One of the great tropes of American civil discourse is the claim that America is a "city upon a hill." This phrase calls to mind the sermon on the Mount where Jesus preaches, "You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid" (Mt. 5:14). The use of this phrase can be traced to a sermon by John Winthrop in 1630, 'A Model of Christian Charity.' In this sermon Winthrop declares that people will look to New England as a city on a hill; their success will be due to God's support and their failure due to turning from God. This in turn calls to mind the blessing and curses of the covenant found at the end Deuteronomy.
This phrase and incipient idea has been quoted by every US President since John F. Kennedy. It was, however, Ronald Reagan who made it an abiding description of American civil religion. Reagan's use of this trope became a short form for his view of American exceptionalism: "that there was some divine plan that placed this great continent between two oceans to be sought out by those who were possessed of an abiding love of freedom and a special kind of courage."
...that there was some divine plan that placed this great continent between two oceans to be sought out by those who were possessed of an abiding love of freedom and a special kind of courage.
One of the corollaries of this form of American exceptionalism is that America is the New Israel. Together these two ideas have a profound effect on how we read the Bible. When we read the beautiful and powerful narrative of the biblical text we are drawn into the story. In some ways it is natural to identify with Israel while reading. We come to identify with the suffering of Israel and interpret our own experience in light of this suffering. There are times when this identification is profound and important.
It certainly has been essential for the experience of Black Americans to recognize in their experience an echo of Israel's experience. But when the White Evangelical Church claims this mantle it creates a distortion. In at least some of our reading, those whose position and influence depends on empire should read themselves through the lens of empire in the biblical text (Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, Persia, Rome).
Rowan Williams, former Archbishop of Canterbury, suggests another way of seeing ourselves in the text. In his book Resurrection: Interpreting the Easter Gospel, he argues (in a beautifully complex manner) that the preaching of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus (especially as exhibited in the narrative of Acts of the Apostles) calls us into a deep reflection of what it means to be both victim and victimizer. This call is not for an abstract reflection about what it means to be a victim or a victimizer; but to ask in a personal way, "Who are my victims?" "How have I been victimized?" After all, the initial preaching of the Gospel in Jerusalem is to the people who actively victimized Jesus. As we reflect on the Easter story and see in Jesus a victim who did not respond with violence, we come to realize that in the victim lies our hope. We are not looking for a simple inversion of victim and victimizer, but for a transformation. In this transformation we will come to see that the diminution of the victim also brings the diminution of ourselves. The restoration of the victim is the only path to restoration for both.
In this transformation we will come to see that the diminution of the victim also brings the diminution of ourselves. The restoration of the victim is the only path to restoration for both.
To recognize my victim as my hope involves the prior recognition of the fact that I victimize, and of the identity of my victim. ... The formulation, 'Repent and believe,' stresses that God's forgiveness cannot be abstract and general: the authentic word of forgiveness, newness and resurrection is audible when we acknowledge ourselves as oppressors and 'return' to our victims in the sense of learning who and where they are. It is the process in which memory becomes my memory, the memory of a self with a story of responsibility. And to remember in this way is to have restored to me part of the self that I have diminished.
The Easter story cuts straight to our hearts. It requires of us honest reflection of who we are, both as victim and victimizer. It requires us to recognize the absolute purity and innocence of Jesus as he goes to the cross and how his willing acceptance of the cross utterly transforms human relationships. For many Americans, it calls us to repent of our exceptionalism and recognize the complex reality of the relationship of faith and culture in our day. One way to begin this journey is to start by reading the Bible in a new way, identifying ourselves honestly in the text.
About the author
Jeffrey McPherson
Jeffrey McPherson received his Ph.D. from McMaster University (Ontario, Canada) in 2006. He joined the faculty at Roberts Wesleyan University in 2011 and has served as Chair of the Department of Religion and Philosophy since 2015. His doctoral dissertation was a theological and philosophical study of the worldviews of Jonathan Edwards (famous American Puritan theologian) and Alfred North Whitehead (well-known mathematician and philosopher—Founder of Process Philosophy).