looking for justice beyond the headlines
Polygamists are claiming victory even as they are publicly disavowing the practice this week. Warren Jeff’s highly publicized conviction in Utah was overturned by the state Supreme Court based upon the trial judge’s faulty instructions to the jury.
Perhaps this is as good a time as any to point out that I don’t have a particular beef with polygamy. I don’t understand it really, but I do understand that for much of the biblical narrative polygamy was the norm not the exception. Multiple wives had a particular role and function in the ancient world and within the extended family structure covenant could be experienced and honored. In our world of nuclear family isolation where even the front porch has caved to the attached garage, the familial opportunities of polygamy (ala HBO’s Big Love) certainly warrant on open mind.
But Jeff’s conviction was not for polygamy. His conviction was as an accomplice to rape. He was arrested, tried and convicted not for loving multiple wives but for forcing young girls into sexual relationships with older men. This case is not about freedom of religion or respect of differing family values but about the fundamental right of children to grow up safe from sexual, physical, and emotional abuse.
Jeff’s conviction was based on the testimony of child who was forced by Jeffs to consummate marriage with an adult male. Tragically this too was not uncommon in the ancient world; thankfully we have the privilege of understanding now the vulnerabilities of childhood that species survival didn’t afford before the Common Era. Although our criminal justice system lags behind our scientific awareness, our scientists are now proving what mothers have been saying all along. Teenage girls (and boys for that matter) may look like adults and may even at times act like adults, but their brains are not yet fully formed and their hearts and bodies deserve our best care and protection. NPR had a fascinating piece some weeks back on adolescent brain development, or lack there of, which explains much of what we might label immature behavior. Such testimony bears witness to the important of respecting the vulnerability of our sons and daughters not yet fully matured. These scientific advances call into question our punitive criminal justice system that throws teenage lives away in the ruse of being ‘tough on crime’ and simultaneously demand child protective and support services that extend beyond the teen years.
Tragically there was no protection for Elissa Wall when she was just a child. Now a young woman, she will have to decide whether to once again tell her painful story and face the grueling gauntlet of the victim’s chair in open court. In fairness, the justices said that they “regret the effect our opinion today may have on the victim of the underlying crime, to whom we do not wish to cause additional pain.” Their decision, they pointed out, was unrelated to the child (now woman) in the case. Their ruling was on behalf of the right of the defendant to a fair trial, a right with which we ought not trifle. But I wonder who speaks for the child? If our justice’s must maintain their legal focus on the rights of the accused, whose responsibility is it to guard the rights of the child? The answer, of course, is all of us.
One incredibly important step that all of us can take is to name this case for what it is: rape. Charging polygamy garners headlines but misses the salient point. This is a case of rape, the rape of a child. Let’s begin by honoring Elissa Wall by naming the heinous crime for what it is.
Dancing with Constance
When the ACLU lent it support to Constance, it became immediately clear that though she and her date might not ever attend the prom, her voice would be heard. When a settlement was reached this week, Constance received a small stipend ($35,000) but huge affirmation of her right to be who she is, to date whom she loves, and to dance to the music that God has instilled in her heart.
The ACLU is big money. On their own website they project an annual budget just shy of a billion dollars. With some of the smartest legal minds in the nation and old money behind them, school districts routinely shudder when threatened with the ACLU. But Itawamba didn’t shudder, at least they did not back down. They had something even more powerful on their side, or so they thought.
What they had is the strength of the church, or at least some very powerful churches. Given that they had the watchful eye and support of media emperors James Dobson and Pat Robertson, my money would have been on their side to win. Dobson’s Focus on the Family is directly responsible for Citizenlink and TrueTolerance, both groups spending millions to defend my first amendment right to share anti-gay speech. These groups function with the Dobson empire in the court of public opinion with a print readership of 2.3 million and a daily listening audience of 221 million. These are powerful forces in our culture wars.
Although Jesus never mentioned girls’ attire or prospective dates, it is the case that some Christians do sincerely believe that girls in tuxedos at the prom will undermine the American family and the fabric of faith in our nation. The logic of the belief is perhaps irrelevant, beliefs are lodged in our gut not our brains. In the interest of full disclosure, I should admit that I’m a bit sensitive on the subject of girls in tux’s because my own 18 year old daughter wore a tux to her prom; she is an honors student, a leader in civic efforts, in church most every Sunday and (yes) looked fabulous in a tuxedo. Although I think her messy room might pose a health risk, I am quite certain that her tuxedo will not.
In the United Church of Christ, we like to say that “God is still speaking”, building off the wisdom of comic Gracie Allen who said, “Never place a period where God has placed a comma” and Pilgrim pastor John Robinson who said, “God has yet more light and truth to break forth from his holy word.” Clearly God was not finished speaking when Dobson signed off on this issue. While the two sides drew the battle lines, Facebook allies cheered: “Let Constance take her girlfriend to the Prom”. The right of a young woman to dance with a partner of her choosing experienced a groundswell of public support that caught the imagination of a generation.
The only thing more powerful than money in the court of public opinion is the hearts of the people. Often the big pockets succeed in controlling the minds and thereby hearts of the people, but the internet is offering a populist option that hasn’t been felt in my lifetime and support bubbled up from the ground for Constance. To offer some perspective, my entire denomination has 7,275 Facebook friends, dwarfed by the likes of Focus on the Family’s 51,856. But at last count, Constance cleans up on all of us with 409,739. Amazing.
At my house we cheered for Constance’s victory and one small step for the rights of our youth to love authentically. But we do so knowing that the true cost to Constance and her date will reverberate behind the scenes for years to come. Even as I applaud her courage, I pray for her serenity; these were hard and heady days for a young woman. I take comfort in the remarkable wisdom that she has demonstrated and pray it be a witness for us all.
Now, let the dance begin!
calling foul in the 3rd district
As a pastor living and serving in the 3rd Congressional District, I’m calling a foul.
Admittedly I was offended by Ed Martin’s charge this week that a government with the policies supported by Obama and Carnahan threaten his (and by implication my) eternal salvation. His statement (Gina Louden Show, July 13, 2010) is a bold assertion that his understanding of God is exclusive and salvific while mine is damned.
What he said is this: “And that’s one of the things that’s most destructive about the growth of government is this taking away that freedom, the freedom, the ultimate freedom, to find your salvation, to get your salvation, and to find Christ for me and you, and I think that’s one of the things we have to be very, very aware of that the Obama Administration and Congressman Carnahan are doing to us” This is an unedited paragraph of the transcript. The damning hyperbole is not a sound byte out of context but rather a piece of a larger work on the theme.
The arrogance of such a statement is mind-boggling. Which leaves me wondering what his appeal might be for the voter? I assumed that with such vitriol he is a marginal candidate but, at least according to the Post-Dispatch’s Bill McClellan, Martin is the likely Republican contender to square off against Russ Carnahan in Missouri’s 3rd Congressional District in November. Between here and November there is a primary in which both men must prevail and much can change in a few short months. Still, the fact that such hateful rhetoric would have any significant base of support is chilling and worthy of note.
The theological implications of such a statement are quite preposterous. To suggest that one’s government jeopardizes one’s eternal salvation, one must accept a host of theological presuppositions, any one of which deserves careful consideration. For starters, this notion ascribes ultimate power to a deity who would condemn persons based upon place of origin without regard to personal choice. Although I am a huge advocate of communal responsibility, I am quite moved by the dialogue between Abraham and the god-character (Genesis 18). The god-character is ready to wash his hands of an errant peoples and Abraham points out that there might be some good guys even in a bad town. With incredible compassion, the god-character struggles to hold a people accountable.
What is the great unrighteousness that Martin fears from Obama’s government?
As I ponder Abraham’s cousin Lot, I can see a chilling modern equivalent. For Lot’s people, the offending sin is a lack of hospitality, a refusal to care for the stranger. The imperative is to offer our first fruits to the vulnerable ‘other’ in our midst. Translated to modern politics, the biblical message might appear a direct and damning challenge to our immigration policies. In this light, I have to agree with Martin that were we to assess ourselves along such biblical mandates we will be found, as a people, sorely lacking. We do not provide shelter for the wayfarer unless they come in through the sanctioned doorway with proper documentation. Holding the indictment, I am grateful for Abraham’s witness to God’s compassion.
But Martin is not speaking about immigration or our government’s failure to embrace those at the margins. In fact it would appear that Martin is speaking against the biblical imperative to communally care for those most vulnerable. Despite his time with the Jesuits at St. Louis University, regardless of centuries of Catholic social teaching, in apparent oblivion to Jesus’ embrace of the outsider, Martin’s concern is not that the government is doing too little to help those at the margins, but rather that the current administration (Obama and Carnahan) is doing too much! Martin’s own website leaves one with the impression that his biggest beef with the government is the current (albeit limited) attempt to provide health care for the un- and under- insured Americans. Government programs geared to protect those most vulnerable may indeed be flawed and worthy of re-evaluation but the suggestion that they are unchristian is blatantly false and utterly indefensible.
The more haunting question in light of Martin’s interview this week, however, is not a theological one but rather a sociological one; the question of whether Christians in America will continue to accept such a tragic distortion of our faith. Jesus staked his life on his belief in God’s compassion. My prayer of the day is more modest, I pray that we will take ours as far as the ballot box.
almost (but not quite) home…
My 16 year old niece has been travelling in Europe with a music group and by all accounts having a fabulous time. Recently she posted a lament on her facebook page: “There’s only about one week left 
why must this come to an end?” Simultaneously her mother (not in Europe) posts: “(My daughter) comes home soon….yeah!!!!”. I smiled at the parallel truths. My niece doesn’t want the trip to end, for her mom it can’t end soon enough.
For the treasure of meeting new friends in faraway lands, there are familiar friends back home from whom we are separated. With the delight of a new adventure in life, there are inevitably roads not taken and an invitation to wistfulness. Each hello is also a good bye, each farewell a new beginning.
Truly the choices represented by the doorways in our lives can be paralyzing. Stymied by the choice to go or stay, we often choose stuck in between. I think this is the essence of what Catholics once understood as purgatory: a place of suspended animation, aware of life around you but unable to participate. Some doorways beckon with a powerful magnetism; we gravitate to and through and hardly realize that a choice has been made until the past is but a distant whisper. Tragically sometimes life throws us down paths we would never choose to go. Still other times doorways taunt us with competing claims of possibility and peril. Years ago a mentor told me that life is filled not with rights and wrongs so much as choices and consequences. Believing this bit of wisdom, I have moved through some doorways with great ambivalence.
Regardless the doorway, there is much truth on either side and wisdom recognizes the abundance. This both-and nature is the essence of the perennial question of whether the glass is half full or half empty. Because I tend to be a half-empty kind of gal, I was moved several years ago to read a third interpretation of the half-glass metaphor. The glass might be neither half empty nor half full but rather the wrong size. Perhaps we look at these dual truths with the wrong size glass, as if only one can be true.
Recently I’ve been holding in prayer a friend whose family is facing a tragic situation. What amazes me about my friend’s countenance is not the grief, this I expect. What catches my breath is her ability to hold the grief in tandem with the celebrations that are also unfolding in her family. Facing the dual truths of half full and half empty, she has begun the earnest search for a glass that fits.
Perhaps this is all relevant in a new way for me as my firstborn packs for sleepaway college. She’s always been a homebody and a three-week trip away last summer was huge. This is big stuff for us. But when I recognize the truth’s rightful place, held in tandem with that of all the changes we’ve weathered in recent years, my countenance eases. Ready or not we’ve been learning that family is defined not by geography or bloodlines but by habits of the heart. My firstborn is great with words and I look forward to meeting her in new ways as we learn to pen our thoughts back and forth, a new glass.
Although not ready to return, my niece had apparently sent an SOS for cash. Her mother posts: “Don’t worry about your balance on card. You are doing great I added more so you wouldn’t worry.” Before I could think better of it, I typed a request for her mom to add more to my card! The laughter, of course, is rooted in the companion (read: hard) truth that sometimes we do reach our credit limit. The size of the glass (and our expectation) matters.
Soon my niece will be home; she will be sad and her mother happy. She will be happily surrounded by her homies while wistful for her travelling companions. With a right-sized glasses mother and daughter will cherish life together.
parable of the mushroom
Years ago when adulthood was a new experience, a friend was cooking dinner for her new boyfriend and I. As she was in the midst of the meal prep, she realized that she had forgotten to pick up mushrooms and her beau gallantly headed off to the nearest store and returned with the missing ingredient. As I arrived, my friend was in panic mode, her boyfriend looked puzzled, and a carton of mushrooms sat on the counter between them. The mushrooms on the counter were fresh and she needed the canned variety. “Fresh mushrooms taste better,” he explained with honest confusion. “But the recipe calls for canned,” she wailed, “and I don’t know what to do with the fresh ones.”
The panic to which my friend witnessed is the inevitable learning curve. We cannot shift from canned to fresh, no matter how yummy, in the middle of a dinner party with no prior experience. My friend didn’t know ratios, textures or seasoning for the fresh variety and was not comfortable serving a meal that was unfamiliar. Even when we don’t mind practicing a new skill, rarely do we want an audience for the first run. Ever gallant, her beau headed back to the store for a can of ‘shrooms.
My friend and her boyfriend eventually married and are still living happily ever after. I am quite sure that she uses fresh mushrooms routinely these days but I suspect that important keys to their happiness were revealed in an otherwise sticky situation all those years ago. What my friend brought was an ability to state what she needed without malice or manipulation, no matter how apparently ridiculous. Her beau was likewise clear in both his preference for the fresh mushroom and in his respect for her discomfort. He neither deflated his own values nor judged her, he simply went back to the store. Dinner was delicious and the rocky moment became a piece of a strong foundation.
The irony of course, is that fresh mushrooms not only taste better than the canned ones (indeed, an all together different food!) but they are also significantly more expensive. What we reach for, what we understand ourselves to need, may not always be the most flavorful. Indeed we may eschew a luxury for the bland taste of the familiar in any number of life venues. With an instinct for convenience, familiarity, and economy, the canned experiences of life often trump the delicacies.
I thought of the mushrooms today as Micah and I picked out a container of fresh mushrooms, prewashed and pre-sliced. My hunch is that were I to make the effort to swing past the farmers market and pick up fresh produce, wash it and slice it, the flavors would be even better. Instead I reach for the familiar package that offers an easy meal prep. But there is an uncalculated cost in my reach.
Perhaps I am mindful of the mushroom parables because my world is otherwise so still. For a brief stint I seem to be floating in the middle of my life, the middle of summer, the middle of America and it feels so remarkably calm that even the choice between mushrooms offers depth. The near perfect summer breeze of course makes all of life seem deliciously sweet.
It would be tempting to build a tent in this space of my life where the waters are still. To be sure, I hope that I not only receive this space with gratitude but also learn from the wisdom that brought me here. When Peter witnessed nirvana, with Jesus in prayer, he begged to stay in the place of wonder forever. I imagine a very gentle if firm-voiced Jesus guiding Peter to the hard truth that moments of bliss cannot be preserved for later enjoyment. The real deal is fresh and in the moment and, if my friends’ witness is to be believed, free from judgment and guile.
Yet in the interest of balance, I would point out that pre-washed and already sliced variety has afforded a glorious few minutes in the shade of the tree in which to ponder the lessons of the mushrooms. And maybe it is balance, most of all, that we humans need.
