Thursday, April 1, 2010

Lent Day 38: Un-Fall-Ability and the 11th Commandment

Rushing to the finish line of this Lenten blog, I would prefer to remain pure and simple about faith and my spiritual journey. But as I read this morning's NY Times most e-mailed stories and Maureen Dowd's piece on the Vatican, I can't let this topic slide.

I'm not a hugely political creature. I follow elections and legislation closely and I proudly vote in every election, but I don't obsess over various campaigns nor go out of my way to canvass. I wish our country would decide what to do and just to do it, and let the central majority get their wish instead of having the extremes duke it out in the court of public opinion in a way that embarrasses everyone, respects no one and benefits only some. I could go on and on about the Tea Party and the reaction to the Tea Party, and the re-reaction to that. It's amazing how much better equipped we humans are to tear down rather than build up, but I guess the best thing we can say about our political system is that it's better than most of the other options, and as a republic/democracy, we get the government we deserve.

I wish I knew where civility departed to and if it will ever return.

I was amazed at Dowd's amazingly laser-focus and piercing thesis, not that I could argue with many of her points. But I can't believe how unrelenting she was in such a conspicuous venue. I haven't read the online comments but I'm pretty sure I don't want to... at least not until after I finish writing this post.

The infallibility of the Pope is something I was familiar with even as an un-churched teen. As with most teens, I didn't like authority or at least I liked thinking I was rebelling against authority, just a little bit. But the thought that a human could do no wrong - infallible - was something that my friends (mostly Catholic) and I pondered about often.

Dowd's piece is built on unerring logic, that the Pope and the Vatican have painted themselves into a corner. People have been hurt and scarred, first by sins of commission - the sexual predation of boys and young men, and then by sins of omission - the failure to prevent the repeated pattern of sexual predation AND cover up any of the, well, mess.

Sins of commission are commonplace and for the most part, the public forgives sinners who publicly repent. Sometimes I feel it's easier to count the politicians who haven't been caught cheating on their spouses than the ones who have, but that's an unfair shot. Lately the public hasn't been as forgiving, think John Edwards, Tiger Woods, or that governor who made "Appalachian Trail" a euphemism for an international tryst. And even the ones who the public forgives, such as President Clinton, the public does not forget.

Tiger Woods will be returning soon to the public eye, and the jury is still out if his expression of remorse is enough to curry forgiveness. I'm sure he'll give it his best shot, and he's got the best "spin doctors" in the world to partially rebuild his off-course behavior. But at least he can admit that he did wrong and thought wrongfully, and that he'll do better.

As for the Pope, from Dowd, "Canon 1404 states that 'The First See is judged by no one.'" (I've never actually read any of the church law but if that's the only line about infallibility, then it's really not about the inability to do wrong, it's about not being judged by other humans.) Dowd goes on, "But Jesus, Mary and Joseph, as my dad used to say." Knowing what I do about American Catholics, their pioneer spirit and unwillingness to blindly follow the Pope, Dowd's dad's line is not surprising.  The truth is that we all fall... we can't not fall... we don't have the ability to not fall.

I can't judge the Pope for the sins of commission and omission.  Heck, I can barely keep up with my own transgressions and making up for them.  And it would easy for me to sidestep this issue because I'm not Catholic - I'm Lutheran, the very first of the Protestant denominations that tried to theologically criticize church doctrine and practices and while trying to reform the Church.  Luther didn't want to start a different church; he was trying to get the Church to be back in line with God's Word. (And that is a discussion for another day, or days.)  But if I really want to get technical about labeling myself, I consider myself a Christian of an evangelical and reformed (Lutheran) tradition, otherwise to a casual observer, Lutheran might not even sound like part of the Christian tradition at all.

But the truth for me is that the current Papal Paradox is exactly why I waited so long to explore that the (Christian) Church could be an option for me.  It may be the very reason that I balked while preparing for baptism in a Catholic church - I've never really thought about that. But this paradox is why so many people dislike organized religion, and also the very reason I'm empathetic towards friends who are agnostic or atheistic, or are believers but don't like going to church on semi-regular or even infrequent basis.

Look at all the scandals and bad stuff that happens in the church... sex scandals, cover-ups, get-rich-quick-flim-flam schemes, by people who are supposed to be holier then me. They act all holier-than-thou, want my money, then commit worse crimes/sins than I can even imagine, let alone do.

I had many of the above thoughts as a teen and a young adult. And I reconciled that with the logic that on a grand scale, the church does far more good and it outweighs the bad.

But it goes deeper than that, and as we celebrate Maundy Thursday and the Last Supper, Jesus provides words that give solace and responsibility, the so-called eleventh commandment: "Love one another as I have loved you."

It's hard enough to accept the gift of Grace, of having my sins - of commission and of omission - forgiven because Jesus loves me enough to die on the Cross for me and all who believe. But for me to love others in that way? That's daunting. On the other hand, the world would be a much better place if everyone tried to love each other, not just including enemies but also especially loving enemies, even a fraction of the way Jesus loves us. Which means forgiving... and forgetting... and not beating us down when we can't forgive and forget 'enough,' whatever that means.

This kind of reminds me of discussions I've had with a dear friend, with whom I took seminary classes (which I did part-time until Noah was born). Even though we weren't discussing sex or money scandals, and were probably talking about colonialism, holy wars and other awful things that were done in the name of the church: it's quite probable that the institution that most needs the forgiveness and love of the Gospel... is the church itself.

I can't get my head around such big issues as whether or not my organized religion does enough good to outweigh the bad. That's not why I go. I go because I get to go, I get to share my response to such awesome Divine love, to be renewed and rejuvenated and to reinvigorate the newness of the New Me.

I have been and am blessed to be in a congregation where the focus is on remembering and reinforcing how much and why Jesus loves us, but also cultivating loving one another, certainly within the congregation, but more so to outside the congregation and everyone we encounter in our daily lives. It's what works for me.

And I truly hope that for everyone I know, however they label themselves (or don't), that they find something that works for them.



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