Care with the Blue

Yesterday, I began a four-month sabbatical from my work as rector of St. John's Episcopal Church in Grand Haven, MI. Though I did not receive the Lily Clergy Renewal Grant I had hoped for, the members of my congregation have been generous in the gift of a Renewal Leave purse that will enable my family to do some enjoyable and renewable things.

But there is one thing I decided to include in my Renewal Leave plans, and that is to fully participate as First Alternate Deputy to General Convention for the Episcopal Diocese of Western Michigan. I am delighted and honored to go with our Deputation and support them however I can. Having come from the Churches of Christ (a cappella), a tradition with a polity of congregational autonomy, I very specifically chose The Episcopal Church (TEC) ten years ago when I was searching.

One of the key reasons I chose it was because the more I studied theology and church history and theology, the more I wanted to be a part of a church with some kind of connecting hierarchy and institution. The approach of Anglicanism, as it is manifested in TEC, drew me in. I appreciated its connection to the early church through apostolic succession (an oft misunderstood doctrine, this book gets closer at my own understanding than most) and also appreciated its blending of the historic role of bishops with the voice of other clergy and the laity at each level of its governance.

All that to say, I believe in General Convention. I may not always agree with it. I may get frustrated when it seems that the politics of synodical governance are getting in the way of what the Holy Spirit is doing, but I have faith in God's ability to work through synodical governance to bring about greater faithfulness... it sometimes just might take a while.

So, over the next several months, as I prepare to attend General Convention, I'm going to work through the Blue Book on this blog. (The Blue Book is the collection of reports and resolutions to be considered by General Convention. You can find it online here. If you don't know what General Convention is, I'd encourage you to read this, this, and this to help get your feet wet.)

There are other people who do stuff like this—the most well-known and respected, of course, being the incomparable Fr. Scott Gunn (see his introductory post to this year's work online here) and the less systematic and slightly more snarky Fr. Tom Ferguson (more often known as Crusty Old Dean). In no way do I have the knowledge, expertise, or experience of Fr. Gunn, Fr. Ferguson, or others who do work like this.

But I am trying to do something a little different than them.

I am intending to read the Blue Book through the lens of this blog: Care with the Cure of Souls. That is, if the work of the church is the cure of souls (expressed in the BCP as the restoration of relationship between others and God in Jesus Christ), then my own question will be how does this report or resolution further the cure of souls in our church. How are people being brought into closer relationship with God or others through this report or resolution? (To get a sense of the lens I'm trying to bring, I'd encourage you to read this older essay from Eugene Peterson about the idea of cure of souls.)

Thus, I'm calling this series of posts, with an acknowledgement that Fr. Gunn's series are often rather cleverly named, "Care with the Blue." That is, this is my own attempt to care for the work that is done by those who sent reports into the Blue Book, my own attempt to care for what those reports might mean for the life of the church and how they will impact the work of the church as we engage in the cure of souls.

If you decide to tag along with me for the ride, please do comment and share you own thoughts. I'm sure I'll get many things wrong and am hopeful that those with more experience and knowledge than I have will correct me. I'm going to write my essays without first consulting what others have said, so I reserve the right to change my mind! But I want to give you my own honest impression of each section first, before perhaps coming back in the comments and seeing how the conversation changes my own views.

Posts written thus far in the series:

Executive Council 

Joint Standing Committees

• Advocacy and Networking for Mission 
• Finance for Mission
• Governance and Administration for Mission
• Local Ministry and Mission
• World Mission

Bilateral Provincial Committees 

• A Igreja Episcopal Anglicana do Brasil
• IARCA Covenant Committee

Committees of Executive Council

• Committee on Anti-Racism
• Corporate Social Responsibility
• Historically Black Colleges and Universities
• Economic Justice Loan Committee
• Investment Committee
• Joint Audit Committee
• The United Thank Offering Board
• Assessment Review Committee

Councils of Advice

• President of the House of Deputies Council of Advice
• Advisory Committee Acting as Council of Advice to the Presiding Bishop

Standing Committee on Liturgy and Music

• Introduction and Canonical & Constitutional Changes
• SCLM Sub-Committee on the Book of Occasional Services
• SCLM Sub-Committee on the Church Calendar
• SCLM Sub-Committee on Congregational Song
• SCLM Sub-Committee on Racial Justice & Reconciliation
• SCLM Sub-Committee on Same-Sex Marriage Rites
• SCLM Sub-Committee on Revising the Book of Common Prayer

The Resurrection and irritating Christian community

Today's column in the Grand Haven Tribune, reprinted below. 

One of the interesting parts of being in a church that follows the full liturgical calendar is that Easter is actually more than one day. In the tradition of the church, the celebration of the Resurrection lasts 50 days — 10 days more than the Lenten season that precedes it.

It probably says something about modern Christianity that most of us are much more intentional about 40 days of penitence than we are about the following 50 days of celebration.

One way of extending our experience and celebration of the Paschal Feast is to spend some time reflecting on the implications of the Resurrection.

As I mentioned in my Easter sermon this past Sunday, the women in Mark’s Gospel all fled from the tomb terrified, not telling anyone. They were probably on to something, because the resurrection of Christ does indeed turn our world, our very lives, upside down — if we are willing to let it. In Christ’s death and resurrection, everything was changed.

When Christ died on the cross, the curtain that hung in the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. According to the Talmud, the curtain in the temple was 80 feet tall — meaning no one could reach that height. It was as thick as a man’s hand. When it was cleaned and rehung, it took 300 priests to do this.

Scholars estimate that it weighted 4-6 tons. That is the curtain that protected people from the danger of God’s presence, a curtain that was only passed through once a year, when the high priest made offering for the sins of the people. When Christ died, when he made his suffering the new way into God, that immense curtain in the temple was torn from top — 80 feet up — to bottom, making the Holy of Holies visible and accessible to all people.

As the author of Hebrews reminds us, “Since we have confidence to enter the sanctuary by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain (that is, through his flesh), and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us approach with a true heart in full assurance of faith.”

Through Christ’s death, we can now enter the sanctuary, we can now enter into the very presence of God. But notice, therefore, that we don’t enter alone. We don’t enter as individuals, here to claim our place with God. We enter together. We enter as a community. We enter. Not I. Not you. We.

The author of Hebrews makes this even more explicit later in chapter 10, where he writes, “And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” The community exists to “provoke one another to love and good deeds.”

What a fascinating word, provoke. The Greek word used is parosxusmon. This word means provoke in the sense of inciting or irritating something. It is the same word we get paroxysm from, a word that means a sudden attack or a violent expression of a particular emotion. In this text, the author is saying this is what you and I do to another is that we incite, we irritate each other on to good deeds.

Of course, if you have lived in Christian community, you probably know it can be pretty irritating at times. You have probably felt provoked, maybe once or twice. What is unfortunate, though, is that generally when we find ourselves irritated and provoked in Christian community, we leave to find another one, a place where we are more comfortable. We don’t mind being challenged, but we prefer to agree with the challenges we hear.

If you ask the average seeker what they are looking for in a church, “a place where I am irritated by my fellow congregants” is likely not the first thing we think of. But I wonder if it should be.

I had someone tell me that sometimes he left church on Sunday and didn’t feel very uplifted. I said, “Good. Because I don’t think the church is here to uplift you (though I hope it does that sometimes, too!). I think the church is here to make you uncomfortable so that you will reconsider your strongly held opinions — and so you will push me to reconsider my strongly held opinions — so that we may learn to love those with whom we disagree.” As the Proverb says, “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.”

That is what church is about. You are, interestingly enough, in the words of Hebrews, called to irritate your fellow congregants into being better Christians. And your pastor is called to irritate you into being a better Christian.

The only way it works, though, is if we persist through the irritation. This is why the Benedictines have a vow of stability, of remaining in one place no matter how irritated you get. Because they knew that the truth of the Gospel is that persisting in love, refusing to walk away, that all of this is actually what makes us holier people.

So, I hope you find yourself irritated at some point in these Great 50 Days of Easter. I hope that when you are irritated, you talk to the person, you remain in relationship. I hope that if you are irritated in your community of faith, you choose to persist — see if it creates greater holiness in your life, see if you help contribute to greater faithfulness in your community. It normally can, if we let the irritation soften our hearts and create humility in our spirits.

A gun owner’s call for saving lives through gun control

Today's column in the Grand Haven Tribune, reprinted below. 

I am tired. I am tired of the same debates, the same arguments, the same retreating into our respective camps that seems to follow every mass shooting that happens.

No one seems to listen to people like me — and I know I’m not alone.

I was raised in an NRA household and remain a supporter of responsible gun use and ownership, as is almost every NRA member I know. I have several guns of my own, locked in a safe, and used for sport and for hunting. I was raised in a house where my stepfather was a licensed gun dealer and so we had a room with numerous firearms. I was taught responsible gun use from a young age. I remember taking my first hunter’s safety course at the North Ottawa Rod and Gun Club.

At the same time, there seems to be a persistent refusal on the part of a good portion of our country to move forward with clear and sensible solutions to issues surrounding gun violence. All I hear is deflection after deflection after deflection. The biggest deflection from dealing with gun violence is the retreat to the Second Amendment.

“I support the Second Amendment!” I have news for you — so do I. In fact, the vast majority of the people arguing for better gun laws are also Second Amendment supporters.

Here is the key: I don’t think anyone believes in an unlimited right to bear arms. That is, no one thinks everyone should be able to own a nuclear weapon. There is a good amount of military weaponry that is not legal to own as a normal citizen. The question is not whether or not the right to bear arms should be an unlimited right; the question is where the reasonable places to draw those limits are.

There are two questions to be considered when it comes to limitations. The first is this very question of what weapons should be accessible to a citizen of the United States. The 1939 Supreme Court decision United States v. Miller ruled that the right to bear arms included arms that are “part of the ordinary military equipment” or the use of which could “contribute to the common defense.” One of the key stipulations argued by the attorneys for the U.S. was that the Second Amendment protects only the ownership of military-type weapons appropriate for use in an organized militia.

Based upon that argument, it was ruled that a short-barrel shotgun was not permitted under the Second Amendment. At the basis of the court’s decision was the belief that even though short-barreled shotguns, machine guns and silencers may have uses in military service, they are not appropriate for militia service and, thus, may be regulated.

Furthermore, that was 1939, and the technology behind guns has advanced significantly. In some ways, the courts have acknowledged this. As Brian L. Frye notes in a University of Kentucky Law School article, “Most recently, in Parker v. District of Columbia, the D.C. Circuit concluded Miller assumed the Second Amendment protects an individual right to possess and use weapons ‘of the kind in common use at the time,’ including handguns.”

So, with this judicial history, we can surely assert that automatic and semi-automatic should, at the very least, be highly regulated. High-capacity magazines which exist only for the purpose of inflicting immense casualties should, at the very least, be highly regulated. These are weapons with a technology not envisioned by the framers of the Constitution, and not even by the Supreme Court when it decided upon Miller (which also upheld the government’s ability to regulate machine guns, by the way).

This brings us to the second question of limitations — limitations on the purchaser. A Feb. 20 poll by Quinnipiac University has found that universal background checks are supported by an astounding 97 percent of Americans. Furthermore, 83 percent of Americans believe in a mandatory waiting period for gun purchases. Every single person who wishes to purchase a firearm should be subject to a background check and a mandatory waiting period — including sales between private parties.

And that background check should include a clear restriction on gun ownership for anyone convicted of domestic violence or under any sort of restraining order related to domestic violence. Women in the United States are 16 times more likely to be shot and killed than are women in other developed nations. If there is a gun involved in a domestic violence situation, the likelihood of the woman being killed increases five times. In an average month, 50 women are shot to death by an intimate partner. Though our current database has blocked more than 300,000 sales to domestic abusers, those abusers are able to avoid the background check by purchasing through a private party or at a gun show. States that require background checks on all handgun sales see 47 percent fewer women shot to death by an intimate partner.

This is not only a question of background checks. Laws must be created — and enforced — that force those who can be shown to pose a danger to relinquish their firearms until the court can be shown otherwise. Some laws like this are in the works, but only 15 states require abusers subject to final domestic violence restraining orders to turn in their guns.

We must do better as a society. I know that we will never stop all mass killings. I know that gun control will not solve the problem of anger, violence and division that infects our society. But sensible gun regulation will decrease the number of mass killings. It will save the lives of women and children. And it will not be an onerous burden upon the average law-abiding citizen.

It’s time for every American — particular members of the National Rifle Association — to stop buying what the NRA and the gun lobby is selling. Let’s wake up and make our society safer. It can be done, and the vast majority of us already agree on the next steps. We must simply refuse to be silenced until those steps are taken.

Polish ~ In Memory of William Kenneth Stewart.

Ken Stewart with my sisters,
Amy on the left and Alicia on the right.

The following post was originally written nearly a decade ago, on my old blog. It later worked its way into my book, Scribere Orare Erat. My grandfather, Ken Stewart, who I talk about in this essay, died this afternoon. He is now reunited with my grandma, Dorothy, who died this past August.... though they had long by separated in mind (though not in heart) after she developed dementia. I pray that God's love now envelopes and heals them both. I am profoundly grateful for the gift of having Ken Stewart as a grandfather, for the many things he taught me—most importantly about the love of family, the love of Church, and the love of Scripture. May he rest in peace and rise in glory. 

And if you are ever in Corunna, Michigan, take a look at the building on the corner across the street from the courthouse. He finally did sell it, and the awning now bears the name "The Ken & Dorothy Stewart Building." 

I come from a shoe family.

My mother's father's business for years and years was a shoe store. Actually, I know it as the shoe store. I believe all of his kids worked in it at one time or another. When I was a small child, my parents were probably about as well off as most parents that have kids in their early twenties (which is to say, we weren't wealthy). But I never lacked for shoes. I always had a good pair of shoes, even from the time I was just a toddler. 

My dad worked in that store, I believe it was where he discovered his knack for selling things. Around the time I was 4 or 5, he traveled across the state to West Michigan to work at a big shoe store in Grand Rapids. We came with him and my family lived in West Michigan for the rest of growing up years, right up until I moved back to south eastern Michigan to go to college in Rochester Hills. My dad moved on from shoes to cars, and my family gradually spread away from west Michigan. Except for my younger sister, who steadfastly remains in Grand Rapids. That's just the way she is, and it's one of the things I love and admire about her. 

But my grandfather, the one who owned the shoe business, never moved. It's almost as if the earth spun so fast that the rest of us slid to other places, but he remained right in Corunna, a small town outside of Flint. He closed the shoe store. I have the picture of the last day it was open somewhere. Everyone standing together in one big group as a chapter in the Stewart family life ended. Grandpa turned the place into a consignment shop for years. When I was a teenager, he'd let me sit behind the register and ring people up, paying a foolish child a couple dollars to do something I thought was great fun. I was paid almost literally by the hour and every few dollars I made I'd run down the street to the Freeway pharmacy/convenience store and buy myself something. Candy. A toy gun. That money burned a hole in my pocket and wasn't lasting long. 

He closed the consignment store too, and has tried several times to sell the whole building and be done with it. 

He's 84 now, and he shouldn't have to mess with things like that. But it's seems like a penny that's hard to lose. I don't know what's going on with the building now, but I know Grandpa is right where he's always been: next to Grandma Dorothy (he calls her "Dot"). They're at their house just a few miles from the old store. Same house. Same house that seemed so gigantic when I was a child and still looms large in my mind and in my heart. 

After my first year of seminary in west Texas, when my theological world began shifting and before I had gotten used to living a whole country away from my family, I went to see my grandparents. I'd been in Michigan for that preaching conference Rochester used to host and spent my last evening and day up at their house in Corunna. You remember the story, I wrote about it earlier. I wrote about riding on the back of my grandfather's motorcycle across the roads of Shiawassee County. 

But there's a part of that visit with Grandpa Ken and Grandma Dorothy I didn't include in that post. I had mentioned to Grandpa about how after a year in Texas I was itching to buy some cowboy boots. He said he had a pair he didn't wear anymore, and that I could have them if they fit and if I wanted them. 

Always a shoe man, he knew the first question was whether or not they fit. Not whether or not you wanted them. I tried them on and they fit perfectly. He took a look at them and said they'd need a good polish. I gave them back and we went into his office, next door to his bedroom in the house. He pulled out his old shoe polish kit. I sat on the floor and he sat on the edge of the coffee table in the office and took one of the boots. He cleaned the dirt and dust off of it first. Then, opening the can of Kiwi, he used a small round brush and started working the polish into the leather. 

I'd polished a pair of shoes before. Both my mom and my dad made sure I knew how to do that. But a boot is a bigger thing to polish. I watched my Grandpa work the polish into both boots, then use the longer brush to begin to buff them, finishing the shine with a cloth. He was careful, but not slow. You could see that his arms had done this work several times over the years. While he polished he explained to me why he preferred boots like these: Red Wings. He talked about how they last so long and were of such good quality. In fact, he said, he'd bought these particular boots in 1981, the year I was born. When he was done he set them down next to each other and they shined like brand new. 

These boots were a quarter of a century old and they shined like brand new. 

I still wear my grandpa's boots. I wore them all throughout my time in Texas and kept wearing them when I moved to Tennessee. I don't know what Bethany thought about the Michigan boy wearing boots in middle Tennessee when I met her, but she married me anyway. I wore those boots for our engagement pictures and brought them with me when we moved to the Washington, DC area. They are still my favorite footwear. After almost 30 years they're perfectly broken in. When I put them on they feel like home. 

I polished those boots this morning and thought about my Grandpa. I closed my eyes and pictured him working that polish along the boot as he explained the ways of boots and shoe polish to me. Over the years of my life, the brush of his life has slowly worked polish into my own. Life has scuffed me sometimes, but he showed me where to find God's polish: in my family and in a heart that desires God above all else. And so I still work that brown polish into my boots. I still work the polish of grace into my life. And neither my boots nor my soul have worn out yet. 

Almighty God, with whom still live the spirits of those who die in the Lord, and with whom the souls of the faithful are in joy and felicity: We give you heartfelt thanks for the good examples of all your servants, who, having finished their course in faith, now find rest and refreshment. May we, with all who have died in the true faith of your holy Name, have perfect fulfillment and bliss in your eternal and everlasting glory; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The sin behind the current supposed tax reform

Today's column in the Grand Haven Tribune, reprinted below.

This past weekend, at 2 a.m., the U.S. Senate passed a nearly 500-page bill to reform our nation’s tax system.

The process to pass this bill was one of the most rushed in decades, with no substantive hearings. The version that was voted on in the early morning hours had handwritten notes that are almost entirely illegible.

The Joint Committee on Taxation and the Congressional Budget Office note that by 2027 those making $40,000 to $50,000 a year will pay a combined $5.3 billion more in taxes. At the same time, those earning more than $1 million will wind up with a $5.8 billion tax cut. By that time, most households which earn less than $75,000 a year will wind up with a tax increase.

Several independent analyses have found that the bill will add more than $1 trillion to the deficit — even after accounting for increased economic growth. According to a Reuters/Ipsos poll, nearly half of all Americans who are aware of the bill are opposed to it, up from 41 percent in October. Only 29 percent of those surveyed said they actually support the legislation.

I truly do believe that this bill will come back to haunt Republicans who are up for re-election in 2018. Don’t get me wrong, the fundamental concept that is supposedly behind the law (a lowering of the corporate tax rate to 20 percent) is a concept I actually support. The problem is that this bill accomplishes a lowered corporate tax rate on the backs of the poor and middle class while also providing significant tax cuts to the wealthy. I believe the more people feel the implications of this bill in their own lives, the even more unpopular it will become.

So, I am opposed to this bill as a fiscal conservative. I’m opposed to this bill from an economic standpoint because, though it may help some parts of the economy, many economists agree that there are much more effective ways $1.5 trillion could be used to encourage economic growth.

But, as a Christian priest, I want to talk about the moral implications of this tax bill.

In the eighth century, the prophet Amos wrote to a people who believed they were doing fine. The tensions between the northern and southern kingdoms of Israel and Judah had lessened. Trade relations were favorable with the Phoenician merchants bringing luxurious goods to the land and many in Israel became very wealthy. Even religion seemed to be going well, with people participating actively in worship.

But the shepherd and farmer Amos knew that the supposed peace and prosperity were a thin veneer over a profound societal evil. The wealthy moved the economy in ways that would increase the overall wealth of the country, but this came on the backs of the poor. So, for example, they worked to grow more lucrative wine and olive oil, leading to less diversification in agriculture. This made it harder for peasant farmers to feed themselves and their flocks.

In times past, when people entered economic calamity, those in their community would assist them with interest-free survival loans. Now, however, the wealthy were issuing those loans with increasing rates of interest that made it impossible for the poor to get out of debt and reclaim their lives. The lands of the poor would be used as collateral — and then, when the poor couldn’t pay, the wealthy would take the lands, leading to the concentration of wealth and lands in a very few hands.

The free market was at work, and it decimated the poor and brought even more wealth to the rich.

So Amos writes to the wealthy and religious, “I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt-offerings and grain-offerings, I will not accept them. … But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” He calls out their sinful treatment of the poor, arguing that they are “buying the poor for silver and the needy for a pair of sandals.”

With this current legislation, the poorest of the poor — those who make less than $10,000 a year — will see assistance from the government decrease by $530, while those whose households with multimillion dollar incomes will get $21,700 back through decreased taxation. As the individual mandate is gutted — with no concrete reform to our health care industry — premiums will go up by an estimated 10 percent, and now there will be less health care subsidies for those who need them. The money saved by eliminating health care subsidies for those earning less than $40,000 is about $94.4 billion. That number is unsettling close to the $91.7 billion in tax cuts to those making more than $1 million a year.

The wealthy, who have consistently seen income growth over the past several decades, are getting a windfall while the poor and struggling middle class are receiving less assistance from the government and, in many cases, actually paying more in taxes. All of this is happening while the deficit is also increased by more than $1 trillion.

This bill is a sinful attack upon the poor. It is built upon the greed of a culture that wants to believe “my money” is for me. It entirely lacks a sense of cooperation for the good of society. If the Republican leadership truly believes that a lowered corporate tax cut will grow the economy, let them pay for it through returning income tax rates for the wealthy to previous levels. Not only can the wealthy afford to pay increased rates, if the economy does grow they will be the ones seeing the impact most quickly and clearly.

The bill is not yet final because the House and Senate versions must be reconciled. And so it is all the more essential that people of faith — people who know how often in Scripture God condemns societies that help the wealthy at the expense of the poor — to speak up and urge its defeat.

Republicans will feel the effects of this legislation in the 2018 election. But we, as a society, will bear the moral burden for this legislation unless we do something to stop it.

Remembering death, sanctity, and the Fall Holy Days

Today's column in the Grand Haven Tribune, reprinted below.

I was in college when the television show “Six Feet Under” came out on HBO. I don’t remember who first turned me on to it, but I remember watching it on DVD through Netflix. And I remember that I was hooked on the very first episode.

The show itself tells the story of a family who owns a funeral home, interspersing the drama of the characters’ lives with that of people who die at the beginning of each episode.

For me, the show became a powerful meditation on life and death. I often say that the show did more to help me come to terms with the nature of death and dying than any class I took in college or in seminary.

I think one of the reasons the show was so powerful for me — and proved to be such a critical success — was that it acknowledged the way our society has anesthetized death and dying. In times not that long ago, when someone died, it was the family who would wash the body. The person would lie in state in the home as friends and relatives came to visit. The funeral liturgy was an acknowledgment of the grief caused by the separation of death and the reception afterward (often a wake) was the place where people would then gather to tell stories about the person who had died. After the funeral, people would continue to visit the grave because they usually lived most of their lives within traveling distance of where their loved ones were buried.

So much of that has changed now. Much of the current industry surrounding death and dying seems at times to be an attempt to feign continued life. Cosmetic work in the funeral industry seeks to give the appearance that the departed is only sleeping. We have taken the whole length of various rituals surrounding grief and compressed them into one event: the Memorial Service at the Funeral Home, where professionals care for the body, enable a visitation at the funeral home if the family desires, and then hold a memorial service right there. Many contemporary burial customs involve not actually burying the body at the cemetery, but leaving the casket above ground, hiding the dirt underneath a green carpet so that we don’t have to think about what happens next.

Now, I want to be clear, our own local funeral homes are excellent institutions, run primarily by local people who strive to provide support in a time of grief and pain. In many ways, though, they have to operate in and among a society that increasingly wishes to deny the realities of death. Their work to help people through the death of a loved one is admirable.

All of these realities are why I find this time in the traditional church year to be a deeply meaningful time in my own life. In the same way that Maundy (or Holy) Thursday, Good Friday and the Great Vigil of Easter on Holy Saturday are known as the Great Triduum (or Great Three Days), so this time in the fall is often seen as its own Triduum.

Last night, commonly known as Halloween, derives its name from All Hallows’ Eve; or, in modern English, All Saints’ Eve. That is, Oct. 31 is the eve of the Feast of All Saints Day on Nov. 1. It is a time that was traditionally spent in prayer and preparation for the great feast.

All Saints’ Day on Nov. 1 is the day in which the great Communion of Saints is celebrated. This is not, as some think, all those who have died. Rather, this feast developed as a way to acknowledge that there are a great many more saints — people whose lives manifest the full transformative power of God’s grace — than there will ever be recognized on any calendar of saints.

Thursday is All Souls’ Day, is the day in which the church remembers all those who have died. It is traditional on All Souls’ Day to have a Requiem Eucharist — that is, a service of Holy Communion in which we pray for all those who have died, continuing to commend them to the care and love of God. For many people, attending the Requiem Eucharist on All Souls’ Day is a tremendous opportunity for healing, particularly when the death was recent.

At my own parish, our experience of this fall Triduum has been deepened by our Latino members. Now, on the Sunday before this day, our Latino and Anglo members gather together in our side chapel to make a Día de los Muertos altar — an altar to celebrate the Day of the Dead (the above-mentioned All Souls’ Day on Nov. 2). We decorate the altar and place upon it pictures of our loved ones. It is a common custom to leave small gifts on the altar — pieces of their favorite food or drink — as a gesture of love and care.

All of the older traditions of the church around these days — traditions that have developed differently in many different cultures — are ways in which we honestly acknowledge the painful reality of death, the loss and grief that is natural when someone we love leaves this mortal plain. And yet, these traditions proclaim the Christian hope that life is only changed in death — it is not ended.

So, we celebrate All the Saints of the church, knowing that their examples continue to inspire us, rejoicing that they now exist in the presence of the God they served. We remember all those who have died on All Souls, the Day of the Dead. We pray for them now just as we prayed for them when they are alive — because we know they have not ceased to exist, rather their life and journey has simply changed.

We are invited by the church to observe these days as a bold proclamation of our Christian hope and as an expression of our longing for the day when all of creation, all those who have died and who have lived, are finally bound together in the love of God.

Patriarchy, privilege and the #MeToo movement

Today's column in the Grand Haven Tribune, reprinted below.

Over the past few days, I have been seeing two very small words in my social media feed that carry tremendous weight: “Me too.”

The movement to post these words seems to have started Sunday, when actress Alyssa Milano tweeted: “Suggested by a friend: If all the women who have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote ‘Me too’ as a status, we might give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem.” It began as a response to the news reports of Harvey Weinstein, the Hollywood producer who lost his job, wife, and membership in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences when a wave of allegations arose accusing him of sexual misconduct.

On Sunday, when I watched the status posts beginning to spread, I told my wife that I was unsure of how to respond. On one side, it seemed like a powerful way to raise awareness. On the other side, a part of me worried that the distinction between sexual assault and sexual harassment might be lost by this sort of activism, maybe even causing pain to victims of assault. I wondered if social media posts like this could make an impact on the myriad problems related to issues surrounding the way men treat women.

I then asked my wife if I she thought I was wondering these things because of the patriarchal position, the perspective in which I live, given my gender. She said that was a tough question.

Now, several days later, I think I know the answer.

Yes.

Yes, any questions I have about this movement arise from my own patriarchal perspective. My very hesitancy at listening carefully to the voices of women from around my social network betrays the pervasive nature of patriarchy, how very hard it so often is for women to be truly heard by men when it comes to questions of sexual harassment and assault. I am complicit in that systemic reality and I have simply not done a good-enough job repenting of that complicity and seeking to be a better man.

So, the first thing I want to say is that I am so sorry.

I am sorry that a tidal wave of #MeToo posts has not provoked more shock and sadness, more contrition and desire for action in the men who have seen them. I’m sorry that men are often so unaware of what it is like to live like a woman in this society that we would be surprised that so many women have had this experience. I’m sorry that our first experience — my first experience — isn’t always to listen. I’m sorry that more of us don’t realize a culture that permits harassment is one in which assault also thrives.

Perhaps you’ve seen the image of a sailor passionately kissing a nurse during a parade celebrating the end of the Second World War. Perhaps you’ve thought how romantic it was.

It wasn’t. That is a photo of Greta Zimmer Friedman, a dental assistant who was grabbed that day by a sailor and kissed. As Friedman said in a 2005 interview with the Library of Congress, “It wasn’t my choice to be kissed. The guy just came over and grabbed! That man was very strong. I wasn’t kissing him. He was kissing me.”

That picture is an image of an unwanted physical assault upon a woman. But our culture is so blind that, to this day, many laud it as a playful example of American exuberance. It is actually a devastating example of culture’s treatment of women.

In “The Macho Paradox,” author Jackson Katz tells the story of drawing a line down a chalkboard, sketching a male symbol on one side and a female on the other, and then asking men, “What steps do you guys take, on a daily basis, to prevent yourselves from being sexually assaulted?” He says that the men sit there awkwardly, unsure of what to say except maybe to make a joke.

Then he asks women the same question. The answers immediately pour forth.

“Hold my keys as a potential weapon. Look in the back seat of the car before getting in. Carry a cellphone. Don't go jogging at night. Lock all the windows when I sleep, even on hot summer nights. Be careful not to drink too much. Don't put my drink down and come back to it; make sure I see it being poured. Own a big dog. Carry Mace or pepper spray. Have an unlisted phone number. Have a man's voice on my answering machine. Park in well-lit areas. Don't use parking garages. Don't get on elevators with only one man, or with a group of men. Vary my route home from work. Watch what I wear. Don't use highway rest areas. Use a home alarm system. Don't wear headphones when jogging. Avoid forests or wooded areas, even in the daytime. Don't take a first-floor apartment. Go out in groups. Own a firearm. Meet men on first dates in public places. Make sure to have a car or cab fare. Don't make eye contact with men on the street. Make assertive eye contact with men on the street.”

Every single day women have to make a myriad choices because our culture has conditioned men to treat them as objects, as things that can be coerced to serve the pleasure of men. Whether it is as seemingly innocent as complimenting a woman at work on how good she looks (instead of perhaps complimenting her on her excellent work and insight) or whether it is as pernicious as using your position, physical strength, or even just your demeanor to make unwanted advances with a woman — no matter what, it is wrong. It has created a world where strong, powerful, vibrant women live with a shame, sadness, anxiety or pain that should not be theirs to bear.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry that every man is not only saying I’m sorry but is also working actively to monitor his own thoughts, behaviors and words, and asking how he may be complicit in this reality.

As men, we must do better. Every single #MeToo should make us sick to our stomach, should make us immediately reflect on our own lives, should make us the first to stand up when a woman has the courage to speak truthfully about her experience. Every single #MeToo should be met by a resolve not only to listen but actually to hear about these experiences — and to ask how we can dismantle this sin-soaked system.