Good Friday: Nothing Left to Lose

It is a good thing there aren't people walking through the streets flailing themselves with bamboo switches, like in the Philippines. It is a good thing no one is getting nailed to a cross, today (hopefully). But I'm not sure that it is such a good thing that there is nothing different about Good Friday here.

From where I be, you can hardly tell this is a holiday at all. There is little solemnity in the air. There is virtually nothing different about today, except for a few anticipatory Easter wishes at work. Same dirty jokes on the radio. Same advertising. Every day its just pizza and chicken.

It should be expected. There is nothing commercial about a holiday whose distinguishing features are fasting and the memory of a torturous death. Its hard to make something to sell out of all that. Maybe that makes this a very special holiday, indeed.

It is a good thing that we don't live any longer under an oppressive religious system that forces us to attend services and adhere to strict and sometimes unfair lifestyle guidelines (like fasting). It is a good thing that it is no longer a scandal for someone to break with convention, out of necessity or choice. Its a good thing you can get yourself an emergency tank of gas, if you need one, or stay home from church. On Good Friday, of all days, it is good that there is mercy in the system.

But like the song goes, freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.

And nothing from nothing leaves nothing. You gotta have something.

40 Days of sacrifice. 40 days of fasting. 40 days of walking the death walk with Christ. The Lenten season: an inconvenience. Church services and religious observance. It is a hollow victory to throw all that away and replace it with . . . nothing. Or more of the same, which is really a big nothing. We are free from the shackles of oppression, now go buy something. Target is open late. We beat that bad church, now let's collect the spoils and have another day of same ole, same ole. There's a porn star on NPR. And that's nothing.

And maybe this is a day of nothing. I'm not even going to memorialize it with a capital "N". No, its not "Nothing Day". It is just nothing.

And maybe this is a day to experience nothing. For if there ever was a day when nothing promises to turn into something, it would be Good Friday. If there were ever a day when the hollow becomes the hallowed, it would be today. Good Friday: God as Creator again makes something from nothing. Because, you know, you gotta have something.

And that, like the rest of creation, is good.

***

[This post originally written and published by me in 2008 on my personal blog.]

9 Reasons I Never Became Protestant

A house divided is only half a house.

I have read a lot of articles from my Protestant friends and colleagues celebrating the 500th year of the Protestant Reformation this past year. They varied in timbre and tone—some were overtly triumphalistic while others offered a balanced treatment of the pros and cons.

Despite that, I was struck by how the Reformation just seemed to be taken for granted to be a universally good thing by virtually all Protestants, Evangelicals and Pentecostals. I guess it's to be expected that people wouldn't call into question the origins of their own movement. I was still taken aback by how it was simply taken for granted. Whether it is spoken outright or simply implied, the idea that the Reformation was simply a good thing seems embedded within the American consciousness, even at the secular level.

I'm not convinced. 

I have always seen the Protestant Reformation in zero-sum terms: It brought some good. It brought some bad. It's a very mixed bag. God has certainly showered on it many gifts. Still, it leaves me disappointed. It never truly surpassed Catholicism—the promise of the Reformation stalled and at best settled into a stalemate. So to go through all that effort to break off from Catholicism only to create somewhat parallel traditions without really raising the bar equates to a negative, in my book.

I've often been frustrated with my own Catholic Church and have been tempted to shop around. I have enjoyed visiting other churches but have always fallen short of joining. I have always come away from that search with the strong sense that I would only be exchanging one set of problems for a different set of new problems—and possibly worse ones. So why bother? At least I have history with my own church. 

Let me show you what I mean:

1. The Protestant Reformation opened the door for more diversity in religious approaches—a good thing! However, that came with a cost of disunity and outright conflict—a bad thing. This is a perfect example of a positive that arrived married to a negative through the Reformation. Not all reform movements break that way. The rest of this list tells a similar tale:

2. The Reformation was coupled with the rise of individualism, which is not inherently good or evil. It helps provide the framework for people to follow their conscience—a good thing! It also provides the framework for individuals to see themselves as the center of the universe—this is the cardinal sin of pride, a denial of sola gratis, the very pride that Protestantism arose to protest!

3. Protestantism is very "head" focused. This sometimes manifests as a beautiful intellectualism, and Protestants have been pioneers in academic theology. All too often, this head focus turns into a tedious obsession with hairsplitting concepts and doctrines. Protestantism has been very cold—when it hasn't been downright hostile—to the arts, liturgy and contemplative practices. It has been cold to an embodied faith.

4. Speaking of the arts, while we celebrate the intellectual Enlightenment that came along with the Protestant Reformation, we also cannot forget that this was coupled with the literal whitewashing of much of Europe's artistic heritage. The destruction of countless frescoes, statues and paintings all over Europe had all the darkness of the Inquisition. A movement that literally goes around destroying centuries-old sculptures with some groups forbidding dance and art for centuries is a Dark Age, not a Renaissance. 

5. Concerning the above, one person told me: "It wasn't my denomination that did that!" But therein lines a problem. When you have 40,000 denominations, who takes responsibility? Or does the whole movement have to take some collective responsibility for what happened as a result of it? For better and for worse, the structure of the Catholic Church kept a lot of this extremism in check over the centuries. When you tamper with that, you bear some responsibility for the fallout.

As a Catholic, I am often asked to answer for every sin that was ever done in the name of the Catholic Church, even sins committed hundreds of years ago on another part of the globe (like the Inquisition). Fair enough. But Protestants don't have to do that. They can simply close down one denomination and open a new one. But that does not clean up the mess. It reminds me of a corporation that can sidestep problems it has created by declaring bankruptcy and its members starting a brand new corporation with a new name and blank slate. It may exonerate the individuals of legal responsibility but not a moral one—the problems still exist and someone still has to do something to fix them.

6. For every denomination that is forward-thinking and progressive, there is another that is perhaps more regressive than the Catholic Church they were rebelling against. Remember the Puritans? How many reactionary, repressive cults have there been? Protestant fundamentalism? The horror stories that have come out of conservative fundamentalism are worse than anything I've seen in Catholicism, especially in the modern era. Stories of soul-crushing control and forced conformity abound among Protestants, Evangelicals and Pentecostals. It's hardly where I'd go to find "freedom." The same denominations that celebrate Luther would be quick to crucify young reformers in their own ranks. It is a timeless tale of human nature that certainly isn't limited to Protestants, but it begs the question: Why bother with the Reformation if you are just going to re-create the same mess elsewhere?

7. Luther's initial protest was as much about Church practices as it was theology. It was the corruption, power-grabbing, censorship, control and manipulation that were at the heart of Luther's initial concerns. He was right about much of that. However, when I look at Protestant, Evangelical and Pentecostal churches both today and throughout history, I also see corruption, greed, power dynamics, and every form of human drama under the sun. I also see bad theology everywhere. What was gained?

8. You can see abuse of power by bishops and priests in the Catholic Church. However, I don't find more freedom in Protestantism, as congregations regularly control their pastors by manipulating their financial offerings. Strong hierarchical control tempers this in the Catholic Church, although admittedly not nearly enough. While we in the Catholic Church are quick to blame the hierarch for all sorts of things, the grass isn't always greener on the other side. In Protestantism, there may be less hierarchical control but more congregational pressure. It is hard to preach to the same people who pay you.

9. Unmerited Grace. I have never grasped the Protestant fervor over sola gratis: By grace alone. I understand the theological point that we humans always get in trouble when we tip the apple cart and start taking credit for things that are of God. In principle, Catholicism agrees. After all, the Catholic Church's Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity and the Lutheran World Federation even signed a joined declaration on justification in 1999—supposedly settling the primary conflict of the Reformation. It's in the Bible; it's in Augustine and Aquinas. 

One of the worst theological slams a Protestant can say about a church is that it tries to merit grace through its own effort—i.e. the dreaded "works-based righteousness." This may be something Protestants believe in principle, but overall they certainly don't live it very well. Again, it's human nature. We often hate in others what we hate about ourselves. 

While Protestants profess to believe in a God who showers humankind with unmerited grace, many have no interest in showering unmerited mercy and grace on their fellow human beings in need. It's all "tough love" and "pull yourselves up by the bootstraps." Everyone earns their own worth by how hard they work. Unmerited grace is hard to find in their politics. For two hours every Sunday morning, they may hear a message about unmerited grace from the pulpit, but the other 166 hours of the week are consumed in works-based, merited righteousness. The standards for heaven and earth seem quite different indeed. Yet, Jesus prayed "on earth as it is in heaven."

Protestants take quite a bit of pride and boast of the "Protestant work ethic." What exactly is the Protestant work ethic? I define it as a tedious lifelong task of judging the worth of everyone around you by whether or not they "work hard enough." Bonus points if you can mask your condescension with an even more prideful faux humility. We try to mask this shame with pride, but pride is the absolute opposite of unmerited grace!

You could give me the theological run-around and say that the Protestant work ethic isn't a way to earn salvation but simply evidence of that freely-given salvation—the Calvinist twist. Step away from the theological double-speak for a second and see it for that it is: A system of works-based righteousness. Even more damaging, these thoughts lay the groundwork for the prosperity Gospel.

I prefer the very Catholic approach that we should love one another and not try to judge who is worthy. 

Case in point: A colleague of mine says that in his town a poor person can sometimes have a hard time getting help. Most of the soup kitchens and shelters have conditions on their charity.  In some, you have to be a member of their church, listen to a sermon or meet other criteria. If a person cannot or will not do that, they are advised to go to the Catholic outreach center "because they'll help anybody."  Unmerited grace.  We are accused of not preaching it, but I see us practicing it all the time. 

Summation

The Protestant Reformation serves as a cautionary tale whenever I've been tempted to jump ship. Other reform movements were able to open horizons of possibility while also sidestepping so many of these negatives. The reforms of Francis of Assisi comes to mind. His radical movement could have been the start of something like the Protestant Reformation. Francis was able to set in motion his reforms without creating a rival denomination and all the problems that entails.

The initial reformers themselves were fear-based people. Many were quite harsh, if not downright brutal. That's not exactly what I look for in a spiritual leader. Luther for example, was complex and relatable. I can appreciate his righteous anger at censorship and his zeal to hold the Church accountable. But there's something missing when I hold him up against Francis of Assisi. I don't know what's missing, but whatever it is is somehow essential. I can understand Luther, I can sometimes agree with Luther—but I would not follow Luther. I'd like to think I'd follow Francis. 

While there is so much good to celebrate in the Protestant Reformation, let's be clear that it was a colossal failure at peacekeeping, harmony and family unity—admittedly that sin is on both sides. Both the Reformers and the institution of the Catholic Church failed to resolve differences and stay together. It was an ugly time and few of the leaders on either side inspire me. Celebrating the Protestant Reformation is like celebrating a divorce—perhaps it had to happen but it's never a good thing. The only true winners were pride and ego—on both sides.

Perhaps the Protestant Reformation was a necessary stage in the evolution of human consciousness. If so, I don't think it's the final stage. What unfolded perhaps need to unfold, but it also opened a Pandora's box of other problems. 

To me, the Protestant Reformation is one of many movements within the life of the Church. It has value, as I hope I have illustrated above. But with almost each positive comes a negative, and I suspect there is something about the movement itself that lends itself to this. I see the Reformation more as a wound to be healed than as a pure victory. Now, Protestants and Catholics are separated but we are all still struggling over the same things we were struggling over before—the only difference is that now we are struggling apart from each other, which just adds to the tragedy of what happened. I'm reminded of the last verse of Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd:

How I wish, how I wish you were here

We're just two lost souls

Swimming in a fish bowl

Year after year

Running over the same old ground

And how we found

The same old fears

Wish you were here

ADDED LATER: If you are going to have a "protest" movement, that means one of two things is true. You are either throwing out bad theology and practice to have a more streamlined, purer church—or you are throwing out half the wisdom of the church.  Given the zero-sum nature of the examples above, I suspect more of the latter may be true in the Protestant Reformation.

Abandoning Trench Warfare: 8 Ways to Find Common Ground in the Abortion Debate

Trench warfare.

More than any other issue, abortion is the poster child of the polarized culture wars. People just scream at each other. They recite talking points, often with their fingers firmly in their own ears. They lob verbal grenades at each other while staying lodged within their respective bunkers. Neither side gives an inch, and, perhaps because of this, neither side advances an inch. These steps are repeated ad infinitum. Many are weary of the fighting but don't know how to stop.

Trench warfare is getting us nowhere fast.

Literal trench warfare didn't work well in World War I, either—it mostly left a wake of immense trauma and loss of life while battle lines moved only a few meters back and forth. As the war lingered on, no side abandoned the trenches all at once, but each starting putting resources into other strategies. It was obvious that the trenches were a losing endeavor.

This analogy works quite well for the culture wars today, too. Incredible energy is expended by both sides. All this effort may enable each side to hold its ground, but each also gains very little with no end in sight. For every small "victory," you have to wonder how many people are forever alienated by the brutal conflict.

Can we open pathways for discussion so that energy can move more freely? Is there any way to tip the scales to encourage people to talk in a different way?

A number of people are hard at work trying to figure this out. Some great examples are these articles in Nurturing Faith and Secular Pro-Life Perspectives. The organization The New Pro Life Movement is also an attempt to find a new way. Along with this blog, that includes Baptist, Catholic and non-religious viewpoints, suggesting that people from multiple backgrounds are trying to re-think how we approach this issue.

It is my hope that this essay can contribute to that discussion. Let me suggest the following 8 points:

1.  Reflect on how we talk to each other.

We can bravely set aside our talking points for a while and just reflect on how we regard each other and talk to each other. Take a step back—instead of talking about "the issue," talk instead about how you talk about it. That can be a difficult thing to do when your hands have been clenched around your weapon for so long, when you can pull out your talking points faster than Bill the Kid could pull out his six-shooter. Yet, there are stories in every war where this happens. After fighting each other in battle after battle, sometimes soldiers put down their weapons and say, "We can't keep doing this, we've got to find another way." Do you practice active listening and nonviolent communication when someone with contrary views talks to you? Is it more important for you to "be right" and "change people" than it is to help others? Would you like being talked to in the way that you talk to others?

Check out The Story of the Christmas Truce, which incidentally occurred in the trenches of World War I.

Perhaps we can learn to speak the language of conversation and conversion rather than condemnation.

2.  Admit it: People of goodwill exist on either side of this debate.

The culture wars have gotten to the point where it has become impossible for people on either side to say anything good about the other side. They are afraid of giving ground or appearing to soften their viewpoints. Personally, I have strong views on this issue, but I can still affirm the people and perspectives on the other side.

I've met a lot of people on either side of the abortion debate and in every position in between. I've come away from that with a strong belief that there are simply good people of good will on either side, as well as in the middle. They aren't monsters. They simply disagree on a very contentious issue. I still think some people are very, very wrong and have huge blinders on.  But I respect them as people. I like them. I love them.

People can often be so disgusted by differing views that it can be hard to even acknowledge each other's humanity. They look at each other in disgust, thinking, how could someone possibly hold that viewpoint? 

Admittedly, it is a fair question. I sometimes find myself asking it, as well. We may never fully understand how or why someone could take the opposite view in this debate. But we also have to admit that millions and millions of people do. We also have to realize this debate is probably not going to be settled anytime soon. We may want it to go away, but it's not. Yet, somehow we have to live together, share this world together and function in society together in the meantime. That's simply a fact.

3.  I can understand and affirm the concerns on either side. 

Even though I may not completely understand why someone could hold a differing view on abortion, I can still sympathize with the profound issues in play on either side of this debate. It is not hard to see why people are passionate about this issue.

People on either side should be able to at least affirm that the other side has valid concerns. You may not think their conclusions are good, but I'm talking here about their concerns.

For example, I am a strong proponent of peace and nonviolence, but I can certainly understand why someone would choose to go to war.  I think that in most (if not all) cases, war and other forms of violence come from an unenlightened place. However, I can at least understand the emotions and fears that go into that decision, even though I hold out for a still more excellent way (1 Corinthians 12:31). There are all sorts of actions that would make violence a tempting response for me, and I don't lose my nonviolence credentials by acknowledging this temptation.

4.  Understanding the other side does not mean I have to lessen my own views.

We are afraid that if we affirm the people on the "other side" and validate their concerns, that our own argument will lose something. That does not sound like a person who is confident in his or her point of view. Odds are, my position will be strengthened because I have the courage to face the points from both sides.

But you can still respect the other side even if you think they are totally missing the boat.

5. Some people do a good job of living up (or down) to the stereotypes—but most don't.

Some spokespeople for both sides are all to often caricatures of their positions. There are some pro-life people who seem to have an anti-feminist bent and there are some pro-choice supporters who express a lot of anti-male fervor. So what?

These people do not represent everyone. There are good, decent people who have arrived at their viewpoint on either side of this debate through the hard road of life. 

6.  People on both sides can be accused of being inconsistent.

There are some pro-life supports who are very inconsistent—they seem to be against abortion but rarely invest time or energy in other "life" issues, even those that may yield less abortions. You could make the same argument on the other side—why are some on the left so concerned with just about every social injustice except for the unborn baby in their own body?

Contradictions are sometimes useful to point out, but most of this is just deflection. Instead of addressing the argument, people instead try to discredit the people on the other side. These arguments usually assume people fall along political party lines, but many people fall somewhere in between the two parties.

7. Find a goal we can share

There is possibly one thing that pro-choice and pro-life activists have in common: Many are weary of the culture wars but don't know how to end them. They feel they can't give up, but they see little hope in continuing the battles.

Can we all commit to ending the trench warfare? Can we all apply ourselves to the task of melting the stalemate? In other words:  Can we try to figure out how to figure this out?

What's interesting is that many people on both sides want to live in a society where no abortion occurs. Let that sink in for a moment. The linked articles above go into more detail about this. Do you agree? If so, this seems like a profound unifying platform to work toward!

8.  Redefine victory.

Ardent activists on either side might define victory as convincing the other side to change its stance. I'm not asking anyone to give up this goal. But perhaps we need other short-term goals along the way: Can we at least agree to disagree and find a way to respect each other in this? Maybe that's not the magic answer anyone was looking for, but don't knock it till you try it. Simply agreeing to disagree can be an immensely healing experience:  The plates shift. The whole discussion may not be resolved, but it could graduate to a higher level, laying the groundwork so that a more substantive change may happen later.

***

We don't trust each other.

I can't promise that in any of this there is a magic bullet that will break the stalemate. But perhaps if we did the recommendations above we might get somewhere over time. This is a marathon, not a sprint.  But one thing is clear to me:  The current trench warfare is getting us nowhere fast. We need to be brave and try something else.

Listening deeply to the concerns on either side has not changed my mind on this issue a whole lot. I still hold the views I held previously, and actually my viewpoint is stronger because I am no longer afraid of what the other side might say because I have had the courage to hear them out.

But it has helped me see the human beings behind those views.  And that matters.