What Advent and the Christian Unity Movement have in Common

Advent could very well be the ideal season through which to understand the movement for Christian unity.

At least, that is true at this point in history.

That is because the characteristics of Advent are so similar to the current moment we find ourselves in.

Nebulous 

The movement for better relationships among Christians--and ultimately for Christian unity--can be a difficult thing to understand. That is why a paradigm to understand what we are going through can be helpful.

To put it bluntly:  The movement for unity among Christians is a pretty difficult thing to wrap your mind around if you want concrete answers and clearly defined goals. It is often described as "nebulous."

We don't really know where God is leading us. For example, how can we have any kind of unity when people on both sides of a denominational division may think their way is the only way? Either one side is wrong or else we are being led to a truth that transcends our categories. We know Christ himself prayed for the oneness of all believers (John 17:21). So we have faith that what Christ has prayed for will eventually come to pass, but we don't know what that may look like nor can we see the path to get there.

It is easy to look at 2,000 years of Christian wars, reformations and schisms, with the number of denominations counted in the tens of thousands today--not to mention all those individuals and congregations that simply consider themselves "independent"--and then when we consider human nature on top of that, it is easy to resign ourselves to the conclusion that there simply is no path of unity at all.

[Of course, right at that moment, we might be tempted to just give up on unity and accept each other as we are and then boom!  Maybe there is something of a foggy first step to be found there after all... and so the path through the fog continues.]

Going through Advent is like going to the gym. It is like a workout for your faith. It is a time of waiting. We are practicing how to fan a small spark of faith into a flame of hope. We are also deepening our patience through which to endure the lengthy exile we are in. We have to sit and wait not knowing the answers. We learn how to go through life without all the answers.

Whether we like concrete answers or not, we simply don't have them in this situation. However, that doesn't alleviate us from the duty to work towards this goal and to sit in the tension in the meantime.

Advent is a time pregnant with possibilities--quite literally for mother Mary. Here was a young girl who found herself in a very precarious situation. She had a pregnancy that was very difficult to explain. She trusted in God but it was probably still unclear where that journey would take her or what changes her life would undergo. This pregnancy would eventually culminate in giving birth in the poorest, most humble of circumstances and then almost immediately fleeing as a refugee to Egypt to escape a brutal authoritarian ruler's destructive reach. But during Advent, Mary probably didn't know that. She had to simply endure the discomfort of not knowing and having to wait for the answers. Such is pregnancy.

And such is the moment were are in when it comes to the unity of all believers. We know we are called on this path. We know it is in line with what Jesus himself wants. But we don't know where it will take us. And people will tell us we're crazy because we can't offer a clear explanation of exactly what we're trying to do or what it will look like. People will be suspicious that there must be some hidden agenda. But like Noah, building an ark in the desert may seem like pure madness . . . until the floods come.

That's because when you say "yes" to God's invitation you aren't guaranteed a road map of what exactly are your next steps. If you had that, of course, it wouldn't be as much of a journey of faith, now would it?

The Kingdom: Now . . . and Not Yet

There is so much about the Kingdom Jesus alerts us to that is already realized but unseen--and other parts that are not yet fully realized. The unity of all Christians is one of those.  We have to live in the tension between the unity that Jesus prays for and calls us into and the disunity we experience. There is indeed a unity that is already present but we simply can't fully see it yet, even though it's right there. But there is also a true disunity. This disunity has real impacts on our lives and our witness--and it could dampen our hopes.

But it must be stated that Advent is not a time of passivity. There is much that can be done. I'm sure Mary had many daily labors during this time. She took each step that presented itself to her. She did the things she could do. She did today's work today and left tomorrow's work for tomorrow--she had no choice. And neither do we.

The movement for Christian unity follows likewise: We may not know what the "end game" looks like--but there is work to be done today. We can build better relationships among Christians. We can get to know each other in full respect as people of faith. We can do the things together that we are already agreed upon. We can forget about our differences and simply work together. Or perhaps through our differences we may find a stronger voice. We can't just say "there is no way to untangle this mess" and then give up. Advent is a time that speaks to living in this space and which hopefully gives us both the tools and the strength to go through it.

A Divided Christianity Limits Its Witness

Collage of Christian culture, from:
https://tinyurl.com/uzzy7nl

In my work, I try to build relationship between Roman Catholics and evangelical Christians. I often encounter resistance from all sides.

One complaint I hear is: Why bother? There are are so many other issues of division in the world today that seem much more serious. Lives are hanging in the balance. Few people today, especially in the first world, are losing their lives over Catholic and evangelical tensions.

That certainly is a fair point. Tensions between Christian denominations have definitely subsided from where they once were. After all, the aftermath of the Protestant Reformation and Catholic Counter-reformation helped lead to the 30 Year War, one of Europe's bloodiest. Prejudice still exists, but it doesn't manifest into that scale of bloodshed anymore. We've come a long way.

But in the western world, Christianity has been the dominant religion. In a sense, it has been the one constant of the western world. Christianity has provided the moral framework in no small way for the west--beginning with the Roman Empire, through the Dark Ages and Medieval world, to the Renaissance, Enlightenment, "discovery" of the New World and its impacts in terms of colonialism, world wars and a rapid increase in technology.

All of these are complex topics, of course, but the point I want to make here is:  The western world did all of these things operating out of--and challenged by--the moral and ethical framework of western Christianity.  

How successful Christianity has been at intercepting sin in the midst of this could have a lot to do with how united Christianity has been.

Christianity and the Western World

We all need a solid moral, ethical and spiritual grounding in order to resist the pervasive temptations and sins that are endemic to the human condition. Greed and its twin brother selfishness run rampant so easily. Pride easily divides and pits one group as "better" than another. In day to day life, it certainly can feel like times marches slowly, but stepping back it becomes apparent that we are in the middle of a sharp exponential growth curve in technology, population, pollution, wars, etc. Older cultures had thousands of years to adapt to changes. We have just a short time. The western world has presided over so much rapid change in so short of a time.

My grandfather still worked with horses and was the first to use mechanized tractors on the farm. In 100 years time, we went from horses to cars, airplanes and spaceships, from the telephone to smart phones and from typewriters to word processors.

But while the western world has been overwhelmingly Christian, the lived reality tells a different story: You have your church and I have mine. I have my beliefs and you have yours. I don't have to talk to you. I don't even have to acknowledge you.

We're not just divided--we're isolated from one another. We can't expect uniformity in our beliefs as an axis for unity. After all, if you were to talk to 10 people you will get 12 theological opinions. But the problem is that we haven't found a way to maintain some semblance of unity in light of all this.

We've not just divided in terms of doctrine and beliefs--we are also just as much divided in terms of race and national origin. As MLK so famously said, Sunday at 11 am "is the most segregated hour in the nation." Blacks, whites and little enclaves of tight-knit immigrant community churches dot the landscape.

It's a strange message of: Leave me alone, I'm going to practice my faith which draws all people and even the entire cosmos to Christ. It's somewhat understandable as in this finite world we often don't know how to transcend so many divisions. I sympathize with people who simply give up and keep to themselves. But we should at least recognize the need to try and admit that division is not what we are called to.

A Divided Christianity Limits its Witness

Look at how this plays out in terms of national allegiance: Do we really consider Christians in Mexico to be our brothers and sisters in the faith?  Or are they just "those people over there"? Are we suspicious of them trying to sneak in and steal from us? The vast majority of Mexicans would identify as Catholic, Pentecostal or evangelical. Since we are not united in the faith, forces that want to suppress immigration get us to hate each other. Those forces would have little sway over us if we knew each other and respected each other as members of the same Body of Christ. We would know and trust each other as members of the same Church.

This wouldn't immediately solve all immigration issues, but it would make us less likely to fall victim to dehumanizing propaganda. But because it's considered "okay" to be divided then it becomes so easy to further divide the church into ethnic and national and class-based groups--and most importantly, it becomes easier to divide the church up politically. Division itself is considered acceptable which sets the stage for further divisions of all kinds.

A study was done recently on the terrifying practice trying and killing accused witches over the past several hundred years.  Researches noted that it was perhaps Christian disunity and competition between Protestants and Catholics which fueled some of the harshest and most regrettable periods of witch persecution in Europe and America. It begs the question:  How is Christian disunity today being used to divide and conquer?  How is this disunity manipulated to pursue political goals? Conversely, how is politics manipulated to pursue religious goals?

The Power of the Church

I got into this work because I believe the faith community can be a necessary tonic to the evils of the world.  I still believe that. Churches have stood up to the evils of the world i many ways, from the way churches helped the Civil Rights movement to the movement for justice in Latin America in recent decades and so many more examples.

I don't what to join with you, fellow follower of Jesus, just because you share the same liberal or conservative views. but I do want to join with you because we are rooted in the vision of the Kingdom and we make decisions about what is right or wrong from that place. Our home is in the Kingdom that Jesus calls us to recognize. It's not because we are liberal or conservative and then go to church based on those allegiances, it is because we carry the church in our hearts and make decisions about the world from that place.

Even with all of our theological and denominational divisions, Christianity provides a unifying framework. Even if we disagree on the application of certain issues, Christianity still gives us common language to confront sin. It gives us readings and practices. It gives us a unifying vision for membership in Christ's body and of the Kingdom of God. It gives us something in common with which to engage the rest of the culture. Even with that, it still takes everything we've got to resist the temptations of sin. But our denominational divisions prevent us from speaking that voice clearly.

With Christianity divided, the secular world eats us alive. The world of power and money can pick Christianity apart, co-opt certain groups for this or that benefit. They use Christians for their gains. Nowadays, it's no secret that there are denominations and sects of Christianity aligned with the political right and with the political left. Christians think they have chosen their allegiances but the more sinister truth is that perhaps those interests have chosen Christians to bolster them. They have coaxed Christians to ignore certain thing or to soften some edges and dampen their message in the name of compromise and collaboration.

Could a more united Christianity do a better job of maintained its center and not be so easily swayed by political, financial or military interests in the larger culture?

Maybe there are far too many folks who like Christianity so fractured because it is just easier to manipulate?  And then to pit one side against the other?

A more united Christianity may not stave off all the world's problems. After all, the relatively united church of the Middle Ages did help in some of this but it was still all too often a pawn for political powers. It's complex. Nevertheless, I will argue here that a divided Christianity limits its witness to the world. People don't have to take it seriously because Christians can't even agree on what it's about.  Disunity limits its witness to justice and peace. It limits the ability of the Christian message to be a healing and prophetic tonic for a very fractured world. Indeed: the fractures of Christianity resemble more this world than the Kingdom we are called to.

Multi-Generational Trauma and Christian Disunity

One of the deadliest days Catholic-Protestant tension: Saint Bartholomew's Day Massacre by Francois Dubois. Wikipedia Commons.

I often encounter so much resistance from Christians to the cause of Christian unity.

I am often left baffled.

In my humble opinion, there doesn't seem to be enough theological justification for this resistance. There aren't enough cultural reasons, either.

That's certainly debatable, of course. Many would challenge me on this.

But I still get a sense that there is something else going on—some people have an almost visceral reaction toward other Christian groups that is hard to explain through merely doctrinal differences alone.

So what is driving this?

It's like there's an invisible force. Or a ghost, perhaps.

Well, in a sense, I think this is true.

In this blog we often explore the symptoms of a fractured people—in particular, divisions in Christianity. Those fall along doctrinal lines, national origin lines, racial lines and class lines. But they also fall along historical lines.

I'm amazed by how many Christians want to be isolated from other Christians. For example, there are many evangelical Christians in the rural U.S. South who just want to be left alone. They don't want any relationship with any other church, even within their own denomination. Is this just personal preference or is there a back story? Is this what Jesus asks for those who follow in his way?

Perhaps we today don't have a living memory of persecution. Perhaps we don't remember being abandoned or being rejected or having to uproot our family and travel westward to a new country just to get away from all the strife back in Europe. We didn't personally experience the nasty and cruel ways various Christian groups treated each other—up to and including wars and death.

But somewhere deep down in our bones we feel the result of this wound. The memory may be gone but the trauma—and the coping mechanisms—remain. We are only at the beginning stages of understanding how experiences of trauma can be passed down to subsequent generations. But we know it experientially:  Once you start attempting to heal any of these divisions it becomes abundantly clear right away that past is prologue.

Coco

The Disney Pixar movie Coco does a fantastic job of showing how this multi-generational trauma works. This family in Mexico that just seemed to hate music. They did everything they could to avoid music and punish harshly any family member who attempted to play music. Nobody remembered  why and nobody really bothered to ask. It's just the way it was. They just hated music and wanted to be left alone.

[spoiler alert follows!]

As the movie progresses, we discover that the reason this family hates music is that a great-great-grandfather was presumed to abandon his family to pursue a life on the road as a musician. He left a wife and young daughter to fend for themselves, never to see them again. Through great difficulty and innovation, his wife built a new life—but utter contempt for music and anything related to it was painfully stitched into every moment of their lives going forward. I imagine every sound of music brought with it painful memories and grumblings which her daughter and grandchildren picked up on. I imagine they didn't want to see her in pain so they also did everything to shield her from music. Music brought her pain, and it was painful for her daughter and grandchildren to witness this, so music ended up bringing them pain, too—they appropriated her pain. Hating music just became part of the family ethos.

We eventually find out the truth is still more complex—the father intended to leave the road and come home but was murdered by a jealous music partner who wanted his songs to himself. Tragic misunderstandings often play a huge role.

Christian Prologue 

How much do the historical treatments of Christians to one another matter today?

They matter a lot—it is the pain on which so many of our patterns and attitudes have been built. The pain and coping patterns remain long after the original incidents are forgotten.

I can prove it. What happens when you read the word "Viking"? Do you imagine an adventurous seafaring people from Northern Europe? You probably imagine brutal terrorists. Their descendants today are the quite peaceful Scandanvian people. But yet to this day the word "viking" conjures up foreboding. That's because for a period of time the Vikings terrorized much of mainland Europe. Their time attacking coastal Europe was a long, long time ago. Yet this period was sufficiently brutal and psychologically traumatizing enough to carry their reputation forward to the present day.

The church of the western Roman Empire (now called the Catholic Church) actually attacked and sacked Constantinople, the seat of the eastern church (now called the Orthodox Church). Certainly wars between Christians have been common throughout the years, but this was more explicitly tied to religious divisions itself, at least on the surface. It was a thousand years ago but if you unpack the layers of frosty relationship between Catholics and Orthodox, you will quickly notice the impact of this and other similar events.

Catholics murdered Protestants. Catholic and Protestants murdered Anabaptists. And many Christians persecuted pagans, Jewish people and Gypsies.

A colleague explained to me how the Civil War, for example, split denominations in many ways. The different experiences in the North and the South—the suffering, the years of hunger, the humiliation of loss, the feeling of abandonment by their brothers and sister in the faith on the other side of the Mason Dixon line—have left lasting scars that remain to this day. Many today on one side don't even know why they have such feelings toward those on the other side, but they know they do.

Think of how much fear and misunderstanding Christians have for Muslims. Some of this is just stirred up by political forces today. But this negative view of Islam has its root in history. Europe experienced serious defeats during the Crusades. Empires of Muslim people made inroads into Europe in Span, Turkey and Southeast Europe. This menacing, looming shadow was just beyond the sea, ready to strike at any moment. Perhaps they see Christians the same way—it's all perspective.

Actually, Muslim people are as normal and peaceful as people in any nation. But we've been kept apart for so long where fears turn people into caricatures. Just like walking through a dark forest on Halloween, where every noise makes you worry there's a giant or monster right around the corner. This is what fear does. This is why it's so important to get to know people in the present day to dispel those fears and to make sure political forces aren't using those fears to manipulate us.

Going Forward

Even when memory of an event is long gong, the reaction to that pain is often still with us. It may still be in the drivers seat, whether we know it or not. It's actually harder when we are unaware of it—because we are triggered and reacting and there doesn't seem to be a logical reason for it, but logic is not enough to build the bridge. We have to find out what's driving out reactions to one another.

When you start reconciling with people from another group, you may start crying over pain from centuries ago—pain you never even dreamed was relevant to you at all. That's how multi-generational trauma works.

That is why we can't enter a dialogue as isolated individuals. We all come with a history and out of a context, and we all need to respect that. Unity requires lots of reconciliation with the past. It requires lots of apologies and amends and at the very least an awareness of its impact on us today. Even a thousand years later, the pain doesn't simply just go away on its own until it is lovingly healed.

***

This is part 3 in a series around remembering the voices from the past: All Saints Day, All Souls Day and Day of the Dead in Hispanic cultures. Reformation Sunday in Protestant churches. How do narratives we have inherited from the past—accurate or not—affect who we are today?

Part 1: A Tale of Two Americas
Part 2: Family Separation: My Personal Story

Family Separation: My Personal Story

My grandmother immigrated to the U.S. on the SS George Washington.

I hesitate to write the above headline, because the story I'm about to tell is not anywhere near as traumatic as the family separation currently happening to asylum seekers at the U.S./Mexico border. Nor does it compare to the brutal family separation that occurred during slavery, the disappearances during Jim Crow, in Native American "boarding schools" or currently in a culture of mass incarceration and immigrant detention. I hate to compare one person's trauma to another's, but some hesitation is warranted here.

Nevertheless, I think my story does a good job of showing how separation of any kind leaves long lasting trauma that affects our behavior and attitudes for generations to come—and how this trauma needs to be healed before full unity and wholeness in society or our institutions can be achieved.

***

My grandmother immigrated from what is now modern day Slovakia to the United States (Ohio) in the early 1920s. She was 17 years old. She remembered saying goodbye to her mother. At that moment, she instinctively knew that she would never see her again. That turned out to be true.

She did return once to see her family back in Europe in the 1960s. She saw her brothers, sisters and extended family. I'm sure it was wonderful to have that reunion. It must also have been bittersweet to realize all the life together they were not going to experience.

Her first born son Emery joined the Navy and went off to the Pacific theater of World War II. He was 17 or 18—the same age as my grandmother when she left home for good. While overseas, he married a Philipino woman. They had three children, many grandchildren and great-grandchildren. They moved around a lot but always stayed in the Pacific rim. They settled on Hawaii, which was a halfway point for their respective families—and close to neither!

Growing up, we would see them as often as once every year. Their visits were full and fun. We actually saw them more frequently, and had more in-depth interactions with them, than some of my other aunts and uncles who lived a lot closer. We made sure to make our limited time together count. But there was always a pain. Uncle Emery and Aunt Betsy just couldn't be a regular fixture. We didn't see them at random weddings, funerals or 4th of July cookouts. We didn't just run into each other in the grocery store. No matter how close we were, the miles between us were always there. I have only seen some of my cousins once in my life.

These experiences of immigration brought out the best in people. It helped them to be daring, entrepreneurial and full of vigor. There is an energy that immigrants have that is hard to find anywhere else. But in these cases, it also brought lasting wounds for both themselves and their families. Some of those wounds have remained for decades, and it's the 2nd or 3rd generation immigrants who have to do the work to restore and heal.

Fast forwards several decades: I come of age. Without considering any of this history, I am surprised by how much hostility my family has to any of my plans to move around. Go to a faraway college? Move to another city? Move out of state? Travel abroad?? All those ideas were met with anger, resistance and disapproval. I actually hid those plans from my folks up until the last minute because I just couldn't bear all the guilt and negativity, which I saw as an affront to my own ideas and initiative. And it was. But today I see some of this in a new light.

I'm sure a lot more factored into my family's reactions than our immigration history, but I bet they factored in a whole lot more than any of us ever realized.

You see, nowadays communication and travel are different. It is relatively easy to get a plane ticket. Highways are well-developed. Phone calls are cheaper, if not downright free with you plan. Social media and video chatting are everyday realities rather than something only imagined on Star Trek. And the Soviet "iron curtain" no longer divides the world. 

But somewhere embedded in my family's consciousness is the idea that people who leave never come back. It's a permanent separation. You might as well be dead to them if you are going to leave your hometown. When I was about to make an out-of-state move, I watched them steel themselves emotionally as if they were preparing for a funeral. Their reactions seemed so over the top, so out of proportion—but today I see it differently. Their reactions were based on the 1920s rather than the realities of 2020.

My experiences are not unlike those of the character Miguel in the Disney Pixar movie Coco. The movie does a phenomenal job showing how trauma can continue to impact people in a family generations after the initial incident occurred, even when the initial incident is unknown to present day people. My family's fear of dividing the family was putting us at risk of causing a rift in the family again.

Multi-generational trauma is a significant factor at the foundation of just about every division in society.

Many people today don't understand why we should do anything to atone for slavery, for example. Or the brutalities of colonization. Many don't understand why we would bother do expend energy trying to mend Christian disunity, especially when some of the wounds are 500-1000 years old! But the more we come to understand how multi-generational trauma works, the more clearly we understand the imperative to do the good, ole fashioned Christian work of seeking forgiveness, atoning for wrongdoings and working toward restitution. Very few things are simply "in the past." People say that history does not impact them, but it clearly does, whether we realize it or not.

Multi-generational trauma impacts the Christian family tree as much as it does any other family. We'll explore that in the next post, stay tuned!

***

This is the second part in our series commemorating All Saints and All Souls Days, as well as Day of the Dead in Hispanic cultures. Reformation Sunday in Protestant churches. The voices, experiences and wounds of people in the past have a greater impact on us today than many of us even realize. On the path toward unity, we have to consider the role of multi-generational trauma plays in our divisions.

Part 1:  A Tale of Two Americas

Dialogue: A Contemplative Practice

Jesus just kept talking to--and healing--all the people
the rest of his society wanted to stay away from.

Unfortunately, for much of Christianity faith largely became believing things to be true or false (intellectual assent) instead of giving people concrete practices so they could themselves know how to open up (faith), hold on (hope), and allow an infilling from another source (love). Contemplation opens our heads, hearts, and bodies to God’s living presence.

-- Franciscan Catholic priest Fr. Richard Rohr

The above writing by Richard Rohr offers an important challenge to Christians or anyone else concerned about ethics, respecting life and social justice.

Too often, when we hear the phrase "respect life" we immediately think of certain hot-button issues  and we've come to expect the accompanying arguments as to who is "right" and who is "wrong." Christian church traditions have a long history of unpacking the ethical and moral dimensions along these lines.

That's all fair and noble, and I certainly approach these issues this way, too--but it is not the only way to learn how to respect life. Intellectual analysis and agreement are important, but so too are practices that help open our hearts. Behaviors and activities that open our hearts are known as contemplative practices.

The gospels do not record Jesus articulating precise, analytical arguments for or against certain causes. Rather, he modeled a practice of encounter and dialogue. Through that experience, your heart expands, your sensitivities deepen and your empathy blossoms. This method is also very freeing as Jesus rarely tells us how or what to think but rather he gives us to tools to get them ourselves.

The analytical mind can be prone to unhealthy control tendencies. We fear what someone may do with that freedom, so we want to make sure they think a certain way. We want to overwhelm them with astute argumentation. We want to prove them wrong. But we have to be careful, as this can be an affront to the very human dignity we are trying to articulate.

Further, human beings are not objects to be analyzed but rather people to be known. I am not in any way discounting the importance of intellectual inquiry, because there's not enough of that in the world today, either. But when our society is so polarized--and when arguments flare up for or against certain issues--and when our world is so bitterly divided in the culture wars--perhaps we need something more than just one more convincing article or thesis.

Jesus shows another way. What if we were to just sit with someone? What if we were to come face to face with the mystery of who this person is, in all their complexities, absurdities and vulnerabilities? What if we were to look in this person's eyes and see the divine image looking back at us?

After all, it is very rarely good theology that converts people to Christianity but rather a personal experience of Jesus or at the very least, Jesus known through his church. The theology comes later as people try to understand what they have come to know through faith. The same holds true for how we regard our fellow humans. Let's face it: Most of us already know what we believe about certain issues and we look for reasons to bolster that later. So how did that initial opinion form?

Perhaps if we did what Jesus showed, we wouldn't need to read bioethics studies to calculate when indeed life begins. We wouldn't need to consult ethicists to determine the precise moment when they deem violence is justified in a particular situation. Nor would we need social justice advocates reminding us that the lives of a particular group matter.  We would simply move differently in the world. We would respond to attacks on human life as if our very sister or brother were threatened. The ethical arguments have a place but they would come later.

This is what, I believe, Jesus is calling us toward: To respond to attacks on human dignity and life as viscerally and immediately as if it were our very mother or father.

And while this post is not about academic studies, the data does back this up: Those who have the most hostility toward disenfranchised groups are almost always those who have no personal relationships with members of that group. For example, this link shows that many who distrust Muslims often do not know any Muslims. Likewise, I have found that people who have the most hostility toward unauthorized immigrants are those who have never taken the time to hear any of them talk about their lives and why they made the choices they have made. The same is true for racial tensions, LGBTQ+ prejudice, suspicion between Catholics and evangelicals of each other, to name just a few examples.

***

This is part 3 in a series during October on Respect Life.

Part 1: Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue is a Respect Life Issue

Part 2: Yes, Even "Those People"

Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue is a Respect Life Issue

Jesus talks to a Samaritan woman.

Have you ever paused to consider that dialogue between people of different Christian and non-Christian religious traditions is actually a way to respect life itself?

Respect Life Month

Every October, the U.S. Catholic Church celebrates Respect Life month.

People of other faith tradition are certainly welcome to join in the prayer, events and simply the focus of attention that such a commemoration brings.

Setting aside a time to reflect deeply on the dignity of life calls us to consider all the ways that human life is disrespected, disregarded and simply ended in our culture. Certainly, we can point to certain key issues where human life is threatened in direct ways, such as abortion, war, the death penalty, assisted suicide and others.

Diagnosis: Throwaway Culture

But the more we reflect, we come to understand what Pope John Paul II so often said: We live in a "culture of death" where life is simply treated like unwanted junk mail that we throwaway without a second thought.

Even those certain issues have their roots in many seemingly benign activities that over time bear really terrible fruit. What I mean is: When someone chooses to cross the line and do an extreme action such as killing another human being, that action did not simply happen in isolation. There were undoubtedly many years of slow and steady dehumanizing words, inferences and actions that paved the way, unfortunately, for this terrible action. 

A person who ends another person's life crosses a line, but all of society should reflect on ways we all may have some responsibility for what we did to take that person right up to the line, so to speak. Yes, every individual is responsible for her or his own actions--but none of us lives in a vacuum. We are constantly being influenced by those around us, and this is especially true for the youth. Advertisers and political propagandists bombard us constantly with images and ideas, and it does affect what we do. Otherwise, there would be no advertising industry and political campaigns would focus on issues rather than images, but we see that's not the case.

Virtually every Christian tradition affirms that all human life is created by God with God-given dignity--that means all life, all the time, everywhere. That message is bursting forth on nearly every page of the Bible (this link has some choice passages to consider). Yet, in our fallen world we humans put dividers where God has not put any.

Both consciously and unconsciously, we humans start deciding that some people are more important than others and that only certain people deserve special consideration. We convince ourselves there are reasons for this (using inaccurate generalizations) even when our faith informs us that this is not the case.

Treatment:  Dialogue, A Necessary Tonic

One of the best ways to resist the throwaway culture that disregards life is to dialogue with other people. And by "dialogue" I do not mean just a random conversation, however nice that may be. I mean to truly encounter the person in a relationship of equality, respect and peace.  It means taking a genuine interest in another person and being truly open to what another person has to offer.

Real dialogue with another person is a profound act of defiance of our culture of death. To truly dialogue with someone that means you respect this person in her or his full God-given dignity. It is an attempt to understand the person on his or her own terms--to get to know them as they truly are, not based on what others have said about them. It is a way to get past the labels and to encounter the true person. It is a way to ultimately establish peace.

Labels

Labels enforce the throwaway culture. We have all heard comments such as these:

"Oh, that person is just a criminal, so I don't have to respect him."

"They are just a bunch of Muslims, so we should be afraid of them."

"That (African-American) kid is just a thug, keep him at a distance."

"They are just a bunch of liberals (or conservatives)--not worth our time hearing what they have to say."

"People are mistreated in detention? They are just illegals, so they must deserve it."

Any time the word "just" is used to describe a group of people, you know the throwaway culture is in full operation, i.e. "they are just Muslims."

On top of that, we often attach other descriptors that are unfair, such as "terrorist Muslims" or "criminal immigrants" or "thug" when we are referring to African-American males, but almost always those broad-based descriptors are neither fair nor accurate.

Encounter: The Way of Jesus

To truly encounter another person in her or his full humanity is to do what Jesus did time and time again throughout his earthly ministry as reported in the Gospels. He continued to treat every single person with full respect, including--and perhaps especially--those that the rest of society wanted to disregard: The hated Samaritans... the unwed mother... the adulterer... the diseased or mentally ill... even the slimy tax collector. People often asked Jesus "Why are you bothering with such-and-such a person?" Jesus always went past their imaginary walls and encountered the person.

In doing this, Jesus gave us a model to follow.

In Their Own Words

Jesus did not always agree with every single thing that every person did--and neither should we. We can and should maintain our principles. But that should never stop us from truly encountering another person as respectfully as Jesus did. We should hear their perspective in their own words before we decide that we disagree with them. Let people tell their own story. Honor that. Let them describe themselves and assign their own labels for themselves. Let us truly value each and every person and what they have to say.

I would go as far as to say we should never judge the actions of a group of people until we have worked hard to get to know its members and hear them describe their circumstances in their own words. That includes immigrants, Muslims, Middle Easterners, criminals, unwed mothers, everyone.

And then in a relationship of true equality, let us share our story with them.

The Use, Misuse and Non-Use of Religious Labels

Religious labels are very often used to cause this division and misunderstandings. What comes to mind when you hear the following words: Muslims, Jews, Catholics, evangelicals, pagans.... with each of those terms, I bet we immediately have images, definitions and even fears that immediately pop into our minds. These imagines impact the decisions we make when our nation chooses to go to war with certain nations. It impacts the decisions voters make in regards to our criminal justice system, in particular the death penalty.

In the case of the Islamic and Jewish faiths, religious labels are often used to justify violence. You see actions of terrorism when Jewish synagogues have been attacked here in the U.S. by hate groups or individuals and when our nation goes to war with a "Muslim nation."

Violence is also justified by refusing to acknowledge the religious faith of people. For example, I do not recall a single news article that tells us about the "Christians at the southern border." NEVER. I have been following the news on immigration for many years and I never have I seen this stated boldly or directly.

Yet, virtually every immigrant, refugee and asylum seeker at the southern border--who is being cruelly detained and their families separated by current border enforcement methods--can all be described as evangelical, Pentecostal or Catholic Christians. Calling them "Christians" would increase sympathy for them which is no doubt why we ever hear them described this way.

But when it comes time to wage war with a Middle Eastern country, suddenly all we hear is that this is a "Muslim nation." That is because the public has been programmed to attach negative connotations to Muslims which decrease empathy for them.

Conclusion

Whenever I have set labels aside and have truly tried to imitate Jesus and encounter people on their own terms, I have immediately discovered that these labels were unfair, incomplete and often downright wrong. By talking to a Muslim man and hearing his story, I am re-affirming my faith in the God of all who created everyone with dignity. I am taking back control of my life and my thoughts from the forces of marketing, propaganda and prejudice. I am making my own decisions rather than being swayed by clever spin campaigns. I am re-affirming that my faith comes first and my politics come second--always. And perhaps most importantly: I am respecting life.

Ecumenism of Hate?

It's not every day that the Roman Catholic pope suggests magazine articles for the faithful to read.

But that's just what Pope Francis did during a recent meeting with Jesuits in Mozambique and Madagascar.

In this blog post, I'm looking at the section subtitled "Fundamentalist Ecumenism" in one of those articles. It appears in Evangelical Fundamentalism and Catholic Integralism: A Surprising Ecumenism.

The authors are Antonio Spadaro, a Jesuit Catholic priest, and Marcelo Figueroa, a Presbyterian pastor from Argentina who is a close associate of the pope.

Their core argument is fascinating and thought-provoking:  In the USA, there are religious groups who have no interest in an ecumenical relationship with each other but who still join together to advocate for common causes. The groups mentioned in this article are those on the conservative right--that includes some Catholics integralists as well as some Evangelicals, Pentecostals and Protestants on the religious right.

Overall, both groups are cold at best--and hostile at worst--to ecumenism. Yet, here they are working together.

The expression given to this kind of relationship:  Ecumenism of hatred.

At first, I thought this was an extreme description. After all, "hatred" is a pretty extreme word! Further, I have known many Catholics and evangelicals who have grown to respect each other through this work, even if they didn't begin that way. Is that a fair way to describe them?

It is an ecumenism of hate because, well, technically speaking, these groups hate each other.

That is indeed a strong word. What I mean is:  They "hate" each other in the sense that neither thinks the other has anything of value, at least nothing that the other side doesn't already have. Neither is really interested in getting to know the other.  Both sides hold that they--and only they--have the truth in a singular way. They have no interest in getting to know the other on one's own terms.  The only valuable conversation between them would be for the purposes of proselytizing in order to destroy what is unique about the other and mold them into our version of ourselves. These groups are for all practical purposes competitors. Despite this, they are willing to work together to pursue this common vision, even though their common vision ultimately excludes each other! If either side were to dominate they would gladly snuff out the other. Despite this, the Catholics have adopted an evangelical world view and visa versa. It's a very strange set-up if you look at it this way.

By contrast, a true relationship of traditional ecumenism is about "inclusion, peace, encounter and bridges" to use language from the article. In a truly ecumenical relationship, both sides are open to the other. Each would be receptive to what the other may bring to the table. You make room for each other. There is respect for each other. There is a hope and a sense that another group brings something of value, perhaps something that both may need. Perhaps another groups just shows the vastness of God in new, unimagined ways.

However, this ecumenical approach is seen as problematic if you already believe you have it all so nearly contained in a particular box so that no further dialogue is necessary. The only communication left in this scenario is to proselytize--in other words, to get the other to leave their box and enter your box.  The only goal here is to obliterate the other. Again, that may also seem like a strong word, but if the only goal is mold the other into what you want for them, then it truly is a fair description. Ecumenism, on the other hand, is a way to grow in awe and wonder and to respect each other as we already are.  We can and will still certainly disagree on some things while still being open to one another.

That kind of thinking is not possible when groups believe that the totality of truth is contained in their locked sphere to such an extent that they determine there is nothing of value in the other.

Is Ecumenism Incompatible with Religious Conviction?

Some people worry that ecumenism and having religious convictions are incompatible. They worry that ecumenism just leads to a watering down or a denial of the truth of a particular religious tradition. The worry that ecumenism presents a zero sum formula: The more we affirm the value in another denomination the more we are reducing the value of our own.

Not so.

I see ecumenism not in zero sum terms but more like a rising tide that lift all boats. It is a way to grow in awe and wonder. Personally speaking, my ecumenical relationship have only deepened my own relationship with my own faith tradition. Many other ecumenists have said very similar things.

One can still hold convictions while still respecting the gifts that others bring and can still be open to new insights and new ways that God is working in others. But mostly an ecumenical relationship just means being open to and interested in others and entering into a dialogue as equals from the standpoint of true respect.

More Catholic than the Pope?

It used to be that no one questioned the Catholicity of the Catholic pope, but in these days of internet conspiracies little is surprising in that regard, anymore. Nevertheless, all reasonable people should agree that the pope is one of the most Catholic people there is, if not the most.

In light of that, it is worth mentioning that all recent Catholic popes have been strong ecumenists. Their openness to truly encounter another person on their own terms did not threaten their Catholic standing. If even the most Catholic of all the Catholics can be ecumenical without becoming less Catholic, then we should all be able to move forward into ecumenical relationships without fear!

Left vs Right?

"Ecumenism of hate" is not necessarily a commentary on the specific causes that these groups are advocating for, such as abortion, religious freedom, etc. However, the article does exercise cautions in approaches that would blend the church and state in theocratic ways--that is partly due to the fact that religious groups so often get manipulated by political forces even when they think they are the ones doing the influencing. However, this commentary is less about the validity of right vs left as it is about the approach. The concern is when people join forces with others absent a true spirit of ecumenical cooperation.

Even though certain conservative culture warriors are the examples given in the article, it is worth asking if other groups also fall into these same tendencies. Or is this a tendency seen more on the right? In general, ecumenism is far less popular with conservatives of all denominations. However, that doesn't exclude moderates and those on the left from also having "put a wall where a bridge should be", to paraphrase the pope. It may be a constant challenge for each of us to critically reflect on all the ways we dismiss the other and avoid true encounter with one another and ultimate with God.

Ecumenism = Necessary

The #1 takeaway I have from this article is that ecumenism is necessary. 

If we don't engage each other in true respect, openness, dialogue and peace, then logically speaking, we otherwise dismiss their value and are engaged with them in a witness of mutual elimination, exclusion and overt competition. We run the risk of falling into a narrow fundamentalism that doesn't permit the light of wisdom to enter and does not honor the space for the Holy Spirit to work. In this way, ecumenism is simply not optional. It is a challenge and part of the "permanent mission of the Church," as other Catholic popes have articulated. We can never stop being open to each other and engaging each other in true dialogue and respect.  If we don't, we are not neutral but rather hostile to one another by the very fact that we deny the presence of any value in the other. This is the challenge before us!

Ecumenical Season of Creation: Patterns of Use, Re-Use, Decay and Re-Birth.

We are right in the middle of the Season of Creation: September 1st through October 4th.

While it is critically important year round, this is specifically a time when churches all over the Christian spectrum have decided to come together in a common witness to care for the home we all share together—the planet earth.

September 1st is the start of the new year in the Orthodox calendar, and October 4th is the Feast day for St. Francis of Assisi, patron saint of animals and all things related to the environment. Francis is recognized in the Catholic Church but is one of those universal figures who is beloved most everywhere. Denominations all across the Christian spectrum are partners in this effort.

***

This ecumenical season of creation makes me stop and think about how seasons come and go: They cycle and repeat throughout our lives in an unfolding spiral as time presses forward. It makes me realize that God has given us a model of how we ought to utilize the materials on this earth. We should model our use of the earth's resources according to the cycle of seasons that the earth has shown us.

Pete Seeger shows us a way forward:

“If it can’t be . . . 

reduced, reused, repaired, rebuilt, refurbished, refinished, resold, recycled or composted,

then it should be . . . 

restricted, redesigned or removed from production.”

—Pete Seeger

As you can see from the list, Pete Seeger's recommendations make good sense. The item that gives us the biggest bang for our buck is to "reduce." Simply do not use excess materials in the first place. For example, when it comes to clothing, reduce the amount of clothing you buy. For the clothing you do own, reduce unnecessary washing. Both of these options save on money, chemical pollution, energy usage and your time which could be better spent elsewhere. "Recycling" is a wonderful thing, and I am an avid recycler myself. But recycling is what we do when all else fails. This is even more true lately when there is such a poor market for recycled materials at the present moment.

I believe that Seeger is trying to get us to think about patterns of consumption, decay and rebirth. Everything needs to be part of a sustainable, ongoing cycle. If we have created items that only have a single use and have not devised a way to either re-use them or return them back to the ecosystems from which they came, then we should not be producing those items. Humans have always been part of a sustainable relationship with the earth, but in recent decades our consumption has far outpaced the earth's ability to absorb and mask our impact. Looming global climate change is the most egregious consequence of this, and the predictions are dire.

Pope Francis articulated a similar thought this way:

But our industrial system, at the end of its cycle of production and consumption, has not developed the capacity to absorb and reuse waste and by-products. We have not yet managed to adopt a circular model of production capable of preserving resources for present and future generations, while limiting as much as possible the use of non-renewable resources, moderating their consumption, maximizing their efficient use, reusing and recycling them. moved from production.”

Pope Francis, Laudato Si, Chapter 1, Paragraph 22

Any farmer can tell you that whatever comes out of the earth will eventually go back to it. A farmer is wise to take care of the soil, air and water so that farming can be sustainable. If you don't build up the soil after harvesting your crops, it won't be long before the soil is depleted and will not yield nutritious, healthy crops, anymore.

Yet, much of our industrial economy is unbalanced—too focused on producing new items. It has given far too little thought to disposal, re-use and recycling of them. I'm sometimes amazed given all the technological advances of our modern society that we have not come up with a better way of handling our trash than simply putting it all in a giant hole in the ground and covering it up. Seriously, that's what a landfill is! At some point, logic dictates that we will run out of land for this, run out of important materials or simply toxify everything. All that waste sitting in those landfills came from somewhere. It shouldn't be "waste" forever but rather allowed to be recycled or returned to the earth. That would match the patterns God has shown for how we are to be a part of nature and care for it.

Church Fire: Christian Unity Comes to the Rescue!

This reflection was shared by a Catholic pastor who lives and ministers in rural Mississippi.


My greatest experience of Christian unity happened about 12 years ago. 

It was late in the evening after a long Wednesday. I was ready for bed but reading.

There was a knock on the door. I was getting settled in and was not in the mood for visitors. 

The person announced that there was a fire! I grabbed my wallet, keys and some clothes and ran out the door, grateful for this intrusion.

Within 14 hours, the church, the rectory (where I lived) and the parish hall were completely consumed in the flames.

It was a hot August day. It never went below 90 degrees all night and was mostly over 100—and that was before adding the extra heat from the fire itself. Seven firefighters went to the hospital due to heat exposure and exhaustion. 

Despite the calamity, I was amazed to see blessings everywhere I turned. The wider Christian community responded virtually immediately:

Representatives from the Mennonite community were at the fire and helped organize relief all through the night. They brought ice water and cold towels for exhausted workers.

The next morning, the local Presbyterian Church told me:  "Our classrooms and hall are yours. We'll have to work out a schedule and lines of communication, but we can do it."

The Episcopal Church said it has an unused office for the Catholic pastor. It even has a private entrance. In time, they put a beautiful sign up.

The Methodist congregation agreed to take over duties of the local food bank that the Catholic Church had been doing.

The Disciples of Christ offered to host local AA meetings and made sure people who needed this group did not miss even one meeting in the transition.

About a dozen Baptist churches took up a collection and sent money.

A Pentecostal pastor shook my hand. When he walked away, I realized he had put $100 in my hand. I remember a conversation I had with him about a week before when he confided in me that he was hurting financially.

Months later, I found myself in need of heart surgery. This was probably due in no small part to the stress brought on by the fire and all its consequences. When I woke up from heart surgery, sitting beside me was an Assembly of God pastor—literally holding my hand and praying for me.

When we think of Christian unity (sometimes called ecumenism) we often think about it in terms of theological dialogue. We imagine representatives from different Christian groups and denominations coming to terms with our various doctrinal differences. Perhaps some of those differences are mere misunderstandings, perhaps some can be resolved through dialogue and study, and perhaps we just have to learn how to sit with the differences that we just can't figure out how to get past at this point in time.

However, the work of Christian unity is also at least partly about discipleship—living out the call of Jesus to "love one another as I have loved you" (John 15:12).

Just do it! Just get out there and love one another! 

Be Christ to one another.

Why would a group dedicated to Christian unity talk about justice?

Justice, and only justice, you shall pursue
Deuteronomy 16:20

A recent question on our Facebook page raised an issue that often comes up in our work. We hear it a lot. I'll paraphrase:

Since this page is dedicated to the pursuit of unity among Christians—especially between Catholics and evangelicals—why are you always talking about racism, immigration and so many other issues of life, dignity, justice and care for creation?

It's an extremely important question. One of the issues with unity is that people have different ideas of what it means. The very definition of "unity" itself has disunity!

If you ask someone who is an Orthodox Christian, they will probably hope your vision for Christian unity includes standing with them against the religious persecution and genocide in the Middle East that is currently devastating their churches. What kind of unity doesn't protect their very survival?

If talk to someone who is African-American, they will probably hope your vision for Christian unity includes healing the ongoing sins of racism that continues to fracture our churches and our society and leaves black bodies dead in the streets, rotting in prisons or suffering in near-perpetual poverty. What kind of unity doesn't advocate for their lives, dignity and equality?

The desperately poor people immigrating to the U.S. from Latin America are almost all Evangelical, Pentecostal or Roman Catholic Christians. If an asylum seeker is denied entry and is doomed to die on the other side of the border, then some statement resolving theological differences may not mean a whole lot to them—they aren't going to feel any warm fuzzies over church unity as they will only feel cold exclusion from (most likely) their fellow Christians. The group that steers this page is comprised of Evangelicals, Protestants and Catholics. Therefore, these are our sisters and brothers in the faith whose lives are at stake at the border. That means something.

So that is why this page and many other unity-seeking organizations eventually find that we have to be a voice for these other issues that exclude so many. The above is not an all-inclusive list, as there are definitely other issues that relate just as strongly.

We know from history that so many of the major splits in Christianity were related to—and were often a direct result of—serious differences in doctrine and theology. But what we often fail to recognize is that there have just as often been cultural, racial, ethnic, national and political reasons that have also  undergirded so many official and unofficial splits over the centuries.

I'll even take it a step father: I will go on record as to say that few splits—if any—have ever been purely theological. Every split is probably a combination of at least two of more of these factors.

Well, they say never say never, right? Given the thousands and thousands of Christian denominations, I can't say for sure that there has never been a split which hasn't been based entirely on theological grounds. However, I would suspect that even if it seemed like there were, there were also probably cultural or generational differences dovetailed into the mix somehow. Even some of the most famous splits, such as between Catholics and Lutherans in the 16th century Reformation or between the Churches of the East and West over the Chalcedonian Creed in the 5th century, may have been driven as much by different cultural approaches to language and inflection that could very well have factored heavily into what seemed like theological differences. In other words, it was like both groups were looking at the same coin, but one was describing the front and the other the back. What seemed like irreconcilable differences were perhaps more a difference in perspective rather than content. Again, I'm not suggesting that this accounts for every point of disagreement, but it has been suggested that this could be a factor—and even a major factor.]

So which are the church-dividing issues that matter most to you?  We'd love to hear your input and feedback! Leave comments here or on our Facebook page.

The UMC and the Challenge of Unity

The branches and leaves in this tree are not unlike the many
branches and denominations of Christianity.

The recent struggles in the United Methodist Church (UMC) over LGBT inclusion raise perennial questions for me:

What does it mean to be “church”? Is there a certain level of agreement that is necessary? Or is fellowship, work and worship with people of diverse viewpoints part and parcel of the necessary work that needs to be done? 

But even so, aren't there hard limits? Deal breakers?

I come from the Roman Catholic (RCC) tradition. If you expect this 2,000 year old, global behemoth of as many as 1 billion people to perfectly represent your own private, individual viewpoints as of February, 2019, you are in for some pretty quick disappointment. I have not yet met a single person who is perfectly on board with every teaching. Nevertheless, you just can't put your life on hold just because the RCC doesn't change. That doesn't stop conservatives, liberals and everyone in between from complaining, however.

The fact that this body changes very slowly is one of its strengths--and some would argue one of its weaknesses. The RCC can quickly remind you that it’s not all about you. This can be a good thing--and a bad thing. You have a choice as a Catholic: You can give up because the church is not the way you want it to be (i.e. made in your image) or you can roll up your sleeves and get to work right here and right now. Bloom where you're planted. It will never be perfectly as you want it, and perhaps it shouldn't be. It forces you out of your self-contained universe. Even if it were to eventually change to suit you better, there is a lot of life to be lived and a lot of work to be done right now.

I'm reminded of that song lyric: "Don't surround yourself with yourself." Good advice.

Many Catholics sit with it this way: They have small body of relatively like-minded people they associate with—perhaps their school, missionary society, charitable works organization or friends and fellowship group they lean on for mutual support. But they also belong to this wider body of the whole Catholic Church. They keep at the very least their toe dipped into the larger pool while also finding that smaller group of people with whom they see eye-to-eye on most things. You end up with the peace activist sitting next to the military general at Mass on Sundays, and on Mondays they go to work against each other again. 

I'm reminded of James Joyce who said of Catholics: "Here comes everybody." Is that a strength or a weakness? Yes.

When you come to a fork in the road such as what the UMC is experiencing right now over LGBT inclusion, it is easy to justify a divorce. The pain is real. The differences in opinion are real, too. But when I look back over the 500 years of Protestantism, I wonder if all that splitting and re-splitting has gotten them anywhere. Some estimate that there are as many as 50,000 denominations! Perhaps divorce is not always the answer. Were all these breaks necessary as people simply ran out of options to stay together? Or were they the result of people who got lazy and didn’t want to be uncomfortable and learn how to sit with real differences? And where are they going with all this fracturing--is there an end game to it all? Are any of these new denominations any better than the previous ones, or are they just re-living the same ole sins and human tendencies in a new form?

Will it just keep fracturing until every single individual is his or her own "denomination"? I say this quite seriously that it may not be a bad thing to simply play out that logic to its inevitable conclusion in this way. After all, each individual already has his or her own theology regardless of which denomination they belong to. Maybe it will help Christianity arrive at a post-denominational point. We'll still need community but maybe not in the way we've been doing it, and this experiment has to play itself out this way to help us get there.

This is not to judge or begrudge anyone who feels their experiences in a particular church community are simply too painful, or the issues too serious, for them to remain. I can't weigh in on someone else's decision. People have experienced very deep wounds and abuses of all kinds, and I do not intend to make light of those in the least. "Unity" has often been used as a justification for sweeping all sorts of misbehavior and injustices under the rug while blaming the very people who are so hurt they feel forced to break away.

After all, what good is unity if you end up supporting a morality that you simply cannot condone? But on the flip side, community is fundamental to a Christian. Learning how to congregate is part of discipleship. Among may other things, it forces us to come to terms with our triggers and internal challenges, to ultimately see a world bigger than ourselves.

I know all too well the struggle and the tough choices that struggle demands. For long periods in my life, I have toggled on the razor's edge between staying or leaving my church. I debated this with myself on an almost daily basis. I was even convinced for a while that living with that tension must actually be our call rather than resolving it either way. All this to say: I get it. 

Community is unquestionably hard. Finding that gospel ideal of perfect unity in perfect diversity is an ever-elusive challenge. I've only experienced it myself in fleeting moments throughout my life. Some communities lean on the side of denying the individual for the sake of conformity. Others celebrate the individual at the expense of the group.

The fracturing of Protestantism has created smaller denominations with oftentimes like-minded people who could perhaps go further in their particular mission than they ever could if they remained within the larger parent group. Some found a safe haven after leaving a painful situation. But there's a cost that comes with that fracturing--the cost of unity and the cost of not practicing how to sit with real diversity (again, not to minimize the real efforts that people have gone through in order to prevent divisions).

People in the UMC are in pain and some are talking schism. It's painful to talk schism. Not to sound glib, but what's one more split in a long history of splintering?  After all, the UMC exists as a result of schism in the first place. Another way to look at it:  If a split in the UMC seems painful today, perhaps that can remind us how painful previous splits must have been (and perhaps still are) and awake in us a desire to mend those fences from previous splits.

Does it matter that there are others out there who call themselves "Christian" who have nothing to do with your particular group? As we ponder a potentially very painful split in the UMC, perhaps it can help us think about all the splits that have occurred in Christianity and ignite in us a desire to heal those wounds, too.

Christians Knowing Christians Without Agenda

Catholic, Methodist and Baptist: Pastors and friends.
Picture and story here.

"My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one,Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me."

(John 17:20-21)

What should we do over the fact that Christianity has been fractured into so many denominations, groups and sub-groups?  Some call these divisions a scandal. They say it's against the will of Christ himself (John 17:20-21). Other say divisions are necessary to preserve the purity of the faith. Others say it's just human nature.

A number of people want to mend these wounds and tear down these fences. We may call this an effort toward "Christian unity," or "ecumenism," or sometimes we just call it building better  "denominational relationships."

It is tempting to want to solve the whole "problem." You start asking:  How can we reconcile all differences, heal all pains and represent one unified Christianity? Does that mean everyone joins one denomination or that we all merge together into one giant church?

There may be nothing wrong with those goals. Perhaps Christ himself has something in mind for the Omega point in the future where "all who believe" are indeed "one." Perhaps we already are one in some mystical, cosmic way that only Christ can see but we can only catch mere snippets of from time to time. Even so, it sure seems unfortunate that our outward signs here on earth speak more of division and the very real wounds these divisions have caused.

Perhaps it's the realist in me that is emerging with age or the fact that I've been immersed in this work for a while now, but in my opinion the prospects for Christian unity need not be quite so bold nor immediate. This doesn't mean we quit trying. If Christ wants oneness, then it is our job to keep working for it, even if the goal seems impossible, or at the very least, very far off. In the Roman Catholic Church, recent popes and Vatican documents have all affirmed that it is part of the mission of the Church—and the duty of every believer—to do something for the unity among Christian believers. After all, miracles do happen. More has been accomplished in the last few decades than anyone would have thought possible a short while before. We have to look no further than the 1999 Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification signed by the Lutheran World Federation and the Catholic Church to see profound agreement on the single most divisive issue of the Reformation. This has since been signed on by a number of other denominations.

But a lot of people don't even want any kind of full unity that requires a single institutional church at the helm. Others are too impatient to wait or find the task too impossible. If working towards Christian unity requires someone to affirm these goals, then many will opt out of the whole process

Again, maybe it's the realist in me coming out, but perhaps we should put aside those dreamy, lofty goals. We don't have to give up on our hopes, of course, but we can maybe try a different approach. Instead, here is what I propose: 

At the very least, Christians of all denominations out to get to know each other as neighbors, friends and most importantly as people of faith. If we stumble across a wound, we an do something to try to heal it.  We can celebrate the good things we see in each other and the very real gifts that God has given to others. We can offer constructive feedback to each other when we see things that worry us—and that feedback will be heard a lot better if it comes in the context of true friendship. We can and should do the things together that we can do together.  

Maybe—just maybe—it's perfectly alright if we don't try to change each other or propose some major changes for how the church looks and behaves on earth.  But we ought to get to know each other.

Too often, people imagine an end goal of "perfect Christian unity" and find it either so threatening—or it seems so impossible—that they give up doing reasonable, friendly things in the meantime. They worry they are being asked to give up too much of their identity or beliefs to go down that road. [Just for the record, in my experience, the professionals who work for Christian unity do a great job respecting differences and do not simply gloss over them as a matter of principle, although mistakes can happen in this, but overall this is what I've found.]

We can stay in our respective churches, but we don't have to seclude ourselves in some kind of protective bunker. We shouldn't pretend that the others don't exist and create an isolated bubble for ourselves to live in. After all, we know that other Christians of other stripes most certainly do exist.  We can say "hello," acknowledge each other and get to know each other.

Is this some kind of subversive, sneaky attempt to let our guards down so the ecumenical Trojan horse can enter? Not at all. I am in fact proposing the opposite—getting to know each other without any other agenda or ulterior motive. 

Having said that, I have to admit that change is always more likely when we don't push so hard for it. The paradox is that once we truly—and I mean really and truly and genuinely—respect each other as we are that creates the space for growth, evolution and yes, perhaps even miracles. But perhaps that would all come on Christ's terms and not our own, in which case that would be a wonderful thing, no? Christ seems to work best when we get our own agenda out of the way.

But back to being the realist—I don't need or want to change you. But I ought to get to know you. After all, we both profess to follow this same guy Christ. And we inhabit the same public spaces. As a Christian, part of my responsibility is to at the very least get to know Christians of other stripes and build positive relationships, perhaps even mutually-beneficial relationships, whenever possible. Many Christians are already doing this.

And sometimes in doing this I pause and say to myself... "I actually like that you are different from me.... it gives me a chance to learn something new and see things differently." And maybe somewhere in this we find the miracle of the unity we already have—and a taste of the unity to come.

The Catholic Abuse Crisis: An Ecumenical Solution?

Pope Francis, 500 leaders from other faith traditions and 25 refugees
meet to discuss the situation of refugees. Source
Perhaps a similar model with ecumenical leaders and abuse survivors can happen?

The abuse crisis in the Catholic Church can seem overwhelming. But what if, like in so many other crises, this one has created a crack in the surface through which the healing light of the Holy Spirit can break in? What if in the midst of all this tragedy and institutional and personal failing there is an opportunity for a greater Christian witness?

What if this were a moment for ecumenism?

As Catholics, we trust that the Holy Spirit always guides the Church--we also know this Church is comprised of very fallible human beings who are capable of just about any sin that human beings are capable of committing. History has reminded us of this all too well and often. The abuse scandal in the Catholic Church reveals many failings, but I would argue that the primary failing is the inability of leaders of the institution to hold themselves accountable.

In all fairness to them, no institution is fully capable of holding itself accountable. No person can effectively police him or herself. 3rd party accountability is the norm almost everywhere else in society. That's why we have independent regularly agencies to provide oversight and correction if an organization, business or government entity develops abuses of power.  

The framers of the U.S. Constitution were well aware of this problem. This is why they established a system of checks and balances. There are three branches of government as well as a balance between federal and state power. The system is not flawless, but it has more opportunity for correction than a rigid monarchy, which requires the good fortune of having a benevolent ruler for this level of accountability, and that may be asking too much of any one person.

Maybe other Church denominations could provide the necessary oversight and checks and balances, almost like a board of directors? Catholics already do that internally in varying degrees, where different religious orders may have a role in holding members of other orders accountable in some matters, for example. There are limits to how far this can go because ultimately all Catholic organizations fall under the same bishops and pope. So why not include other denominations? 

At the local level, pastors confide in other pastors from different denominations. They may often form friendships and hold each other accountable. People may be surprised to know how well their pastors get along with pastors from different denominations. The reason is simple: There are few others who understand their work and their struggles as well as other pastors.

At the global level, the Catholic Church has had "observers" and "consultants" from other denominations from a theological standpoint. We celebrated the role of these observers at Vatican II, for example. But we've never formalized those relationships in the sense of giving these people power within the system. Those are primarily friendly relationships.

The Proposal

What if a group of perhaps Lutherans, Baptists and Orthodox were responsible for receiving abuse allegations of Catholics? What if they were the ones who kept the records and made judgments about conducting investigations or involving secular authorities? Would they be willing if we asked them?

This would follow in the spirit of the early Church. It could be like the Council of Jerusalem in Acts 15, but instead of solving theological disputes it could also settle institutional ones. This could be a true ecumenical council for the modern era. It may be what Christ intended for us all along.

This group would have to have real power and not just be a symbolic presence. Also, this would have to be done in such a way that if we ever were to offer the same service to them that we wouldn't mutually cover for each other. We certainly don't need a multi-denominational cover-up!

This would be a moment of incredible humility and trust in our fellow Christians. It may require some meaningful reflection on ecclesiology. But as Catholics, we already recognize people baptized in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit to be incorporated into the same Body of Christ, even if we don't recognize them to be in full communion to account for our differences. There is already talk of having panels of lay Catholics and secular authorities having a role in bishop accountability, so why not include leaders of other Christian denominations?

This would really show that the Catholic Church is serious about full disclosure and full accountability. It would be a moment of gospel humility to hand over this power to our fellow Christian pilgrims from different church communities. After all, if we are not willing to give up this power to control information about allegations, then it begs the question: Why not? If we want to hold onto this power, is that because we are not willing to have full disclosure? Full disclosure is, well, full disclosure.

People may worry that other denominations may try to scandalize or sabotage the Catholic Church through a mechanism like this, but honestly, folks: Can we as Catholics do any worse than what we have been doing?

To my Protestant, Evangelical, Pentecostal, Orthodox and Coptic friends--and to every other denomination under the sun--not only could this be a great Christian witness, but let's face it:  Sisters and brothers in Christ, we need you.

CLARIFICATION: It is important to add that some of these other denominations may also have a history of abuse and cover-up, as well. This post does not suggest that they are guilt free in that regard. It is only suggesting that since these denominations are outside of the power structure of the Catholic hierarchical system, they may have a far easier time being fair and making sure all charges are followed through on and leaders held accountable.

ADDED:  If you go to a party and you ended up drinking too much, you give your car keys to someone else. If you've been drinking too much over the course of your life, you join an AA program and get accountability partner(s). These are supreme acts of responsibility. it means you are taking responsibility for your actions and you are serious about being held accountable for your actions. You say, "I have a problem and I want to do better." The Catholic Church needs to do something like this. It needs to hand the car keys over to someone else, not as a statement of failure but as a supreme act of responsibility.

And also, this endeavor would be in addition to, and not instead of, other regulatory oversight such as from secular authorities, the Catholic laity, etc.