Schadenfreude is not a fruit of the Spirit
The president has COVID. How do we respond?
Like many people, I woke up this morning to the news that President Trump and the first lady had tested positive for COVID-19.
That’s why this email is coming tonight instead of this morning, actually. I had a version of this week’s newsletter — focused on an entirely different topic —ready to go last night, but quickly pulled it when I saw the news. It’s not that I have any new information about the president to provide, but I knew that my personal reaction needed to be wrestled with. And the best way for me to do that is in writing. So, that’s why you’re getting this so late.
First, a confession: My first reaction upon learning of the president’s diagnosis was not one of sympathy. My first reaction was a snicker. I thought of Steve Martin in Planes, Trains and Automobiles watching Del’s car catch fire and cackling “You finally did it to yourself.” After dismissing the virus first as a hoax and then as something that only affects the weak and frail, after conducting numerous rallies with few health precautions, it finally came back to bite him. The irony was delicious.
And, in the moment, I felt justified. After all, Trump would have done the same, right? If Joe Biden had tested positive for COVID-19, there would be tweet after tweet about how his opponent just hadn’t been safe enough, that wearing “the biggest mask I’ve ever seen” still didn’t protect him. When Hillary Clinton had pneumonia during the 2016 election, he mocked it as a weakness. Isn’t turnabout fair play?
And then I paused. I realized that the same inhumanity and callousness that I condemn Trump for has the ability to flow through my veins. And if I hate it in him, I must learn to hate it even more in myself.
I’ve said that the last four years have been a trial for me as a person of Christian faith. While theologically I might best be described as evangelical, I can’t bring myself to identify as one because of the baggage it carries. I’ve seen the people who helped me understand the Christian faith embody racist, misogynistic and inhumane rhetoric. These same people have told me that the validity of the faith is seen in the fruit it produces, leaving me to wonder what I should conclude when that fruit includes dismissing a lecherous man who brags about sexual assault, refuses to condemn white supremacy, and has shown no concern for the dignity of others.
The fact that I haven’t lost my faith is all dependent on the grace of God, who has surrounded me with people online and in person, including my wife, who have stronger faith and are resisting the unchristian behavior of our president and his followers. This year, I’ve been reading through the Bible day by day, and I’ve been moved to see how vivid and powerful it is, and how opposed it is to the values our culture and political parties champion. My faith has taken a beating over the last four years, and it’s felt like 2020 has just increased the blows. Sometimes I just have that mustard seed-sized kernel; sometimes half of that. But it’s still there.
But holding onto faith and clinging to it in this time presents its own challenges. When you agree that the words of Christ are true and good, and you believe that they are spoken with ultimate authority, seemingly simple things like reacting to the news take on a new weight.
Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you. Weep with those who weep, mourn with those who mourn. Pray for those in authority.
Those are simple phrases scattered throughout the New Testament. The first two are from Jesus; the second two are from Paul. And they are simple, basic commands that, I’ll be honest, I have a hard time living these days.
I don’t want to love or pray for Donald Trump. He’s a man who stands opposed to all that I believe is good. He’s made a career out of attacking and belittling others. He steamrolls over others, laughs at their misfortune, distorts the truth, and throws anyone who disagrees with him to the wolves. I don’t toss this word around, but I truly believe he’s an evil man.
And yet, my initial reaction of laughing at his misfortune and cheering at his ailment is just as bad as him lashing out at disabled reporters, unleashing racist rhetoric, and tearing down his enemies. He is a bad person, but I’m capable of that same badness.
To take joy in his misfortune is wrong. To celebrate his illness is sin. Schadenfreude is not a fruit of the spirit.
And so, I’ll pray for him. I have to ask for the strength and desire to, and pray that my own attitude is one of compassion. It’s not easy, but it’s the right thing to do. And not just because the Bible says so; when we give up looking at someone as a fellow human being in need of compassion and empathy, we warp our souls. Our hearts become hard. We stop caring. What starts with our enemies spreads; it becomes much easier to gloat at the misfortunes of others until cynicism and snark are our default reactions, and it ultimately becomes second nature to tear down the Imago Dei in others.
And so, I realize with great struggle that I have to pray for Donald and Melania Trump. I hope they recover quickly. I hope that they work with their doctors to manage it.
But there also comes the question of what we’re allowed to say. Are we allowed to find any resonance or meaning in this? Does loving our enemies mean we also don’t acknowledge very real consequences?
The truth is, this is a very real situation of someone reaping what they sow. For the past eight months, Donald Trump has downplayed the seriousness of this virus. He’s said “virtually nobody” contracts it. He’s mocked Joe Biden for wearing a mask. He’s continued to hold large rallies where there is very little social distancing. He has said he takes no responsibility for a pandemic that has killed more than 200,000 Americans. He has surrounded himself with people who believe likewise.
There is a very real and serious lesson of consequences here, because of his position. He is the president of the United States. People watch his actions and listen to his words to decide how they should react to this virus. When he’s cavalier, the people who trust him become cavalier. When he doesn’t take it seriously, they won’t take it seriously. And so it is very important to pay attention when his beliefs and actions disprove the invulnerability he believed he had to this virus. Those who took his disregard of masks to heart need to pay attention: this disease can affect anyone, and hopefully it spurs them to be more careful and thoughtful in their actions.
We can feel empathy and concern for the president as a human being and fellow image-bearer, and we should pray for him. But we also have to recognize the lessons learned and hold him accountable for the poor leadership that led to this.
Sigh.
Let’s move on to movies, eh?
The Digest
The Way I See It review: It’s been a light week for outside writing, mainly because a lot of the things I’ve been watching were items for review in the coming weeks. But I did write about this documentary, which is playing in limited theaters (where they’re open), and will debut next Friday, Oct. 9, on MSBNC. Many of you follow Pete Souza on Instagram already, and the film details the way the former photographer to the Reagan and Obama White Houses is now taking on Trump. It’s an engaging, fascinating little doc, and the imagery alone is enough to make its points.
Chricisisms
Here are a few fun things I’ve been watching and reading this week.
Made Men: The Story of Goodfellas by Glenn Kenny: It’s pretty much accepted now that Martin Scorsese’s 1990 film is one of the great American movies of the last 50 years. It’s been about a decade since I’ve seen it, but Kenny’s making-of book has me itching to pull out my Blu-Ray. This is one of the great film books, an obsessive deep dive into Scorsese’s picture that I’m sure even the most well-researched film fans will walk away with feeling like they’ve learned something new. The centerpiece is an exhaustive, scene-by-scene breakdown of the movie that delves into its making, its cast and crew’s filmographies, the symbolism, and the connections to Scorsese’s other works. Kenny then details the use of every song in the film, the subsequent gangster movie career of Scorsese, and even gets into the ancillary books written by the film’s subjects. It’s a great book, out just in time to celebrate the film’s 30th anniversary.
Ted Lasso: Originally, the main section of this week’s newsletter was a long love letter to this Apple TV+ sitcom starring Jason Sudeikis. Sudeikis plays the title character, a U.S. football coach who travels to England to coach soccer. He knows very little about the sport, but he believes his enthusiasm and optimism will fill in the gaps. This is a show that could easily be a one-joke comedy, centered around a naïve and clueless buffoon. But Sudeikis and showrunner Bill Lawrence dig into Ted’s sincerity and kindness, treating it as a secret weapon in a cynical world. The show isn’t always laugh-out-loud funny, but the earnestness goes a long way. Sudeikis creates a real, grounded character who’s also self-aware and good at his job; he knows the others raise an eyebrow at his approach to life, but he also believes that being kind-hearted and thinking positive will knock down all of those walls. I’ve seen 7 of the 10 episodes (the season finale airs this weekend), and I’m surprised how quickly I was won over. Ted Lasso is the hero 2020 needs.
Skeleton Crew by Stephen King: As I said in last week’s newsletter, listening to The Kingcast has reignited my love of reading the author’s work. This short story collection from 1985 is one of the few of his that I haven’t read, so I picked it up a few months ago. It’s one of his more scattershot short story collections. There are some all-timers in here. “The Mist” is a stone-cold classic. “Survivor Type” is one of the gnarliest and most gruesome stories King’s written, and I was so affected by his sci-fi bit of terror “The Jaunt” that the line “longer than you think!” echoed in my head the entire night after I read it. But there’s a lot of filler, stories like “Beachworld” and “Word Processor of the Gods” that feel a bit half-baked and over-long. There are some stories, like “Uncle Otto’s Truck,” that feel like King warming up his muscles for something like Christine. “Here There Be Tygers” is an undercooked early story that ends abruptly. And “Cain Rose Up” is a nasty, bitter little story of a mass shooter that, like the Bachman book Rage, should have been pulled from publication. The book’s a must-read for King completists, but just be prepared it’s not his most cohesive volume.
Coming soon
I usually don’t put a preview of coming attractions for future newsletters because I don’t know going into the week what I’m going to be writing about. But since we’re now in October, I’m looking forward to deluge of scary and not-so-scary movies I’ll be writing and watching about, mostly in these newsletters. My son is 8 and just getting a bug for scary movies, so I’m doing our first Halloween movie marathon. Throughout the month of October, we’re doing Monster Movie Month, where I’m introducing Mickey to some of the great movie monsters, including King Kong, Godzilla, the Universal Monsters, and, if he’s ready for it, a certain Mogwai.
For my own personal viewing, I’m really looking forward to the Criterion Channel’s ‘70s horror collection. There’s a lot in there, much of it iconic. While I’m not sure whether I’ll give The Texas Chain Saw Massacre another spin after just revisiting it a few years ago, I highly recommend anyone who hasn’t caught up with Tobe Hooper’s classic do so; it’s still disturbing and effective years later. But The Hills Have Eyes, The Wicker Man, The Crazies and more are all blind spots I’m hoping to rectify over the next 30 days.
And that’s not all. In the last year, one of my favorite ways to unwind at night has been watching some classic Simpsons episodes on Disney+. This year, I’m going to try to make it through all 30-plus “Treehouse of Horror” episodes. I think I’ve seen about half before; I’m curious what they’ve come up with in recent years.
And if you’re not into scary movies, don’t fret! Next week, I’ll have links to my reviews of On the Rocks, The Trial of the Chicago 7 and (checks notes), um, The War With Grandpa. So if you haven’t subscribed, I highly recommend doing so now!