Naser Khader: A Fallen Angel

Just over a year ago Denmark was cheering on a new political party that aimed for nothing less than revolutionising the state of political affairs. New Alliance was founded with lofty goals of doing politics in a new way, minimising the influence from the ultra-right-wing Danish People’s Party, and having a truly liberal and global outlook. On top of that rode Denmark’s new political darling, Naser Khader, a Syrian-born Muslim with secular and democratic ideals who for many demonstrated a fresh breath of air to decades of trench wars on immigration policy.

In the end, however, the ideals were all they could deliver. The early grassroots approach to policy yielded no detailed or coherent vision, and the party became mostly an uneven melting pot of wannabes. In last year’s general election they managed to secure five seats in the parliament, but status quo endured and the sitting centre-right government could continue unaltered into a third term. Two of the five quickly left, one to become independent, the other to join one of the ruling parties. And this week, a third was forced to withdraw from the party, also becoming an independent for the time being. From such highly lauded beginnings last summer, they are now down to two, with no chance in a million of retaining their parliament seats.

What went wrong? Apparently the catch-all approach backfired, and trying to fathom everybody eventually meant reaching no one. There never was more than a vision; no strategy, no planning, no organisation to back it up. Naser Khader’s personality was what started it all, but also what brought it down. In politics, seemingly, ideals can only get you thus far, after that skills are needed. Skills which it became clear in the election campaign that Khader did not possess, after all.

I think the vision had lots of merit. But from there it was pretty much downhill when the vision turned out to be backed by nothing but hot air. In the lyrics for the musical Evita, Tim Rice put it eloquently like this: “You let down your people, Evita. You were supposed to have been immortal. That’s all they wanted. Not much to ask for. But in the end, you could not deliver.”

Resistance to Change

10 years ago today, the Great Belt Fixed Link opened, connecting eastern and western Denmark and slicing off an hour’s travel time between most cross-nation trips. It includes the second largest free span in the world, and is a massive engineering feat, but more importantly it’s been a tremendous success. The usage has far exceeded expectations, and Denmark has become smaller, more inter-linked.

What is interesting to note is that in 1989, when construction began, a substantial part of the population actually were opposed to building the bridge. Some claimed they would miss the ferry ride – nobody actually does. Some claimed it would destroy marine biology – it hasn’t. Only a year after its opening, the large majority had a positive view of the connection.

Fast-forward to yesterday, where Irish voters (with a turnout of just 53 %) rejected the Lisbon treaty. They are of course not the first naysayers in the history of the Union (Denmark 1992, France and Netherlands 2005), but whatever one may feel about the EU, I think the primary force at work here is a misconstrued conservatism and fear of the new. Lisbon would actually enhance the democratic structures, not reduce them – but nobody seems to care.

We know what we have, not what we will get. This is apparently a common way of thinking for most people, around the globe. No matter if people tell us things can be better – it’s probably not worth the hassle, and if we’re happy to be content and not take any risks. But no wonders of the world are built without taking risks. Nobody can claim centuries of fame for sitting around, saying: we’re doing fine. Rome wasn’t built in a day – but if somebody hadn’t moved forward in faith, it would never have been built at all.

Salvation, Facebook-style

Asking Questions, and the Future of the Church

Why are we here? What is our mission as a church? How do we describe God? How should we view other Christian denominations? What is at the core of sanctification? How should a Christian regard the environment? alcohol? sex? politics? abortion? evolution? There are many questions.

Last week I was chatting with a friend about the state of the Adventist Church in Denmark. In that conversation the idea was floated of launching a new church magazine for people my age – people who will soon be growing too old for the youth magazine, but don’t really feel ready to join the mainstream. While there is probably too few resources for such an endeavour (and, as I pointed out, some bloggers try to fill the gap) it highlighted an issue of change. Change in the broader culture and now also in the church.

For years the education system (in Northern Europe, at least) has been teaching everybody how to question the established; not to take truths for granted; how to judge anything and anybody on their merits, not on our own presuppositions. I believe this is good. And while church has been slow to catch on (as it has with many things – music is one), this is now the predominant way of thinking among the educated young and middle-aged, within the church as well as outside it.

The church has been actively, if not explicitly, encouraging this, at least at the youth level. Many years of teen retreats, pathfinder camps, the boarding school Vejlefjord, and other things have somewhat contributed to a new way of thinking: that asking questions is ok; no, that it is good. The church planting projects of the last decade have, despite their very different styles and missions, had this in common: they ask questions. They do not take established truths for granted. They wonder: why don’t we do like this instead?

Once upon a time the Adventist pioneers did exactly the same. They asked questions, they sought answers for themselves, and they didn’t accept the argument: that’s how we’ve always done it. Today much of the Adventist establishment has grown stale. And while older generations may tolerate young people asking questions, many do so with an expectation that eventually they will find the right answers (i.e., theirs).

I don’t think finding the right answer to every question is possible, or even desirable. There are some things people will never fully agree on, and this doesn’t have to be a problem. I believe and hope that the current leadership of the church in Denmark will acknowledge and encourage this. I dream of a church where nobody ever stops asking questions; and nobody ever stubbornly holds that they have the only right answers. Because they never do – only God can claim that right.