Posts Tagged ‘RCS blog post’

(The following is the third of my posts for Dr. Childers’ Readings in Christian Spirituality class. Again, these posts are not meant to display particular MDiv outcomes or competencies. I’m simply sharing them for the fun of it. Enjoy!)

Bartolomé de las Casas obviously wasn’t writing to Christians in 20th- and 21st-century America. But if only he had…

I can imagine… The passion, the powerful words, the deep belief, and the wholehearted devotion pouring from his fingers onto the keyboard and into the blogosphere. His posts would go viral. But maybe not because they were popular. You see, his observations would step on a lot of toes, and we wouldn’t enjoy that so much. But we couldn’t help but pay attention to the prophetic voice of this man who seemed to know our nature far too well for our own liking.

And here I’m actually not thinking of religious wars and plundering and imperialism run amuck, though de las Casas would surely have something to say to these things in our time. These lamentable sins seem to pervade humanity, no matter the time, no matter the place. And de las Casas sure had plenty to say about them in The Only Way. His portrayals of human villainy were chilling in their accuracy, even if they were removed from our own situation by half a millennium.

No, here I’m actually thinking of the Christian culture wars. These wars have ravaged our own nation for so long, leaving many casualties in their wake. Christians bicker and backbite. They call each other names and condemn each other for holding differing beliefs, even if those beliefs are sometimes heartfelt and well founded. And they do all of this in front of a watching world. And not just in front of, but also to a watching world.

Probably the best known example is the Westboro Baptist Church, whose official website, www.godhatesfags.com, informs me both that WBC members have lost exactly zero “nanoseconds of sleep” over my “opinions and feeeeellllliiiiiings” and that in the time it’s taken me to write this paragraph, God has cast exactly 483 555 people into hell. Spewing their hatred almost indiscriminately, groups like WBC attack Christians and non-Christians alike for “unfaithful” lives and actions, making a mockery of the faith as they do so. (You might also check out the lovely little book How to Win the Culture War: A Christian Battle Plan for a Society in Crisis. I confess that I have not and will not read it.)

Though the sin isn’t limited to extremist examples or hot button issues, it surely does prevail in those cases. And I can’t help but think that de las Casas would’ve had something to say about it. For the culture wars of our day claim the same goal as the wars of de las Casas’ day: conversion of the pagan. And they adopt many of the same tactics: coercion, proclaimed condemnation, blind arrogance and egocentrism, violence, intimidation… The list goes on and on. And the results, at least as I’ve been able to observe them, are much the same. While the Christians engaged in the culture wars go around feeling good about themselves, “Pagans are forced to burst out into blasphemy, to curse the Creator since they think the awful injustice they undergo comes from that Creator’s law or precept or prior and wicked command. They will then go on to detest faith and salvation in Christ as a fake, a lie.” (136) Love of neighbor is not embodied (142). Christians proclaim self-holiness more than they actually live the holy life that imitates Christ (144). Though in a different time, a different place, and a different culture, they commit the same sins, and with the same results: non-Christians are driven away, perhaps forever, from Christ.

So while, according to our source, we’re now up to 2,802 people who’ve been cast into hell since our last update, I can’t help but think that Bartolomé de las Casas would have a different view than WBC on why that might be the case and who’s to blame:

“If, as Chrysostom said about Matthew 23, they are unpardonable who just withhold their charity, what pardon will they have who do positive damage? You will suffer torment as the damned, not just for damning yourselves, but also for damning others. You cut off with a quick death the time they needed for conversion and repentance. You sent them straight to the torments of hell. You damned also those who grew to hate our faith because of the awful example you gave, grew to ridicule the universal Church, grew to blaspheme God.” (150)

Yes, I can imagine that de las Casas would have a lot to say to Christians in 20th- and 21st-century America. And though he might even at times and on certain issues step on my own sin-smudged toes, I’d like to think that I’d be there to back him up with a facebook “like” and “share.” Because he’s got something important to say. And the world needs to hear it.

(click for a video on Franciscan creation care)

(This is the second in my series of blog posts from Dr. Childers’ Readings in Christian Spirituality class. Again, I hope you enjoy!)

As was discussed last Thursday in class during our discussion of Bonaventure’s Life of St. Francis, for so many of us the mention of the holy man’s name immediately brings to mind a picture of bucolic bliss and deep affinity for animals.

Yet our in-class musings about the legacy of Francis largely left aside this more familiar—and perhaps therefore clichéd—aspect and turned instead to the less explored riches of Francis’ views on asceticism. We all generally seemed to accept the idea that we knew most of what Francis has to offer concerning nature and would rather spend our time examining aspects of his life that are less familiar to us and to the religious culture at large. And while a discussion on Francis’ asceticism was obviously warranted and contained a great deal of value for us as Christians, for we have not typically imitated this aspect of Francis’ life, it also seems to me that though it is more familiar to us, we’ve also not imitated Francis’ intimate relationship with and respect for nature. For that reason, I would like here to explore what it might look like for us to take Francis’ attitude toward creation more seriously.

Francis, the patron saint of animals and ecology (and also lace-makers, by the way), was well known for his fondness toward animals and his tendency to refer to them as “brother” and “sister.” And for Francis, this was not just a rhetorical flourish. No, he truly treated animals as brothers and sisters, as children of the same God, fully capable of expressing the glory of their creator, just as people are. Francis showed these animals kindness and care, love and respect, and honored them as he would honor another human being.

Our own actions toward creation do not generally reflect the same kinds of attitudes. While notable individual exceptions exist, our culture as a whole adopts a stance of self-centeredness, greed, and discourtesy (alongside many other negative characteristics) when it comes to the natural order apart from the human race. Not considering the status nature rightly does hold as the handiwork and a reflection of our God, we use and abuse the earth and its inhabitants—plants, animals, oceans, land, and air—all for our own sakes. The debasement and exploitation of creation are far too complex for me to delve into here, but the travesties humans—including those of us who are Christians—have committed against God’s creation are horrendous and well documented.

And while full-scale change will take attentiveness, purposeful adaptive changes, and many years worth of transformation (not to mention a great deal of self-denying behavior, which leads us back to Francis’ asceticism), I cannot help but wonder, how would our own actions toward creation change if we were to simply adopt Francis’ way of speaking? Could not this basic act of recognizing the kinship we share with nature revolutionize our thoughts and therefore our actions? I think so.

When the food we eat is not some nameless entity designed solely to be consumed for our gluttonous enjoyment but is instead “sister cow” or “brother chicken,” we might think more closely about the ethics of our food choices. When the car we drive poisons the air that “brother elm” and “sister sparrow” breathe, we might choose instead to walk or bicycle. Or when “sister lake” is depleted and “brother field” turned into a landfill, perhaps we’ll simplify our lives by wasting less water and producing less trash.

Just think about a world in which we live in harmony with our sister earth and her inhabitants… Think about a world in which we recognize the goodness of all God’s creatures and in which we show them the respect they are due as images of the living God… This is the world that God designed us to be a part of. Let’s recover that kind of world. And let’s begin by attending to our sisters and brothers and not merely ourselves.

Though I’m not linking them specifically to any MDiv outcomes or anything like that, I’d like to share with you a couple of blog posts I’ve written for Jeff Childers’ Readings in Christian Spirituality class this semester. They’re fun, and I feel like they reflect my interests and writing style well. Plus my husband likes them. And that’s reason enough, right?

I’ll tag them all with “RCS blog post” so that you can see them all together. And I won’t tag them as part of my Senior Review, so if you’d like to avoid them, you can click on that tag and they’ll simply disappear. Handy, no?

First up is a reflection on a snippet from the Penitential of Cummean, which was part of our reading about Celtic Spirituality. I hope you enjoy!

Nestled among the various instructions of the Penitential of Cummean is the following command:

He who is silent about a brother’s sin, which is a mortal one, shall rebuke him with confidence, and shall live on bread and water for the same length of time that he was silent.

(8.19, pg. 240 in Celtic Spirituality)

Yes, you read that right. If one brother sins and another does not call him on it, the second brother has to do penance.

Many of our individualistic hearts and minds surely rebel against such a thought. It is, after all, the sin of another that is being discussed, is it not? And why should I have to repent for another’s sin? That does not seem fair or right! The instructions may seem to make very little sense.

But if we look even briefly at the context of this command, we might come away with a different perspective. The directive is located in the midst of a section on pride, and a number of the other instructions in this section deal with the proper and improper confession of sins, including those that are not one’s own. Informing the section is the biblical injunction, found in Matthew 18:15-17, to speak the truth about sin to an errant one (and the surrounding community if necessary). And the penitential also includes in 8.22 directions for the one who has gotten things out of order, informing another member of the community about the sin before speaking directly and privately to the sinner himself. It seems, then, that the community following this penitential placed a high value on the instructions of Matthew 18 and viewed negligence of them as a sin demonstrating pride.

Some in our own time might balk at this idea. Pride…? Connected to not speaking about another’s sin? How does that make sense? Doesn’t it seem more likely that actually saying something about the sin would evidence more pride, likely tied up in a judgmental nature or hypocrisy? Well, perhaps. Our experience says this may be the case for some. But perhaps not.

The sin referenced here is, after all, a mortal sin. Such a sin will destroy this brother, cutting him off from God and condemning him to hell if not repented and forgiven. This is no trivial thing. The weight of the mortal sin persists, and it must be addressed. And if another knows about it, this is his responsibility. If this second brother is tempted to gloat, to disparage, and to scorn the first brother, procedures are set forth elsewhere to deal with this second brother’s prideful temptation and sin (e.g., 8.3 and 8.14-15).

This particular passage, however, is designed to deal with another kind of reaction: the prideful prioritizing of one’s own peace and comfort over the welfare of another and the community. This kind of pride allows another continue in sin simply because it makes things easier for me. It doesn’t disrupt the balance of life and relationship. It doesn’t require me to make myself and the other person uncomfortable. It doesn’t require the hard work of discernment, communication, and resolution. It lets things continue as they are because, after all, it’s not my fault; I’m not the one who’s sinning. It’s a “live and let live” attitude. But it doesn’t work in community. And it doesn’t work in the Kingdom.

What’s required instead is the willingness to set aside my own desires, my own convenience, and my own safety for the sake of my brother and the community of faith. Yes, it is hard, and I will not always succeed. When I don’t, I will repent my sin and pledge to live more faithfully by making myself uncomfortable for your sake, for our sake, for God’s sake. And when I do—and when you do—we are made stronger as individuals, stronger as a people, and stronger as God’s church. This is what Matthew 18 and the Penitential of Cummean call us to.