This weekend I talked with someone whom I think highly of who told me all of the different churches he has been a member of. At various times, depending on where he has lived, he has attended Presbyterian, Anglican, Bible, Evangelical Covenant, Campbellite, Christian Missionary Alliance, non-denominational, and house churches.

Whereas for me (even before I became a Lutheran), the criteria for which church I joined had to do with what it believed. For him–and I suspect there are a great many like him, possibly a majority of evangelicals–the criteria has to do with the people in the different congregations, the kind of “fellowship” they experience and whether they like the pastor. Theology is something held by the individual, with these different churches being more or less OK with whatever the individual member believes, within a few parameters, so that these churches today assert few theological distinctives for themselves.

According to the Lutheran mindset, the heart of a church body, the basis of fellowship, and the definition of unity must be its confession. Whereas for much of American Christianity, fellowship and unity are the heart of a church body, which allows for diverse confessions.

Fareed Zakaria argues that Barack Obama, who has said how he admires the first George Bush’s international policies, is the true realistic conservative when it comes to foreign policy:

Obama rarely speaks in the moralistic tones of the current Bush administration. He doesn’t divide the world into good and evil even when speaking about terrorism. He sees countries and even extremist groups as complex, motivated by power, greed and fear as much as by pure ideology. His interest in diplomacy seems motivated by the sense that one can probe, learn and possibly divide and influence countries and movements precisely because they are not monoliths. When speaking to me about Islamic extremism, for example, he repeatedly emphasized the diversity within the Islamic world, speaking of Arabs, Persians, Africans, Southeast Asians, Shiites and Sunnis, all of whom have their own interests and agendas.

Obama never uses the soaring language of Bush’s freedom agenda, preferring instead to talk about enhancing people’s economic prospects, civil society and—his key word—”dignity.” He rejects Bush’s obsession with elections and political rights, and argues that people’s aspirations are broader and more basic—including food, shelter, jobs. “Once these aspirations are met,” he told The New York Times’s James Traub, “it opens up space for the kind of democratic regimes we want.” This is a view of democratic development that is slow, organic and incremental, usually held by conservatives.

Obama talks admiringly of men like Dean Acheson, George Kennan and Reinhold Niebuhr, all of whom were imbued with a sense of the limits of idealism and American power to transform the world. “In his view of history, in his respect for tradition, in his skepticism that the world can be changed any way but very, very slowly, Obama is deeply conservative,” wrote Larissa MacFarquhar in her profile of him for The New Yorker. “There are moments when he sounds almost Burkean. He distrusts abstractions, generalizations, extrapolations, projections. It’s not just that he thinks revolutions are unlikely: he values continuity and stability for their own sake, sometimes even more than he values change for the good.”

Isn’t this what paleo-conservatives, such as Pat Buchanan, believe?

Radical leftist groups, hoping to recreate the disruptions of the 1968 Chicago convention, are planning big protests at the Democratic convention in Denver.

The spectacle in Chicago basically destroyed the Democratic progressive movement and put Richard Nixon in the White House.

Have you noticed that certain ideological groups are so purist that they do not seem to want to win, since they can be purer in opposition than with the inevitable compromises of actually holding power? This does not just pertain to politics.