate speech and action, such as the Charlottesville rally, and other incidents aimed at minorities, immigrants, and Jews.

The Anti-Defamation League reports a 67 percent rise in anti-Semitic attacks in the U.S. over 2016; anti-Semitic incidents in K-12 private, public, and parochial schools have more than doubled, including harassment, vandalism, and physical assault. These trends are the very opposite of the pro-life platform white Catholics and evangelicals held as a centerpiece for their voting choices.

The challenge of how to respond to a rising tide of hate is not a new one for Christians—nor is the complicity of churches in spreading it. While individuals and a few churches confronted hate speech and actions against Jews in the years of Nazi power in Germany, most supported the state. If we hope to do better today, we must educate our students not only about the end result of complicity and silence—genocide—but also about the stages of bias and hatred that are fertile ground for brutal, systemic violence.

THERE ARE  MANY reasons why I find it difficult to turn on the news. Audacious and violent abuses of power are escalating; their grievous impact is mind-numbing. Nowhere has this been more evident than in the recent revelations of how sexual violence and harassment were regularly practiced, indeed normalized, by many men in high places of government and commerce.

It’s hard to take in these stories, especially for women like myself who have suffered for years the ongoing traumatic effects of such violence. There is hardly a woman in this country who hasn’t suffered some form of male sexual violence. When we hear such stories, most women and girls simultaneously relive their own horror stories. It’s not a distanced, objective matter, blithely suited for early morning talk shows. We have painful flashbacks that bring with them a sense of dread, loss of voice, and overwhelming feelings of powerlessness. That’s what happens in the aftermath of traumatic sexual violence. It has the power to haunt you for a lifetime. Sadly, it is most acute when it is kept secret, or not acted upon when revealed. The majority of cases today fall into these categories: Never making headlines, never redressed.

AFTER YEARS OF retreat work and spiritual direction in many contexts, I have come to see that it is very hard to heal individuals or institutions when the larger culture itself is in shock or despair. If there is at least some level of cultural hope or optimism, the healing process moves much easier and creativity flourishes.

When the shades are all pulled down, and so many are content to live in a dark room, it is much harder to enlighten any one part of the room. The shared panic makes high-level responses much more difficult. (Yet, to be honest, it emboldens the rare few too!)

I hope this does not sound too clever or current, but I do believe that much of the world, and surely the United States, is presently in a state of collective post-traumatic stress. We sit stunned by what is happening around us, to us, on our newsfeeds—thrashing around for explanations and answers—inside of incoherence at so many levels. I guess St. John of the Cross would call it a “dark night of the soul,” but it’s not an individual experience. We are now in it together.

NORTH KOREA'S hydrogen bomb test in September came as no shock to observers in South Korea. It was timed to protest the annual joint U.S.-South Korea military exercises. These “war games” are viewed by North Korea as a deadly provocation and as preparation for invasion and regime change.

The saber rattling and war of words by the U.S. and North Korean administrations reached a dangerous level this fall when President Trump, in his address to the U.N. General Assembly, threatened to “totally destroy” North Korea. To use such bellicose rhetoric at a forum that seeks political solutions to the world’s problems was particularly grave and reprehensible. It flies in the face of Christian values as well as the principles of universal human rights on which the U.N. is founded.

In September, U.S. planes crossed the demarcation that separates North and South Korea in the East Sea. In response, North Korea’s foreign minister, Ri Yong-ho, issued counterthreats to shoot down U.S. strategic bombers. Ri’s remarks betray North Korea’s fears of a pre-emptive strike by the U.S. and the “decapitation” of North Korea’s leadership. Since then the situation has gotten worse.