A Christian Reflection on Abortion: Welcome, Relationship, Responsibility

When I saw the headline in my Facebook feed about a church "celebrating abortion" I half expected what I would find. "Of course. Abortion. Kansas. The Episcopal Church. Of course." Much as I love the Episcopal Church, there is no denying that we have a particular knack for majoring in really terrible PR (and that not due solely to ignorant or hostile press, though there is that). And oh, Kansas--nary a dull moment for the culture wars!

The parish church that is hosting the event in support of a local Planned Parenthood clinic (which provides women's health services, but not abortions) is one with which I am personally acquainted. Though I have never been a member there, my family and I have attended services occasionally, as well as diocesan and community events there. It has been a place of blessing for us, a community in the household of God in which sincere love and discipleship are evident. I can say that confidently as one who has experienced it as a reality. Accordingly, I was disappointed (though not surprised) by the inflammatory invective that a quick online search turned up: one columnist allowed herself to speculate wildly about parishioners as neo-Moloch worshipers ecstatically tossing children to the flames.1 Separately, a YouTube activist introduced his video by referring to the parish as an "apostate yoga practicing baby-killing loving church" (alright, I did have to chuckle at that one). Such characterizations can only come from people who apparently have no desire to see "the other" as anything but fanatical. There seems even to be no hint of their viewing "those people" as perhaps well-meaning but misguided--no, they are nefarious apostates bent on evil. No shades of gray here. It is a way of thinking not so far removed from the oft-heard accusation that pro-lifers don't actually care about preventing abortions but simply want to control women's bodies.

Though steering well clear of such rhetoric, the view from the other side in this case is not so generous as I had hoped for. I don't find particularly helpful a statement such as, "The Episcopal Church says you can form your own opinion about reproductive justice and you can be against it or for it."2 Such language feebly attempts to give an impression of open-mindedness while asserting that there is nevertheless an obvious right answer. While I don't subscribe to a post-modernism that admits of the futility of being able to assert anything (the gospel certainly makes assertions, and the Christian life is a way of life demanding decisions, not merely an intellectual exercise), still I do acknowledge that there are many exigencies of human life which are complex and upon which thoughtful people disagree. Political rhetoric from left and right notwithstanding, abortion is such an issue.

I think it is unfortunate that this issue has become so politicized that it is difficult to have meaningful conversation about it. Both sides speak in loaded language, the simplistic language of politicians seeking to win the votes of citizens who don't have time for the complicated details. But such should not be the language of the Church. As Stanley Hauerwas has said, “The church must refuse to use society’s terms for the abortion debate. The church must address the abortion problem as church.”3 In my own attempt to think through the abortion problem outside of the truncated parameters in which it is typically framed, I would describe myself generally as pro-choice and anti-abortion (though undermining a mutually exclusive view of the terms, I am aware that I am still using the language of the debate; it's a start). And in fact, such a designation is consonant with the public stance of the Episcopal Church: General Convention Resolution A054 states the Church's opposition to government action that would abridge “the right of a woman to reach an informed decision about the termination of pregnancy.”4 Such decisions are too complex, important, and morally fraught to be decided by partisan legislators. However, the same resolution boldly proclaims that “all human life is sacred from its inception until death,” and therefore “all abortion (has) a tragic dimension.” Accordingly, the Church states that "we emphatically oppose abortion as a means of birth control, family planning, sex selection, or any reason of mere convenience." In light of this, a woman with an unplanned pregnancy should expect the full support, in counsel and resources, of the Church. That is easier to say than to do.

In his essay, "Abortion, Theologically Understood" Stanley Hauerwas makes the argument that Christians should not understand the abortion debate as one of rights (i.e. "right to life" vs. "right to choose"), but of responsibility. And responsibility is difficult, risky, costly. It may mean Christians working to profoundly change structures in our society so that women can feel confident about having the support to give birth to a child in difficult circumstances. But even closer to home, it may mean Christian communities being willing to make real sacrifices to welcome life into the world, radically offering hospitality both to "unwanted children" and to the women upon whom society, in the name of privacy, would dump the total burden of responsibility. What such a welcome would look like would vary: it could mean more Christians being willing to adopt, or to welcome pregnant women into their own homes, or parishes taking communal responsibility for the long-term care of women and children. In any event, it would not be easy, but such is the call to welcome life as a gift of God. The Church also must ever offer grace and forgiveness, and to seek to be understanding of the frailty of human nature and the sometimes overpowering sense of circumstance. The resources of the Church significantly include her liturgical life: among the authorized liturgies of the Episcopal Church are "A Rite of Repentance and Reconciliation for an Abortion" and "A Liturgy of Lament and Remembrance," as well as associated litanies and prayers.5 I believe such pastoral services represent the right approach in what is a difficult and extremely important ethical issue.      

I don't mind saying that I would not be comfortable supporting a fund-raiser for a Planned Parenthood clinic on the anniversary of Roe v. Wade. Whether intended or not, it seems to imply a celebration of abortion that is bound to invite controversy, and any work around this issue should be concerned to de-escalate sensationalism. But I don't have all the answers. And so, criticisms notwithstanding, I won't condemn a church parish that is seeking to build upon relationships in their community to enhance women's health and options, and so decrease the market for abortions. On the contrary, it represents an attempt by a particular community of Christians to address the complex realities of human life in their local context. And knowing that particular community of Christians, I am willing to trust that they are acting prayerfully and according to the dictates of a conscience formed by a life of discipleship to Christ. Different churches will come to different conclusions about how they can best minister to their own communities, but I do believe that concrete local involvement and grace-filled pastoral care should be hallmarks of the work of the Church regarding such issues. The demonization or dismissal of "the other" will help neither women nor those they carry in their wombs. But building relationships and being willing to make costly sacrifices for the good of one's neighbor are steps along the way of our Lord.

LORD, you have searched me out and known me;
     you know my sitting down and my rising up;
     you discern my thoughts from afar.
You trace my journeys and my resting places
     and are acquainted with all my ways.
Indeed, there is not a word on my lips,
     but you, O LORD, know it altogether.

For you yourself created my inmost parts;
     you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I will thank you because I am marvelously made;
     your works are wonderful, and I know it well.
                                                   ~ Psalm 139:1-3, 12-13

The God who is Creator of us all has made us to be known. May the whole Church receive wisdom and courage to step out boldly to forge relationships, even when costly. It is only in community, in knowing one another, that we may hope, by God's grace, to approach the justice of the Kingdom of God.
Peace of Christ.


Notes:
1. American Thinker
2. The Wichita Eagle  
3. "Abortion, Theologically Understood" from The Hauerwas Reader, Duke University Press 2001
4. Archives of the Episcopal Church
5. Enriching Our Worship 5

"When the foundations are being destroyed" or, The Dangers of Plucking an Individual Verse

On my way home from work today, I was listening to a local Christian radio station.  Between a wonderfully sappy, pitch-perfect chorus jingle announcing the station (I really do love those; must be the nostalgia) and the start of whatever program was coming on next, there was a short commentary.  It was one of those 'Today's Bible Minute with Bob' type things, and it started out with this verse:

When the foundations are being destroyed, what can the righteous do? ~ Psalm 11:3

I had a suspicion about what was coming next, and I was right.  There followed a brief lecture about how society's changing definition of marriage threatened to erode the millennia old foundation established by God in the beginning.  It was predictable in its simplicity (there is not much room for nuance in a one minute commentary, after all), essentially a 'Bible says it, I believe it, that settles it' approach.  The closing words of the commentator were, "That's God's definition of marriage -- and He's stickin' to it!"

The thing that struck me most, however, was not the futility of attempting to say much of value about such a complex and controversial topic in a one minute commentary.  Rather, it was the use of the opening verse of Scripture.  If the commentator's persuasiveness was not precarious enough already, he set the tone by taking a single verse completely out of context for his purposes.  Here is the eleventh Psalm in its entirety:

In the LORD have I taken refuge;
   how then can you say to me,
   "Fly away like a bird to the hilltop;

For see how the wicked bend the bow
and fit their arrows to the string,
   to shoot from ambush at the true of heart.

When the foundations are being destroyed,
   what can the righteous do?" 

The LORD is in his holy temple;
   the LORD's throne is in heaven.

His eyes behold the inhabited world;
   his piercing eye weighs our worth.

The LORD weighs the righteous as well as the wicked,
   but those who delight in violence he abhors.

Upon the wicked he shall reign coals of fire and
                                 burning sulfur;
   a scorching wind shall be their lot.

For the LORD is righteous;
he delights in righteous deeds;
   and the just shall see his face.

Notice who it is that is bewailing the destruction of the foundations.*  It is not the Psalmist, but rather one to whom the Psalmist is directing his rebuke:  How then can you say to me, "Fly away like a bird ... the foundations are being destroyed, what can the righteous do?"  The Psalmist, by contrast, does not panic, because he has taken refuge in the LORD.  The remainder of the Psalm is in witness of God's power, His omniscience, His unassailable throne, and His ultimate judgement; and the just shall see His face.  So, what should the righteous do?  Become a culture warrior and use the democratic process to shore up the foundation of traditional American values?  Say rather, rest secure in the refuge that is our God, confident in the knowledge that He is our true foundation, and the only righteous Judge.

Peace of Christ.


* To clarify, I don't wish to imply that I think foundations are unimportant.  On the contrary, I think it is very important that we understand where we are, how we have arrived here, the beliefs upon which our assumptions are based, etc.  My contention is, rather, with the misapplication of this verse, which causes me to questions the spiritual wisdom of those who would use it in this way.

A Liturgy for Holy Saturday

Introduction:  For some time, I have been fascinated with theological ideas around Christ's descent to the dead, between the time of His death on the cross and His resurrection.  This was viewed by the ancient Church as a central event in the salvation story, and the idea of Christ's 'harrowing of hell' gained particular prominence during the medieval period.  I have compiled the unauthorized liturgy below, which is simply a modified and slightly expanded form of the Liturgy for Holy Saturday, as contained in the Episcopal Church's Book of Common Prayer, 1979.  This prayer book is the source of both the opening collect and the closing anthem, 'In the midst of life.'  I have changed the Old Testament reading, and some of the psalter.  The Scripture passages are from The Bible in Today's English Version (Good News Bible), and the psalms are from The Book of Common Prayer, 1979.  I found the reading from the apocryphal Book of Nicodemus in the prayer book of the Northumbria Community, Celtic Daily Prayer, which provides this introduction:
"The passage is taken from chapters 15 and 16 of the Book of Nicodemus, one of the manuscripts circulated early in the life of the Christian community.  It is not, of course, accepted as canonical, but is rather in the style of the medieval mystery plays which teach through recounting the stories dramatically.  This section, which may be used as a spur to meditation during the strange period of waiting between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, vividly illustrates the statement in the creeds that Jesus descended into hell, and imagines what happens when He gets there!"
May you have a blessed Easter season!     Peace.

A Liturgy for Holy Saturday

The Opening Collect
O God, Creator of heaven and earth: Grant that, as the crucified body of your dear Son was laid in the tomb and rested on this holy Sabbath, so we may await with him the coming of the third day, and rise with him to newness of life; who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.  Amen.

Psalter and Lessons

Psalm 130
de profundis
Out of the depths have I called to you, O LORD;
LORD, hear my voice;
     let your ears consider well the voice of my supplication.
If you, LORD, were to note what is done amiss,
     O Lord, who could stand?
For there is forgiveness with you;
     therefore you shall be feared.
I wait for the LORD; my soul waits for him;
     in his word is my hope.
My soul waits for the LORD,
more than watchmen for the morning,
     more than watchmen for the morning.
O Israel, wait for the LORD,
     for with the LORD there is mercy;
With him there is plenteous redemption,
     and he shall redeem Israel from all their sins.

A reading from the Book of Jonah.

At the LORD's command a large fish swallowed Jonah, and he was inside the fish for three days and three nights.  From deep inside the fish Jonah prayed to the LORD his God:
"In my distress, O LORD, I called to you, and you answered me.
From deep in the world of the dead, I cried for help, and you heard me.
You threw me down into the depths, to the very bottom of the sea,
Where the waters were all around me, and all your mighty waves rolled over me.
I thought I had been banished from your presence
And would never see your holy Temple again.
The water came over me and choked me;
The sea covered me completely, and seaweed wrapped around my head.
I went down to the very roots of the mountains,
Into the land whose gates lock shut forever.
But you, O LORD my God, brought me back from the depths alive.
When I felt my life slipping away, then O LORD, I prayed to you,
And in your holy Temple you heard me.
Those who worship worthless idols have abandoned their loyalty to you.
But I will sing praises to you; I will offer you a sacrifice, and do what I have promised.
Salvation comes from the LORD!"

The Word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.

Psalm 24
Domini est terra
The earth is the LORD's, and all who dwell in it,
     the world and all who dwell therein.
For it is he who founded it upon the seas,
     and made it firm upon the rivers of the deep.
"Who can ascend the hill of the LORD?
     and who can stand in his holy place?"
"Those who have clean hands and a pure heart,
     who have not pledged themselves to falsehood,
     nor sworn by what is a fraud.
They shall receive a blessing from the LORD
     and a just reward from the God of their salvation."
Such is the generation of those who seek him,
     of those who seek your face, O God of Jacob.
Lift up your heads, O gates;
lift them high, O everlasting doors;
     and the King of glory shall come in.
"Who is this King of glory?"
     "The LORD, strong and mighty,
     the LORD, mighty in battle."
Lift up your heads, O gates;
lift them high, O everlasting doors;
     and the King of glory shall come in.
"Who is he, this King of glory?"
     "The LORD of hosts,
     he is the King of glory."

A reading of The First Epistle of Saint Peter.

Since Christ suffered physically, you too must strengthen yourselves with the same way of thinking that he had; because whoever suffers physically is no longer involved with sin.  From now on, then, you must live the rest of your earthly lives controlled by God's will and not by human desires.  You have spent enough time in the past doing what the heathen like to do.  Your lives were spent in indecency, lust, drunkenness, orgies, drinking parties, and the disgusting worship of idols.  And now the heathen are surprised when you do not join them in the same wild and reckless living, and so they insult you.  But they will have to give an account of themselves to God, who is ready to judge the living and the dead.  That is why the Good News was preached also to the dead, to those who had been judged in their physical existence as everyone is judged; it was preached to them so that in their spiritual existence they may live as God lives.
The end of all things is near.  You must be self-controlled and alert, to be able to pray.  Above everything, love one another earnestly, because love covers over many sins.

The Word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.

A reading from the Gospel according to Saint John.

After this, Joseph, who was from the town of Arimathea, asked Pilate if he could take Jesus' body.  (Joseph was a follower of Jesus, but in secret, because he was afraid of the Jewish authorities.)  Pilate told him he could have the body, so he went and took it away.  Nicodemus, who at first had gone to see Jesus at night, went with Joseph, taking with him about one hundred pounds of spices, a mixture of myrrh and aloes.  The two men took Jesus' body and wrapped it in linen cloths with the spices according to the Jewish custom of preparing a body for burial.  There was a garden in the place where Jesus had been put to death, and in it there was a new tomb where no one had ever been buried.  Since it was the day before the Sabbath and because the tomb was close by, they placed Jesus' body there.

The Word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.

The following is from the apocryphal Book of Nicodemus.
Satan, the prince and captain of death, said to the prince of hell: 'Prepare to receive Jesus of Nazareth Himself, who boasted that He was the Son of God, and yet was a man afraid of death and said, "My soul is sorrowful even to death."  Besides He did many injuries to me and to many others; for those whom I made blind and lame and those also whom I tormented with several devils, He cured by His word; yea, and those whom I brought dead to thee, He by force takes away from thee.'
Then the prince of hell answering, said, 'Thou saidst to me just now, that He took away the dead from me by force.  They who have been kept here until they should live again upon the earth, were taken away hence, not by their own power, but by prayers made to God, and their almighty God took them from me.  Who then is this Jesus of Nazareth that by his word hath taken away the dead from me without prayer to God?  Perhaps it is the same who took away from me Lazarus, after he had been four days dead, and did both stink and was rotten, and of whom I had possession as a dead person, yet He brought him to life again by His power.'
Satan answering, replied to the prince of hell, 'It is the very same person, Jesus of Nazareth.'
Which, when the prince of hell heard, he said to him, 'I adjure thee by the powers that belong to thee and me, that thou bring Him not to me.  For when I heard of the power of His word, I trembled for fear, and all my impious company were at the same time disturbed.  And we were not able to detain Lazarus, but he gave himself a shake, and with all the signs of malice, he immediately went away from us; and the very earth, in which the dead body of Lazarus was lodged presently turned him out alive.  And I know now that He is almighty God who could perform such things, who is mighty in His dominion, and mighty in His human nature, who is the Savior of mankind.  Bring not therefore this person hither, for He will set at liberty all those whom I hold in prison under unbelief, and bound with the fetters of their sins, and will conduct them to everlasting life.'
And while Satan and the prince of hell were discoursing thus to each other, on a sudden there was a voice as of thunder and rushing of winds, saying, 'Lift up your gates, O ye princes; and be ye lifted up, O everlasting gates -- and the King of Glory shall come in.'
When the prince of hell heard this, he said to Satan, 'Depart from me, and be gone out of my habitations; if thou art a powerful warrior, fight with the King of Glory.  But what hast thou to do with Him?'  And he cast him forth from his habitations.
And the prince said to his impious officers, 'Shut the brass gates of cruelty, and make them fast with iron bars, and fight courageously, lest we all be taken captives.'
But when all the company of the saints heard this they spake with a loud voice of anger to the prince of hell: 'Open thy gates that the King of Glory may come in!'

A Litany

V. I have set the LORD always before me.
R. Because he is at my right hand I shall not fall.
V. My heart, therefore, is glad, and my spirit rejoices.
R. My body also shall rest in hope.
V. For you will not abandon me to the grave.
R. Nor let your holy One see the Pit.

In the midst of life, we are in death;
of whom may we seek for succor,
but of thee, O Lord,
who for our sins art justly displeased.

Yet, O Lord God most holy, O Lord most mighty,
O holy and most merciful Savior,
deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death.

Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts;
shut not thy merciful ears to our prayer;
but spare us, Lord most holy, O God most mighty,
O holy and merciful Savior,
thou most worthy Judge eternal.
Suffer us not, at our last hour,
through any pains of death, to fall from thee.

The Lord's Prayer

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, be with us all evermore.  Amen.

  

Thinking About the Limits of Human Knowledge, the Catholic Tradition, and Resting in God

O LORD, I am not proud;
   I have no haughty looks.
I do not occupy myself with great matters,
   or with things that are too hard for me.
But I still my soul and make it quiet,
like a child upon its mother's breast;
   my soul is quieted within me.
O Israel, wait upon the LORD,
   from this time forth for evermore.
~Psalm 131

Sometimes, when I'm reading through the online world of blogs, I start feeling pretty dumb.  There are a lot of people who know a lot more than I do, even in those fields of knowledge where I focus my energies (e.g. history, theology, ecclesiology, literature, etc.), to say nothing of all those important topics about which I know very little indeed (e.g. biology, medicine, psychology, mathematics, economics, all things mechanical, ad infinitum).  It can be a bit overwhelming, particularly today, living as we do in the information age.

Recently, while considering the futility of attempting to learn everything, the following passage from Don Miller's Blue Like Jazz came to mind.

My most recent faith struggle is not one of intellect.  I don't really do that anymore.  Sooner or later you just figure out there are some guys who don't believe in God and they can prove He doesn't exist, and some other guys who do believe in God and they can prove He does exist, and the argument stopped being about God a long time ago and now it's about who is smarter, and honestly I don't care.  I don't believe I will ever walk away from God for intellectual reasons.  Who knows anything, anyway?  If I walk away from Him, and please pray that I never do, I will walk away for social reasons, identity reasons, deep emotional reasons, the same reasons that any of us do anything.

This was one of those passages that grabbed me and stuck with me.  One does have to be careful about taking this kind of sentiment too far, and simply dismissing all rational and rigorous thinking as unimportant.  I certainly don't believe that; in fact, I place great value on the life of the mind, and intellectualism in the best sense of the word.  And yet I do think the intellect can take one only so far, and that at some point we all have to say, 'well, I guess I really can't figure it all out', and neither can anyone else, no matter how many years we devote to learning.  There will always be more to learn, and there will always be areas in which people can't seem to agree, with compelling arguments on both sides.  I think this is particularly true in matters of religion.  I consider myself to be pretty orthodox as regards matters of faith and doctrine (even though I'm an Episcopalian, gasp!), but I have to admit that I really identify with Miller when he asks, 'Who knows anything anyway?'  I think this is why I have always felt so at home in the Anglican tradition.  Despite my own adherence to orthodoxy, I am ever open to the possibility that I could be totally wrong about all this stuff.  I don't view this as a lack of faith on my part, but simply as intellectual honesty.  I can make definitive declarations about the nature and reality of God all I want, but really, what do I know?  If I'm honest, I have to say that in all these things, I do not know, but rather I believe. 

Although this realization has the potential to be frustrating (and, if taken to extremes, to degenerate into a kind of nihilism), it can also be incredibly liberating.  God doesn't expect me to know everything.  He does expect me to do the best I honestly can with what I have been given, and to ever be wrestling and seeking for truth (which I do confidently in the belief that 'He is not far from each one of us').  That I can do.  Incidentally, I think there is a correlation between my coming to this realization and my being increasingly drawn to a more catholic (as opposed to a more Protestant, reformed) understanding of the Church.  It takes much of the pressure off of the individual.  (I think of the times I've heard preachers say something like, 'Don't take my word for it; go look up the chapter and verse yourself.'  This seems to imply that we should not trust the pastor, that we should not trust anyone.  What kind of community is that?)  I do not have to go it alone, compelling my very limited intellect to serve as my own personal pope, seeking to interpret the Scriptures verse by verse in the isolation of my own study.  Rather, I am simply one of a great communion of saints, founded on the cornerstone of Jesus Christ, built up by the apostles, and continuing through the centuries down to today to be 'built up as a spiritual house for a holy priesthood'. This is not to say that individuals, and even the Church corporate, can never err.  We are still human, after all (and this is another reason why I remain at home in Anglican Christianity with its concept of a 'reformed catholicism', comprehensively drawing on the riches of catholic tradition tempered by an acknowledgment of the need for continual renewal amidst human failings and advances in knowledge that result in significant changes for societies and individuals).  But I nevertheless take great comfort in being able to lean on the centuries-worn traditions that have strengthened countless Christians before me.  I will continue to struggle in a God-ward direction, but along the way I can trust that I am walking a path that many have trod before, even in those moments when my own doubts and shortcomings are most apparent.

I was hesitant to begin this post with Psalm 131.  I've always loved this Psalm, but I think it easily opens one up to charges of a unenviable sort of 'blind faith' that is complacent and un-seeking, and to the oft-heard 'religion as a crutch'.  As already stated, I believe strongly that the Christian life should be one of continual seeking after truth, pressing further into God; i.e an inquiring faith. As to the 'crutch' criticism, I would ask: What sort of critic ridicules a wounded man for leaning upon a needed support?  And how much more absurd when one recognizes that all alike are wounded?  As Hemingway observed, 'The world breaks everyone'.  Those who deny the woundedness of their own human nature are either naive or dishonest.  Much as we rugged individualists are loathe to admit it, none of us are truly independent.  True health and wholeness are dependent upon the love and support of others: family, friends, and ultimately (though often unseen and unacknowledged) upon God.  Only when we confess this can we begin to live with peace and fulfillment.  For myself, I count it wisdom to join with the Psalmist in recognizing that there are indeed some things that are too hard for me and, owing to the finite nature of this mortal life, there will sometimes be great matters about which I will choose to not occupy myself.  For surely now more than ever we need to be reminded to occasionally still and quiet our souls, like a child upon its mother's breast.      

Peace.      


A Prayer for Guidance
O God, by whom the meek are guided in judgment, and light riseth up in darkness for the godly: Grant us, in all our doubts and uncertainties, the grace to ask what thou wouldest have us to do, that the Spirit of wisdom may save us from all false choices, and that in thy light we may see light, and in thy straight path may not stumble; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

Christ, Have Mercy

Thus says the LORD:
"A voice is heard in Ramah,
Lamentation and weeping.
Rachel is weeping for her children;
She refused to be comforted for her children,
Because they are no more."
~Jeremiah 31:15

In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord;
     my hands were stretched out and did not tire;
     I refused to be comforted.
~Psalm 77:2

Last Friday afternoon, as the details of the Newtown tragedy were being learned, it was difficult to know how to pray.  My wife said that her initial impulse was to pray for peace and comfort for the victims' families.  But that didn't feel right; no, she said, they have to weep and mourn now, to be angry and confused, to give full vent to their grief.  To do otherwise would be both unhealthy and simply wrong.  There is a time for grief, as the Preacher of Ecclesiastes well knew.

The Psalmists knew it also.  They did not hide or explain away their human emotions.  In the Psalms we have the full range of human emotion, the good, the bad, and the ugly.  Often, in the course of a  Psalm we experience a time of confusion, sorrow, or anger that eventually comes through to a conclusion, and there is confirmation of God's faithfulness, and closure.  Psalm 73 is an excellent example of this.  But sometimes, there is no comfort, there is no closure.  Psalm 88 is one continuous, soul-crushing lament, with scant comfort to be found.  The Psalmist begins,

          O LORD, my God, my Savior,
               by day and night I cry to you.
          Let my prayer enter your presence;
               incline your ear to my lamentation.
          For I am full of trouble;
               my life is at the brink of the grave. 

And those are the most hopeful lines in the Psalm.  It pretty much goes downhill from there (way downhill, actually, all the way to the abyss).  By the end of the lament, the Psalmist seems as forlorn as ever.  He closes,

          Your blazing anger has swept over me;
               your terrors have destroyed me;
          They surround me all day long like a flood;
               they encompass me on every side.
          My friend and my neighbor you have put away from me,
               and darkness is my only companion.

Over the weekend, I was looking through the burial rites in The Book of Common Prayer.  It is my opinion that the burial rite, as laid out here in the anthems, the prayers, and the Scripture readings, is a masterwork of liturgy.  I think one would be hard-pressed to find anything that presents the Christian hope so accurately, beautifully, and powerfully.  That said, as I was reading through the prayers and Scriptures in light of the tragedy in Newtown, I confess that I didn't feel very comforted.  I tried, in some small way, to imagine how I would feel as a father whose young child was suddenly, brutally, and senselessly taken from me.  I don't think I would want to hear words of comfort.  I am fairly certain that I would not want anyone telling me that God will comfort those who mourn, that He is good to those who wait for Him, that I should not lose heart, for the things seen are only temporary.  Truthfully, I can hardly begin to imagine the anguish those parents are going through right now.

I think my wife was right when she determined that what she could do, and what all Christians should do, is to be sad.  Rather than to choose not to think about it, or to pray that the pain will simply go away, we should weep with those who weep.  The Apostle Paul counsels the same.  And is this not the central message of the Incarnation, that God in Christ enters our world, becomes truly human that He may fully embrace the human suffering that is an inescapable aspect of our humanity?  At the grave of Lazarus, Jesus wept with those who were weeping.  Looking to Jesus, our exemplar in all things, let us do the same.

But it is still difficult to know how to pray.

Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.

   

Unity, Grief, and Hope

Oh, how good and pleasant it is,
     when brethren live together in unity!
It is like fine oil upon the head
     that runs down upon the beard,
Upon the beard of Aaron,
     and runs down upon the collar of his robe.
It is like the dew of Hermon
     that falls upon the hills of Mount Zion.
For there the LORD has ordained the blessing:
     life for evermore.
~Psalm 133


I haven't really wanted to write about South Carolina.  I've been pretty downhearted every time I've thought about it.  It's kind of shaken my faith.  I haven't really wanted to write about anything for the last few days, but it's this that continues to occupy my thoughts, so I'm going to get them out here.  (Disclaimer: the disillusioned, long-winded rambling will now commence.)

I'm grieved.  I'm not really surprised, but that doesn't mean I'm not still confused.  I'm grieved that the church I love is continuing to tear itself apart.  It is a church that, I believe, has historically had a fairly unique calling to be a church of restoration and reunion, a church with a truly comprehensive vision, that embraces mystery and diversity in certain matters of faith because it believes that to do anything less would be dishonest and  would ultimately miss God, the incomprehensible mystery who yet lived with us as one of us, and lives also within us.  Clearly, we don't have God figured out, and we don't have all the answers (that should be obvious enough, despite the strident righteousness on display by both "sides").  As Archbishop Rowan Williams has said, "It takes the whole Church to know the whole truth."  I believe that strongly.  And so I'm grieved, because I'm watching that comprehensive vision fade farther into the background with each new schism.

I'm angry that this entire debacle has become one of opposing "sides".  I don't want to be a part of either side.  I don't want to be part of a church that is so confident in the rightness of its orthodoxy in the face of "heresy" that it feels justified in committing the sin of schism (surely one of the greatest heresies of all), and celebrates the fact that it will no longer have to be constantly battling to uphold the pure faith in the midst of all these liberal Christians, so-called, since most of them are apostate anyway and have chosen to lead TEC down a path that can only end in extinction.  "We're moving into a new and brighter future.  We don't need them."  I don't want to be part of a church that is so intent upon being a "prophetic witness" (and is so confident that it cannot but be so), that it is increasingly willing to set aside 2,000 years of Church tradition, and even the Holy Scriptures themselves, in order to "listen to what the Holy Spirit is telling us today" (or is that my own heart I hear?), a church that only tolerates a diversity of beliefs until one becomes too insistent on taking seriously that old idea of Scripture as truly foundational, even over and against the prevailing winds of the times in which we live, in which case we won't really be too sorry to see you leave, just so long as you don't try to steal our property as you go.  "We're moving into a new and brighter future.  We don't need them" (or much of the global Anglican Communion, it would seem).  But now there are many members, but one body.  And the eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you"; or again the head to the feet, "I have no need of you."

I want to be part of a church that truly welcomes all types and conditions of people: Catholic, Evangelical, and Liberal; male and female; black and white; single and married; gay and straight; young and old; left, right, and every point in between.  I believe that Christ's one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church is indeed catholic: proclaiming God's whole truth, to all people, everywhere and at all times.  How can we fail to  recognize the breadth, height, and depth that Church must comprise?  Obviously, such a Church will have more than enough opportunities for disagreement on any number of issues.  But such a Church will consist of members who all find unity in Christ, who gather at the Eucharist to be nourished with spiritual food in the sacrament of Christ's body and blood, who, whatever differences they may have, still look at one another in love and recognize and affirm a brother or sister in the Lord.  My fear is that such a Church is ceasing to exist in North America today.  I still pray that it is not too late to preserve such a vision of the Church, but these last few days have not been encouraging.
   
The whole thing is a ghastly horrible witness.  As some have rightly pointed out, the church is reflecting the very worst of the partisanship of the current secular culture, when it should be witnessing to the bankruptcy of such power politics by showing a better way.  And sadly, I suppose we can expect the litigation battles over property to soon get underway.  I know what the canons say, and I don't care; it's uncharitable to the point of spite.  I say this to your shame.  Is it so, that there is not among you one wise man who will be able to decide before his brethren, but brother goes to law with brother, and that before unbelievers?  Actually, then it is already a defeat for you, that you have lawsuits with one another.  Why not rather be wronged?  Why not rather be defrauded?  And yet, I wonder: who cares?  I mean, how many people are even at all aware of what has recently transpired in South Carolina?  For all the church's seeming desire to be "relevant", on the cutting-edge of social justice, interfaith dialogue, biblical criticism, or whatever, we seem to be becoming more and more irrelevant.  Approach the man on the street and ask him what he thinks of the Episcopal Church, and it's a safe bet you'll get a blank stare (also likely he wouldn't even know how to pronounce the word "Episcopalian" if you showed it to him).  So, does all this even much matter?  I don't know; maybe it doesn't, at least as regards our witness, or lack thereof.  But it sure as hell grieves me.  And I'll be presumptuous and say that it grieves our Lord as well, and so, by extension, should grieve all His followers.  Would that some among our leaders would step down from the righteousness grandstand and issue a call for some intentional humility among all our people.  Blow a trumpet in Zion, consecrate a fast, proclaim a solemn assembly, gather the people, sanctify the congregation ... Let the priests, the LORD's ministers, weep between the porch and the altar, and let them say, "Spare Thy people, O LORD, and do not make Thine inheritance a reproach, a byword among the nations."    

It's times like these that almost make me wish I could relapse into the "personal relationship", individualist Christianity that has become so prevalent in the American church: just me and Jesus; what do I care about South Carolina and the nasty politico-theological battles of TEC?  But I can't do that.  I would be deceiving myself, and I know it.  Give me Jesus, yes, but I can't pretend that I can just leave this whole church thing alone, as if it were optional, there as a help for those who want it.  No, I was baptized into Christ, and made a member of the household of God.  For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, whether slaves or free, and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.  Well, we're having some domestic turmoil, but I don't intend to leave the household, and I certainly won't close my eyes and imagine that the household itself doesn't exist.

I've read somewhere that the Church itself is a sacrament, even and especially in its brokenness.  In its brokenness, the Church points continually to the One who can make us whole.  Our institutions, both ecclesial and secular, will fail us; we ourselves, as individual humans, will fail.  All the more reason to lift our eyes to that One; in Jesus Christ alone is our hope.  I believe this.  And maybe it's foolish of me to choose to be still hopeful.  Maybe I need to take off the blinders and stop the wishful thinking.  I honestly don't know.  But I do choose to live in hope.  Not just the hope that all will ultimately be made well in God, regardless of whether or not the Episcopal Church continues as a faithful witness to the gospel, for I believe that is a point indisputable.  No, I choose also to hope and pray that this tradition in which I have been raised in Christ will indeed continue, and will yet experience healing and renewal.  If we are faithless, He remains faithful, for He cannot deny Himself.   May it be so.

Show us your mercy. O LORD,
     and grant us your salvation.
I will listen to what the LORD God is saying,
     for he is speaking peace to his faithful people
     and to those who turn their heart to him.
Truly, his salvation is very near to those who fear him,
     that his glory may dwell in our land.
Mercy and truth have met together,
     righteousness and peace have kissed each other.
Truth shall spring up from the earth,
     and righteousness shall look down from heaven.
The Lord will indeed grant prosperity,
     and our land will yield its increase.
Righteousness shall go before him,
     and peace shall be a pathway for his feet.
~Psalm 85

O God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, our only Savior, the Prince of Peace: Give us grace seriously to lay to heart the great dangers we are in by our unhappy divisions; take away all hatred and prejudice, and whatever else may hinder us from godly union and concord; that, as there is but one Body and one Spirit, one hope of our calling, one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of us all, so we may be all of one heart and of one soul, united in one holy bond of truth and peace, of faith and charity, and may with one mind and one mouth glorify you; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.
~ no. 14, a prayer For the Unity of the Church