Greatness According to Bob Dylan, Percy Bysshe Shelley, & Jesus (eCrozier #272)

On September 18, 2015, in culture, Greatness, by bishopbenhase

But you’re gonna have to serve somebody – Bob Dylan

When I was a child I often wondered about the life I’d have when I grew up, what I’d end up doing with my life. Being a bishop of the Church, by the way, was never a part of that. It just never occurred to me. As children, we all dream of what we’ll be when we grow up. Often those dreams are rather grandiose: we’ll become a professional athlete, or a doctor who cures cancer, or a famous movie star. I’ve always found it more than fascinating that people who believe in reincarnation never seem to have been mere cobblers or maids in previous lives. They always seem to have been more exotic people like kings or queens. As children, we dream of greatness in some form some day, at least as our culture defines greatness.

Our human desire for greatness, or at least to have a lasting name for ourselves, is related to the fear that our death will be our end. It’s not entirely rational, of course, but it’s still real. It’s an avoidance technique. But our fear of death also makes us servants, not of God, but of whomever can promise us a denial of the truth of our existence. Politicians, advertisers, and, yes, preachers regularly tell us that if we don’t heed their guidance, we’re dead. Not dead literally, but metaphorically, as in the academic sense of “publish or perish.” For students, “if you don’t get above this SAT score, then you’re dead.” Or politically, “if the candidate doesn’t win in New Hampshire, she’s dead.” Or in sports, “The Reds still have a chance to make the postseason (I can dream), but they must win their next series or they’re dead.” Dead, in this sense, means a loser. Death, after all, in our culture is for losers. Death isn’t for the great. It’s for the insignificant.

Recall Shelley’s sonnet, Ozymandias, whose empire covered the known world of his day:

“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away

Ozymandias is long dead. Nothing remains of his great empire, except a small part of the huge statue he had created. Shelley’s sonnet exposes the futility of those who want to see themselves as great, for like everyone else, the “lone and level sands stretch far away.

The disciples struggled with this issue of greatness. They were mostly poor fishermen who before meeting Jesus had no hope for greatness. They’d die as unimportant people. But as they followed Jesus and the crowds grew, their egos expanded. So, they argued about “who among them was the greatest.” When Jesus asked about the topic of their argument, they fell into a sheepish silence. Jesus then used that opportunity to tell them the true purpose of all human life. It has to do with whom we serve, and not who serves us. Human life isn’t about receiving honor or fame or power. So, the question really can’t be avoided: Whom are we serving these days?

+Scott

 

 
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Our Resignation in the midst of Gun Violence (eCrozier #270)

On September 4, 2015, in culture, Violence, by bishopbenhase

Vester Flannagan stood on a balcony at the Bridgewater Plaza shopping center near Roanoke, Virginia and adjusted his smart phone camera. He then walked toward Alison Parker, a local TV reporter doing a live interview, filming himself as if he were part of video game. Flannagan aimed both his gun and camera and murdered Ms. Parker and her cameraman, Adam Ward, and severely wounded the person being interviewed. I have not and will not watch this video. I’ve only heard it described in writing. But millions of people have watched it. Flanagan put his own version online through Twitter and Facebook. He apparently did not have that many “followers” or “friends,” so that means people thoughtlessly assisted in the distribution of his demented video.

Dr. Adam Lankford, a criminal justice professor at the University of Alabama, presented a paper this week to the annual conference of the American Sociological Association. His presentation showed a strong correlation between the availability of guns and the frequency of gun massacres. He postulates that America’s high rate of public mass shootings is connected with the number of guns circulating in the country. “A nation’s civilian firearm ownership rate is the strongest predictor of its number of public mass shooters,” he explained. Apparently, we are at the top of a very shameful category: public mass shootings. That should be a shocking piece of information.

But truth be told, we’re not shocked by this any more. We’ve lost that particular capacity sometime over the last few years. Stories such as these are now regular parts of our news cycle. We hear or read about the latest one, shake our head, and pour our morning coffee. In addition to what happened near Roanoke, last month a police officer near Houston was brutally executed while pumping gas into his patrol car; and, in June, a sick young man slaughtered 9 people in a church in Charleston. These three are just recent examples. You know there are many, many more. You’ve read or heard about them, as have I. We just have to hear the name “Sandy Hook” or “Aurora” and our minds go right to those horrific murders. But, sadly, we’re no longer shocked. We just sigh and say: “that’s just the way it is.”

We have made a collective decision, rational or not, faithful or not, that all these murders are just the price we must pay so we can continue to have all these guns circulating so freely in our country. Can there be any other explanation for why we have done nothing after witnessing all these murders? Our inaction speaks volumes. Our inaction says that however much we deplore these murders, they are acceptable losses of human life if it would mean any restriction to our free access to guns (and not just any guns, but guns specifically manufactured, not for sport, but for killing our fellow humans). I’ve actually heard purportedly rational people say that such murders are the price we must pay for the current Supreme Court’s interpretation of the 2nd Amendment. The rationality of that eludes me.

But we need to regain a sense of shock for what we’re becoming, for what we now find acceptable, for what is becoming a new normal in our common life.  
+Scott

 
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A Faithful Response to the Changing Culture (eCrozier #261)

On May 1, 2015, in Anxiety, Change, culture, faith, fear, gospel, grace, by bishopbenhase

As we live through the rapid change of our contemporary culture, some are fearful that Christianity is losing its traditional, privileged place. Demographers tell us that the fastest growing cohort is the so-called “nones,” those with no religious affiliation or particular religious practice. Those who are fearful about this development warn that the lost, privileged place of the Church’s faith will inevitably lead to a growing hostility toward Christianity. Every fear has at least a kernel of truth to it, so there’s reason for us to pay attention. But I don’t think fear about the changing nature of the culture is a faithful response, even as we pay attention to it. Fear is never faithful. All culture is highly elastic and, at least partly, cyclical. Historians look back and find times when particular social, religious, political, and economic conditions in one era were similar to those in another. That’s true of Church history as it overlaps with the larger cultural history. In every age then, the Church faces new as well as familiar challenges for how she will be faithful to the Gospel of Jesus.

I believe we’re in a similar time as to what the Church experienced in the 4th Century. Christianity then had a foothold in the culture, but it was by no means the dominant religion. The Roman Empire had grown vast, outgrowing its own power to govern and control that vastness. In the other words, the Pax Romana wasn’t what it had been. This resulted in great social anxiety as groups sought to blame other groups for why Rome wasn’t what it used to be. Some blamed the Christians. Others blamed the laxness of the traditional Pagan practices. What was evident was this: No one group was dominant or privileged in its ability to guide the culture. This was also the time of the great Church Councils of Nicea and Chalcedon. At these Councils, the Church struggled to define her own faith, identity, and practice. But even amidst the great debate within the Church, we continued to witness to the grace, compassion, and mercy of God. In the middle of the 4th century the Roman emperor Julian (later he had the moniker “the Apostate” attached to his name, which, let’s just say, wasn’t a term he chose) wrote a sarcastic complaint about the Christians he observed: “These impious Galileans not only feed their own poor, but ours also. While our pagan priests neglect the poor, these hated Galileans devote themselves to works of charity.” 

The Church today is struggling, as we always have, to live out our faith, identity, and practice. As was true 17 centuries ago, today we’re not all of one mind on various issues. But that has never stopped the Church from its essential witness to the world’s redemption by our Lord Jesus Christ. We’ll need to continue to find ever more creative and effective ways of sharing and dispensing God’s grace to this beautiful, yet broken world, especially as it becomes more disinterested in or indifferent to the Gospel. So, I believe the truth claims we make about Jesus will never win the day if they’re limited to a “we’re right and your wrong” contest. I think the Emperor Julian (the Apostate) unwittingly showed us the most effective way: A steadfast commitment to sharing God’s unmerited grace with others, particularly to those who are lonely, lost, or left out in our culture, through specific acts that make tangible God’s grace in their lives. The old camp song has it so right: “They will know we are Christians by our love.”

+Scott

 
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The Sanctus Bell of Walter Scott’s Murder (eCrozier #259)

On April 17, 2015, in culture, racism, by bishopbenhase

Sanctus bells have served an important role in the Church’s worship. Traditionally, they were a call for the congregation gathered to pay attention to what was happening at the altar. In a time before pews and when the mass length was much longer, Sanctus bells called people out of whatever distraction, or dare we say sleep, to give their attention to the Blessed Sacrament of the Church that was being celebrated at the altar.

Our culture receives the ring of a Sanctus bell from time to time to call us to attention. It can call us to a deeper awareness of the kind of culture we’ve nurtured over hundreds of years. Such a ring can also sound out a truth about ourselves we may not wish to hear (e.g. we’ve been asleep). We’ve received a number of clear Sanctus bells over the last year. Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and now Walter Scott were all unarmed African-American men killed by a member of the police force. They’re not the only ones. There are many others who have received less notice and media attention.

A simplistic response to these particular Sanctus bells would seek only to blame the individual police officers involved. They’re the few so-called “bad apples.” To solve this problem then means to get rid of these policemen. But that is akin to a physician treating a cancer in someone’s leg deciding just to cut off the leg and not look at the patient’s whole body for other signs that the cancer might be present as well. The cancer of racism has infected the whole body of America. For generation upon generation it’s infected us all with irrational fears and false conclusions about one another. It’s distorted and deranged our ability to see and understand clearly.

Police officers have a difficult, dangerous vocation. We can’t expect them to be social workers or clinical psychologists. They’re formed and shaped by the same culture in which we were raised. Their police training can’t trump the culture of racism. It’s too big and pervasive. They’ve become a reflection of the deeper problem racism creates. That helps explain what happened when Officer Thomas Slager of the North Charleston Police Department stopped Mr. Walter Scott for having a broken car taillight. Because of racism’s cancerous effects, each one “knew” something about the other. Mr. Scott “knew” of the historical power of the police to kill black men, even for a broken taillight. So, he fled. Officer Slager “knew” of the power of black men, even an unarmed one much older than he, to possibly kill him. So, he shot Mr. Scott in the back four times as he fled. What they “knew” about each other led to this tragedy.

Officer Slager should face criminal consequences for this murder. It will be overly facile, however, if we believe that’s all that needs doing. We must learn to “unknow” the distorted and deranged “knowledge” that racism has bequeathed to us. That’ll be hard work for us all, but it’s work we all must do. We haven’t done this work either because we didn’t want to believe it was still necessary or because we never believed it was necessary in the first place. I hope it’s the former and not the latter. Because if we remain willfully ignorant of what racism has done and is still doing to our body politic, we’ll ignore the cancer that infects us all. The Sanctus bell is ringing loudly and clearly.

+Scott

 

 
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The Pharisees of the Extreme (eCrozier #258)

On April 10, 2015, in culture, humility, politics, Religious Freedom, by bishopbenhase

“Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.”
― Winston S. Churchill

The states of Indiana and Arkansas have recently enacted laws purportedly to protect the religious freedom of their citizens. Some see these laws as back door efforts to discriminate against others, particularly gay and lesbian citizens. Other people see these laws as needed in order to protect their religious beliefs and convictions. So, through the democratic process we as citizens are trying to honor what may appear to be competing moral claims: On one hand, the right to practice one’s religion as one sees fit, and on the other hand, the right not to be discriminated against because of who you are.

But are these really competing moral claims? I don’t think so, not if we’re actually committed to honoring both. Yet, in order to honor both we must first acknowledge what’s happening. There are those who aren’t being honest about their real agenda. Some pushing for the religious freedom laws really do want to discriminate against gay and lesbian persons because they believe such person’s sexuality is against God’s law. But they feel they can’t get what they want if they present it that way, so they seek the cover of such laws. Then there are some who oppose these religious freedom laws because they really don’t want to protect religious beliefs with which they disagree. Laws that protect such religious belief, in their mind, will simply further legitimize that belief. But they, too, don’t feel they can get what they want if they present it that way.

Democracy is messy. Laws help sort through this messiness, but laws alone can never make us respect the dignity of all persons. Laws can make us behave within certain boundaries, but enacting laws will never be able to change our hearts and minds so mutual respect can flourish. Learning to honor the dignity of others, even those with whom we disagree, is the necessary first step. Otherwise people on the extremes will prevail. That means religious believers who are opposed to gay and lesbian person’s sexuality must insist that gay and lesbian persons won’t have their dignity abused by discrimination. Likewise gay and lesbian persons must respect people’s religious beliefs that lead them to oppose homosexuality. That means not calling such persons bigots or suing them when they won’t provide a service. Rather they should support the huge and growing number of service providers who will gladly provide that service.

People on the extremes will oppose this. Depending on their views, what I’ve proposed will lack either a religious or a justice backbone. Both extreme positions demand complete purity and total fealty to their way of seeing the world. They are the Pharisees of the extremes. There’s a way forward that doesn’t capitulate to such Pharisees. It’ll require a critical mass on all sides of this issue to exercise genuine humility and to show remarkable restraint. This will lead us all toward an empathic compassion for those who disagree with us. Such humility, restraint, and compassion will invite us to recognize that each of us has a common human dignity imprinted with the image of God. God’s image is even present with those who we might find objectionable or offensive.

+Scott

 
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The Inextricable Bond of Spirituality & Justice (eCrozier #253)

On March 6, 2015, in Community, culture, Death Penalty, discipleship, gospel, Justice, mission, Piety, Spiritual Disciplines, by bishopbenhase

Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple. – John 2:15

We’re more accustomed to a different Jesus, aren’t we? The Sunday School image of Jesus as the gentle good shepherd carrying a baby lamb on his shoulders still resonates with us. So when Jesus takes a whip and clears the temple, we’re taken aback. His action doesn’t fit our Sunday School image. But maybe such an image is mistaken? Some believe Christians should never get angry because Jesus never did. Well, he did. There’s nothing wrong with anger when it’s directed toward pursuing justice for God’s children.

We shouldn’t sit idly by while people suffer injustice. In fact, I’d say that if we’re not angered by injustice, then we’re not being faithful to the Gospel. It’s anger with injustice that leads us to confront the sin of racism. It’s anger with state-sponsored vengeance murder that compels us to end capital punishment. It’s anger with our society’s indifference to homeless people that leads us to work for safe housing for everyone. We should be angry when we see God’s creation polluted or God’s people brutalized.

Some of us, however, have adopted an insular spirituality. Pursuing spirituality is very popular these days. People want to become more spiritual. But much of what is called being “spiritual” has no basis in the Bible. Biblically speaking, there’s no separation between our spiritual connection to God and our pursuit of justice for God’s people. The Great Commandment sums this up: Jesus says that loving God and loving our neighbor go hand in hand. We can’t love one without also loving the other. And we can’t love our neighbors without seeking justice for them. It’s just not biblically possible.

But that’s what some people do. They’re just interested in their spiritual growth as if such growth can be separated from justice. The Bible claims a wholeness of spirituality and justice, of prayer and action, of contemplation and its inextricable connection to God’s justice. If we wish to be spiritual, we should help a child learn to read. If we wish to be spiritual, we should help a hungry person find the food they need. If we wish to be spiritual, we should rebuke that colleague when he makes a racist or homophobic joke.

Yet, working for justice will be rudderless and random if it’s not grounded in the faith of the Church, for that’s where we learn how to order our lives so we’ll avoid a superficial spirituality or a definition of justice that simply mirrors a political party at prayer.

The pursuit of God’s justice needs to begin with our own self-examination and fearless personal inventory. Before we can point our finger at anybody else, we need to point the finger at ourselves and allow our anger to motivate us to change how we live. We must admit that in some ways we’re no different than the buyers and the sellers Jesus confronted in the temple. When our lives in the Church are turned over by Jesus the same way he turned over the temple tables, then we’ll begin to learn to be the Church. Then we will live holistic lives where our spirituality isn’t disconnected from seeking justice for God’s children.

+Scott

 
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Would Jesus Vaccinate? (eCrozier #249)

On February 6, 2015, in anthropology, culture, morality, sin, by bishopbenhase

I don’t remember much about taking the General Ordination Exams 32 years ago, but I do recall one question that was particularly “good” (read on and you’ll see why that’s in quotes). It had to do with moral theology and specifically with the moral issues that arise when motorcyclists choose not to wear helmets while riding. Some states in 1983 allowed for personal choice on that (maybe some still do). While I can’t remember my entire answer, I remember addressing the recurring moral questions we have when we seek to attend to individual rights as well as communal responsibilities.

If a person chooses not to wear a helmet while on a motorcycle, then one might argue that’s his right. It’s his life. But what if he’s in an accident and receives serious head trauma? He then becomes dependent on the larger society for years of costly health care, not to mention the emotional, spiritual, and financial cost to his family. So do the potential communal costs outweigh the cost of his personal choice not to wear a helmet? We have these choices as a society all the time. Wearing seat belts is another example, as are guns. People have a right to own a gun for their self-protection, but others also have a right not to be shot by that gun. In every case, it’s about whose “good” is being honored and whose “good” is being limited for the sake of the larger “good” of society.

We each tend to fall on one side or the other when it comes to balancing individual and communal “goods.” Conservatives tend to have a higher view of human nature (a higher anthropology, if you will). They lean to the side of people being left alone and if they are, then they’ll choose the “good.” Liberals tend to have a lower anthropology (or a higher doctrine of human sin) believing that people can’t be left alone to choose “the good” because more often than not, given our sinful nature, they won’t. Neither the liberal nor the conservative tendency is always right. It’s more complicated than that because human nature and our communal relationships aren’t simple to navigate. So, each moral question, as it arises, should be weighed recognizing these “goods” are held in tension.

And that brings us to the current debate over childhood vaccinations. Parents choosing not to vaccinate their children against measles and other diseases claim the right to choose what’s done or not done to their child. Others say that’s fine, but what might be the health effects on others if that child contracts a disease that could’ve been prevented by a vaccine? Whose “good” do we honor here: the parent’s right to choose or society’s right to be protected from a preventable disease? As one who tends to be theologically conservative, but socially liberal, I struggle with which “good” should be honored here. Since I have a high doctrine of human sin, I’m wary of trusting people to choose the “good” because so often we won’t (sin being what sin is). So, when I look at the data, it shows vaccines are very safe. Their potential side effects have been shown scientifically to be infinitesimal. In this particular tension between the individual and communal, I think the “good” that vaccines provide trumps the parent’s right to choose. Still, such a position makes me uneasy. Asking: “Would Jesus vaccinate?” won’t produce a very intelligible answer. My hunch is that his teaching on loving our neighbor will better form us on how we deal with this issue.

+Scott

 
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Grace and the Virtue of Self-Restraint (eCrozier #246)

On January 16, 2015, in Christian freedom, Community, culture, grace, by bishopbenhase

All things are lawful for me, but not all things are beneficial. – 1 Corinthians 6:12

The Christians in Corinth believed St Paul’s message of God’s unmerited grace in Jesus and thus they weren’t bound to keep Judaism’s food and purity laws. It was God’s grace mediated through Jesus saved them. Following such religious food and purity laws couldn’t do that. But some were using this freedom from such religious laws to rub it in the face of others. So, they’d say things like: “all things are lawful for me.” They flaunted their freedom from such religious laws to satisfy their own desires. They weren’t considering what would be beneficial for the other. They were basically saying: “I’m free do anything I please because I’m saved by grace alone.” St Paul agrees with them, but he also points out that while they’re indeed free, they have a responsibility to honor other people. He argues that even though God’s grace has given them the “right” to do something, they don’t necessarily need to exercise that right. Rather, they should consider what would be “beneficial” for the other person.

Later, St Paul uses the example of eating food sacrificed to idols to make this point. Now, that was a big deal in the polyreligious city of Corinth. There were shrines there to every imaginable god where people could bring animals to sacrifice. The best steak houses were right next door to these shrines since they got the choicest cuts of meat. So, St Paul makes it clear they have the right to eat meat sacrificed at such shrines because those gods aren’t real. But he says they shouldn’t do it because it may cause the less mature people among them to think they were really there to worship a pagan god. St Paul says that there are more important things than simply exercising one’s rights. Now that doesn’t mean we must always steer clear of any behavior that may upset others. At times that’s unavoidable. But before we engage in such behavior, we should look within ourselves to make sure that an action we contemplate is a matter of an important principle and not simply the satisfaction of a desire to exercise “our rights.”

And that brings us to the conversation many are having over the satire produced by the magazine, Charlie Hedbo. The thugs who murdered members of the magazine’s staff used their offense at the satire produced by the magazine as justification for their heinous deed. No amount of cartoon offense justifies murder. But just because the cartoonists had the right to ridicule other people’s deeply held beliefs doesn’t mean they had to do so as they regularly did. I hope we all want to uphold the right to the free expression of ideas. That doesn’t mean, however, that expressing every idea that plops into our heads is a good thing. Self-restraint is a virtue. Recognizing how expressing our ideas and exercising our rights affect others is a sign of our maturity, our respect, and it’s a way for us to honor the other, even if they don’t seem to deserve honor. For it’s not about them. It’s about us. It’s about how we conduct our lives. As Teju Cole of The New Yorker writes: “The cartoonists were not mere gadflies, not simple martyrs to the right to offend: they were ideologues. Just because one condemns their brutal murders doesn’t mean one must condone their ideology.” The cartoonists had the right to their ideology, as do we. But can’t we still show some self-restraint and honor?

+Scott

 
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Have Yourself A Merry Non-Semi-Pelagian Christmas (eCrozier #244)

On December 19, 2014, in christmas, culture, forgiveness, grace, salvation, by bishopbenhase

Research released this fall illuminated something I’ve had a hunch about for some time: Many Christians, even those who claim they hold orthodox belief, actually have theological convictions that aren’t congruent with the Church’s traditional teaching. In some ways, this shouldn’t be surprising. We all have a tendency to believe that what we believe is right because, well, we’re the ones who believe it. So then what we believe must be orthodox. Of course, that’s a non sequitur. But sin in our lives leads us to one non sequitur after another, does it not?

This particular research showed divergence from orthodox teaching in a number of areas, but the one that showed the largest gap between the Church’s teaching and research participants’ belief concerned the work of God’s redemptive grace. In the research, two-thirds of the participants said that we’re reconciled with God by our own initiative and then God responds to our initiative with grace. So, we first seek God out and only then does God’s mercy and forgiveness become operative in our lives. This has its own internal logic based on Enlightenment constructs of individualism, fairness, and reciprocity (the old quid pro quo, as it were). It makes sense to us. It sounds like it should be the way God works. It has a certain truthiness to it, as Stephen Colbert might say. As Americans who are steeped in deep internal codes of personal responsibility, we like the idea that we have a co-starring role to play in our own drama of redemption. The problem is: That’s NEVER been the orthodox teaching of the Church.

And that brings us to the 5th Century Englishman, Pelagius. Yes, he was a Brit so we Anglicans have to claim him. He’s in our spiritual family tree. He’s like that crazy great uncle we have that no one in the family wants to acknowledge, but own him we must. Pelagius contended that humans first choose God by their own personal gumption. Our sin, original or otherwise, did not, according to Pelagius, impair our ability to choose wisely by choosing God. In other words, we must choose to appropriate the benefits of God’s grace through the power of our own will. This came to be known as Pelagianism. Two Church Councils, first in 418 A.D. at Carthage and then in Ephesus in 431 A.D., rightly rejected Pelagianism. A century later a spinoff of Pelagianism, known rather non-creatively as Semi-Pelagianism, became popular. This sought to affirm the orthodox teaching about humanity’s original sin, while at the same time still insisting that we must take the initiative for God’s grace to be operative. In 529, the Council of Orange said “nice try Semi-Pelagianists,” and rejected their views.

As I listen to Christians in America, it seems to me that the vast majority of us are de facto Semi-Pelagianists. God’s grace makes us uneasy. Grace doesn’t feel right or fair. It’s like we’re getting something we don’t deserve or didn’t have to work for at all; that we didn’t get it the old fashioned way by earning it. It’s as if someone gave us something exceptionally amazing at Christmas, something it turns out that we really loved and needed, and it’s not that we just forgot to get him anything in return, we actually chose not to get him anything at all. EXACTLY. And, for me, that’s what puts the “merry” in Christmas.

+Scott

 
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Facts That Get In The Way of Our Truth (eCrozier #243)

On December 12, 2014, in culture, Facts, by bishopbenhase

We human beings tend to believe what fits into our narrative of what must be true. When we see or read a news story, if it fits with our narrative, then we’re likely to believe the story, whether it’s true or not. Through “news” sites on the Internet and in stories shared on social media, we’re inundated with “news.” So, maybe more so than in the past, we can have our opinions and biases confirmed by what we read or hear on our preferred multimedia echo chambers. We believe what we want to believe all the while looking for evidence in “our” news that will prove the other side is wrong.

A recent story by Rolling Stone magazine about an awful sexual assault at the University of Virginia turns out to have some dubious reporting. Rolling Stone has issued an apology for its errors. Those predisposed to doubt this particular story or to question whether there is a widespread problem of sexual assault on campuses nationwide can conclude that such a problem doesn’t now exist because of Rolling Stone’s errors. (“See, just what I thought, they just make that stuff up”). Of course, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a widespread problem of sexual assault. It only proves that there was shoddy reporting going on this particular case.

There can be tragic consequences to people when we assume we know the facts of an event. People can vilify others unfairly and jump to conclusions when they believe their personal narratives about what must be true. This occurred recently with the messy conflict at General Seminary. Some people were quick to side with the “aggrieved” faculty while others were just as quick to defend the “unjustly” accused Dean and Board. In both cases, people were reacting out of their biases as to what must be true. The facts, it seems, are less important than how we feel or think the facts must be. My hunch is that this is also playing out in the recent Senate report on the torture of terrorism suspects. None of us wants to believe we tortured other human beings. Some of us don’t want to believe it so much that we won’t believe it no matter what the facts are. It just doesn’t fit our preferred narrative for what we want to believe about ourselves.

I’m as susceptible to this as anyone else. Facts complicate my life. I don’t like the facts about myself that don’t support the personal narrative I want to believe about me. Like anyone else, I’d prefer the truth about me and the truth about the world around me to be the truth I want and not the truth that is. We’re all complicated, fallible creatures and are occasionally delusional in how we see ourselves and the world around us.

That’s why Jesus is the necessary antidote to what ails our humanity. His birth tells us that God fully enters into our messy humanity and his cross tells us that all that self-delusional truth about us, which is part of our sin, is crucified with him on the cross. Jesus’ redemptive work in his birth and in his cross then liberates us so we’re free to be

more skeptical of ourselves and of the things we want to believe. We’re freed from the tyranny of needing to be right all the time. We’re invited into a stance of honest humility since the facts about each of us before God can’t lie. God’s redemptive, gracious love for us isn’t dependent on us having the right opinion. Thank God.

+Scott

 
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