Can you believe?: evangelicalism

Showing posts with label evangelicalism. Show all posts

11 September 2025

"Is grief my default setting?"

Source.

Wikipedia tells me that the novel I've just finished reading, "Will and Testament (Norwegian: Arv og miljø) is an absurdist fiction novel written by Norwegian author Vigdis Hjorth."

I was about to protest the word "absurdist"—the novel captivated me with its crystalline realism—but then I clicked on the link to the entry on absurdist fiction, and I forgave Wikipedia, although I still resist any implication of meaninglessness.

As much as I would like to recommend this novel without spoilers, it's important to reveal that emerging memories of incestuous rape are part of its story and its energy.

As the narrative starts, the three sisters and a brother grapple with family conflict over an apparently unfair division of their inheritance. The stakes get higher when their mother overdoses, and later, when their father has a fatal accident.

(But was that division of the inheritance truly unfair or isn't it?—even the central character, daughter Bergljot, wants justice but not to be bribed for her silence or forced to reconcile with a family that doesn't believe her.)

Once that basic conflict over the inheritance (and the alienation Bergljot persistently defends) had fully engaged me, several constant features of Hjorth's writing kept pulling me deeper in. Some of them touched on my own experiences, and some echoed my family history.

The first element is obsessive repetition, Bergljot's need to keep returning to her wounds, grievances, arguments, suspicions, self-doubts, self-justifications, over and over.

I thought to myself, don't I too lose sleep rehearsing what unfair thing had happened to me, and what I would say when I got my day in court, so to speak, and what chances were there that anyone would believe or even hear me?

As Bergljot tries to cope with all these personal uncertainties (including a mother who seems to attempt suicide as a way of punishing the alienated daughter), her feverish prose reflects her stress:

I existed in a trance of fear, of loss, it was fog and confusion, I did the laundry. It felt like I was drowning in laundry, I hated doing the laundry, back when my life was normal, that is to say numb, I used to regard it as the dullest, most exhausting chore, having to do the never-ending laundry. The contents of the laundry basket and the mountains of clothes lying next to the overflowing laundry basket, the heavy bedsheets and duvet covers and tablecloths as well as curtains, piles of underpants and socks and dirty tea towels, I would curse all that laundry back when my life had been simple and undramatic. If it hadn’t been for all that laundry, I used to think back then, then I would have been more content, I would have been able to read the books I ought to read and longed to read, but rather than read them, I was forced to start yet another load of washing and when that was finished, I had to hang up the heavy, unmanageable sheets to dry, and it would rain or it would be winter so I had to drape them over doors and chairs because the clothes horses were too small and already covered with socks and pants and shirts and tops, I cursed the laundry. But now that my world had imploded and I was raging and grieving, it was the laundry that kept me going, the time it took to do the laundry and hang it up and when it was finally dry, to fold it, put it away in the cupboards when the children were asleep at night, and then fall asleep myself knowing the laundry had been done and dried and folded and was ready, clean and waiting in the cupboards, I’m surviving on laundry, I thought to myself.

She looks for comfort in marriage and affairs, but mostly in alcohol. Over and over, she retreats into the fog of glass after glass of beer or red wine. Her stresses leak into her dreams, and she turns to psychotherapy.

Four times a week I lay on the couch talking in turns about pain, shame and the minutiae of everyday life, and every now and then we would suddenly experience a breakthrough. I dreamt that I picked up a hitchhiker who was going to Drøbak, as was I. Then I took a wrong turn, I went off the main road to Drøbak, I got lost and couldn’t find my way back to the main road, and I felt guilty on account of the hitchhiker who was inconvenienced by my uselessness and would be late getting to Drøbak. Then I thought I saw the main road, the lights from the main road; if I drove under the garage door in front of me, I would get back on it. I had accelerated to drive under the garage door when it started to close, I stepped on the gas to get through before it closed completely, but didn’t make it, it came down too quickly and it slammed into the car, we were startled and shocked, but at least we were alive, the hitchhiker ashen-faced and with his trouser pockets turned out and the car a complete write-off. Then Mum showed up and said in her usual cheerful manner that it could probably be fixed, although everyone could see that was impossible. Then I spotted a five-øre coin on the road and bent down to pick it up because finding money brings good luck, and I told myself by way of consolation that it might turn out to be my lucky day after all. I picked it up only to discover that it was just a button.
A five-year-old? he asked.
No, a five-øre coin, I said.
You said a five-year-old, he said.
I meant a five-øre coin, I said, and repeated my dream: When the garage door came down, it felt as if I was crushed.
Almost as crushed as a five-year-old, he said, and I felt an electric shock go through me.

As I read her recounting this dream to her therapist, I absolutely recognized having had similar dreams about my life and my parents. As for the role alcohol played in my family, I don't even want to start.

Bergljot is a dramatic arts magazine editor and theater critic, so it is not surprising that writers and poets are mentioned and quoted: In the midst of crisis, she goes to see Henrik Ibsen's Peer Gynt, for example, in an intriguing updated staging. The Danish writer and poet Tove Ditlevsen, and the Norwegian poet Rolf Jacobsen, also flash by several times.

Bergljot demands that her family believe her account of her father's crimes. After all, if she made up all these public charges, she would be a monster, in which case why is everyone demanding that she return to the family? This endless loop of contradictions doesn't get resolved in the novel, leaving us readers to ponder what a resolution might look like—in Bergljot's life and in yours and mine. At the end, just a reminder: trauma is intergenerational, and children have questions of their own.

Have I always been grieving? Is grief my default setting? And is it only the emotional side of my grief that has lessened? Deep down have I always been sad? Only when I’m calm, when I’m alone, when I work intensely, is my sadness less painful. That’s why I’m calm, that’s why I work so hard, that’s why I’m alone.
...
... Every war ever fought on this earth has proved that you can’t ignore history, sweep it under the carpet, and that if you want to reduce history’s destructive impact on the future, everyone’s version of what happened must be brought out into the open and acknowledged.

Suddenly – in December
Suddenly – In December. I stand knee-deep in snow
Talk to you and get no answer. You’re keeping quiet.
My love, now it’s happened after all. Our whole life,
the smiles, the tears and the courage. Your sewing machine
and the long nights of work. Finally our travels:
   – under the snow. Under the wreath of cedar.
It all went so fast. Two staring eyes. Words
I couldn’t catch, that you said over and over.
And suddenly nothing more. You slept.
– And now they’re all lying here, days and summer nights,
the grapes in Valladolid, the sunsets in Nemea
   – under the snow. Under the wreath of cedar.
Quick as a switch flicking off,
the tracings behind the eye flash out,
wiped from the slate of a life-span. Or maybe not?
Your new dress, my face and our old stairs
and everything you brought to this house. Is it gone
   – under the snow. Under the wreath of cedar?
Dear friend, where is our happiness now,
your good hands, your young smile,
your hair’s wreath of light on your forehead and that
girlish glint in your eye, your spirit and
steady abundance of life and hope?
   – under the snow. Under the wreath of cedar.
Companion beyond death. Take me down with you.
Side by side, let us see the unknown.
It’s so desolate here and the hour is getting dark.
The words are few now and no one’s listening anymore.
Dearest, you who are sleeping. Eurydice.
   – under the snow. Under the wreath of cedar.

Rolf Jacobsen (this poem was partially quoted in Will and Testament). Translation by Roger Greenwald, published in Did I Know You? Selected Poems.

Vigdis Hjorth's novel, with its elements drawn from her own life, became controversial in Norway when her own family members objected to the publication of these supposed family revelations. For more on this aspect of the novel, see the reviews by Holly Williams in the Observer, and by Lara Feigel in the Guardian.

Tim Adams interviews Vigdis Hjorth.

Natasha Sholl on writing people you know.

I'm very interested in the ethics of disclosure of family secrets in autobiographical writing. I've been fairly open about my own experiences on this blog, in part to make up for an incident I've probably told before. One day after a particularly painful beating the previous evening that I'd received for some undoubted mischief on my part, I ran into a neighbor on our apartment building's stairs. What was all that shrieking and crying that was coming from your apartment last night? she asked. Without missing a beat, I answered that we must have had the television on too loud.

In the aftermath of Charlie Kirk's unjustifiable and tragic death yesterday in Orem, Utah, in the online world we're often being presented with a menu of two choices for our response. Kirk is a worthy martyr, ultimate victim of leftist cancel culture, or he was a fascist fanatic and a Christian heretic. I appreciated this calm appraisal. I can grieve his loss and pray for his family and friends while continuing to reject his theology and its political enmeshments.

Russell Muirhead and Nancy L. Rosenblum (Foreign Affairs) on "The Logic Behind Trump’s Assault on the Administrative State."

Ungoverning also dissolves the branches of government and unifies the separation of powers into a single office—or more accurately, a single person. It is not about creating what some constitutional scholars call a “unitary presidency”: an executive branch that responds to the president’s directives. It is about creating a strongman. This motivation explains Trump’s reliance on executive orders, which signal not only policy shifts but also the necessity of personal command. As Trump once put it, 'I alone can fix it.'
...
In his desire to weaken the state and rebuild it around him, he has made chaos the new standard. The range of future possibilities for Washington is thus wide. It is reasonable to wonder whether there will even be a regular presidential election in 2028. Trump, after all, has flirted with the idea of seeking a third term; his official store sells 'Trump 2028' hats. The worst-case scenarios seem more plausible than ever before.

Philip Gulley on good goodbyes. (На русском языке.)

On 9/11, we remember that war does not work. (From the Daily Quaker Message, which again I highly recommend.)

Rick Holmstrom, "Lucinda."

28 August 2025

Fiercely inspirational

Source.

Source.

Two writers in two countries, published 64 years apart....

Lamorna Ash.

Sometimes, as I sat in the outer ring of chairs during my silent Sundays at the Muswell Hill meeting [London; link added], I wished I could have seen Quakerism as it was in its beginning: an exuberant, fiercely heterodox expression of the Christian faith. [Don't Forget We're Here Forever: A New Generation's Search for Religion (2025), page 136.]

In line with the secularisation-theory sociologist Steve Bruce, Dandelion notes how liberal forms of British Christianity are contributing to their ‘own demise through diffuse belief systems, poor belief transmission and the lack of seriousness’, all of which discourages conversion. He includes Quakerism among this trend. And while Quakerism might function as a gateway drug to ‘religious seriousness’ for the 47 per cent who come from ‘no immediately prior religious affiliation’, it is often the features which first draw the non-religious to Quaker meetings—a laxity and neutrality in the place of dogma and formality—which then sends them off to other denominations, looking for services with a more robust structure, elders and leaders who might help teach them how to believe. [Page 128.]
The year reached its end, and I was still attending St Luke’s [West Holloway, London, link added] any Sunday my hangover did not intern me to bed. I learnt the order of ceremonies. Each time I felt something unlock within me as I admitted my guilt for whomever I had harmed that week alongside everyone else in the congregation, after which the associate priest, Rev. Martin Wroe, would say, ‘Whatever it is, whatever it was, whatever it will be, God forgives you. Forgive yourselves, forgive each other,’ and then offer us the sign of the Cross. Not every time, but most times, after taking communion I felt a further unlocking, even a coming together of the disparate parts of my life. [Page 280.]

Albert Fowler.

Members of the Society of Friends are increasingly disturbed by the comment that Quaker Meeting is a fine place for seeking, but one must go elsewhere if one’s object is finding. [Two Trends in Modern Quaker Thought: A Statement of Belief (1961), page 12.]

Much has been made of the argument that the universal variety of Quaker belief is the growing edge of the Society of Friends. Large numbers of convinced Friends have come in through this door. That the universal may also be the dying edge of the Society is seldom mentioned, but many would-be Friends turn away when they find the Christian ties of a Meeting no longer binding and the drift toward what John McCandless calls practical atheism running strong. Paul Lacey tells of people he has talked with who have found the Society of Friends a kind of incubator where they can develop just enough to realize that the real conditions of life and worship lie outside it. Many of these people, having looked to the Quaker Meeting as a source of inspiration and deepened faith, pass beyond it to find fuller meaning elsewhere. [Page 19.]

I first heard about Lamorna Ash in the pages of The Guardian. The opening teaser for Ash's edited excerpt in The Guardian, "Could I become a Christian in a year?", was irresistible:

After two friends unexpectedly converted, Lamorna Ash discovered a new generation of young people turning to faith. As she investigated the phenomenon, one of her first steps was to spend a week on a working retreat on Iona. And then something strange happened…

This intro is a bit misleading. In just about all of her fourteen chapters plus prologue, introduction, conclusion, and epilogue, strange things are happening every few pages, so the intriguing part of the teaser is not the "something strange" dot dot dot, but "a new generation of young people turning to faith." This is not your typical glib summary of contemporary church life in Britain. In any case, the excerpt sold me: I had to buy the book. And, most likely, so should you.

Ash makes me think about what a conversation between Francis Spufford and Flannery O'Connor might be like. Her survey of Christianity in the UK ranges from rigidity with a happy salesface, to bass-driven ecstasy, to personal histories of toxic power games, to encounters with mysticism ancient and modern, to utter serenity, and everything in between. Her 60 interviewees have variously been converted, disillusioned, reconverted, with all levels of investment in making—or not making—their personal experiences and confessions congruent with the institution they're in at the moment. She candidly reports how this research and writing project is affecting her own life, even as she awaits a diagnosis on her mother's symptoms that suggest dementia may be coming.

She is not simply reporting on what Christianity looks like to some of her Generation Z contemporaries. She's also wrestling with Christianity's own primitive and sometimes compelling strangeness, and its multifaceted persistence. She thinks about the difference between the Nicene theologians wrestling so deeply with the nature of Christ, and those Christian thinkers of our own era who can't get beyond sex. And she wonders out loud about her own path. Should she remain an outside observer, or should she be open to crossing the line into conversion territory; and is she being influenced by what we, the readers, might think?

Lamorna Ash's paternal grandmother "was the last true Christian in our family. She went to an Anglican church every Sunday of her life, except for the few years she attended a Quaker meeting in Muswell Hill." For part of time of Ash's writing project, when she wasn't on one of her many research visits elsewhere, she attended that same meeting, which led to some very interesting comments about British Friends. I couldn't help remembering some of Albert Fowler's words from his 1961 pamphlet on Two Trends in Modern Quaker Thought, quoted above.

I don't want to press the parallels between Ash and Fowler too hard, because I know that many British Friends are already aware of contemporary liberal Quakerism's weaknesses as well as its strengths (and the same goes for Friends in the USA), and I personally know that some of them would certainly not fit into the "laxity and neutrality" description. Also, I'm not sure those early Friends were "fiercely heterodox" exactly, since Fox and others were arguing for a more faithfully biblical Christianity. "Fiercely nonconformist," maybe. Even so, I am grateful for the frank assessment from this clear-eyed young commentator who has seen Christian alternatives many Quakers would either not know about or perhaps shrink from with horror.

Lamorna Ash has a lot of credibility with me simply based on the homework she's done. (I'm sure she'd have a more fun way of putting it.) You already know she references Ben Pink Dandelion, who has, she suggests, "the best name in academia." She also knows one of my favorite contemporary British books on Christianity, Francis Spufford's Unapologetic. (My comments on his book are here.) Her other sources include Harold Bloom, Julian of Norwich, Gillian Rose, George Fox, Rosemary Moore, Thomas R. Kelly, Karl Rahner, William James, David Bebbington, Tanya Luhrmann, Krista Tippett and Eugene Peterson in conversation, Pope Francis, and two Augustines.

Yesterday's MAGA scandal of the day (or at least in the top five): According to the Washington Post, the U.S. Department of Homeland Security wants to be sure that no federal disaster relief money would go to agencies or nonprofit organizations that help undocumented immigrants.

Also among the top five: Chaos at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Mark Russ and Woodbrooke Quaker Study Centre team up for a six-session online course: Whose Friends are we? Mark explains on his blog: "Emerging from my PhD research on Quaker theology and Whiteness, I’ve developed an online course for Woodbrooke reflecting on what it might mean for Quakers to be friends of God, Christ and each other in the 21st century." Mondays, October 13 to November 17. More details here.

Discipline and Punish: Kristin Du Mez assesses James Dobson's legacy.

Cherice Bock explains the background of the chapter she wrote with Catalina Morales Bahena for the new book Hungry for Hope: Letters to the Church from Young Adults, due to be published today. Their chapter is entitled, “Reclaiming ‘Enough’: Away from Scarcity Toward True Abundance.” For more on the book, visit hungryforhopebook.com.

Abolitionism and compromise, a Jay family/Indiana Yearly Meeting case study. (Thanks to Martin Kelley for the link.)

John Kinney at Spokane Friends, speaking on contemplative prayer: "If we don't get this right..."

Flaco Jiménez and Raul Malo, "Seguro Que Hell Yes," a video we sometimes used in class in Russia for its specific glimpses of USA culture. (And it's a song I can always recall to kill earworms.)

A clip from Flaco's memorial service. From puroconjunto210's caption on YouTube: "Flaco Jiménez, conjunto legend passed away July 31, 2025. A memorial service was held in San Antonio at the Carver Community center. Artists included Santiago Garza, David Lee Garza, Dwayne Verheyden, Max Baca, and Josh Baca all played their hearts out celebrating his Life!"

21 August 2025

More occupation shorts

An Immigration and Customs Enforcement-branded GMC SUV, left, and an ICE-branded Ford pickup are parked at the Capitol on Aug. 13. [Note the "DEFEND THE HOMELAND" tagline.] (Andrew Leyden/Getty Images via Washington Post; trimmed.)

I'm sure you have more and better sources than this blog to keep up with the chronicle of malice, corruption, and ineptitude that is the USA's current presidential administration. But every once in a while, I want to note, for the record, how utterly bizarre it all is. And it's not just bizarre exhibitionism—you already know that real people are in constant danger, whether they are immigrants and children of immigrants, or targets of Russian guided bombs and drones, or in need of food, health care, shelter, and a safe environment. I'm not even counting those who had once experienced American care through USAID before being cut off by MAGA fiat.

For me, today's trigger (not the most serious piece of news, but maybe the most ... spiritually symptomatic?) ... was this article in the Washington Post, concerning an urgent government purchase:

Immigration and Customs Enforcement is seeking to spend millions of dollars on SUVs and custom, gold-detailed vehicle wraps emblazoned with the words “DEFEND THE HOMELAND,” according to a contractor’s social media post and records that describe the decked-out fleet as urgently needed in President Donald Trump’s stated mission to improve safety on the streets of the District.

Screenshot from a Homeland Security video on X.

As the article notes, these purchases and decoration orders are not being made through competitive bids. But what really triggered my "occupation" nerves was the following detail. In addition to the vehicles for use in D.C., some specific purchases were made to enhance the image of ICE for recruitment purposes. Here's a quote from the end of the article:

The vehicles the agency proposed purchasing include two Ford Raptors, two GMC Yukon AT4s and two Ford Mustang GTs. ICE wrote in the documents that the Mustangs were “an immediate request by the White House, on Thursday August 7, 2025.” The Mustangs — which are set to cost $121,450 — will aid in recruitment “by serving as a bold, high-performance symbol of innovation, strength and modern federal service,” the documents say.

It all reminded me of the connections Kristin Du Mez has been making for years. For example:

My own research on masculinity focuses on just one facet of the evangelical worldview—but a foundational one. In many ways, gender provides the glue that holds together their larger ideological framework. For years I’ve been tracing evangelicals’ embrace of increasingly militaristic constructions of masculinity, which go hand in hand with visions of the nation as vulnerable and in need of defense.

Earlier this year, I wrote a couple of posts about the Christian movement that is animating much of MAGA leadership: Are we agents of Lucifer? and Enthusiasm and politics.

Given the depth of religious enthusiasm displayed by these apostles and prophets, I can't help wondering whether they pray for the people they're arresting, deporting, and rendering with wild abandon. I tried putting variously worded questions to Google, along the lines of "Do dominionists pray for the people they arrest?" " Do MAGA Christians pray for immigrants?" Google's AI provides the vaguest of answers, mostly "it depends," with no examples.

I used the specific name of Sean Feucht with one of these questions, and found his prayer for Los Angeles on Facebook, with a fascinating string of comments. One specific prayer struck me right away, but it wasn't Sean's:

We pray God that your mercy comes upon those suffering from massive deportation and family separation, even though they have done nothing deserving of deportation. May your grace touch the hearts of those encouraging hate against immigrants, and turn them into a loving and caring heart....

Google also told me that Feucht has worked on behalf of refugees in the past, so this evident militancy may be part of his more recent MAGA profile.

Signe Wilkinson.

In any case, "What does the Bible say about refugees and immigrants?" The Bible makes no distinction based on what documents the immigrant is holding, but just in case that is the issue, the awkward truth is that Congress has been resisting immigration reform and providing adequate judicial resources for immigrants and asylum seekers for years—not just under Trump.

(One specific border-crossing incident in the Bible fascinates me: the visit of the three wise men to the baby Jesus. See Matthew 2:1-12. They came from abroad to follow the star to Bethlehem, and then defied King Herod by returning home without reporting to him.)

Finally, our Christian MAGA politicians should take note that many (most?) of those being arrested, deported, or rendered may be their Christian brothers and sisters. N.B. When Christians abuse power and mistreat non-Christians, it is just as awful as mistreatment of Christians! Maybe worse, since its gleeful and gratuitous cruelty compromises the reputation of the Gospel. Be warned!

See John Woolman's Journal, page 128. (Click link to chapter XII in table of contents.)

Under occupation

Occupation shorts

Occupation: Myrtle Wright's experience

Christian refugees caught in the crosshairs of U.S. immigration policy.

Litigation Tracker. When I mentioned this resource back in February, it was tracking 37 cases against Trump administration actions. Now it's tracking 381.

Judge Fred Biery rules against the Texas Ten Commandments law. (A side note: why aren't these Christian activists campaigning for the Beatitudes? Is it their deep interfaith sensitivity?)

Is there a religious resurgence among members of Gen Z? Data may actually show a growing divergence between men and women.

George Orwell's son writes about his parents' collaboration on Animal Farm, and on why they had a hard time finding a publisher. (Anna Funder's fascinating book Wifedom: Mrs. Orwell's Invisible Life may add some less flattering details to the picture of Orwell as husband and collaborator.)

What a small church in North Carolina did with its real estate, to the possible benefit of affordable housing in its area.

Nancy Thomas remembers an extraordinary, even life-shaping, vision.

Kid Ramos with two late greats, Henry Gray and Lynwood Slim.

29 May 2025

Nancy French ... on not bearing false witness

Source.

Eiffel Tower, Paris, Tennessee
Nancy French's home town. Source.

Nancy French, Instagram, 2024. Source.

This high praise for Nancy French's book Ghosted: An American Story from Christianity Today editor Russell Moore will save me a lot of words:

I didn't know writing could be this haunting and hilarious, heartbreaking and exhilarating all at the same time. I did not want it to end. This tour de force of storytelling and sense-making is one of the most gripping and beautiful memoirs in a generation.

Nancy French was born and raised in the Appalachian foothills, a grandchild of the mountain culture, and grew up in a church community that nurtured her faith and gave her love and care ... until the devastating day that it didn't. She attended a Church of Christ college ... until she couldn't stomach the chapel's lazy positivity and stopped attending, even though chapel attendance was compulsory.

As a result, at age twenty, "by now my affection for Rush Limbaugh and church had disappeared and I considered myself a feminist, atheist, liberal." That was the moment when she encountered David French, a Republican Christian law student, an encounter that resulted in a restoration of faith (well, not the exact same faith), a marriage that has lasted three decades and counting—and a career in ghostwriting for Republicans that didn't last quite as long.

Obviously, there's nothing terribly linear about French's story, with each swoop and dive reflecting something of the wrenching spiritual, political, and cultural turmoil of her country in those decades. Her story includes betrayal, giddy hope, predators protected by churches, miracles, allies lost and found—it's a good thing she's an excellent storyteller! Take a look at these reviews for more of what I mean:

A secular review (Publisher's Weekly).
A review from a Christian viewpoint (in the late lamented publication Current).
A slightly more critical review ("But I complain too much") in the Englewood Review of Books.

Ghosted has many important messages, including powerful testimony against the shame of being a childhood target of sexual assault in the church. I hope everyone who needs these messages will read this book. But there's something else that intrigued me as a lifelong lefty: the passing references to the way conservatives see us. I'm not necessarily talking now about who is objectively more correct about policy and morality; it's the cultural assumptions and conclusions that seemingly entitle them to dismiss us (and us them).

For example, here French is commenting on the reactions to the book she co-authored with Sarah Palin's daughter Bristol:

I’d thought that people of both parties would rally around Bristol and show her compassion. That’s not what happened. It slowly dawned on me that when the Democrats loudly proclaimed “believe all women,” they really meant “the right kind of women”—meaning not “right” on the political spectrum at all. I shouldn’t have been surprised. They had embraced Ted Kennedy, even though he flipped his car, sent his female passenger careening into a pond, and left her there to die. They revered Bill Clinton, even though he was credibly accused of rape by multiple women.

Bristol was well spoken and the book was clear. However, a nuanced, trauma-informed conversation did not arise from her revelations. Bristol told the truth, and Democrats laughed. After seeing how people mocked this young mother, I was fully confident the Democrats were not only wrong on the issue of women, they were callously wrong. They harbored and protected abusers of women, and Republicans alone would stand against sexual injustice.

In spite of my certainty, the truth turned out to be much more complicated than I thought.

Soon a major turning point for French came: the acclamation Donald Trump received from the very people whose ostensible values she cherished and represented in her writing, and who, as it turned out, turned against her and her husband when they found that contradiction intolerable. As those contradictions mounted up with every Trumpian assault on rhetorical decency, she lost many clients, and kept the few that agreed to her condition that she would not write pieces in favor of Trump.

In my mind, however, I made a vow: I would not bear false witness against my liberal neighbor.

That one decision was the beginning of the end of my political ghostwriting career.

I hope that progressives, even in the shadow of Donald Trump's devastating attacks on political and ethical norms, are willing to make the same commitment against bearing false witness against their (our) opponents.

On the "conservative" label.

A grievously neglected commandment.

Here's a podcast in which Julie Roys, a Christian investigative journalist who often focuses on church-related corruption and abuse, interviews Nancy French.

Back on March 27, Medardo Gómez, Lutheran bishop of El Salvador, died. He made a deep impression on me during a visit back in the time of the civil war and death squads. Rest in peace!

Christine Patterson on the importance of cultural intelligence for service in a divided world.

A poll suggests that Israelis increasingly hold genocidal views concerning Palestinians. Not coincidentally, the Israeli government announces the creation or "legalization" of 22 new settlements on the West Bank. Britain Yearly Meeting minutes its discernment that genocide is occurring in Gaza.

Sue Foley, the "Ice Queen" of blues guitarists, gives us an extended solo....

20 February 2025

Enthusiasm and politics

Screenshot from source.

In his book, The Violent Take It by Force: The Christian Movement that is Threatening our Democracy, Matthew Taylor documents how two movements overlap: the Christians he classifies as Independent Charismatics, and the political phenomenon that brought victory to Donald Trump in the USA's 2024 presidential election.

It is no surprise that many Americans have not heard of the "network of networks" that compose Independent Charismatics, particularly those centered on Peter Wagner's New Apostolic Reformation. (See this post, Are we agents of Lucifer?, for a brief introduction.) Those of us who just catch occasional glimpses of Pentecostal and charismatic subcultures may find them either absurd or disturbing, especially if we rely on video clips of "preachers gone wild" and the like. We are therefore likely to underestimate the appeal and reach of those subcultures.

Taylor points out that, contrary to some stereotypes, the Independent Charismatic leaders who enter the political realm are ethnically diverse, have women in major leadership positions, and are far from biblically illiterate. Their political significance is rooted in several interrelated theological themes that, as Taylor describes, unite the vast majority of this Christian movement: they believe that their leaders are apostles and prophets, with all the authority that comes from the biblical models linked to those labels; they believe that Christians are (directly or indirectly) to dominate all the major institutions of society, including government; and to get there, they are to confront the territorial demons wherever those demons are in control. Given these beliefs, it is not surprising that this enthusiastic core of Trump's political support are (so far) apparently not disturbed by the blatant authoritarianism evident in the first month of the new presidency.

The largest part of Taylor's book examines the formation and careers of several of the major figures in the movement, and how together they built up the theological pillars of their politics ... and came to identify Donald Trump as the crucial "Cyrus" they were to anoint to high office. Those figures include Peter Wagner (arguably the central figure in the formation of the New Apostolic Reformation), Paula White, Cindy Jacobs, Lance Wallnau, Dutch Sheets, Rebecca Greenwood, Ché Ahn, and Sean Feucht.

Matthew Taylor and others have done a useful job in examining the personalities, theologies, and politics of these and other leaders, along with their congregations and networks. I'm intrigued by something else: the sense of mobilization and enthusiasm among their followers, compared with the rest of the USA's Christians.

Taylor writes,

To be charismatic is to seek fulfillment of two deep and driving desires. The first desire is mostly individual: charismatics want to feel supernatural power flowing through them. This personal desire usually gets discussed under the rubric of the biblical "spiritual gifts." Charismatics want to be filled with the Holy Spirit on a deep, existential level so that they can participate in a world of miracles, ongoing revelations, and a personal sense of closeness to God.
The second desire is more communal and global: charismatics want to be part of an extraordinary work of God in the world. This is usually framed in terms of seeking "revival": a fresh, unpredictable, collective outpouring of God's Spirit in such a way that thousands or millions of people are rejuvenated in their faith. Many Christians in many traditions hope for revival and talk about it in different ways. But I have never encountered any section of Christianity so singularly preoccupied with revival as Independent Charismatics. They pray for revival, prophesy about revival, strategize for revival, study revival history, and hanker for a bracing new work of God.
The steady pursuit of these two desires is what gives charismaticism its remarkable energy and even gravitational pull. For many Christians, the promise of having Holy Ghost power flow through you and seeing the extraordinary outpouring of God's energy into the world is irresistible.

Taylor and other observers of these movements also point out that their worship experiences, including immersive music and inspirational sermons, play a role in building up feelings of "supernatural power flowing through them." They are blessed, not just by their own spiritual gifts, but by each other's.

Source.

With these "two deep and driving desires," it's not hard to see how participating in the enthronement of a supposed Cyrus figure such as Trump would be deeply satisfying. It would not be fair to describe these millions of people as spiritual zombies without wills or minds of their own; many of them have made the deliberate calculation that, to defeat the demons corrupting our country, it is worth the risk of having an authoritarian in charge who is (they believe) answerable to them through their prophets and apostles.

At the same time, it's also important to say that many Christians of a charismatic temperament have not signed up for this. They may share those same personal and communal desires, but work for goals along different lines: revival, yes; but in the meantime, planting churches that love their local communities in practical ways. They are not busy trying to flip presidencies, but they do understand that their local faithfulness will have global effects.

And that brings me to Quakers. When I read about "ongoing revelations and a personal sense of closeness to God," am I not right in detecting desires that we Quakers share? Don't we want to be part of "an extraordinary work of God" in this world where so many suffer from violence, poverty, and degradation of the environment? (Not to mention the principalities and powers, and evil in high places. "The world is dying for lack of Quakerism in action," said Hugh Doncaster in his address to the Friends World Conference in 1967.)

If so, how do we encourage and express these personal and communal desires as Taylor described them, or reasonably similar desires? What factors get in the way? Do we assume that we are spiritually or culturally superior to those whom Taylor describes? Do we think there is something unseemly about sharing enthusiasm? Or, as in the case of some in my own extended family, have we been burned by communities that emphasize obedience to the apostle or prophet, rather than mutual trust? How do we find a healing that doesn't involve quenching the Spirit in others?

Also: if a political leader rose up who was far more palatable to us than Donald Trump, would we become as starry-eyed on their behalf as his current followers are on his? (Truthfully, I have several candidates in mind!)

16 January 2025

Are we agents of Lucifer?

Source: Matthew D. Taylor, The Violent Take it by Force: The Christian Movement that is Threatening our Democracy.

[Lance] Wallnau dabbed frankincense oil onto foreheads, anointing voters into God’s army. Another speaker said that Kamala Harris would be a “devil in the White House.” Others cast Democrats as agents of Lucifer, and human history as a struggle between the godless forces of secular humanism and God’s will for humankind. [Johan's highlighter.]

—Stephanie McCrummen in The Atlantic, The Army of God Comes Out of the Shadows: Tens of millions of American Christians are embracing a charismatic movement known as the New Apostolic Reformation, which seeks to destroy the secular state."

I've been following the mutually exploitive alliance between the segment of Christians sometimes labeled the "New Apostolic Reformation" and all three of Donald Trump's presidential campaigns. About a year ago, I linked to this article by Paul Rosenberg in Salon concerning this movement. The Salon article focused on a book by André Gagné and did a pretty good job in covering the origins and leadership of the NAR.

Then, last week, The Atlantic published Stephanie McCrummen's article on "The Army of God..." from which came my opening quotation. She provides some valuable updates to Rosenberg's Salon article. More importantly, she paints vivid pictures of what the movement looks like on the ground, among people who may not even know that they're part of an academically-labeled New Apostolic Reformation, but have absorbed the goals and culture and clichés of the movement.

Some of this same territory is covered by Keira Butler in the November-December Mother Jones. Her article's title is clearly designed to alarm (as was McCrummen's article!): "Christian Nationalists Dream of Taking Over America. This Movement Is Actually Doing It." Subtitle: "The New Apostolic Reformation is 'the greatest threat to US democracy you've never heard of.'"

Neither Butler nor McCrummen had the space to provide all the details and nuances I might have wanted to see in coverage of the New Apostolic Reformation, but they're among the best surveys I've seen in secular media.

I have a few reflections on all these efforts to wake us up to the dangers of this movement.

What do I mean by "movement"? I'm being purposefully vague. Matthew Taylor, on the Straight White American Jesus Podcast, says that "The New Apostolic Reformation is a network of networks." The diagram at the top of this post shows how he locates the movement within the map of U.S. Christians—nested within the "Apostolic and Prophetic movements," in turn nested within Independent (nondenominational) Charismatics, who are nested within Pentecostal-charismatic movements" (which themselves cross boundaries among Protestant, Roman Catholic, and Orthodox lines). To some extent the "networks" are among leaders, and many participants may not know exactly how their church or pastor links up with the larger movement.

How many people, and what proportion of U.S. Christendom, are we talking about? Matthew Taylor's diagram is not intended to be statistically proportional. Paul Djupe at Denison University has gathered some startling statistics, indicating that well over half of U.S. evangelical Christians, plus substantial numbers of non-evangelicals, agree with most of the main ideas held by people in the NAR. For example, the statement "There are demonic 'principalities' and 'powers' who control physical territory" finds agreement among 69% of surveyed evangelicals and 40% of non-evangelicals.

Are there any Quaker ties to this movement? I'm sure there are individuals who identify with it, but as far as I can tell, no yearly meeting or wider association does so. C. Peter Wagner, sometimes credited with giving the movement its name, has been influential among some Quakers in the USA. Our adult Sunday school class at First Friends, Richmond, Indiana, used his book, Your Spiritual Gifts Can Help Your Church Grow, back in the early 1980's, and found it very helpful. It was originally published well before he became known for advocating the ideas behind the NAR.

Peter Wagner and John Wimber (montage, source.)

You might wonder about John Wimber (former Friends pastor and co-founder of the Vineyard denomination) and NAR, given the close partnership between Peter Wagner and John Wimber, particularly at Fuller Seminary. Wimber's widow, Carol Wimber-Wong, put it in her own tart way: "John didn't believe any of that crap." In that interview, she went on to say, "And he loved Peter.... But they didn't agree on that one point. John couldn't find it in the Scriptures." This clip of a conversation (less than a minute long) is worth viewing. It might help to explain why I personally have never caught a whiff of NAR in the few Vineyard churches I've visited.

When Carol died, earlier this month, the church lost a woman of wit, grace, intelligence, and clarity. This tribute to her includes a video interview with her, in which, among other things, she talked about the Quaker context at the beginning of John Wimber's ministry.

Why have many people "never heard" of NAR? To risk a generalization, the loudest and most obnoxious Christian celebrities have done a lot to make our Christian "good news" seem more like "bad news." People may admire Jesus himself and acknowledge the quiet ministries of care and healing carried out over the world in his name, but the whole subculture of theatrics and condemnation described in McCrummen's and Butler's articles must strike many nonparticipants as grotesque or repulsive, if they notice it at all. Some of that inevitably colors their attitude to Christianity as a whole.

The supernatural claims connected with that subculture's Pentecostal/charismatic context are no doubt part of that perceived grotesqueness. That's a loss. Evil does exist; so do principalities and powers, and demonic strongholds where systemic social injustice has become embedded in very specific territories. I plead for the concepts of spiritual warfare and the "Lamb's War" even as I refuse to use these concepts and vocabulary to slander my political opponents. In the Lamb's War, we don't search for enemies, we search for prisoners—and do everything we can collectively to free them.

(Don't we?)

For the record, we Democrats are not agents of Lucifer. (That is, not by virtue of being Democrats!)

UPDATE: Since publishing this post, I wrote a post on Enthusiasm and politics.

Wikipedia's interesting survey of the New Apostolic Reformation.

"I was a bit nervous about using the language of spiritual warfare in this post."

George Fox on overcoming corruption.

Ted Grimsrud: Reading the Bible in light of the Lamb's War.

After five years in Russia, graduation shorts.

On the death of our Friend Simon Lamb.

Sociologist Yevhen Holovakha on how Ukrainians' views of the war have been changing.

Benjamin Wittes and Holly Berkley Fletcher on the theology of the Pete Hegseth hearing: Where evangelical culture and porn culture meet; exaggerating credentials or anointing?; repetition of the phrase "warrior ethos."

Contrarian street evangelist: Trump is the antichrist.

Finally, here is a transcript of Joseph Biden's farewell address, including urgent warnings about oligarchy and the defense of democracy. Alternate link (in case it disappears from the White House Web site in a few days!).

McKinley James with one of my favorite Junior Wells songs:

27 June 2024

The long defeat, part two

The Convocation Unscripted S1E3. Screenshot from source.
Top: Robert Jones, Diana Butler Bass.
Bottom: Kristin Du Mez, Jemar Tisby.

Last week, in part one, I was thinking about how to pray honestly when considering the "butcher's bench" of history and the persistence of sin—by which I mostly mean the ways we mistreat each other and Creation generally.

Concerning that persistence, I linked to Kristin Du Mez's blog post in which she mentioned Tolkien's "long defeat" as quoted by one of the ministers at her church in Grand Rapids, Michigan. She went on say how important it is, in our service on behalf of justice and truth, not to grow dependent on victorious outcomes.

Last week Du Mez published another post, "Peace where there is no peace," with what struck me as a case study for not depending on victorious outcomes—and the case was one which I immediately identified with. Here's a clue from the title of the podcast episode embedded in her post: "When Your Religion Cancels You."

(The podcast, The Convocation Unscripted, features conversations among three historians and one sociologist, all of whom "write about religion and its intersection with culture, history, and politics in America"—Diana Butler Bass, Kristin Du Mez, Robert P. Jones, and Jemar Tisby.)

Kristen Du Mez's denomination, the Christian Reformed Church, is tightening up its discipline regarding churches (and possibly faculty members of its associated educational institutions, such as Du Mez's Calvin University) who dissent from the church's "confessional" teachings on sexuality and marriage. For a brief and seemingly evenhanded summary of the situation, see this Religion News Service article.

Going back to Du Mez's newer post, written shortly before the Synod meeting described in the RNS article:

When your Religion Cancels You.

That was the topic selected for our second podcast episode over at The Convocation: Unscripted. Little did my fellow podcasters know, that’s a sensitive topic for me this week. As I write, my denomination is dictating the terms that will require my home church and many others to leave the denomination over a new interpretation of what is now deemed “confessional,” one that requires condemnation of same-sex relationships.

In terms of getting “cancelled,” my case isn’t like many others’ in that I’m staying with my congregation. We’re all leaving together, along with many other congregations in the US and Canada. Still, it’s a lot to process.

I shared just a bit here [in the podcast], and you can hear Robby, Jemar, and Diana talk about their own experiences leaving the faith communities they once called home. I’m guessing that many of you may find points of connection.

So, dear Friends ... when did "our religion" cancel us? Here's the blog post from 2017 that sums up the story from my personal point of view—our involuntary separation from a body of believers that I loved and appreciated, Northwest Yearly Meeting. One similarity to the process being experienced by the Christian Reformed Church and ours, is the length of time the process of enforcement is taking. In each case, it feels like an experience of the long defeat. Each time our little band of exiles meets, we do get a "some glimpse of final victory," but my heart aches for what might have been.

I'm going to stop here. I don't want to reduce the amount of time you might spend checking some of the links and videos above, particularly the Kristin Du Mez post.

Kent Hendricks: Observations on patterns of division and departure in the Christian Reformed Church. It makes for an interesting comparison with what we experienced in Northwest Yearly Meeting.

Still more sobering reading, this time on Russia and Ukraine. Both of the next two items are from the Meduza service:

First, Dmitry Kartsev interviews Jonathan Littell, author of the book An Inconvenient Place (with photographer Antoine d'Agata), reckoning with Nazi and Russian atrocities in Ukraine "from Babi Yar to Bucha." The book is available in French and Russian now, and an English-language edition is scheduled for publication in September.

Second, an interview (Russian original; machine-translated English) with Tatiana Kasatkina, wife of imprisoned human rights activist Oleg Orlov, former co-chair of the now-liquidated Memorial organization.

Adapted from source.

"You are safe with ..." chaplain Greg Morgan.

The Internet Archive (on which I depend constantly!) is forced to delete half a million books from its online library; 19,000 supporters write an open letter to publishers.

Starliner continues to provide suspense. (See earlier post on Rocket science.)

Faith, hope, and love—Nancy Thomas's companions on a journey through time.

Has your church ... or a church you're curious about ... had a visit from a Mystery Worshipper?

Spanish bluesman Quique Gomez and Ukrainian bluesman Konstantin Kolesnichenko in Dnipro, 2019.

18 April 2024

Hostility, part two

Part one: Hostility "to the Christian faith" (September 2023)

"When I hear the word 'Christian,' I can't help remembering Donald Trump holding up a Bible."

Charlie Kirk: "I do not think you could be a
Christian and vote Democrat." Source.

Do you sometimes hear comments along these lines? This is a sample from a conversation I have had in the last couple of days, but I frequently hear variations on this theme—with or without specific bad actors.

Quakers have often welcomed people into our communities who have become disillusioned with more conventional forms of Christianity, and those disillusioned people make similar observations about the word "Christian." My responses are complicated, since I totally believe that their observations are well-founded, and at the same time, Christian faith is what I've built my life around. It reminds me of a dream John Woolman had in a time of illness, as he related in his Journal:

I was then carried in spirit to the mines where poor oppressed people were digging rich treasures for those called Christians, and heard them blaspheme the name of Christ, at which I was grieved, for his name to me was precious. I was then informed that these heathens were told that those who oppressed them were the followers of Christ, and they said among themselves, "If Christ directed them to use us in this sort, then Christ is a cruel tyrant."

A contemporary variation on Woolman's "cruel tyrant" comes up in this thoughtful analysis by Brandon Flanery, "I asked people why they're leaving Christianity, and here's what I heard."

When it comes to the moment people first began doubting their faith, LGBTQ acceptance is the most common reason [21.71%], followed by the behavior of Christians [16.10%], and then things not making sense on an intellectual level [12.10%] (an example of this would be: I couldn’t reconcile how there can be an all-powerful God and evil).

Yes, a good number of my respondents were queer, and not being accepted by their congregations was a critical motive for leaving. However, the majority of respondents were straight and cisgender, and they ultimately started doubting Christianity when they were told they couldn’t support their queer friends and family. Unable to rectify their love of LGBTQ people with the church, they chose LGBTQ acceptance.

However these percentages strike you, I recommend looking at the full article and its range of links with an open mind.

Sometimes I wish that secular people would exercise the same powers of reflection and judgment toward the word "Christian" as they would, for example, toward selecting a refrigerator. They'd comparison shop, check Consumer Reports, ask advice from others, and would not reject the very idea of refrigeration because some refrigerators don't work as well as others. In fairness, those common-sense judgments about Christianity already happen often enough; lots of people visit hospitals and attend colleges founded by churches, go to AA and Al-Anon meetings in churches, admire cathedrals and Christian art, and so on. And as for Jesus himself, he remains admired by many who would never use the word "Christian" for themselves, and even by those who nevertheless consider him our imaginary friend....

I've gnawed on this bone of contention lots of times during my years of writing this blog. In the first "hostility to the Christian faith" post, I linked back to a campaign waged by some Christians against the NBC television network—a campaign that urged NBC to give Christianity as much respect as they give other religions. I asked,

Might it be true that Christians don't get the same respect as other religions? If so, what might be the reason? I wonder if there's an intuitive calculation going on in much of society: maybe we perceive religions as having both a Godward face (which we become aware of through glimpses of their devotional practices, personal disciplines, scriptures, and to some extent, their missions, charities, and so on) and a social/political face oriented toward their neighbors and the larger society. Briefly put, perhaps Christians have low credibility because the general public sees so much more effort put into our social/political face—our demands to be respected, to be influential—than into our Godward face.

A few more places where I've worried out loud about these themes:

October 2006, The golden age of evangelism (overlaps with the post just above).

Nothing could be better for evangelism than for evangelicals to acknowledge that society no longer gives us a free pass, and get over it. That free pass was never completely honest, anyway; even Karl Rove allegedly has contempt for his evangelical allies. It used to be that foreign tourists were allowed to visit such Kremlin sites as Lenin's tomb ahead of the Russians who had been waiting to get inside; now we have to wait in the same lines. More bother for us, maybe, but less grumbling from the rest of the line. In the unsentimental post-Christian world, it's no longer an advantage to be citizens of another Kingdom; we actually have to make our case to our neighbors one at a time.

October 2006, Can evangelicals reproduce?

...The end of evangelical celebrity credibility might actually be a wonderful thing: young people are reduced to the necessity of finding faith through the direct ministry of the Holy Spirit; through relationships with flesh and blood mentors; and by encouraging each other.

March 2010, Meeting Jesus halfway

Years ago, when I was a new Christian, a newly-minted Quaker in Ottawa Meeting, I was asked (by another Quaker!) how I could justify calling myself a Christian after all the garbage Christians had perpetrated throughout history—the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, relentless anti-intellectualist campaigns against everyone from Galileo to Darwin, colonialist missions, endless religious wars, and so on.

Since that day, I've had 35 years [now 49!] to try to collect articulate answers, but that was then....

January 2016, Christian politicians and Rosemary's ice cream

...We may have to grit our teeth sometimes when we see centuries of Christian social teaching and our own Quaker values dismissed in favor of civil religion drenched in pious cliches, but we'll probably survive. My bigger concern is the politician's impact on non-Christians and "nones"—who already have plenty of evidence of the sort of Christianity that comes (borrowing from Mark Twain) "with its banner of the Prince of Peace in one hand and its loot-basket and its butcher-knife in the other." Christian politicians (or anyone, for that matter, we included) who forget the evangelistic imperative in favor of enemy-baiting have much to answer for. With humility and persistence—and without engaging in the same savage rhetoric—let's require those answers, in full view of the public.

May 2017, Mocking Jesus

Let's not play fast and loose with what it means to mock Jesus. When we present a compromised Gospel that actually mocks our enemies and trashes those who disagree with us, while conveniently propping up Caesar, it is damnably self-serving to charge that their response is somehow mocking Jesus. Maybe they're mocking us, and maybe it's not always fair, but chances are good that they might actually yearn for some evidence of a true Savior. We should at least be ready for the costly work of testing that possibility, and then doing what we can to respond. And in the meantime, bite our tongues!!

August 2018, Good news or bad news?

...The White House meeting and dinner again put a set of celebrity evangelical leaders in the national spotlight, in effect giving them a unique public setting to do the evangelizing that their label obliges them to do, in season and out of season. Instead, the main aim of the evening seems to have been to enlist them and their followers in the president's re-election campaign. If there was a peep of protest there, it never reached the public.

February 2020, William Barr, Max Boot, and "the vapor trails of Christianity"

Is it possible that both Barr and Boot don't pay enough attention to this "popular religiosity"? Barr wants to argue that the transcendent claims of religion impose limits on human waywardness that no laws or secular ideals can match. Is this in fact true? And maybe Boot's charts of religious and nonreligious nations also can't take into account whether the religions being cited all have comparable claims on the hearts and consciences of their adherents, or are often simply identity markers along with all other features of their cultures.

Pew Research offers five facts about religion and Americans' views of Donald Trump.

Darrin McMahon compares the words "equality" and "equity" and asks, "...What does 'equity' really mean and when and why did it emerge as a contemporary key word?"

Sierra-Cascades Yearly Meeting of Friends has invited Darren Kenworthy to speak to us at our annual sessions in June. Here's part one of Judy Maurer's interview of Darren.

Rondall Reynoso on the individualistic community of evangelicalism.

...I realized that this individual over-communal mindset is part of why evangelicals have such a hard time with the idea of systemic racism. We are conditioned to look at everything through an individualistic lens. In our minds, there is no such thing as communal sin and communal judgment. We may know that, biblically, there is such a thing but it is beyond the bounds of the lenses through which we view the world. If I’m not actively discriminating then how can I be responsible for broader issues? I’m sure there were Israelites who felt the same way when Israel went into captivity.

Friends Committee on National Legislation is collecting Quaker statements on the war in Gaza.

Chester Freeman writes in Friends Journal on prayer, illumination, and healing.

Blues from Dnipro, Ukraine. Konstantin Kolesnichenko (harmonica) and the Bullet Blues Band.

Can you believe?