The Tennessee State Capitol: Nathan Bedford Forrest

[I tried to post this as a photo & comments to Facebook last Friday. It didn't work out quite right. I'm going to re-post this as a blog post. Sorry if you've read it before.]

I'm in the state capitol today at a student conference, and I want to share some observations about my state.

This statue in the Capitol gallery is of Nathan Bedford Forrest, a man who fought AGAINST the United States. Moreover, he was a founder of the Klu Klux Klan.

So why does his statute occupy a priviledged place in the Capitol? It is an example of the South's complicated relationship with America's history, with the country's present, and with the future.

Forrest was one of the Confederacy's most effective raiders. Never defeated in battle, his motto was "get there first with the most." At war's end, he became a potent Southern leader at a time when Northern opportunists were raiding the Southern economy for quick profit and political gain (like Lincoln,these transplanted "carpetbaggers" were Republicans, which is why, from the end of Reconstruction in 1876 to the 1990s, Republicans were considered with abhorrence by conservative Southern whites.

Forrest's days as the first "Grand Wizard " of the KKK were short but effective. In modern parlance, he claimed that the KKK was a "fair and balanced" alternative to the Republican "Loyal Leagues." As one Alabama newspaper put it, "The League is nothing more than a nigger Ku Klux Klan." One editorial cartoon of the period showed a KKK lynching: its victims were white, and written on one victim's carpet bag was the word, "Ohio."

Today we think of Forrest's KKK in strictly racial terms. In the 20th century, their burning crosses and white-capped members sought to intimidate Southern blacks into compliance with segregation.

But I know of no attacks that Forrest carried out against freed slaves. His target was Republicans. He hounded them out of their judgeships, targeted Northern-owned industries, and eventually returned the South to the dominance of the political, Democratic, conservative class that had ruled from the time of Andrew Jackson to the end of the Civil War. Forrest was a SOUTHERN patriot, even if he wasn't an AMERICAN one.

Eventually things got out of control. The armed "night riders" under the sheets weren't always acting for political reasons. Shortly after a federal grand jury declared the Klan a "terrorist organization"in 1870, Forrest disbanded the organization completely, claiming that it had been "perverted from its original honorable and patriotic purposes, becoming injurious instead of subservient to the public peace."

The closing years of Forrest's life wouldn't seem to reflect the actions of a notorious racist. The New York Times, in its obituary of Forrest, October 30, 1877, noted that his last public appearance was before a 4th-of-July celebration of African-Americans near Forrest's home in Memphis:

"[In] his last notable public appearance .... he appeared before the colored people at their celebration, was publicly presented with a bouquet by them as a mark of peace and reconciliation, and made a friendly speech in reply. In this he once more took occasion to defend himself and his war record, and to declare that he was a hearty friend of the colored race. "

This brings to light two ironies of Tennessee's Capitol today.

One: both legislative chambers in Tennessee's Capitol are controlled by Republicans! If Forrest were to return from the grave and learn this, there would be hell to pay. Folks would get hanged. The Capitol might even be burned.

The second irony can be found on the wall that Forrest's statue looks at. It's time for lunch, but I'll develop this more a little later.

What Reverend Abner Stood For

This is a short story I wrote back in college.  At the time, the country was transitioning from Bush the Better to President Clinton, and there was a lot of fear in the air (my college wasn't what one would call "progressive" by any measure).  I like to revisit it whenever my country is recovering from an election and moving into an uncertain future.  My prayer is that it helps to put politics into perspective, in light of our Christian calling.

15 December 1992

Few Christmases in our nation’s history have been as desperate as the Christmas of 1777.  George Washington and the Continental Army were bottled up in Valley Forge.  The British held Philadelphia and New York City.  All sings pointed to defeat for the struggling colonies.

Nowhere was the disappointment felt more severely in than in the town of Fredrick, Maryland; nowhere was the patriotism more intense.  The leader of the revolutionary struggle in Frederick was none other than the Anglican minister, Douglas Abner.  Since before the revolution—before the Declaration of Independence—Abner had railed against the injustices of the British monarchy from his pulpit every Sunday.  “We have no king but Christ on high,” he often said, “no government but that which every free man chooses for himself within these 13 colonies.”

By Christmas of 1777, the patriotic fervor had grown into anti-British mayhem.  Loyalist houses and businesses were looted and burned.  Tea was boycotted to show solidarity with the residents of Boston.  Even in little ways, the colonists showed their contempt for the British.  Playing cards which had once included four sets of kings and queens were now printed with likenesses of George Washington and Betsey Ross instead.

Despite the bitterness, Christmas crept ever closer.  Townspeople readied themselves for the holiday season, and looked forward to Frederick’s Christmas tradition—the community symphony’s annual rendition of Handel’s “Messiah.”  Thirty-five years earlier, at the oratorio’s debut, the majestic strains of the Hallelujah Chorus had brought King George I to his feet.  At the sight of this standing king, the other concert-goers had followed suit.  Since that time, standing during the Hallelujah Chorus brought to mind the King of England as well as King of the Jews.

The Sunday before the performance, Reverend Abner condemned the English for being slaves to a tradition set by despotic rulers—a tradition that refused to let the colonies have their freedom.

The members left the church bewildered in spite of their patriotism.  What about “Messiah”?  Would this Christmas tradition continue?  Would anybody stand?

The community orchestra practiced pensively that week for the Friday performance.  The church choir seemed distracted as they went over the songs they had sung every year since 1760.  No one talked about the final chorus.  No one thought of standing.  No one mentioned the word, Hallelujah.

The night before Christmas finally arrived.  Colonists came from Frederick and several nearby villages to hear the oratorio—more than had ever come before.  But Christmas joy was nowhere to be found.  Every jaw was set.  Every eye looked unwaveringly forward.

Reverend Abner set a somber tone for the evening when he began the program with a special prayer for the American soldiers on the front lines.  He included a moment of silence for five of Frederick’s sons who had died in battle that year.

After Abner’s prologue, the concert progressed horribly.  The orchestra had to stop four times to retune.  The soloists sang without any hint of emotion or praise as Christ’s story unfolded.  Every eye in the hall was on Reverend Abner.  Every hand moved in applause with his hands.  Every head nodded in approval with his.

At last the moment came.  The strings sang the joyous entrance to the Hallelujah Chorus; the choir began to sing.  Everyone watched Reverend Abner’s jaw become suddenly tense.  He clutched his hands together.  He crossed his legs.  He stayed seated.

Back in the tenth row sat Francis Weaver, the 8-year-old son of a Frederick carpenter.  He couldn’t see Reverend Abner over the heads of the other concertgoers.  He could only see the choir and listen to the words as the choir sang distractedly:  “For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth, Hallelujah.”

Francis didn’t know what omnipotent meant.  He didn’t even know where England was.  But somehow he knew exactly what the music had called him to do.  Francis stood up.

No one noticed at first—that is, until Francis stood up on the chair to get a better look at the orchestra.  Then a murmur arose.  Reverend Abner turned to quell the talking, only to look with horror at little Francis standing in the tradition of King George.

Next others stood in acclamation as the choir sang—a little more boisterously now—“And He shall reign for ever and ever, Hallelujah.”  The strings seemed to pick up the tempo, and soon that hall in Frederick, Maryland, barely a hundred and fifty miles from Valley Forge, was ringing with the music of angels.  Abner sat still, a lone dimple in the rejoicing, standing mass of Marylanders.

He lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut.  “King George, King George,” he muttered, “That’s all that it is.  I am a patriot.  I will not honor such a king.”

But the choir continued, building to the song’s climax: “And His name shall be called, Wonderful, Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.”

Abner looked up at the words, “Prince of Peace.”  Like Paul before the gates of Damascus, he opened his eyes to see something he had never expected.  Instead of a haughty, white-wigged King George of England, the King of Kings reached out to him.  Calling him.  Electing him.

“Hallelujah,” the choir sang.  “Hallelujah!”

Abner looked around at the festive citizens of Frederick.  With a loud sigh he looked forward at the choir and stood—a testament to the fact that no revolution nor war nor evil empire could stay seated before the King of Kings.

When the Chorus ended, the applause filled the church.  Francis’s father hoisted him up on his shoulders as the mass of patriots clamored for more.  The choir obliged and sang the Chorus again, this time even livelier and more joyously than before.  Next the orchestra played Christmas carols.  The throng joined the choir, and that tiny hall in colonial Frederick, Maryland, literally glowed with the joy of the Christmas season until midnight.

As the gathering dispersed, a Christmas star shone in the heavens.  The colonists went happily to their homes, festive and merry.  No one watched Reverend Abner slip away into the cool night.  No one noticed the tears flowing down his cheeks or his shaking hands.  No one saw him gaze up into heaven, nor did they hear him whisper the word, “Hallelujah.”

Persia and Monotheism

I posted a week and a half ago about Josiah and how the exile finally established monotheism as the dominant theology of the Jews. Since then, I've been on a mission. I've been obsessed with trying to find the historical moment in time when it all clicked for the Jewish people--where Yahweh was no longer a God superior to the gods of Judah's neighbor kingdoms, but when he became the ONLY God for them.

This is what I absolutely love about being a believing Christian, by the way. I love how the Bible has answers to more questions than we could ever imagine even asking. All we have to do is seek...and find.

So here were some questions that I asked:

What if there were one point in the Bible at which I could say--there, they get it! The Jews are finally monotheists and they aren't going back!

What is there were one person or prophet--a proto-Messiah--who could be identified as the lynchpin of monotheism? Who could he be?

In my first post on the topic, I mentioned how the history of Israel from Exodus to Exile had been one of henotheism (the belief that only one out of many gods is worthy of worship), albeit with a consistent fringe movement--my dad loves the Adventist-standard word, "remnant,"--of believers who worshipped only Yahweh and none other, according to the 1st Commandment.

Nowhere was this henotheism more evident than in the Temple itself. The reforms of Josiah, staged about 20 years before the Fall of Jerusalem, clearly point out the different gods worshipped in the Temple at this time. There was the Most Holy Place, of course, for the worship of Yahweh (the Ark of the Covenant was long gone, looted by Pharaoh Shishak just five years after the death of Solomon (1 Kings 14.25-26)). There was also an Asherah pole as well as dormitories to house male prostitutes who served Asherah there.

I searched for answers to my questions throughout the Old Testament, focusing on exilic and post-exilic prophets. Ezekiel didn't work. He prophesied during the captivity, and while he foresaw a united Judah created out of dry bones, he bewailed creeping idolatry--a polytheistic problem for sure.

The post-exilic prophets which close the Old Testament, Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi. Haggai ministers to a new people. The context of his book shows that idol worship has not crept back into the culture, but he issues warnings just in case.

Zechariah is triumphal. The Second Temple is almost complete. This temple will serve as a beacon to all nations. Consider Zechariah 1:16, "Therefore, this is what the Lord says: 'I will return to Jerusalem with mercy, and there my house will be rebuilt. And the measuring line will be stretched out over Jerusalem." This is a prophet to a culture that is redeemed. There is a concern for sinfulness, as there is in Malachi, but there is little mention of the threat of henotheism.

Did I miss something? The act of the Nation of Judah returning to God may not seem exceptional (they did it again and again), but did the fact that they stayed with Him--as they continue to do today--get overlooked in the Old Testament?

The answer is hidden within one of the greatest books of the Old Testament: the book of Isaiah, which is actually a collection of prophecies by two different prophets. Much as the books of Ezra and Nehemiah were once stuck together in the Hebrew Bible, the Second Isaiah's prophecies follow upon those of the First Isaiah, who wrote during the reign of King Hezekiah of Judah (727-698 BC).

Consider the demarcation between the First Isaiah's writings and those of the Second Isaiah in chapter 40 of the book. The last verse of Chapter 39 states,

"The word of the Lord you have spoken is good," Hezekiah replied. For he thought, "There will be peace and security in my lifetime."

Hezekiah, who has just hosted emissaries from Babylon, has been warned that later generations will pay the price for his arrogance.

Chapter 40 begins,

"Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.

Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,

and proclaim to her

that her hard service has been completed,

that her sin has been paid for,

that she has received from the Lord's hand

double for all her sins."

This isn't spoken to Hezekiah at all. The words are for a people stuck in exile, waiting for the "hard service" of their penitence in Babylon to end. I might add, they are words spoken to a people who are on the verge of total change.

So if there is another prophet who prophesied to post-exilic Judah, could he provide hints as to the kind of change that was made?

Definitively.

The exact point at which God becomes the only God for the Jews is found in Isaiah 45:18.

For this is what the Lord says--

he who created the heavens,

he is God;

he who fashioned and made the earth,

he founded it;

he did not create it to be empty,

but formed it to be inhabited---

he says: "I am the Lord,

and there is no other."

Compare this with previous statements about God/gods.

Elijah said on Mount Carmel, "How long will you waver between two opinions? If the Lord is God, follow him; but if Ball is God, follow him." Elijah's is a battle for supremacy.

The First Commandment says, "You shall have no other gods before me."

Second Isaiah shows distinct evolution from these two claims. His God is not in a battle with any other god--"there is no other." It is impossible to have another God since they don't exist. In fact,

Ignorant are those who carry about idols of wood,

who pray to gods that cannot save" Isaiah 45.21

How could this happen? Moreover, how could this happen to a people in exile--apart from their own country, subject to worshippers of Marduk and Ishtar, with no temple, no priesthood and few, isolated prophets? How could a people addicted to idolatry turn themselves into monotheists under such circumstances?

It took a messiah.

Isaiah 45 is the lynchpin of the Bible. Located near the middle of the Bible, it returns the People of God from the brink of annihilation, and sets up a culture into which Jesus will be born and grow to save His people from their sins.

Before the Messiah, however, Judah needed a messiah.

The chapter begins,

This is what the Lord says to his messiah,

to Cyrus, whose right hand I take hold of

to subdue nations before him

and to strip kings of their armor...

For the sake of Jacob my servant,

of Israel my chose,

I summon you by name

and bestow on you a title of honor,

though you do not acknowledge me. (Isaiah 45.1, 4)

It seems strange for God to provide a messiah who does not acknowledge him. Cyrus the Great (pictured right) had many good qualities that led him to conquer the empires of Persia (ruled by his grandfather Astyages), Lydia (modern Turkey) and Babylon. He did not worship Yahweh, yet he was a messiah for the Jewish people.

Why? I think it is because he was a monotheist.

The Greek traveler, Herodotus, described the beliefs of the Persians in the 5th Century (100 years after Judah's return from exile).

• the Persians have no images of the Gods, no temples nor altars, and consider their use a sign of folly. This comes, I think, from their not believing the Gods to have the same nature as men, as imagined by the Greeks.

A clue to the source of Cyrus's belief is an understanding of the religion of Zoroaster, a prophet who wrote around the time of the Exodus. He said that there was one God, whom he called Ahura Mazda. In opposition to God was the power of capital-E Evil, known as "The Lie" or Angra Mainyu.

Scholars who have researched Cyrus have not found any records that confirm his Zoroastrianism, but we know that it was the dominant faith of his home kingdom of Persia. By all accounts he was tolerant of all gods, and he was magnanimous toward those he conquered. Consider this engraving, now in the British Museum:

• I am Cyrus, King of the World, Great King, Legitimate King, King of Babylon... When I entered Babylon as a friend and when I established the seat of the government in the ruler's palace with jubilation and rejoicing, Marduk, the grat god, induced the magnanimous inhabitants of Babylon to love me, and I daily endeavored to worship him... I returned to the sacred cities on the other side of the Tigris, the sanctuaries which have long lain in ruins, as well as the images which used to live in them... I also gathered all their former inhabitants and returned them to their homes.

These are the words of no religious fanatic, but someone experienced in the diplomacy and the art of statesmanship.

Are they the words of a messiah? I believe they could be. The answers to Judah's abrupt turn towards monotheism during exile may lie not in Babylon but in Persia. Rather than being forged in an atmosphere of persecution, Judah's monotheism developed under an empire that itself embraced monotheism.

When Alexander would conquer Palestine 200 years later, he continued tolerance toward Judaism, as would the Ptolemies who would rule for the next 160 years. It wasn't until 168 BC, after Palestine had been conquered by the Seleucid Empire, would Judaism face an enemy in the form of the zealous paganism of Antiochus Epiphanes who erected an altar to Jupiter in the middle of the Temple. This time the Jews would stand firmly with God, as they have every since.

Of course this opens up more questions. How I wish I could learn more about Cyrus, his conquests and beliefs! Also, how does an understanding of Persia's Zoroastrianism inform us of other Biblical stories during this period such as those of Daniel and Esther? Finally, I know that Zoroaster founded a group of wise men known as Magi--does he have any connection to the Christmas story found in Matthew? It will take more blog entries to answer these questions.

(A key source for this essay was the book In Search of Zarathustra by Paul Kriwaczek (Knopf, 2003).