From the Salmon

Before I read Pat Robertson’s attempt at an apology on Wednesday, I was actually going to write a fairly different post. I’m not sure how I was going to flesh this out, but I originally intended to explore the question of whether Pat’s call for assassination was really all that different from a pastoral or otherwise Christian support for the preemptive invasion of Iraq.

In the end, I’m glad I wrote the post that I did, particularly since Caleb at Mode for Caleb addressed a similar question much more articulately than I would have.

Caleb starts with an even more interesting observation:

I also think, however, that these kinds of public pile-ons, where everyone and his dog hastens to agree that so-and-so is a dog, have limited value. Yes, Robertson’s remarks deserve to be — must be — condemned by every right-thinking person. But that’s just the thing: because everyone agrees about that, condemning Robertson’s remarks easily becomes a reassuring kind of confirmation that “I am a right-thinking person.” And when that happens, when criticism becomes so unanimous and overweening that the offender stands alone with his sin, the ability to examine ourselves quickly weakens.

Now, while our cats have yet to register their opinion (maybe dogs are more judgmental?), I think Caleb is on to something here. As we sputter our well-justified outrage, how much is due to the abhorrent nature of the violation and how much is our own attempt to prove to ourselves or to our readers that we’re somehow “better” than that?

Don’t get me wrong. When a prominent voice claiming to speak for Christianity says something so clearly contrary to Christian teaching, then it is the duty of the Church to highlight the offense and call that person to repentance. But, like Caleb suggests, I think that we need to be careful that that’s all we’re doing.

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this parable....

In joining the chorus of condemnation, are we holding a fellow Christian accountable? Are we humbly declaring to those who might think otherwise that this is not what the Church is about? Or are we exalting ourselves, thanking God that we are not like Pat Robertson?

I don’t think it’s too presumptuous to say that we all succumb to that latter instinct. In a medium that is disproportionately fueled by indignation, we often seek to define ourselves to our readers by clearly delineating how much we are not like the latest crazy politician or wacky religious figure. And, frankly, it can be a lot of fun. After all, how can you not laugh a bit at a 75-year-old man who can leg press 2,000 pounds!

But let’s not let that fun get in the way of our ability to examine our country, our church, and ourselves.

Brother Roger, who founded the Taizé community in France, was stabbed and killed during a prayer service earlier this week. I’m ashamed to say that I knew very little about this man or his community before his death.

But Meg at Bridget Jones Goes to Seminary did, for she spent time at Taizé only two months ago. Today, Meg finally wrote about Brother Roger’s death, in a post that is as confessional as it is beautiful.

Ultimately, Brother Roger’s gruesome death at the hands of this woman has been difficult for me to face head-on. I kept hoping a tidy, little theodicy would pop into being and make sense of it all. How does a man committed to God and exemplifying godly peace to the world, die at the hands of human violence? How will a community committed to reconciliation respond when the wrong is so gross and so intimate? How do I go through life in this sin-soaked world knowing that a moment and space I had trusted to be an oasis of peace has been marred by the raw evil I can acknowledge anywhere but there?

Let us be under no illusions, the entire cosmos groans with longing and expectation. Sin permeates every molecule of this world, even our most sacred spaces. Not to put too fine a theological point on it: life sucks. There are no garunteed happy endings, not even (or especially) for followers of Christ, who is the Crucified One.

And yet...

And yet.

I love those two words. Meg does, too.

Read the whole post.