The Whacked-Out Reverend

Partly because of the fact that the commemoration of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday is this Monday (his actual birthday is this Sunday), I want to revisit one of the “usual suspects” from the recent “Justice Sunday III” farce that took place a few days ago, and that would be the Rev. Herbert Lusk.

Here is more background, and this is an excerpt from an article about Lusk’s performance that appeared in The Philadelphia Daily News (lots of “wheeling and dealing” and unconfirmed reports regarding the likely Knight Ridder sale later this year, by the way):

By far the most rousing speech -- more sermon than speech -- was given by Greater Baptist's pastor, the Rev. Herbert H. Lusk II.

Citing the harsh criticism he has faced from liberals and other black leaders, Lusk said: "I've been called a sellout. I've been called an Uncle Tom, and the New York Times called me a maverick in the black church." Lusk said he welcomed being called a maverick if it means supporting "the original intent of God Almighty" in opposition to abortion and the "redefinition of marriage. . . . Brothers and sisters, we will not go down without a fight."

Lusk warned adversaries: "My friends, don't fool with the church because the church has buried a million critics. And those the church has not buried, the church has made funeral arrangement for."

Wow, Herb, are you going to be selling same-day or advance-sale tickets to the Inquisition on North Broad Street? Curious language from a professed “man of God,” wouldn’t you say?

In my ongoing quest to understand why people who may (or may not) have very worthy goals and desires continue to allow themselves to be used by the Repugs, I found this column from James Straub dated a few days ago. The following is an excerpt:

Evangelical conservatism is no all-white backlash phenomenon, however. For the modern evangelical passions have their roots in the poor, multiracial early Pentecostal churches of southern California. Evangelical religion maintains an enormous presence in the spiritual life of African-American and Latino communities in the United States, and the Republican Party is making its electoral inroads into those communities through the pulpits. Not only did the Republican Party dominate among white working-class people this last election, it won a majority of Protestant Latino votes. And in Ohio, where the black, evangelical secretary of state campaigned vigorously for Bush (in blatant conflict with his election supervising duties) and megachurch pastors like Rod Parsley speak (hypocritically but convincingly) to multiracial congregations about challenging racial prejudice and promoting a black middle class, Bush won 14 percent of the state’s black vote. This is not a relationship equivalent to that of white evangelicalism, of course; the grass-roots born-again Christianity that produces Chicago’s Kanye West or LA’s Tommy the Clown bears little connection to the bigoted zealotry of Tom Delay and James Dobson. But the Republicans are increasing their electoral showings in communities of color almost exclusively through socially conservative evangelical religion, and continued success could give them permanent majority-party supremacy—a fact they lustfully comprehend.

This is exactly the intention of the Bush administration’s office of faith-based initiatives, a promise to direct eight billion dollars to religious social service groups. Anecdotal evidence indicates that the money is largely being funneled to evangelical churches in African-American and Latino communities that badly need the services. Two examples from Philadelphia give a sense of the breadth of this little-noticed repositioning of Republican theocracy: In one New York Times article, the Baptist minister Rev. Luis Cortes was featured parlaying a friendship with President Bush into several million dollars in federal grants for a youth employment program, housing counseling, and AIDS education. His growing network of Republican-funded social service programs now encompasses Latino communities in half a dozen poor cities. The article noted,

For a glimpse of one of the political currents running through the program, consider the after-school effort run by Mr. Castro, where a group of schoolchildren recently convened for what might be described as a Pentecostal poetry slam....“President Bush is Christian,” said Sade Melendez, 10, after a recent rehearsal. “He doesn’t believe in abortion, and the other man does.” “John Kerry believes in lesbians,” said Jorge Granados, 10. “He said if the baby was in the stomach, you could kill the baby,” said Krystalie Ocasio, 9. “He stinks,” Sade said.

By the way, lest anyone think this truly ugly sentiment regarding John Kerry, a Roman Catholic, is confined to traditionally poor, inner-city neighborhoods, I should remind you that I heard it from one of the young one’s friends, in an area where “the right people” live.

Meanwhile, a mile east in North Philadelphia, the Bush administration has used millions of dollars in federal aid to court the “praying tailback,” Rev. Herb Lusk, a former Philadelphia Eagles running back turned preacher at Greater Exodus Baptist Church. Lusk heads People for People, Inc., a church-based social-services empire that has broken ranks with the mostly Democratic Philadelphia black clergy to support Bush, claiming his bottom line is halting gay marriage.

Beyond mobilizing election-day support for the president (in another rust-belt swing state), Lusk has also given Bush political cover for his treacherous abandonment of the Global AIDS Fund by hosting Bush to speak on AIDS at Greater Exodus. Such a location and betrayal are particularly ironic in Philadelphia, since it was largely African-American mass protests on global AIDS led by ACT-UP Philadelphia, working with existing HIV/AIDS services and drug recovery houses, that helped win the creation of the global fund in the first place. The effective, progressive and socially activist network of AIDS programs and addiction-recovery centers that united in these protests, however, starve for funds while well-connected gay-bashing tailbacks build fiefdoms next door.

And of course, Lusk received funding from the Rev. Sun Myung Moon’s Washington Times Foundation, with Dubya acting as the “go between” (nice).

I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to detect the reek of something you might call “faith-based intolerance.” Somehow, I’m sure this escaped Lusk as he did his little boogaloo shuffle with the smiling, condescending nod of Scumbag Santorum plainly visible for the cameras to see.

Finally, I’d like to link to this bio on Lusk from Tony Perkins’ Family Research Council site to point out the last sentence, which I found to be particularly humorous:

Herb Lusk was not traded or cut by the Eagles, but left because he was compelled by the Spirit of God to do so.

Lusk was also compelled by the fact that his mediocre days was coming to an end because a previously unproven young running back named Wilbert Montgomery was beginning his storied career with the Eagles, one in which the team would go to the Super Bowl two years after Lusk retired.