Monday, 28 March 2016

Viola Desmond, Suffering and Redemption

Viola Desmond, Suffering and Redemption

“…upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed.”
Isaiah 53:5

Holy Week has begun. We begin to consider with our minds and participate though our liturgies the great mystery of the suffering of Jesus. The word suffering does not cross my lips easily. I only confront the reality of suffering in our wonderful but deeply wounded world on my knees. There is too much suffering. I can only seem to think about these things on my knees. It is far too simplistic for me, a healthy, wealthy man blessed with a healthy family to consider these things without an overabundance of gratitude for today’s daily portion of breath, health and peace. O Lord have mercy on us all.

In this short reflection I will consider a very narrow aspect of suffering. I want to consider the power that explodes as a result of unjust suffering.

What is an example of unjust suffering? Well, there are so many but since Rev Dr. Lennett Anderson and his church family are being dragged into the bowels of unjust suffering through the actions of Sobeys I will briefly discuss one who knows unjust suffering – Viola Desmond.

After her car broke down in New Glasgow, Nova Scotia in 1946, Viola Desmond, a Canadian of African descent, purchased a ticket to a local movie theatre while awaiting repairs. She had no idea that the seating area on the main floor was reserved for whites only. She suffered the indignity of being dragged out of the theatre by police, spent a night in jail, charged with defrauding the government and fined $20. Through all the indignity that followed Viola Desmond helped to raise the awareness of the reality of segregation in Canada through her suffering – her unjust suffering.

I would like to suggest that Viola Desmond, precisely because of the unjust suffering she endured, helped free others from suffering. Just think of the many in my generation and today’s young people who are not as shackled to racism as was Viola. Her unjust suffering enabled the freedom of others from victimization. It is not perfect but it helped.

Jesus of Nazareth was innocent. He suffered unjustly. Christian theology has argued since the first century that His suffering, the only innocent human being who ever lived, enabled the freedom of all from the shackles of sin, guilt, shame and fear. He did something that no one else, no saint, no social action, no disciple can do. His innocent suffering saved us all.

The law cannot contain the explosive power of true justice.

Every once in a while we get a glimpse of the power of unjust suffering, just as we did in 1946 with Viola Desmond and just as we are now as children of God carry placards decrying the unjust treatment of a woman by Sobeys. The law cannot contain the explosive power of true justice.

Let us pray for justice.
Let us act with justice.

Always.

Friday, 18 March 2016

Descendants of Freedom

They answered him, ‘We are descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, “You will be made free”?’ (John 8:33)

A couple years ago I read Desmond Tutu’s book No Future Without Forgiveness wherein he not only discussed the individual and community healing that can flow through forgiveness but he made no bones about its messiness. Forgiveness is tough work.

“Forgiving and being reconciled to our enemies or our loved ones are not about pretending that things are other than they are. It is not about patting one another on the back and turning a blind eye to the wrong. True reconciliation exposes the awfulness, the abuse, the hurt, the truth. It could even sometimes make things worse. It is a risky undertaking but in the end it is worthwhile, because in the end only an honest confrontation with reality can bring real healing. Superficial reconciliation can bring only superficial healing.”  - Desmond Tutu
 If you are looking for quick, neat and tidy solutions, forgiveness may not be the first word that crosses your mind; it may be something closer to revenge. Revenge, or the instinct to desire revenge, comes from a deep innate place of justice – a deep yearning for justice to be done. Surely we can have some measure of empathy for the anguish and bitter hatred expressed by victims of hideous crimes. We want to see justice done – and quickly please. We seek justice; this is good.

Sadly, it is likely not too difficult for us to image mass deportation, war and even genocide. It has been all over the news during my lifetime alone. The Psalmists lived through such a time of exile and hated their captors. Their land had been conquered, language despised, culture ridiculed, sacred places of worship and community gatherings destroyed, and vessels used for religious rites desecrated during drunken parties. The feverish pitch of the visceral desire for revenge, and a yearning for divine justice is expressed throughout the Psalms. These yearnings exist today by many peoples.

Psalm 139 is a staple for those who seek the comfort of being fully know and fully loved in spite of sin. It has moments of a mysterious divine gentleness in being intimately known and sings out in amazement and joy that “such knowledge is too wonderful for me.” Yet, it quickly turns on the issue of justice with a guttural desire for their oppressors to be slain. “Do I not hate them, O Lord…I hate them with perfect hatred; I count them my enemies.” And just as quickly as the psalm turned toward the pain and delight of revenge it turns back in surrender to a just God. “Search me, O God, and know my heart…see if there is any wicked way in me and lead me in the way everlasting.”
The appeal is to a God of eternal justice. As a follower of Jesus I must confront the reality that divine justice is intimately bound up in forgiveness as an enabler of perfect freedom. Forgiveness frees individuals to heal and to participate in authentic community. Forgiveness has the power to liberate us from inner turmoil, cultural hurts and systems of injustices. It is messy work but forgiveness powerfully enables healing.

As I reflect on the reintegration of prisoners back into community I often think about justice, community safety and hope. I would like you to consider a reality many prisoners experience - they are outsiders in a world of insiders. They come to see that, to quote one man, “I was a prisoner long before I went to jail.” This is not to lessen the reality of the crime and the sometimes horrendous consequences on the victim. It is, however, to suggest that sometimes we come to see ourselves as slaves of a freedom-depriving macro system. And we realize we don’t like being slaves. A slave is a prisoner to some power dynamic, craving, insecurity, injustice or false god in society. To see oneself as stuck in a slave-master relationship with someone or something is to plant a seed of injustice and a desire for justice. Slavery is a false identity imposed on another by coercion or in some cases simply societal norms. Slavery is life-depriving. The truth is that we are set free and the sooner we learn to walk in freedom the sooner we can deepen in the truth of justice. Seeing oneself freed from the shackles of slavery is the starting point for authentic healing.

Freedom is not a birthright but a revealed and learned identity.

We become more ourselves by participating in the lives of others. Yes, it is messy work, but should that surprise us? Surely we can admit that we all have our messy bits on the inside. Learn to forgive yourself, to be merciful to yourself and it becomes easier to forgive others and to offer mercy to the other. This is the building blocks of the common good, our collective home, our community and we will surely get glimpses of the Kingdom of God as we begin lifting these building blocks.

A dear friend of mine is a crack addict who has been clean for some time now. He does not take a healthy, drug-free day for granted and he knows the next craving could be just around the corner. He knows the feeling of living out of an identity in exile, a slave in a foreign land. He also gets glimpses from time-to-time of a freedom born out of his true identity and he knows the power of an enemy which deprives him from living out of this true identity and true nature. He knows this voice of guilt, shame and fear. He also knows that every day of walking in the image and likeness of his true identity allows the place of exile to feel more distant; it becomes a place to which he no longer wants to return. This personal journey of “slavery” to “freedom” involved going to prison and the embrace of a forgiving community who are as interested in holding themselves accountable as they are in holding the other accountable.


We have a tremendous capacity to keep ourselves busy. Maybe we can find a little time to delve into the messy reality of forgiveness. I think our freedom is somehow bound up in forgiveness.

Sunday, 13 March 2016

Flesh in...

“And the Word became flesh and lived among us…”
John 1:14

I don’t know very much about much. I do know that I have bumbled around plenty. Some bumblings have been of the focused sort and some, well, not so much…  None was necessarily directionless as I have learned plenty in rabbit holes I really didn't think I needed to explore. I am thankful that my spiritual formation, as angelic as some moments have been, has always seemed to force me into a more profound earthy reality. I am convinced that spirituality and humanity should not be separated.

I remember walking along Quinpool Road when Julia was about five years of age. I did my best to protect my daughter from hearing the vulgarity of a very drunk homeless man as we walked by. I admit my primary motivation was a desire to protect my daughter from his tirade of insults directed toward passerbys.

Julia asked, “Why is he like that, daddy?” to which I bumbled to find a half-suitable answer when a moment of self-possessed illumination caused me to say, “I think it’s because he doesn’t have anyone in his life who loves him.” My reply to her came with a certain sense of self-satisfaction as I just spewed out what I thought was a clever, fitting answer which would surely satisfy a little girl.

This sense of self-satisfaction quickly, and entirely, evaporated when Julia responded, “But, daddy, I love him.” She totally unravelled my new-found, detached spiritual thesis of love and replaced it with a deep, personal intimacy of love. She revealed my answer as one of detached spiritual nonsense void of the humanness, mundane dirt and grime of authentic spirituality.

Out of the mouth of this babe came the truth that the incarnation forces us into a world of “sinners and tax collectors” armed only with an abundance of subsistence; a daily portion of grace. Being fully human is to embrace the spirituality of every aspect of the human condition; a condition with plenty of crap, to put it mildly. If we ignore any part of the human condition we stand to give power to either spiritual blindness or some sort of self-delusion.

Most surprising for me in my bumblings is that any “progress” I seem to make spiritually results in the very notion of progress being shattered by a deeper understanding of my brokenness. I really can’t claim much success, or progress, based on my own merit. This, of course, heightens the very scandal of the incarnation and the crucifixion in my own mind as I come to see that I am more dependent on my daily portion of grace that I care to fully admit to myself. That I meet an even deeper outpouring of acceptance amid this state of dependence is, paradoxically, not to deepen in despair but to deepen in the freedom of grace. It is to come alive. It is to bask in grace. It is to know love and to be set free.

I have come to see that every moment of spirituality is a deeper call to humanity.

I think this is the way of the cross.

“Christianity has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and not tried.”

GK Chesterton