"Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Paul to the persecuted at Philippi (2:5-11)

09 November 2018

Putting the pieces together.

Okay, maybe as a white person, I'm a little slow on the uptake, but the penny just dropped on this one, even though it took place twelve years ago.

I almost entitled this "Baby's first racism."  Maybe I just did.

When we brought our son into our family, he was ten months old.  It wasn't but a month or two later that we were at a friend's house for some party or another with some of our friend's other friends that we knew, but not well.  One of the women, looked at our son and said, "Aw.  I bet he's smart."

And smart is a positive thing, so it didn't seem like it was out of place to say about my baby.  Except that she clearly thought that he was smart because he's Korean.  After all, most of us see a baby and say "oh, he's so cute."  "I bet he's smart" is not really the first observation we make about babies, who given the opportunity will lick the dog and flush our keys down the toilet.    Still, smart is good, so I accepted her opinion as quaint and moved on.

Until I saw her again a couple of months later.  All she could say about my toddler was the same thing. "I bet he's smart."  A second time, the same comment.  This time it felt awkward, as it piled onto its predecessor and emphasized its racial bias.  But again, smart is a good thing, right?  I squelched my discomfort.

Let me repeat that.  I, a white person, squelched my discomfort for the sake of someone who was exhibiting racial bias to my face about my family.  Well, you don't see that every day.  Or I don't. But my non-white friends do.  As I said, the penny just dropped.

The third time I saw her and she said the same thing (all good stories happen in threes, don't they?) about my baby being smart, I squelched my discomfort again, but only slightly this time.  "What do you mean?"  "He must be smart.  Aren't all Asians smart?"

This time I could see what was happening, but again played the polite game my mama taught me.  The response I swallowed was "oh.  Well what races do you think are not smart?"  It was a party.  She was a friend of a friend.  But I kind of wish I had said it.

Some years later, my friend quoted her friend as being worried.  A children's program we were both in also included several Muslim families.  Friend-of-friend was worried because she did not want Muslims influencing her children.  I told my friend quickly that she should not discuss this with me but with her son who had lived a year among Muslims in Israel.  I assumed she understood me, as the conversation ended quickly.  Only it came back around again some months later.

That's when I lost my cool and told my dear friend that "your friend X is racist."

Oops.  Did I just let that word fall from my lips?

Honestly I was kind of stunned that my friend is still speaking to me.  Of course, she hasn't invited me to any parties with her other friend since.  No great loss.

As a white person is it my responsibility to squelch my discomfort?  Or is it my responsibility to vocalize what my brown child cannot, in "polite" company?

But the penny that dropped tonight is this: Racism can actually talk a good game.  Racism can say "these people are smart."  It can say "these people are athletic."  It can say "these people are superior."  It can say these things all in one breath because racism talks a good game.

But it is unbalanced.  For every "smart" race, you create in your mind a "dumb" one.  You jam little kids into one box or another without regard to their unique God-given personality and purpose. When I was young and skinny, my great aunt used to tell me "you should be a cheerleader" because she had an idea of cheerleaders.  I hated that because it had nothing to do with my idea of myself, and her insistence caused distance between us.  When you jam a person into a box based on your opinion of their externals, the distance is inevitable.

For what it is worth, my kid is smart.  He's athletic, too.  None of that has to do with the fact that he has brown skin (except he's less likely to sunburn on the soccer field than his fairer friends).  He has friends across the racial rainbow who are smart, athletic, talented, just like him.... except where they're not like him at all, because variety is the spice of life.

31 October 2018

To the Jewish Community of Pittsburgh (and all who would care to read)

I had not written sooner because I did not know what to say.  But the worst thing I could say is silence, and so forgive my fumbling attempt.

To the Jewish Community of Pittsburgh:
I love you.
Because my some of ancestors were Jews, I feel a special connection to you.
Because my Messiah was a Jew, I feel drawn to you.
Because my home is in Pittsburgh, the same as yours, I feel we are one people.
Because you care for the immigrant and the helpless, I feel we share a purpose.
Because some of my friends are Jewish, I feel we are friends.
Because you worship, pray, celebrate a life in our G-d, I feel we are the same.
Because your people have been persecuted, as have the faithful of the Church, I feel your pain.
But most of all, because you are...
Because you exist...
Because you were created in the image of G-d...
Because you are human...
I love you.
Love is not a feeling, it is a life-force which drives us to act....
Drives us to our knees...
Drives our very lives...
"Love one another, as I have loved you."
Because we share in the image of the one G-d, who made us one people, and who knit all people together in his one teaching,
I love you. 

Go in peace, those who have departed.
Remain in peace, those who remain.

שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ יְהוָה אֶחָֽד

29 September 2018

Rejecting the In Persona Christi argument

Okay, I admit it, this set poorly with me when my kids were in sixth grade in Catholic school and the catechism questions on ordination came home for them to study.  Once in a while, their Anglican mom will rebel, help them to do so even, but it was particularly hard in the sixth grade when their religion teacher was the sweet Spanish guy who labeled all his exams "Nice Little Quiz."  I don't know if it was the English is his second language factor or the Nice Little Quizzes but I could never quite encourage rebellion.  Besides, he's a really sweet guy.

But that's all neither here nor there... the question was something along the lines of why women can't be priests.  Y'all, gentle readers, know that I wrestle with this and have spent parts of my life and ministry on both sides of this fence, sometimes at the same time.  Nothing new there.  But the answer was one, which I'd heard before but still, which I find unsettling.  The answer was that women can't be priests because the priest stands in persona Christi at the altar.  Women, apparently, don't look enough like Jesus for ordination. 

Never mind that most of the priests I know are not Near Eastern Jews. 
Many are ordained at an age Jesus never saw in his earthly sojourn. 
Some are in need of glasses and other medical devices which would make them less than perfect for Temple worship, and therefore not "without blemish" either. 
And not a one of them is willing to die for my sins. 
Go on, ask every priest you know.  

But that is not even why I find that question really unsettling...  the part I couldn't put my finger on that day, but today I can is this:
The priest simply does not stand in persona Christi at the altar.
Jesus himself does that. 

Jesus. is. in persona Christi. at. every. Eucharist.  Full stop. 

As a deacon, it is counter to my identity to take the place of the priest.  Even when he is not physically present (the so-called Deacon's Mass) he is still the priest and his presence is known and honored there.  How much more is this true with Christ?  

If Christ is really present at the Eucharist, what business is it of the priest to stand in his place?

The ordination of the priest, however, is quite clear.  He is authorized to absolve and bless on behalf of the Church.  He has the voice of the Church.  At the altar, it is the prayers of the Church he brings to God.  When the Eucharist is celebrating with the priest facing the altar, as is traditional, he is present as the first among the people, being the voice not of Christ but of Christ's Church.  He is, in the words of the Eastern Church, in persona Ecclesia.  

The Priest, further, is not a part of Christ but a part of the Church and particularly authorized to be her voice.  

And here I do say "her."  

If the priest stands in persona ecclesiae, and ecclesia is traditionally not only a feminine noun but also traditionally feminized in imagery (Bride of Christ) even in the letters of the supposedly misogynistic Church Fathers, then there should be no barrier to a woman's priesthood in persona ecclesiae.

I am not nutty enough to demand an exclusively feminine priesthood on this basis.... it would be a fallacy of another sort.... but it does seem that the argument opens an intriguing door.  

Am I coming out of the closet in favor of women's ordination to the priesthood?  No, I'm not.  Instead, I'm asking us to re-examine our arguments instead of just reasserting them. I am reluctant to stand in the generation that thought so highly of itself that it altered 2000 years of Christian practice.  I am hesitant to affect the entire sacramental relationship which binds the Church together.  I am unsure of the support from Scripture or Tradition for such radical changes.  And above all I am passionately in love with the whole of Christ's Church, much of which would consider women priests a stumbling block.  

But I am asking us to begin to think carefully about the images we use and what they are really saying, so that when the Church does settle these questions, she can do so with integrity.  

21 August 2018

Performance Art

During my vacation, I had the utter joy of attending choral Evensong, not once, but twice.  One day at Westminster Abbey and the next at Canterbury.  And yes, it was sublime in every way it was supposed to be.  The choirs were beautiful, the organ was powerful, the liturgy was the solid rock on which the rest stood firm.  Not to mention the beauty of the churches themselves....

Beautiful, and wholly unsettling.  Especially at Westminster.

We were herded into the Abbey for what was billed as prayer but was in fact a cultural event, a museum piece in music.  Under no circumstances were we to enjoy our surroundings.  The man seated next to my mother was upbraided by a verger for taking out his tour book, as if informing himself about the art and architecture in which he sat would take from the experience rather than add to it.

But more notably was the beauty of the choir.  Under no circumstances were we to sing back to them.  Each phrase was sung antiphonally, by the professionals only.  To add our own broken voices would have been a desecration of their art. And so I squelched my "and with your spirit" and my "Christ have mercy" along with any other informed Anglican in that chancel.  As luck would have it, I sat in a familiar place in the stalls, but felt alienated from any role, let alone my familiar one.

The familiarity of the experience heightened my loss of voice.

And that strikes me as the opposite of the Kingdom, in which the very brokenness of our voices is turned to beauty and our performance art is nothing in our Lord's sight.

14 hours later, some man decided to drive his car into the crowd just outside that same Abbey church. And from Canterbury prayers were offered at Evensong.

I'm not sure how or if I should respond to those two Westminster images, placed side by side in my mind now, both melancholy.  But more vivid for me is how, in Canterbury, a genuine prayer broke through the performance art in response to the evil of the day.

I hope it does not always take tragedy for truth to break through.  I'm afraid it all too often does.

Christ have mercy.


10 June 2018

Global Politics and a Petty Pet Peeve

Granted I've been known to say that if all my peeves were truly pets I'd have a menagerie.  But this one gets under my skin in a special way.  Its the kind of peeve that quietly (I promise the objective observer will not notice) brings out the Southern in me, the woman who smiles softly and gives you the answer you're looking for, all the while thinking (maybe saying) "Bless your heart" in that way northern-folk think we mean it. 

For what it's worth, "bless your heart" means a lot of things and most of it is nice. But most people outside of the South think we use it exclusively as a nice way to say "you're an idiot."  To be clear, there are plenty of words in the Southern lexicon for that, and when we mean to call you an idiot, we will use those words.  But there is a tone of pity in some uses of the phrase, an "I feel sorry for you" that can sometimes be gently offered when one is, in fact, being an idiot but the Southerner is  too well-raised to even begin to think beyond pity.

Misuse of "bless your heart" is another pet peeve, though and we were talking about a different one.

The peeve is this: when people learn that my youngest son is from Korea and the first thing they can think to say in response is: "Oh, is he from North or South Korea."

Bless your heart.

While I'm smiling and giving the answer the ones asking think they are seeking, here is what I'm thinking:

1.  My first thought is how ignorant of global politics, culture and history this question is showing the person asking to be.  Korea has been divided, partitioned by global political leaders acting in their own self-interest for only 70 years.  Genetically they are one people.  Historically they share one history, only one tenth of a percent of which is marred by this modern division.  They share the same heroes and legends, traditional dress, preference for their own regional kimchi recipes.  Their language, though each has developed a little bit of its own dialect as the world has changed in 70 years, is the same.  They both look to King Sejong as "the great" for giving them an alphabet of their own.  (And for what its worth, the alphabet is phonetic, not pictograms.)  Most South Koreans have relatives in the North.  There was a lot of movement before that border closed, and the whole peninsula is only about the size of Pennsylvania.

2.  Followed so quickly behind #1 as to be simultaneous: "Will my response to you change how you treat my child?"  Does it matter to you whether his historical geography is rocky and good for mining, or farmland turned ultramodern city-scape?  Does his city of birth change who he is as a boy, a student, an athlete, a neighbor, a US citizen?  Who he is as my son, his brothers' brother, your child's friend?

So why do I post this now?  Because this week 2500 reporters are watching as the US President, a man who has no love for his own allies, greets a North Korean chairman who has no problem dehumanizing his own people for his gain.  As they shake hands, mug before the cameras, and studiously ignore 70 years of policy and suspicions and human rights abuses that makes that most heavily armed border in the world more than a chance of geography.  As they studiously ignore the needs of both Koreans and Americans, to seek their own glory for an hour's strut and fret on global stage. 

I am not, you probably guessed, optimistic.  But when the cameras are turned off, the reporters go home, and each nation retreats back to its own isolation, I hope North Korean people, in America's eyes will again be humanized.  That Koreans, with their glorious history, can just be Koreans to us, especially when we encounter them in America.  And maybe, someday, that change in our hearts can be the true foundation of a unified Korea.