Descending in order to rise

This is my favorite depiction (by Ford Madox Brown) of Jesus washing his disciples' feet. Jesus takes the role of a slave to serve his reluctant, denying, betraying, uncomprehending disciples. An example for us as we struggle with social position, entitlement and inflated egos.

I love Peter's expression. His rage and sense of the wrongness at the action is palpable. He holds his hands less in prayer than in an attempt to stop himself from pushing Jesus away, returning to his "proper" role as revered master. Yet here, Jesus takes his street theater to the highest level, piercing the veil of expectation to the greater reality beyond.

Though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross. (Philippians 2:6-8)

As I meditate on this simple yet profound event, commemorated on Holy Thursday, I reflect on all the ways that I hold onto my sense of superiority and desire to enjoy the deference bestowed on income, education, race, ethnicity, verbosity, gender and age. I have made progress, but have a ways to go before I would strip down, lower myself and wash everyone's feet.

Lord, I believe. Help this proud and reluctant disciple to live down to your level!

SCOTUS Pocus

As I write this, oral arguments about California's Proposition 8 (to ban gay marriage) have ended. Arguments for and against DOMA (The Defense of Marriage Act) are schedule for tomorrow. And Roman Cathlics are in the thick of the action -- in the pulpits, in the pews and on the bench.

I am scared to death at the prospect of gay marriage being in the hands of the Supreme Court's Catholics. Anton Scalia and Clarence Thomas have been weighty denizens of the extreme right edge of the ideological seesaw that is the Supreme Court.  John Roberts (perhaps smarting from his support of the ACA) is not too far inboard of them, and Anthony Kennedy slips further rightward as the years go by. Only Sonia Sotomayor hold down the left end of SCOTUS's Roman Catholic teeter totter. If were only up to the Catholics on the bench, poor Sonia would spend most of her time riding high in the air, as her four co-religionists jam the right edge of the seesaw deep into the playground sand.

Still, it's hard to know what to expect from them in aggregate. Scalia and Thomas will forcefully uphold their Church's views on gay marriage -- law and precedent be damned. (And to think that Americans once worried about JFK taking orders from Rome!) Sotomayor will undoubtedly vote to keep the government from doing the Church's bedroom monitoring. But Kennedy and Thomas are tossups. Their decisions may have more to do with their worries about personality, politics and posterity than about the law.

Oh, how I wish for consistency.

If we want small government, how do we justify it being in the national interest to distinguish between gays and straights? Distinguishing on age is one thing -- we don't want 8-year-olds driving semis down our highways or choking themselves on cigarettes. Distinguishing on education is another -- we don't want Joe or Jane from the corner market doing appendectomies. But what safety (or liberty or other social good) is purchased by keeping gays out of matrimony?

On the other hand, if what we want from society is efficiency, how can we also justify the extra resources needed to monitor peoples' sex lives, or to parse out which life-partners get to see their hospitalized loved ones and which don't? Too much paperwork and administrative hassle.

Finally, if we hope to maintain the wall of separation between church and state, why are we enshrining in law what fundamentally are sectarian teachings about what is natural and what is deviant? Don't we remember what the country was like when religious majorities enjoyed legislative superiority? They compelled those of other faiths to pay their tax to support the main church's clergy!

I am hopeful that the Supreme Court will decide -- on whatever grounds necessary to salve their consciences or soothe their political allies -- that preventing people from marrying is no longer valid as law. There are bigger fish to fry, and more worthwhile threats to our liberties to address.

Unworthy communion

A young man is traveling across the country. He stops with a friend into a church where Mass is being celebrated. He receives communion, but the priest refuses to give it to the friend. Confronting the priest after Mass, he is told that only practicing Catholics may receive. Asked to define that, the priest says that anything less than weekly attendance at Mass is insufficient. After a snarky remark about the young man's theological immaturity, the priest retreats into the sanctuary. the young man and his friend walk away enraged.

There is a species of priest (and of Catholic laity) that feels it has the right and the duty to keep the unworthy away from the communion table. Hung up on the idea that communicants must be in a state of grace to receive, they scan the ranks of those desiring communion for those who don't measure up. Tight jeans? Too much bosom? Too much makeup? Too dirty? Too sinful? Doesn't tithe? Doesn't sing? Sings? Doesn't buy raffle tickets? Not enough kids? Can't stand their Mom? They cast judgement on those who seek Eucharist, mentally casting them out of line, and occasionally pulling back the sacred wafer from unworthy lips.

This kind of scene is not as rare as you might want to think. Every election cycle, some bishop makes a show of keeping notorious sinners, usually those who support abortion rights, away from the altar rail. And to the the degree that that's what it is -- a show -- this is a scandal.

First, some Canon Law. Catholics are encouraged to receive communion every Sundays -- even daily -- but not required to. As long as you fulfill your "Easter duty" and receive once during the Easter season (the 7 weeks between Easter and Pentecost) you are in compliance. More frequent reception is a good thing, but it is not required. So when priests refuse communion to people because they missed Mass last week (or even last summer and fall) they are on shaky ground.

And that "state of grace" thing -- Hoowee! Taken the way I understood it as a youngster, a state of grace was obtained after absolution at confession. But, as soon as your little mind started working again, a state of total grace was a vanishing reality. By the time you had kicked the can from the church steps back to your house, enough devious plans and impure thoughts had crossed your mind to wreck any attempt at being pure.

But if a state of grace is nigh-well impossible to attain and to keep, is the opposite true -- that there should be no bars to receiving communion? Are there legitimate reasons to keep people away from receiving Eucharist? I can think of a few. Someone who publicly mocks the sacrament or who intends to use the host for evil or sacrilegious purposes should not have the chance to get their hands on it. Someone from a faith that does not believe that Jesus is present in the Eucharist would be another candidate for being turned away. Some high on drugs, or potted to the gills might not be the ideal candidates. As would a teenager chewing tobacco, swigging from a soda, or having their happy meal in the pew.

There might also be some notorious sinners and criminals who, by receiving, might make the Church community seem complicit in their crimes. "Maybe, Whitey, it would be better for you to give up drug dealing and murder before showing up in St. Malarkey's communion line." But that approach cuts both ways -- for every Whitey I would turn away, another priest would turn away a pro-choice legislator, or the CEO of a defense plant, or a guard at a prison, or a numbers runner or a mom with the live-in boyfriend. Judging the worthiness of human beings is the slipperiest of slippery slopes. Maybe best not to go there.

But I would say this. Anyone who withholds the Eucharist owes that person a loving and gentle explanation, and an invitation to return when their "deficits" are addressed. "You don't seem to know Jesus, but I would love to tell you more about him and how we meet him in the Eucharist. Here, accept this blessing" "I'd be happy to share the Eucharist with you, but need to get rid of the gum and the can of soda." "You are really drugged up right now. How about getting you dried out so you can appreciate what you are receiving?"

But to all others, I would say, come, take Jesus into your heart. You are worthy and loved as you are -- seeking, nervous, immature, ignorant, giggly, sinful, imperfect. You are welcomed to walk along with Jesus, to take his hand, to grow in holiness and virtue. Better that a millstone be placed around your neck and your were throw in into the sea, than that you cause one of these little ones to falter and to turn away.

Luke -- the anti-Mel

Today I am passing along the insights of a priest-scholar who provided an interesting exegesis (explanation) of the passion narrative in Luke's Gospel.

The passion in Luke's gospel has a number of stories that don't appear in the other gospel accounts of the suffering and death of Jesus. Luke is the only one who tells of the women of Jerusalem, who lamented as Christ approached Calvary. King ("Walk across my swimming pool?") Herod only appears in Luke's passion. As does the Good Thief  and Jesus's prayer, "Forgive them, Father, for they know not what what they do."

Equally interesting are the things that Luke omits from the tradition he received from Mark. There is no scourging or crowning with thorns. And there is no anguished cry of "My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?" Jesus, in Luke's telling dies a more dignified death, teaching from his wooden throne, compassionate and trusting to the end.

These choices suggest that Luke's probably had a Gentile audience, unfamiliar with Jewish customs or worldview. For Luke's readers, a death in accordance with the scriptures would have carried little resonance. But a hero who, like Socrates, died calmly and while continuing his mission, would have sounded familiar and been appealing. So Luke tweaks the narrative for his own purpose, which is to provide a story that his audience can relate to.

Taken together with the reading from Philippians, Sunday's readings tells us much about one scriptural and very early way that we can read Jesus's death. Here's the full text of the second reading:

Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
something to be grasped.
Rather, he emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness;
and found human in appearance,
he humbled himself,
becoming obedient to the point of death,
even death on a cross.
Because of this, God greatly exalted him
and bestowed on him the name
which is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bend,
of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue confess that
Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

 



 Jesus redeemed the world, not by suffering the most gruesome death of all time, as Mel Gibson's movie would have us believe. He did not wake up every morning saying, "Today, I'm going to get myself killed slowly and painfully." Instead, he woke up every morning saying, "Today, I will do God's will, even if it kills me.

And it did.

Jesus emptied himself of himself -- that is to say, his plans were always subordinated to God's. He was "obedient" -- becoming a slave to all, especially to his Father, even when the consequences were dire, painful and shameful. Luke (and Paul) do not want everyone to be crucified. But they are pointing out that radical self-emptying -- radical generosity, service and humility -- are redemptive and ways to the Father, and to the resurrected life.

Opening door to a non-celibate clergy?

In an interview just last year, now-Pope Francis was very frank about the natural attraction of heterosexual men toward women, and was compassionate about dealing with priests who had strayed.

"When I was a seminarian, I was dazzled by a girl I met at an uncle's wedding. I was surprised by her beauty, her intellectual brilliance... and, well, I was bowled over for quite a while. I kept thinking and thinking about her. When I returned to the seminary after the wedding, I could not pray for over a week because when I tried to do so, the girl appeared in my head. I had to rethink what I was doing."

He eventually rethought his commitment to the Church, deciding against marriage and for the celibate priesthood.

At this point in the church's life, I probably could not hope for a better outcome than this. Rather than dealing with body-denying nonsense of previous church leaders, here we have a man who humbly and unashamedly describes knowing the physical longing that comes with attraction to another human being. While we don't know the details of his decisions to remain celibate, it doesn't appear, on the surface anyway, that it involved blaming the woman for his own desires, casting her as a fatal lure sent by the Devil.

This is a very positive sign. And for men like me, who grew up hoping to be priests--only to be foiled by our hormones and a decision to live a full human life--it is a sign that our time may yet come.

Let's face it. There is little scriptural support for a lifelong commitment to celibacy. True, Jesus and Paul were most likely celibate -- Jesus from an urgency to preach the coming kingdom, and Paul because he tells us so. "For I would that all men were even as I myself. "(1 Cor 7:7). But the Apostles were married and went around with their wives. "Do we not have the right to take along a Christian wife, as do the rest of the apostles, and the brothers of the Lord, and Cephas?" (1 Cor 9:5)

So why can't I?

I accept that there were times in history when a celibate priesthood made sense. When a priest was able to pass along parish assets to his own family, that was a recipe for bad feelings. But celibacy is no guarantee against a priest enlarging his pile -- I have heard of at least one priest who was given a car and a house (!) by his doting parishioners, and refused to return them when he left the priesthood. The bad feelings persisted for years.

But I have hope. Hope that a discussion about celibacy can begin, and that it be implemented somehow, at least in parts of the world that are hemorrhaging priests -- like the US and Europe. Yet there are many obstacles. Would a conservative laity accept such men as their leaders? Would there be jealousy from current priests, who might be held to their vows? Would married priests have to stay widowed, as do deacons, if their spouses died? And what about the other hot button issues? How about married men who had practiced contraception -- either by assenting to letting their wives take the Pill or by having a vasectomy? Is being admitted to the priesthood worth having your medical records pored over by smirking prelates? And how about the married man who might have to assent to a belief that his wife (or some other holy woman) cannot be a priest as well? Not to mention the likelihood that a whole host of laicized priests might man the queue in front of me.

There's a long way to go before we have to deal with these questions. But I am grateful that a door has perhaps been unlocked and is being held tightly, but slightly ajar.

Gladd you're my son!

 

I guess I should be thrilled that a conservative Republican legislator has decided to endorse gay marriage. It's not a very common occurrence, after all. But I am not overjoyed.

Senator Rob Portman (R-Ohio) has a gay son. And he no longer feels it right to prevent his son from experiencing the love and joy that heterosexual couples do in their marriages.

"I've come to the conclusion that for me, personally, I think this is something that we should allow people to do, to get married, and to have the joy and stability of marriage that I've had for over 26 years. That I want all of my children to have, including our son, who is gay," said Portman.

Good for Senator Portman, who is belatedly coming to the same conclusions that many of the rest of us have already reached. That gay people are not dangerous -- to themselves or to others -- and have the same feelings, longings and needs as the rest of us.

My reservation about Portman's conversion is that it took a personal, family situation for him to be able to open his eyes to the gay marriage issue. On one hand, I applaud his courage. There are still many conservatives who take a hard line on gay marriage. Bucking that trend will bring him a measure of suffering. But on the other hand, will progress on this issue really occur one gay child at a time? Do we have to wait until more of our senators and congressmen deal personally with the gayness of a close member of their family before we can move gay marriage past the talking stage?

I should not be too hard on Portman. I have my own history of obtuseness about this and other hot button issues. When gay marriage first started to become a possibility in Massachusetts in 2004, I was in the middle of a masters program in Catholic theology. I hesitated about giving the idea my wholehearted support because a) to a small extent, I thought it might harm my chances of leadership in the Church and b) because I wanted to explore the Church's perspective on the subject. It was only when my teenaged kids gave me an "are you kidding?" reaction that I broke down and accepted that gay marriage was real and was good.

But there is a part of me that still wonders about the inability of many of us to empathize. It seems very easy for us to dismiss the realities that others live in. We demean the poor without understanding what it might be like to need to take many buses to get to a low-paying job. We dismiss the realities of being a person of color trying to get a simple housing loan. We (men) can't imagine what it might feel like to be a woman, constantly on the alert against sexual assault. We can't put ourselves in the shoes of a mom and dad whose 6-year-old was gunned down by a man who should not have been driving a car, much less peering through a rifle scope.

Bravo, Senator Portman, for making the loving call to accept your son's sexuality. You could easily have kicked the kid out of your home, as many have done before you. But let's all try to bring about a world in which hearts are open and soft to the experiences of others. Where we can walk in another's shoes in our imaginations and souls, not just when those shoes are thrust upon our feet.

Bloody Francis?

Not bloody likely. But...

For many of us unfamiliar with the past of Jorge Cardinal Bergoglio's (now Pope Francis), questions about his relationship with Argentina's brutal former military dictatorship are just beginning to come to the surface.

The 1970s in Argentina was the time of the "Dirty War," a time of bloody political turmoil in which leftists battled the military for control of the country. The casualties were in the range of 30,000, mostly civilian, who often were "disappeared" -- whisked away, never to be heard from again. Legitimate rebels fighters were undoubtedly among the ranks of the lost. But so too were children and other non-combatants, caught up in the violence and paranoia of the time.

The question, of course, is what Cardinal Bergolgio was doing during this time of bitterness. Was he, as some on the left say, complicit in some of the disappearances -- or who withdrew his opposition? Bergogolio led the Jesuit order in Argentina at the time. He was against the use of violence by more radical members of the order. But did he, as some charge, assist in the capture, torture and murder of two of his brother priests?

There is evidence that he worked to help some victims of the roundups. From today's New York Times:

After the church had denied for years any involvement with the dictatorship, [Beroglio]testified in 2010 that he had met secretly with Gen. Jorge Videla, the former head of the military junta, and Adm. Emilio Massera, the commander of the navy, to ask for the release of two kidnapped priests. The following year, prosecutors called him to the witness stand to testify on the military junta’s systematic kidnapping of children, a subject he was also accused of knowing about but failing to prevent.

In a long interview published by an Argentine newspaper in 2010, Francis — then still a cardinal — said that he had helped hide people being sought for arrest or disappearance by the military because of their political views, had helped others leave Argentina and had lobbied the country’s military rulers directly for the release and protection of others. 

As with questions surrounding Pope Pius XII's efforts against Nazism during World War II, questions about the former Cardinal's complicity in mass murder and political repression are difficult to answer. They answers are found at the murky nexus of morality, church sympathy for authority, its instinct toward self-protection, its desire to protect the poor and oppressed and the church's real or imaged political clout. What should/can the Church do when a military government is involved in what could be described by authorities as a fight to protect the state from rebels? Is it enough merely to tend to the wounded and dying? Are homilies promoting peace enough to achieve moral respectability? Is open opposition to violence worth the expected backlash and the spilling of more innocent blood?

When I put myself in the Cardinal's position, I am not sure what I would do. I would try to find a means to encourage the largest amount of peace and justice, I suppose. But to expect a cardinal to establish the millenium with a word is naive.

For now, I am giving Pope Francis the benefit of the doubt. The worst charges against him seem to be in the realm of "he didn't do enough." But his demeanor doesn't suggest a cold-blooded collaborator with violent men or a betrayer of priests. Still, it is worth reviewing the Church's ability to coexist, however uneasily, in the midst of deadly political violence, wihout raising its voice effectively in protest. If the church sides too strongly with politics and social change, it risks losing its moral authority. But if its preoccupation is with purely spiritual matters, it risks censure for ignoring the day-to-day realities of its flock.

Damned if you do; damned if you don't.

Why are you cranky, Catholic?

Grumpy Cat, Patron Pet of the Cranky Catholic

It struck me recently that being the Cranky Catholic might give people the wrong idea about me. Like, that I am cranky and grumpy and mean about everything Catholic. Far from it.

I find great joy and fulfillment in being a Catholic. I love our sacraments and our pageantry. Our music is often wonderfully moving. Our history is full of heroes, like the French Jesuits who tried the evangelize the Hurons (and lost fingers and lives in the process), awesome clerics like Oscar Romero and Ferdinand de las Casas who spoke out about injustice, and Jeanne D'Arc (Joan of Arc to you Anglos) who boldly defended her peoples' honor against the invader and the collaborateur. Our intellectual giants are awesome -- Paul, Augustin, Teilhard. Our imagery, from stain-glassed windows to illuminated manuscripts to luminous icons, is inspired and inspiring.

My purpose is several-fold.

1) I want to reclaim the Church for those who are being pushed out -- people like me, first of all, who are tagged as unfaithful because we aren't bowled over by Medjugorge, the Latin Mass or every second-rate miracle that ties the faithful into knows of devotion. People like the priests and nuns who left in the 1960s and the people who desperately desire to express their priesthood, but must do that elsewhere.

2) I want to keep the Church relevant and stimulating. It is usually good at feeding the heart, via music and liturgy. But when it stops feeding the head, by closing off discussion on important topics or basing its teaching on pin-headed scholarship and the views of an insulated clergy, I speak up.

3) I want the Church to be true to the Gospel. A Church that represents Christ in a way not consistent with the Gospels is no Church at all.

4) I want the Church to struggle. A Church that has stopped trying to figure things out has lost its way. If faith is a mystery, then it is inexhaustible. You cannot get to the bottom of it and figure it out. Like Jacob wrestling the angel, we must continually push for new meanings and understandings that speak to our souls today. And occasionally get our hips knocked out of their sockets. The devotions of yesteryear are nice, but they do not speak to the needs of all of today's seekers.

5) I want the Church to reflect God's love for humanity -- all humanity -- men, women, the young, the old, gay, straight, whatever. Telling me that God loves women and won't let them be priests cannot the way God looks at them.

6) I want my Church to survive. There is no guarantee that the Holy Spirit will always reside in the Catholic Church. The Spirit goes where it will. If we do not keep the flame of faith burning, the Spirit will look elsewhere. Why shouldn't it?

7) I want to be more proud of my Church. I want it to reclaim its reputation as being the bride of Christ Jesus on earth. When others speak about Catholicism, I don't want them to sneer and to mock, but to admire. We have so much to give, and so many to love.

So I am cranky -- not because I hate Catholicism, but because (paraphrasing Steve Jobs) it can be better. Much better. And I stay because without me, and people like me, the Church can only wither and die and become less of a force for good in this world. And that would make me very cranky indeed.

Francis I: a day of happiness

There's something about the election of a new Pope that brings out the joy in a Catholic. Even one as grumpy and ornery as me.

Today's elevation of Argentina's Jorge Cardinal Bergoglio to the papacy brought me joy and excitement. His first appearance on the balcony of St. Peter's included so many beautiful moments. In appearance, he was humble -- even a bit bewildered. Nothing like the strongman certainty of John Paul II or the shyness of Benedict XVI. In profile, the new pontiff was reminiscent of the Good Pope -- John XXIII. His Italian was friendly and informal -- he seems to be speaking to the crowd, not at them. When he bent down to pray, asking the people to pray with him, my heart went out to him. I crossed myself when he blessed the crowd -- after all, I was watching, as were they! And I was won over when he wished the people a good night and a restful sleep.

The tech-savvy production values weren't bad either. I watched over YouTube, which streamed his first comments live. Great camera placement, too -- even inside looking out - giving a Pope's eye view of the jewel-lit city.

Then, there was the choice of a papal name -- Francis I. I had worried that picking a recent name -- Pius, John, Paul, John Paul or Benedict -- would signal a too-close allegiance to pontiffs and policies of the recent past. By taking the name of Francis of Assisi, the beloved 13th-century church reformer and lover of the poor, this 21st-century pope was signalling his wish to take the Church in a new direction -- perhaps one more in line with the Gospel's love of the poor and advocacy on their behalf.

It is way too early to tell whether this pontificate with be a boon or a bust for the Church. I expect no changes in the Church's entrenched positions on celibacy, an all-male priesthood, abortion or contraception. But on this day of joy and hope, I pray that the Holy Spirit takes wing under our Church and lifts it toward greater light and holiness.

 Habemas Papam!

The return of loyalty oaths

One of the reasons I declined to enter the diaconate is the loyalty oath I would have had to sign. The oath would require me to state my belief in all Catholic teachings. Since I don't buy the church's arguments on a male-only, celibate priesthood, on its blanket condemnation of contraception and abortion, and on the objective immorality of homosexuality, I had the choice of lying to achieve a life-long dream or enduring moral exile and a life of integrity.

I chose integrity.

Now, one California church leader, Santa Rosa Bishop Robert Vasa, wants to extend the moral conundrum beyond clerical candidates. This from the March 11 NCR:

The Ides of March has taken on new meaning in the Santa Rosa, Calif., diocese, where teachers and administrators have until March 15 to sign a letter of intent to renew their contracts for the 2013-2014 school year. The contracts now include an addendum requiring they agree they are "a ministerial agent of the bishop" and that they reject "modern errors" that "gravely offend human dignity," including "but not limited to" contraception, abortion, same-sex marriage and euthanasia.

The roughly 400-word addendum requires all teachers and administrators -- Catholic and non-Catholic -- to "agree that it is my duty, to the best of my ability, to believe, teach/administer and live in accord with what the Catholic Church holds and professes."

In one sense, I understand where the bishop is coming from. If you are providing children with a Catholic education, you might hire only teachers who either model the Catholic faith or at least are not antagonistic to it. Faith is not just a matter of beliefs, after all, but a lifestyle.

Interestingly, Vasa doesn't zero in on matters of dogma. He doesn't worry whether his school's teachers believe in heaven, the Resurrection or the earthly existence of Jesus. His target is the list of 21st century controversies that have divided Catholics for years -- abortion, euthanasia and same-sex marriage, among others. To conservatives, these issues are contentious because many in the Church are insufficiently obedient to the magesterium, the teaching office of the Church. It's time to weed the garden, they believe, of dangerous species that will blight our pure crop. But aside from a few chronic malcontents, which you will find everywhere, the trouble is not that Catholics are perversely attached to evil, but that they find the Church's views unconvincing or out of step with current understanding. For an uninformed Catholic to support abortion is one thing. But for a Catholic who has read the relevant Church documents, followed the news and perhaps even known of cases where abortion was considered, and has thus has come to a more nuanced view of the issue than the Church, well that's something else entirely. For such person, loyalty oaths like Vasa's demean their conscientious search for truth, reducing their participation in the mystery of Christian life to being mere cogs in a diocesan morality machine.

It is time for church leaders to stop administering loyalty oaths and to start engaging in fruitful dialog with the people of God. God works through our lives and voices as well as those of the bishops.

(blogspot)

Amour

My wife and I watch "L'Amour" tonight at our local art house movie theater. It is a 2012 film that tells the story of an elderly French couple, self-sufficient until the wife is felled by a stroke. The husband struggles to care for her, as  she becomes more and more debilitated, soon becoming little more than a gibbering shell of herself.

Having lost my Mom to a stroke nearly 11 years ago and my wife's mom to dementia in 2010, the film struck close to home. It is hard and heartbreaking to accompany an elder on a journey into incapacity. And the journey often lasts more than the couple of hours it took in this movie.

Not that I have a better answer, but I do question whether the Church's insistence that life must be preserved until natural death is the best one. From personal experience, I know that there is grace and healing possible at the end of life. For the dying person, it is humbling to accept the little crucifixions that come with inhabiting a failing body. As we are subject to the indignities of age and debility -- loss of memory, incontinence, inability to control one's movements, and so on -- there is a chance to shed the egotism that motivates so much of our daily thoughts. This can be a real hell -- or purgatory -- for those attached to their self-image. But I can understand the value of coming closer to God by killing off our limited horizons and smallness of heart. Our loved ones can gain as well, having the opportunity to reconcile over past hurts and express love and affection.

 But at what point does all of this become too much of a good thing? When does a celebration of the value of life turn into an egotistical grasping for a few more heartbeats and a few more breaths? Does the Church's stance on life's ending -- that life must continue until our bodies give out -- become less of an answer than a moral abdication -- a refusal to grapple with the issue of death by vesting it in absolutes?

I am uncomfortable when human beings decide to end their lives prematurely because they don't want to live with the limitation of illness. While the libertarian in me kind of accepts their right to end their lives when they wish, the moralist in me is repelled by the way that good life is equated with 100% ability to function. But while the religious worry that ending life early will become a fad, the pragmatist in me realizes that early suicide will not become fashionable for people. Human beings do, after all, have a strong instinct for survival. Flip a canoe or stand in the path of a moving bus and you'll see what I mean. So I am hardly advocating euthanasia for everyone.

The insistence that life continue until "natural" death strikes me a little like the old joke about the man stopped for running a red light. "I'm sorry, Officer," he says. "I'll stop twice at the next one." Given that many people die suddenly (from heart attacks or car crashes), or do not gain consciousness after an illness or accident, it's not always possible to have the leisurely death that allows for reconciliation and healing.So do we make up for that by insisting that those with lingering illnesses remain on life support until their bodies wear out and stop on their own? My mom took two days to die after her higher brain functions had been erased by a stroke. The hind brain has to be overwhelmed by unexcreted blood poisons before it will stop firing.

Sometimes I think we are more humane with our pets. When they are in pain and we are unable to spend the funds to make them better, we reluctantly put them down. This is hard when their lives are not fully lived. While I might fight to see one more sunset, we do not give this prerogative unreservedly to our animals friends.

I don't know what the answer is to the question of when life ends. But here is a rough guide. When further benefit to the dying person is no longer possible, and all opportunities for reconciliation have been taken, and there is no one left to benefit but priests and canon lawyers, the time to say goodbye and pull the plug is either near or gone by.

I hope that when it is my time to go, this advice will still feel right.

Pastor Piper in Paradise

 

I’ve read more than my share of vapid books about heaven. But this one is different. Pastor Don Piper  does not come across your typical money grubber trying to capitalize on people’s desire for knowledge about heaven. Instead, he simply shares a life changing experience in which he was nearly killed – or in his telling, actually killed – in a head-ion with a tractor trailer. For an hour and a half, paramedics assumed he was dead, and left him to treat others. A passing minister ignored them and prayed for the man. Who suddenly regained conscious. During the period, Hicks reports that he experienced heaven – a luminous , peaceful place where he met lost loved ones and friends, and saw a “pearlescent” gate.

For the next 13 months, Piper suffered almost constant pain as he recovered from horrific injuries that destroyed lengths of bone in his left leg and arm. These were encased for many months in a heavy, immobilizing, painful  and infection-prone braces. Though he never fully recovered, his story about the reality of heaven and of the power of prayer has inspired many.

Did Piper go to heaven? God knows,  though I don’t doubt that he experienced what he took to be was heaven. Was he actually dead in his crushed vehicle until he was prayed back to life? Again, there’s no way of telling. He had no discernible pulse, true. But the lack of injuries to brain and internal organs might we’ll have been happy chance. And the fact that he wore his seat belt.  The trauma of the accident, combined with months of brain-addling drugs and excruciating pain – not to mention his fervent commitment to the heaven that he reported -- are more than enough to account for his honest perception that he had visited a realm of beauty and light. But, who knows? What I appreciated about the book is Piper’s brutal honesty about himself and his recovery. Other people might marvel at his resilience and faith, but Piper tells how pain and deep depression nearly overcame him. Many times during his recovery, he only wanted to go back to heaven. That level of self-awareness and honesty, shorn of sanctimony and ornamentation, was refreshing. Even his depiction of his time in heaven is short and to the point. Where others write entire books about their supposed experiences, what Piper reports could have occurred in 5 minutes time, and includes no earth-shattering revelations.

I am the type of Christian who sees miracles in the way God craft something beautiful from broken humanity. And Piper was as broken as it gets. “Resurrection” aside, the miracles came as he learned to let go of his need to be in control of himself and everyone around him. His wife had to take over the “male only” tasks of budgeting and bill paying. And Piper had to accept being helped by this friends and family. Ironically, his experience allowed him to become an angel of mercy to others who suffered as he did, bringing them hope that recovery was length, but possible. Piper didn’t see these as miracles on a par with the biggies he dwells on. And he doesn’t seem to have moderated the cultural aspects of his Texas Christianity. But that’s fine.

Whether you believe that human beings can experience heaven and return, or you see the miraculous in everyday acts of love and overcoming, “90 Minutes in Heaven” is a beautiful book, filled with honesty and hope.