Rethinking the theological ethics of burning Qurans

Pastor Terry Jones of Dove World Outreach has made headlines over the last week due to his plans to lead “International Burn a Koran Day” at his Florida church. I’ve been a part of quite a few dialogs over the last few days that consider the ramifications of Pastor Jones’ plans and for the most part, folks have agreed on two things. First, that the idea of burning a Quran to make a statement against “Extremist Muslims” is just a bad idea. Second, that the idea of burning a Quran to make a statement against so-called “Extreme Muslims” represents a particular form of Christianity – one that is not new.

I’ve been thinking some about the second point. It is no secret that the history of Christianity in the Western world is, in large part (and there are important exceptions!), a history of imperialism. That is, a history of violently forcing a religion, culture, language, and worldview upon “discovered” people. Whether or not one has studied this history, many of us know of this tragic fact (the fact of Christian imperialism) through cultural memory. That is, through the ways we recall our coming to be as a society and peoples. We all know that Native Americans experienced near-genocide through colonization, we know that Africans were enslaved and dehumanized through colonization, and we also know that we, as U.S. citizens, inhabit the lands on which these atrocities occurred. We know all of these things.

The challenge is to raise questions like: what does it mean that the United States was born not only of a Revolution against imperial power, but also through the implementation and continuation of that power onto and into the lives of those deemed as something less than human? To do this as Christians who reside in the United States is to stare hypocrisy and tragedy in the face as we work out our faiths. Furthermore, it seems that Pastor Jones’ plans have occasioned the opportunity to raise this and other questions.

I can’t help but compare the burning of Qurans to the burning of crosses. Some will quickly say, “Wait! Aren’t you being a bit extreme?!” I don’t think so. The proposed (and there is still time for Pastor Jones to change his mind!!! pray for him!!! remember that he two was created in the image of God!) burning of Qurans is the mutating of a religious symbol in the name of letting a group know that “we” will not put up with “their” way of life violating “our” way of life. This seems to me to be PRECISELY what the burning of crosses was: the mutating of a religious symbol in the name of letting a group know that “we” (the nature of this “we” may have shifted some in our contemporary example) will not put up with “their” way of life violating “our” way of life!

Pastor Jones wants to show extremist Muslims that America, especially American Christians (though I wouldn’t be surprised if Pastor Jones were to wrongly argue that America is a Christian nation and thus that American and Christian are, ideally, synonymous), will not back down from the terrorizing practices of extreme Islam. Racist whites wanted (and want – lest we mistakenly believe that racism and the burning of crosses is a thing of the past) to show blacks, as well as other terrorized racial and ethnic minorities, that the white supremacist culture that drew deep and clear lines between whites and non-whites could not and would not be transgressed. Both practices emerge from a type of theo-logic, a rationalizing of God, that begets tragic ethics.

Opposition to Jones’ plans need to go beyond merely disagreeing with his plans. We should also think deeply about what type of religious consciousness leads to this type of action; the type of action that “burns” foreign perspectives before ever gaining familiarity with them. Historically, the burning of crosses is closely knit to the burning of bodies. And more generally, violent ways of thinking about God often lead to violent actions against people who hold different belief systems. It is difficult to be vulnerable and to dare to commune with those different from you. But this is the perspective we need to exalt, one that is open to communing with and learning from perspectives different than our own. Undoubtedly our communion partners will learn from us as well, and this is the best of what it means to be  a Christian: to be open to the possibility not only of changing someone else, but of being changed in turn.

Well, that’s what I think anyway. What about you?