Month: June 2016

… don’t fix it. That piece of homespun advice gets bandied about a lot, particularly when well-intended folks offer unwanted advice to people who are content with life. It’s also used to avoid dealing with self-sabotaging behavior when the prospect of change is too daunting, too painful or even just too inconvenient to face. My own experience is that sometimes when that expression is used we may be mistaken about what “it” is or how “it” is supposed to function.

That piece of advice came to mind while reflecting on what I wrote 2 weeks ago after the mass killing in Orlando. God had a different destiny for the shooter than the one he chose. “A human being, a child of Adam, destined to be a priest whose acts of love would weave meaning into the world, instead took up weapons…” And from a couple of paragraphs later “The priesthood of Adam has failed again of its hope.” Both of those statements imply a good deal of content and I hope to begin unpacking them here. At the same time, we dare not forget those killed and wounded in Orlando, nor let the deep wounds of individuals lost be buried under the sheer numbers of people killed by one person in a very short time. Each person who died was also destined by God to be a priest giving meaning to our world.

I’ve been referring to such actions as the Orlando killing under the heading of the “priesthood of un-meaning.” That does not mean that the killer exercised a different sort of priesthood than the victims or indeed all human beings. It is how that priesthood is acted out – does it give meaning and joy and purpose? Does it tear apart lives, destroy hope or further the brokenness of human life? One exercise of priesthood did just that at the nightclub in Orlando. But there were also many, many other acts of priesthood that occurred that evening. We know of a few of them like the bouncer who leapt through a crowd of panicking people to open a door for 60-70 patrons to escape. There were many more like first responders and victims comforting and working to save other victims. And each one of those acts were priestly acts that echoed God’s intent in creating humankind.

Even a broken priesthood can shine the light of hope through the deepest darkness. Even a broken priesthood can in some small degree heal wounds inflicted by the priesthood of unmeaning. But our acts of kindness and love and bravery and compassion cannot hide the fact that Adam’s priesthood is broken. When each act of horror occurs we can see clearly that brokenness. Yet at the same time each act of bullying in a schoolyard or a business office or a government office or a church is also the sign of a broken priesthood. Each act of abuse and betrayal is a sign of that broken priesthood. To add to the problem, human beings are capable of exercising both aspects of priesthood – blessing and unmeaning. We can exercise both acts in our relationships in the same day, even in the same hour.

Add to broken priesthood a history of anger, resentment and the feeling of powerlessness. Then mix in broken religion and an automatic weapon with a substantial clip and you have Orlando. Take those last elements away and you have abusive relationships and toxic workplaces. Yet, take away even anger and resentment and the feelings of powerlessness and you still have a broken priesthood that tries its best to bring healing good to our world and yet ever fails to fulfill its own vision.

That’s a long way around to the place I got stuck two years ago. But the getting stuck was not because we are without hope and without remedy. Rather, I was stuck because I had a hint that the remedy was so radical that I wasn’t sure I wanted to go there myself. It is time to start working on that journey and I’ll share those thoughts in a week or so.

It’s happened again. A human being, a child of Adam, destined to be a priest whose acts of love would weave meaning into the world, instead took up weapons and left — at last count — 50 dead and more than that wounded. The numbers are appalling. But to those who have lost someone they loved, there is a name and a face and a history that was killed. That person was one of 50. But he or she might have been one of 5 or one of 5,000 and the pain and the sorrow and the darkness would be the same.

The news coverage will fade quickly enough. Leaders here and abroad have expressed their sorrow, their outrage and their solidarity with all who have lost and were lost. A few politicians have said stupid things or made cynical use of tragedy. (Many people not in politics may do the same but they don’t get press coverage.) But when the press have moved on to other things and when the next tragedy happens there are still hundreds of people who will remember a name, a face and a history that is lost to them.

The priesthood of Adam has failed again of its hope. Unmeaning has been loosed upon us with echoes of the laughter of hell. Not even the new priesthood of the Christ will bring the lost back to life in our midst. Thus all who seek to exercise that new priesthood will struggle to go on in the face of the relentless tide of evil and unmeaning. But go on we must and go on we will. We will bless those within our reach with the blessing of the Christ. Following the instructions given to Aaron, we will place God’s Holy Name upon them. We will reach beyond the normal network of our relationships to bless those who react in horror and fear. And, this is the hardest part, we will bless those who curse and condemn Muslims and homosexuals and invoke the name of God over the carnage.

The priesthood of Adam may well seek to curse and condemn and judge in reaction. Those who exercise the priesthood of Christ will not be turned aside. We know the outcome of the battle against meaning and love and purpose. As the old Pentecostal preacher cried: “I took a peek at the back of the book and Jesus wins.”

I can’t recall ever being blessed by my father. It’s neither a complaint or a whine, just an observation. It could be that my father did bless me when I was an infant, but I’ve no recollection. I’ve also no blame for him. It would surprise me very much to learn that my father’s father had blessed him, even though my father was the first born son. And there’s no blame being assigned to my grandfather either. I don’t know how many generations it has been since the Church taught blessing as a Christian’s prerogative. But I do know that when I’ve asked how many people in a congregation of 100+ were ever blessed by their fathers, less than half dozen hands are raised.

Blessing is a priestly act, but it doesn’t require a priest in the sacramental/institutional sense. As Russ Parker notes in his book Rediscovering the Ministry of Blessing, blessing is more than just good wishes or nice words. It conveys the presence of God on the person being blessed. It can mark the healing of old and deep wounds. It can also restore a sense of purpose in the life of that person. Most of all, blessing is a sacramental unsaying of the curses our world loves to give. When Jesus instructs disciples to bless those who curse you he is doing more than just breaking a cycle of meeting curse with curse. He is inviting his apprentices to engage in a ministry of healing the wounds the world inflicts.

That’s good news, but there is even better news. Even when there is no specific wound to heal, when there is no curse to lift, blessing builds. That’s why I do wish my father had known he had both the authority and ability to bless. Even today, when perhaps our children are grown and the opportunity to bless in childhood has passed, it is still possible to bless our children and teach our children to bless their own. In the ministry of blessing we incarnate Christ’s new priesthood. The fallen priesthood of Adam, so often a priesthood of unmeaning, will now never have the last word.