Being an Originalist

My wife and I were having a discussion about the coming election (actually ongoing election with so many already voting), and the nomination of an Originalist to the Supreme Court, over breakfast recently.

Our breakfasts, and dinners for that matter, are often quite interesting.

As a Christian the question for me always relates to the life Jesus modeled for me, and how his life can inform how I respond to these, and all other issues. Our conversation gravitated to what it means to be an Originalist. Originalists believe that the constitutional text ought to be given the original public meaning that it would have had at the time that it became law.

That makes sense. My next question is does this include all or only part of the constitutional text? That is, is the entire Constitution included, even the Amendments? If so, why don’t the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments which newly define persons, voting rights, and what it means to be a citizen? Is the 19th Amendment taken into account, which gave women the right to vote? 

Those amendments came into existence long after the initial ratification of the Constitution. Do they count as original? If not, why not?

Put another way, when I was in seminary I was taught that to truly understand the Old Testament from a Christian perspective, one must know and understand as much as possible the New Testament first. Because if the New Testament does not re-define the Old, what is the point of the New? 

One of the major divisive issues in Christianity is that of homosexuality. And one of the arguments supporting LGBTQ inclusion is Jesus command to love one another, which supersedes any language of the Old Testament that appears to condemn homosexuality.

The earliest Christians did not have a New Testament. They were creating it. What they had was a clear understanding of the Old Testament that they re-signified in light of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. These early Christians WERE the New Testament.

So, to go back to the definition of a Constitutional Originalist, doesn’t it make sense that the entire document is taken into account as original, even when changes to the document take place over time? Or is originalism really only focused on the 18th Century part of the document, and nothing beyond that time?

If the answer to my question is “yes” to the original 18th century document, then why aren’t we issuing muskets to those who want to own a gun? It’s what people used in the 18th Century. If the answer is, “Well times have changed and we should have the right to own a gun that is more contemporary,” which is what so-called originalists argue, then are they really originalists?

I realize that my questions and answers may be too simple for some, but the nuance, and subtlety of the issues can often be revealed in simple questions. 

For example, have you heard of the Five Whys? The Five Whys is a process of getting to the root of the matter by continuing to ask, “Why?” at least five times. Like a child asking why over and over again. And “Because I said so,” doesn’t count as an answer. It can be a great clarifier of one’s beliefs. 

Lastly, the one consistent thing about God in the Bible is that God is always doing a new thing. Of course, the most significant new thing for Christians is Jesus. But then we also have to account for the Holy Spirit. And for the Apostles and Saints that came after Jesus. In the same manner wouldn’t it be prudent to account for the entire Constitution when it comes to being a Supreme Court Justice?

Now that would be original.

Psalm 23

I have a friend, a good friend, with whom I disagree politically. That is, he is mostly conservative and I am mostly progressive (noting these labels are pretty general for all of us). He does a lot of ranting on FaceBook right now as do many others. And while I think disagreement can be a good and helpful thing, a conversation that can, at its best, lead to insightfulness and even empathy, current political disagreements have become hateful, hurtful, and harmful. 

Many now engage in negative partisanship. And it creates enemies out of friends.

In response to my friend I have chosen not to engage. I read his posts, but do not respond. I know it affects me, and could lead to the kind of estrangement that is difficult to reconcile. So I turned to the source I normally look to for guidance. I opened the Bible. Mind you, I open the Bible quite often. Daily. And I reflect on the day’s offering. 

Today it was the 23rd Psalm.

Now before any of you say, “Ah. I know that one. ‘The Lord is my Shepherd…’” I would warn, as I warn myself, not to be sure of what Psalm 23 says. Our familiarity can often hide new meanings, new ways of seeing things. For example, verse 6 makes two points I find worth noting. “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me…”

The word mercy is translated from the Hebrew, hesed, which means love, a love found in relationship with others, already promised by God, along with the expectation that we respond to love by loving. Secondly, the word follow implies pursuit. God provides comfort and hospitality in the Psalm, and the promise of God’s love is backed up by God’s pursuit of you and me. This is no passive God here. God is after us! Loving us. Always the first actor. 

We can love because God first loved us. 

But is that how we respond, especially when it comes to politics? Is that how we participate on FaceBook? Even church communities struggle with those with whom they disagree, Christians and otherwise. Our human tendency is to distrust “others,” and reminds me of the Greek myth about Procrustes.

As the story goes, Procrustes invites weary sojourners into his home to rest, BUT he ties them up to the bed. If the bed is too short for the traveler, Procrustes chops off their limbs until they fit, or if the bed is too long, he puts them on a rack to stretch them out to fit the bed.

Our distrust, despite our best intentions, is to “fit” others into our understandings, our beliefs, and if that doesn’t work we simply make them an enemy. Psalm 23 implies that as well. While God provides a banquet for us, our enemies are left out, perhaps to rue the fact they are not part of the “in” group.

But Jesus, whom Christians see as the Good Shepherd in the Psalm, amplifies the Psalm by telling us to love our enemies. Even our enemies. 

In actual practice this would involve intentional efforts to work through disagreements by acknowledging that everyone has something to contribute to a solution that is best for all concerned.  We move from “either/or” language to “both/and” language. We affirm the genuine abundance provided to us rather than fret over the false belief that the pie is only so big, and we had better get our piece of it before someone else takes it. To treat our neighbors with compassion, as revealed in the Good Samaritan parable. 

So that’s our challenge. To pursue loving relationships, even when we disagree. Just like God does with us. Believe me, it’s easy to do. 

It’s also easy NOT to do. You choose.