The eCrozier

Do not worry about anything. (Philippians 4:5b)

What is it about our Advent preparation for Christmas that should lead us not to worry about anything? For St. Paul, the answer is simple: Jesus. The divine decision to take up human flesh is a sign that God will never give up on the world. It’s a signal that God graced humanity in the person of Jesus and redeemed us. So, the creation is good, not because of its elemental goodness, but because God has chosen to grace it by being born into it. Such grace isn’t our doing. It’s the work of God in creation. It’s the Light of God in Jesus shining into creation, a creation that’s bent and disordered by human sin. And our fears expose our bent, disorderly sinful nature. It’s hard, maybe even impossible, for us not to “worry about anything” when we’re gripped by our fears. Try telling someone not to worry when they’re afraid. It doesn’t work, does it? When fear grips us, we don’t act in love. When fear rules our lives, we live by our darker side. This makes us prone to violence, like cornered and fearful animals.

But God has done something for us in Jesus that calms our fears. Jesus is the gift that can’t be taken away. Jesus is the ultimate word to us that we’ve nothing to fear, even from God. And many people do fear God, but not in the Biblical sense of being humbled before God. Many people fear God is out to get them. This is due in some part by our cultural Christmas celebration. You know the song: “You better watch out; you better not cry, you better not pout I’m telling you why. Santa Claus is coming to town.” Of course, some people just insert “Jesus” in the place of “Santa.” Thus, we get the following bad theology: If you’ve been good you, then get a present (i.e., go to heaven), but if you’ve been bad, then you get coal in your stocking (i.e., go to hell). That denies the truth of God’s grace for sinners like you and me. Anyway, a God who wanted us to fear him and his wrath would’ve never been born into the world as a helpless child.

If God risked becoming a vulnerable baby, then you and I are going to be just fine held in the hands of such a God. That’s the liberating good news embedded in Christmas; that God’s love is more powerful than human sin and fear. God plops Jesus down in the midst of humanity and says: “Here’s my baby boy. To prove how much I love you, I’m willing to let you do whatever you want with him” (and, of course, on Good Friday, we took God up on that offer, didn’t we?). Maybe some people fear (hate?) God because God has taken away our agency in the matter? We had no say in Christmas. God just did it

Jesus then becomes the gift from God that can’t be returned even if we have the original sale’s receipt. Jesus might be the only real gift we receive this Christmas. Many gifts are in fact a quid pro quo exchange, where we find out if what we gave others is as nice as what they gave us. And if we didn’t reciprocate with a gift of equal or greater value, then we feel guilty. The gift of Jesus, however, can’t be reciprocated in any way. Jesus is the pure, unmerited gift from God that we can’t negotiate or mitigate, let alone reciprocate. We can only accept this unconditional gift that has no strings attached.

+Scott

On “Black Friday,” when much of our nation was either out shopping or recovering from a Thanksgiving eating stupor (me), our government released the 4th National Climate Assessment. This report, produced by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) as the administrative lead agency, drew upon the expertise of over 300 people from “federal, state, and local governments, tribes and Indigenous communities, national laboratories, universities, and the private sector.” They all “volunteered their time” to produce the assessment. A summary of this comprehensive, expert-driven report concludes that “climate change creates new risks and exacerbates existing vulnerabilities in communities across the United States, presenting growing challenges to human health and safety, quality of life, and the rate of economic growth.”

And yet, some of our elected officials responded to the report by saying: “I don’t believe it.” Such a response can only be described as “willful idiocy.” Let me explain. People can surely debate the causes of climate change, whether it’s driven by human-made causes or part of a long-term cycle of climate variation. While there’s significant evidence that human activity, particularly the burning of carbon, is the prime cause of climate change, the evidence isn’t overwhelmingly conclusive. But to deny that climate change is happening all together isn’t a matter of “belief.” It’s been observed and measured by the best scientific minds of this generation, so anyone’s “belief” about it is moot. It just is.

This flight to subjectivity is part of a larger cultural trend. Many people now wish to relegate facts to the realm of belief where one then can choose to believe them or not (don’t get me started on the “Flat Earth Society,” which I promise you is a real group with real people who “believe” it). To be sure, some things must remain as unprovable and thus be a part of someone’s belief (or not). For example, the Christian faith isn’t provable by scientific means. It’s a matter of faith (or belief, if you will). The Bible most often uses the Greek word πιστισ to define this. It literally means “trust.” Christians “trust” that the Good News of Jesus is true based on the biblical witness, the tradition of saintly testimony for over 2000 years, and our reason derived from human experience. And believe me when I tell you, I trust the Good News of Jesus. I’ve staked my life on it!

Even though trusting in the Good News of Jesus requires belief we can’t prove, it doesn’t make it more or less true than any other conviction we may hold that requires belief. For example, people should believe that supporting the Cincinnati Reds with their baseball love is the right thing to do. The evidence, however, doesn’t prove the Reds are the best baseball team out there (as much as I hate to admit this, the Red Sox are). The evidence says I should believe the Red Sox are the best, but I don’t because I’m devoted to my Reds. As the Preacher of Ecclesiastes would say: “This, too, is folly.” The main difference in this baseball analogy is that I know it’s folly. It’s a matter of the heart and it won’t hurt anyone. The scientific fact of climate change isn’t such a matter. Saying one doesn’t believe it is akin to saying one doesn’t believe in a mostly-rounded earth. It’s willful idiocy. It’s folly. And the consequences of such folly will lead to greater suffering for all the inhabitants of God’s good earth.

+Scott

It’s been a regular refrain after the murderous violence we’ve experienced in the last few years in places like Charleston, Parkland, or Pittsburgh (that, of course, is only a partial list, isn’t it?). A civic leader steps before the media’s microphones and, referring to the perpetrator and the violence, says something like: “We’re better than this. This isn’t who we are.” I understand the sentiment that comes when someone makes such a statement. The person wants to exude hope for the future, an ongoing trust in their community’s leadership, and encourage everyone to work to end these recurring horrors.

Except, people stating such sentiments are grossly mistaken in what they’re saying. We aren’t better than this. It’s who we are now. Ok, clearly not all of us all the time, but enough of us enough of the time that when we say “we,” then we have to include those who are willing to enter a church, school, or synagogue and murder people. We don’t want to think that about ourselves or our fellow citizens but think about it we must. Our denial isn’t helping anything. By saying “this isn’t who we are,” we’re denying that our current soci0-political context is producing people so angry and twisted that they’ve concluded mass murder is a sensical act. Our culture’s moral imperative du jour is to be authentic to your own truth (see philosopher Charles Taylor’s “ethics of authenticity”). Actually, I’m thankful these people with such weapons aren’t even more “authentic” to their own truth. I shudder to think what that would produce, if they were.

Of course, aberrant thinking coupled with murderous impulses have been present in humans from the beginning (see: Cain & Abel), but the multi-murderous means to act on such thinking and impulses is relatively new. Cheap and easy access to a panoply of high-powered weaponry gives aberrant thoughts and vicious impulses a way to be expressed with deadly mass consequences. Such mass-murderous behavior in the past couldn’t be accomplished with a Kentucky long rifle or even a carbine.

This is who we are: As a people, we’ve made a (possibly unconscious) choice between competing rights. We’ve decided that we should have a right to very few limits on our ability to obtain high-powered weaponry. And this right trumps the right to life free of the fear of being the victim of someone with such weaponry. Let’s not pretend that’s not the choice we’ve made. We the people have chosen this. We can’t be passive and blame Congress. We elected them to represent us. We, of course, can make other choices in the future, but for now, honesty demands we acknowledge that’s what we’ve chosen.

We won’t be “better than this” as long as our current choice stands. While no one can predict the future, I think it’s a safe to say that our “new normal” will be more Charlestons and Parklands and Pittsburghs (as horrific as that is to think about). Nothing has changed since those mass murders. Certainly human nature in all its potentially twisted forms hasn’t. That’s “the source.” And easy access to high-powered weaponry, that is, “the means,” hasn’t changed either. So, why would anyone think such mass-murderous behavior will somehow end? We’d have to engage in magical thinking to believe this wasn’t our new normal. This is, God help us, who we are right now.

+Scott

To the Faithful of the Diocese of Georgia: In the last year I’ve had some significant health setbacks. In my rehabilitation I’ve not been able to get back to 100%. My doctors and therapists have recently told me I never will. To be the bishop of a diocese of this size and scope, my experience tells me the bishop needs to be at 100% all the time. And you deserve such a bishop. It has been hard for me to admit this (pride being the worst of all sins), but I can no longer physically do what the bishop of this diocese must do. Thus, I have informed the Standing Committee I intend to resign as the Bishop of Georgia upon the successful election and consecration of my successor. The election will take place next year in Statesboro, on November 15-16. The consecration of the 11^th Bishop of Georgia will be, God willing, on May 30, 2020. Your Standing Committee will oversee the discernment and election process.

When bishops make an announcement such as this, the usual script they follow is to say how wonderfully healthy the diocese now is, how leaving when things are going so well is for the best, and then the bishop subtly works in all sorts of backdoor compliments for all the great things he thinks he’s done. I won’t insult your intelligence by doing that, nor will I subject you to what we all know to be at best half-truths. The truth is we’re facing tremendous headwinds as a Church and, as of yet, we’ve not done what we need to do to adequately address them. We aren’t evangelizing as we must and our stewardship isn’t strong enough to be sustaining in the long-term. 

Over the next 18 months I will continue to put my heart and soul into this vocation. My schedule, however, will need some further adjustments due to my ongoing physical challenges. There will be no “lame duck” anything. If I hear: “we’ll have to wait until the new bishop is here,” then I will say “no” and we’ll move forward. God’s Mission won’t be suspended over the next 18 months.

Nine years ago, you gave me a privilege I didn’t deserve and that was to serve as your bishop. Other than my marriage to Kelly and the gift of our three children, your gift to me has been the most precious of my lifetime. I thank you for entrusting this office to my care and oversight. I ask your forgiveness for the many times I failed to be the bishop you needed. In all things, you have shown me grace upon grace and you have honored me in giving me this trust and responsibility. 

Always in Christ,
+Scott

In our Gospel lesson this Sunday, Jesus calls out and exposes the words used from a demagogue’s playbook. Even in Jesus’ time, demagogues used “wars and rumors of wars” to create fear in people. It’s an effective, time-tested way to bend people’s behavior to the demagogue’s liking. Jesus warns his disciples to not “be alarmed” by such attempted manipulation and to not give into a fearful reaction. God’s Providential Grace will prevail, Jesus insists, as it always has.

Demagogues rarely appeal to God’s Providence and the sure and certain hope of God’s grace in Jesus. No, rather than naming God’s Providence and asking God’s grace upon us all, those who would lead us astray call us to act out of our fears, fears they actually have helped create and perpetuate. They’ve learned to play the “fear card” quite well. It’s a simple technique: you gather people together and remind them of a time when they felt better about their lives, then you tell them how awful things are now and who it is they should blame for all their problems. This generation’s demagogue list includes immigrants, minorities, and/or gay people, but in every generation it’s whoever they can conveniently brand as “the other.” Then they whip people into a frenzy claiming that if people would just do as they’re told, then they will protect them.

We should know that living by our fears rather than by our faith is living in direct denial of God’s providential love and care. Living by our fears leads us into all manner of behavior, most of which, upon reflection, don’t exemplify the highest virtues of the Christian faith. Even when it may be right for us to be afraid, fear never serves us well as a primary response to what we face. Fear encourages reptilian reactions from us rather than the higher soul-functions of hospitality, compassion, and generosity. Fear compels us to become, de facto, functional atheists. Functional atheism means we give assent to God’s Providential Grace with our lips, that is, we say believe God’s love and mercy will always carry the day, but in practice we actually live as if we are not part of a divinely coherent narrative that’s moving the world toward God’s plan of redemption.

Bruce Springsteen in his song, “Devils & Dust,” sings about what happens to someone living out of the fears induced by demagogues. He sings:
I got God on my side and I’m just trying to survive
But what if what you do to survive kills the things you love?
Fear’s a powerful thing. It can turn your heart black you can trust
It’ll take your God-filled soul and fill it with devils and dust

God isn’t present in the fearful delusions that have been packaged and sold to us, delusions that lead us to deny the Providence of God. Rather, God is present in the blessed death of our delusions, both the ones we have about ourselves and the ones about the world in which we live. God is no stranger to the fearful, the broken-hearted, the abandoned, the worried, or the hypocritical. The God we worship, the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, isn’t a God we voted for. Rather, this God is a God who voted for us on the cross of Jesus.

+Scott

Reading Dopesick: Dealers, Doctors, and the Drug Company that Addicted America by Beth Macy isn’t a fun read, but it’s probably the most comprehensive, data-driven, human-focused source one could find to understand our country’s opioid crisis. Macy covers the waterfront, from the 1990s when oxycontin hit the market as a “researched, non-addictive solution” for people’s chronic pain to today’s reality of it being a highly-addictive drug that has destroyed families and communities. With all the racial, class, and political divisions present in our country, opioid addiction is the one thing we have in common across them, not in our empathy and desire to address it honestly and effectively, but in that no part of our divided country has missed suffering from it.

I’ll leave it to public health and addiction experts to explain (and hopefully, convince us) how to address this deepening crisis (hint: it’s going to cost lots of money). I’m more qualified to reflect on theology and human nature, which is actually needed in this case, since bad theology and an ignorant view of human nature is part of the problem. Simply put, too many who control the public and private funds needed to address the crisis still believe the problem is a moral one, where the victims of this aren’t truly victims, but moral laggards with weak wills. They mistakenly believe that, if “those people” just showed some willpower, then they’d be able to either avoid addiction all together or will their way to sobriety. This “theology” (and it is a theology) is the problem, because it’s not based in either traditional Christian theology or what science tell us about addiction.

The Church’s theology has told us for centuries that all humanity is sinful; that we lack the willpower, in and of ourselves, to avoid sin. We have a collect in our tradition that tells us that “we have no power in ourselves to help ourselves.” Truer words were never written. Thus, we’re literally “bound” to sin. We don’t have complete “free will.” Sin working in us will always distort our freedom as well as our ability to regularly choose what’s good for us. So, theologically, the claim that people can just will their way to beat addiction is false. God’s mercy is the only power that can help us. And God’s power comes, not from inside of us, but from the grace imputed to us in Jesus.

Science also understands addiction as not a moral failure, but as a biological fact. When people are physically addicted to something as powerful as an opioid, they can’t just stop without significant time, support, and treatment. Now, there will always be outliers, people who one day went “cold turkey” all by themselves. But those are highly exceptional cases and are probably due to the particular person’s unusual biochemistry and context. We can wish people had the willpower but wishing won’t make them have it. And we can’t make effective national policy decisions based on a few outliers.

We won’t solve the opioid crisis until a critical mass of those in control of public and private funds change their bad theology and flawed understanding of human biology. It’s their ignorance, and the bad theology undergirding it, that’s allowing the crisis to worsen. We won’t end this crisis by moralizing over people’s failures. Only when we admit the reality of our human condition, will we move toward an effective policy.

+Scott

I commend you to a comprehensive survey and analysis by a group called “More in Common.” You can find their report at https://hiddentribes.us. Their research points out that American’s hopes, dreams, and beliefs are far more complex and nuanced than what we hear daily in the media. Their research describes how the appearance of a 50/50 split in society is actually just a result of “the loudest and most extreme viewpoints” monopolizing all forms of media. The extremes, which the researchers call “Progressive Activists and Devoted Conservatives,” only make up “14 percent of the American population—yet it often feels as if our national conversation has become a shouting match between these two groups at the furthest ends of the spectrum.”

Their research discovered what they call the “Exhausted Majority” (2/3 of us) who are fed up by the current “tribalism.” Two-thirds of us want to return to an approach that assumes mutual good faith from one another and a common collaborative spirit that’s needed for a healthy democracy. What was once simply called “being a good neighbor.” That won’t at all be easy, because the media knows how to keep us watching and clicking through to their webpages (and their advertisements which generate revenue). Without maintaining a level of outrage over the latest “sin” of the other extreme, the media manipulators make less money.

But there’s good news here. It’ll, however, require those of us who are exhausted by the current state of affairs (and I hope that represents many Episcopalians in Georgia) to work toward a different narrative from the one dominated by the extremes. I think we do that best by getting out from behind our media screens, into our neighborhoods, and away from the digital lynch mobs who mercilessly judge others from the privacy of their couches.

And as we meet our neighbors, the people who live or work near our homes and churches, we’ll discover their “needs,” but we’ll also discover their capacities and their hopes for the future. If we see only the deficits in others, then they remain objects of our pity, charity, or sometimes, our scorn. When, however, we get to know them and learn that we share at least some of what they long for, we together become a force for building up, rather than tearing down. Have you ever seen “Progressive Activist” and a “Devoted Conservative” build a Habitat House together? I have (just stay away from their lunch time banter).

That’s all to say we won’t get anywhere pretending we don’t have differences in how we and our neighbors see the world around us. It’ll always be important to name those differences, but at the same time, to not get stuck there. As we go into our church neighborhoods, I urge us to we find the one or two things people there agree on and work toward seeing that come to fruition in the neighborhood. In doing so, we’ll recognize that becoming a good neighbor is far more important than being a charity-dispenser or a behavior-judge. It is, after all, a clear command from Jesus (to love our neighbor) and we love them best when we know their heart’s desire.

+Scott

We gave up cable TV years ago, not for any other reason than we weren’t watching it. So, on Wednesday morning while getting ready to fly from northern Virginia to Tennessee for church and seminary gatherings, I turned on the Weather Channel in my hotel room to see coverage of Hurricane Michael. I had no idea how many things of which I needed to be afraid. Fortunately, cable TV was there to help me be afraid.

To be sure, a hurricane the strength of Michael should make us all exercise prudence and all of us should pray for and help, as we’re able, those in harm’s way. But the ginning up of the storm and the drama of the cable “presenters” (some of whom are real scientists, I assume) would certainly scare the heck out of people watching who were even only slightly inclined to phobias. The irony of this coverage is that most people who are in harm’s way weren’t watching cable TV like I was. They were too busy evacuating.

And that’s just the actual coverage of severe weather. The advertisers who pay to have their commercials run during media coverage of hurricanes certainly know their “marks.” In an hour of my “off and on” watching the Weather Channel, I learned about all sorts of ailments and diseases I could have (or a loved one of mine could have!) and the pharmaceutical treatment that would save the day. Everything from skin rashes to bladder leakage to high cholesterol should send me running to my doctor to allay my fears.

And then there was the commercial for home generators that’ll give me “peace of mind” in case of “severe weather or terrorist attack.” The commercial showed older couples (all of whom were white, by the way) who looked content and peaceful knowing they had their generator when the worse (whatever that may be) would happen. One couple in the advertisement even claimed it would be their “saving grace.” That’s one, powerful generator! Who would have thought that any generator had that much power?

Now, I’m not suggesting we abandon prudence or caution in dealing with severe weather or medical needs. That would be silly. After all, we have a generator at Diocesan House and I hope all of us appropriately take the medicines our doctors prescribe for us (although many of our fellow citizens in rural Georgia increasingly can’t afford them or even have access to a doctor to prescribe them, but that’s a story for another time).

I am suggesting, however, that we be aware of the media manipulation in which we’re saturated for the express purpose of keeping us watching (so we can see all those ads addressing our fears ranging from body odor to heart attacks). I found myself being sucked into the TV coverage believing that if I just watched through the next set of commercials, then I’d learn something new and important about the coming hurricane. After about the third segment, when no new “news” was actually being conveyed, I turned off the TV. The hurricane was coming. It was going to be devastating. It was time to do two much more important things: Check in with my people in southwest Georgia and then to pray the Daily Office with special intention for those in the path of Michael.

+Scott

This power of memory is vast, my God. It’s a great and infinite mystery. Who has fathomed its depths? – St. Augustine, Confessions, Book 10

Augustine believed our capacity to remember was a profound gift for our souls. After all our central act on the Lord’s Day is taking the bread and cup so we may remember the saving act of Jesus on the cross. And yet, Augustine’s own memory of his life made him a mystery even to himself, because he knew that we humans curate our memories. What do we choose to remember? What do we choose to forget? Are our choices of what we remember conscious or an exercise in self-deception? Augustine wondered about his memory and questioned his own capacity to remember the events of his life faithfully.

As I remember my life, I’m aware that my sin clouds my memory. But, there are some events that are seared into it, even though I don’t remember every detail: The time as a teenager, out of fear and shame, I denied being my father’s son; the time in college when I joined in, rather than stopped, the ugly, public ridicule of an unpopular fraternity brother; or the time as a young adult when I looked the other way as an acquaintance stole candy bars from a convenience store. The shame of each event is still with me even though I have confessed my sins and I know God has forgiven me. This is to say that such powerful memories stay with us as if they only happened yesterday.

Over the 35 years of my ordained ministry I’ve heard stories from female parishioners about the sexual indignities they’ve endured. Some didn’t make them deathly afraid, but those events still contributed to their suffering. Other stories shared with me were beyond indignity. Those were fearful, physical assaults where the man, exercising greater strength, made it clear who had the power. They ranged from a twisting of an arm to full-blown sexual assault. I’ve learned over the years to believe the women. In all my parish and now diocesan experience, I recall only one instance of a false accusation. Every other one was true. The data on false accusations of sexual misconduct or assault bear this out. Such false accusations, it turns out, are as rare as voter fraud.

And yet, most incidents like the ones described above have gone untold (and unreported to law enforcement). And this is where, I believe, Augustine’s complex appreciation of memory comes in. Victims don’t trust their own memories. The behavior perpetrated on them is so reprehensible that they think they must be mistaken. Or, in some women’s minds, they somehow think it’s their fault. And even worse, when their memories are clear, there’s a fear and resignation that those in power, whether ecclesial or political, are incapable of exercising empathy and will shamefully protect their own. Sadly, that has been all too true. The women who overcome such fear, face those in power, and speak the truth about what happened to them leave me in awe of their courage.

Our memories are vast, full of joy, pain, and sometimes fear. We should hold on to each memory, because in doing so, we can lay each one at the foot of the cross so our memories, like our lives, can be redeemed by the wide embrace of Jesus.