Sunday, April 29, 2012
A THOUGHT ON CAPITAL PUNISHMENT
My starting point is Christian. I look at the death penalty from a Christian point of view. I am not a legislator who has to decide what's best for society or take a stand on the death penalty that will keep me in office. I am not a family member or friend of a murder victim who may have an unreasonable desire for revenge. Nor am I someone who thinks that "an eye for an eye" is a practical way to deter others from murdering people. I look at this issue through the lens of the gospel, the words and example of Christ. Unfortunately, many if not most Christians are gun-shy about asking the old question, "What Would Jesus Do?"
Murder is an horrific and revolting crime. I rear up in anger when I hear someone has been murdered. What's best in me cries out for justice, even for revenge. Multiple murders and mass killings sicken me. My gut instinct wants the perpetrator to be publicly lynched as soon as he or she is caught.
But then I stop and ask where's my Christianity in all this. Yes, the killer did something terribly wrong; he had no right to take someone’s life. As a Christian I believe that human life is God's gift, not something the State gave us. A human life doesn't belong to the State, or to the killer, to take it away. It is not the State's property. Nobody but God can take that gift away; not the murderer, not the State executioner. Nobody. According to an Op. Ed. piece by Bishop Flores in the San Diego Union-Tribune of April 25, 2012, "when the governor gives the final order to execute, he does so in the name of Californian residents, and the death certificate will read, 'Homicide,' as the cause of death." That, in the State's own words, is exactly what the death penalty is - homicide, murder. It recalls Gandhi's 'An eye for an eye and make the whole world blind!'
Do I lose my right to life if I murder somebody? The law of the jungle was there before Moses. If someone took out your eye, you were entitled to take his two eyes and his hands and more, by way of revenge. Likewise, if you killed someone, the victim's family and friends were entitled to kill not only you but your whole family as well. Moses came along and restricted that kind of vengeance to taking only an 'eye for an eye,' and to the precept 'thou shalt not kill' - at all at all. Jesus came along later and said the ethic of an eye for an eye was wrong, and that human anger needed to be reeled in. He replaced an ethic of getting even with a ethic of compassion and forgiveness. If we claim to be Christian, we need to get back to a basic Christian way of thinking.
As long as we favor "an eye for an eye" morality vis-a-vis the death penalty, we will always be executing innocent people. That possibility is unacceptable but it's not ultimate grounds for abolishing capital punishment. We shouldn't be in the business of government sponsored murder at all! It's primitive, it's draconian and it's a blight on our humanity. There is no need for the government to descend to the level of the murderer. The street gangs of San Francisco operate happily at the level of 'a life for a life.'
Unfortunately, since our friends the murderers cannot be persuaded to take the first step to abolish the death penalty, it is up to us Christians to offer thoughtful and provocative input to the debate. So I encourage everybody to get out and vote in November.
It is healthy for us to feel angry and the need for revenge when somebody is murdered. There are two kinds of anger; reasonable anger and unreasonable or irrational anger. Reasonable anger gives us the energy to make sure the killer is brought to justice and that reasonable justice is carried out in the courts of law. I see reasonable justice as a form of justice that's handed down but doesn't take a human life over which it has no right. Intemperate or unreasonable anger violates that boundary by taking the life of the killer. As a Christian, I believe in redemption, the possibility that the killer will undergo conversion in jail and live out the remainder of his life there as a healed and better person - and at less cost to the State.
In addition to these Christian considerations, there are serious financial reasons to abolish the death penalty. According to Bishop Flores' piece in the San Diego newspaper, the State of California has spent $4 billion to carry out 13 executions since 1978. That's $300,000,000 per execution. Do the math and look at the needs of the poor, the under-educated, and the dearth of law enforcement in our crime ridden cities.... And go figure.
Well-known opponent of the death penalty, prison chaplain and author Sister Helen Prejean, has this to say: "The Government can't be trusted to control its own bureaucrats or collect taxes equitably or fill a pot-hole, much less decide which of its citizens to kill!"
"You have heard that it was said, 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say to you, offer no resistance to the one who is evil. When someone strikes you on your right cheek, turn the other one to him as well. If anyone wants to go to law with you over your tunic, hand him your cloak as well. Should anyone press you into service for one mile, go with him for two miles. give to the one who asks of you, and do not turn your back on one who wants to borrow." - Matthew 5: 38-42
PASTOR EMERITUS
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
IS CHRIST FOR REAL?
Believe it or not, Jesus is alive. These weeks of Eastertime we've heard the gospel stories of Jesus showing up unexpectedly after his death: the women at the tomb, the two hikers en route to Emmaus, doubting Thomas, the nervous little group locked into their hiding place for fear of the Jews, the guys who had gone fishing back up at the lake.... They all saw the real Jesus. He was no hologram or ghost (if there are such things!), no mirage or dream, no disembodied angel.... He was the real ticket. For real, human and hungry.
Did it ever occur to you that his body was never found...ever...anywhere? The early morning race to the tomb surely referred to an earnest and widespread search for the body. Did those who put him to death take it from the tomb during the night and hide it somewhere? If so, they could have produced it the moment the disciples claimed he had risen from the dead. That would have stopped his friends in their tracks. Did the apostles take it? Hardly, seeing that they faced harassment, hounding, arrest, torture and death - something they wouldn't have endured if they didn't believe he had risen from the dead.
So we're left with a few smoking guns: an empty tomb, a missing body, and Jesus' many appearances.... What do we do with it all? Ignore it and get on with life like the rest of the world - or - factor it into our vision and understanding of life?
The easy option is to ignore it, don't think about it, and live as if it never happened. The other option is to open our eyes and recognize the reality of it. If Easter has a special insight or blessing, surely it is one of recognition.
The disciples were slow to recognize Jesus. You'd imagine from the gospel accounts that they had become momentarily short-sighted before gradually seeing who it really was in front of them. The phenomenon of their inability to recognize him on the spot is strange and mysterious. Maybe it symbolizes our own slowness to recognize Christ alive in our world.
Jesus was at pains to persuade the disciples that his body was for real - wounds, flesh, bones, even his pangs of hunger. Thomas didn't really believe until he put his finger in the undressed wounds. At the Emmaus Inn, it was only when Jesus broke bread that they recognized who he was. His flesh was the bait that opened their eyes.
Easter is more important than Christmas. It has a six-week preparation and a seven-week follow through. The church spends more than a quarter year focusing directly on Easter in hopes that people recognize Christ dying and rising in their ordinary lives. The other weeks of the year, technically called 'Ordinary Time,' tease out the implications of what we celebrate at Easter.
Jesus is rising all year round, everyday and in everybody throughout history. He comes in all shapes and sizes - with hands and feet, arms and legs and stomach. He is rising in children and adults, in the poor and the sick, the hungry, the thirsty, the homeless, incarcerated, the jobless and the lost.....
He is rising everywhere for those with the gift to recognize him. We have been created and wired to see the risen Christ. We need that 'something extra' in order to become that which we have been created to be. The more we see, the more human we become. Our hearts need to be touched, warmed and expanded by the Holy Spirit of Pentecost so we can reach out and 'put our fingers in the nail marks and our hands into His side' and assure people we really understand. If there is one problem within Christianity it is a refusal or inability on the part of too many to recognize Christ where he is at - cf. Matthew 25.
PASTOR EMERITUS
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
PEACE BE WITH YOU
During Lent I watched again that 162 minute documentary of a few years ago about the monks of La Grande Chartreuse, "Into the Great Silence." Apart from an elderly and blind monk who speaks to the camera near the end about the nature of his vocation and the texture of his spirituality, nobody speaks. The only sounds are those of rough shoes on flagstone, the ringing of the chapel bell, and the chanting of the monks. The monks don't take a vow not to silence, but the culture of the monastery is one of extreme reticence. The old monk mentions that with God there is no past, no future - only present.
The monks appear to be introverts 'in excelsis!' And you won't persevere to the end of the movie unless you have at least a teeny bit of introversion within. Every time I watch it I experience moments of impatience! Where's the story line? Who are these people? Why are they living like this? When you sit and watch, experiencing the silence for over two and a half hours, you begin to get something of what the old guy is talking about. His words slow you down. You find yourself surrendering to its rhythm as if to one of Mozart's symphonies. In the end, the monks come across as being in vital contact with an invisible yet ever-present reality. Their lives revolve around an unseen God, like planets around an invisible sun.
'Peace be with you,' says Jesus over and over again as he appears to his disciples after his death and resurrection. This is a strange kind of peace, one that's not of our making or of the world's doing. He had already promised at the Last Supper: 'Not as the world gives do I give it to you,' - John 14:27. "Into the Great Silence" leaves you with the impression that the bit of peace we experience now and again in life is but the tip of the iceberg. Jesus seems to offer a kind of peace that, once had, is never lost. The Carthusian monks appear to have it in abundance, and I think this is the secret of their lives.
There's no philosophy or psychology or theology in the documentary. All you get is contact with the spiritual content of intense religious commitment. You get a terrific feel for the days and seasons of their lives: the first glimmers of dawn's light cycling around to darkness of night; winter's snow yielding to the Alpine greenery of spring and summer. By the end, what you've learned is impossible to sum up, but your sense of the world is altered for better or for worse.
But what about Jesus' offer of peace to busy people? Are most of us who are not cloistered monks condemned to live without much of it? I think the life of every serious believer is destined to be marked by a certain void. We are incomplete, like a dog waiting at the door for its owner, ears straining for the sound of footsteps and a key inserted in the lock, tail furiously wagging. The void may take the form of a lack of ambition to be defined by wealth, success or reputation. God, I believe, is in the 'void,' and it's up to each of us to find that space.
Elie Wiesel, in his "Souls on Fire," quotes Rabbi Menahem-Mendl saying, 'My mission on earth is to recognize the void, inside and outside me....' Someone who was perfectly fulfilled, whose happiness and fulfillment was complete, would have no place for God. Those monks, high in the French Alps, are not full of themselves. The Beatitudes of Jesus offer fulfillment to those who have a void to be filled. Check them out in chapter six of Luke's Gospel.
PASTOR EMERITUS
The monks appear to be introverts 'in excelsis!' And you won't persevere to the end of the movie unless you have at least a teeny bit of introversion within. Every time I watch it I experience moments of impatience! Where's the story line? Who are these people? Why are they living like this? When you sit and watch, experiencing the silence for over two and a half hours, you begin to get something of what the old guy is talking about. His words slow you down. You find yourself surrendering to its rhythm as if to one of Mozart's symphonies. In the end, the monks come across as being in vital contact with an invisible yet ever-present reality. Their lives revolve around an unseen God, like planets around an invisible sun.
'Peace be with you,' says Jesus over and over again as he appears to his disciples after his death and resurrection. This is a strange kind of peace, one that's not of our making or of the world's doing. He had already promised at the Last Supper: 'Not as the world gives do I give it to you,' - John 14:27. "Into the Great Silence" leaves you with the impression that the bit of peace we experience now and again in life is but the tip of the iceberg. Jesus seems to offer a kind of peace that, once had, is never lost. The Carthusian monks appear to have it in abundance, and I think this is the secret of their lives.
There's no philosophy or psychology or theology in the documentary. All you get is contact with the spiritual content of intense religious commitment. You get a terrific feel for the days and seasons of their lives: the first glimmers of dawn's light cycling around to darkness of night; winter's snow yielding to the Alpine greenery of spring and summer. By the end, what you've learned is impossible to sum up, but your sense of the world is altered for better or for worse.
But what about Jesus' offer of peace to busy people? Are most of us who are not cloistered monks condemned to live without much of it? I think the life of every serious believer is destined to be marked by a certain void. We are incomplete, like a dog waiting at the door for its owner, ears straining for the sound of footsteps and a key inserted in the lock, tail furiously wagging. The void may take the form of a lack of ambition to be defined by wealth, success or reputation. God, I believe, is in the 'void,' and it's up to each of us to find that space.
Elie Wiesel, in his "Souls on Fire," quotes Rabbi Menahem-Mendl saying, 'My mission on earth is to recognize the void, inside and outside me....' Someone who was perfectly fulfilled, whose happiness and fulfillment was complete, would have no place for God. Those monks, high in the French Alps, are not full of themselves. The Beatitudes of Jesus offer fulfillment to those who have a void to be filled. Check them out in chapter six of Luke's Gospel.
PASTOR EMERITUS
Monday, April 9, 2012
EVERYTHING BUT DINOSAURS
I'm told that teens are into fantasy movie watching and fantasy reading; unearthly creatures, otherworldly drama, cosmic upheaval, avenging humanoids, intrigue.... Kids spend hours absorbed in it all. I'm told it helps to develop imagination and creativity. I sometimes wonder if somebody might ever present parts of the bible in a similar way - Daniel, Ezekiel, Revelation and Acts, for example.
Scripture scholar Mark Powell says that Luke's book of the Acts of the Apostles has everything but dinosaurs. 'Earthquakes, shipwrecks, avenging angels, harrowing escapes, riots, murder plots, political intrigue, courtroom drama...the Holy Spirit roaring into a room, igniting the pious with tongues of fire and causing onlookers to think they're drunk...' There's humor there, too, he says, and instances the man who went asleep while Paul was preaching, fell through an upstairs open window and was killed (ch. 20). Many people have slept during my homilies but, as far as I know, my preaching hasn't killed anyone yet! And what are we to make of the spectacle in chapter 19 of the high priest's sons (seven of them) running stark naked in the middle of the night from a house of demons...?
These stories have the quality of 'Did you hear about the one....?' And Luke, to whom the Acts is attributed, seems to have liked telling a good story. He certainly had the gift. His gospel stories are masterpieces; practically all of them metaphors of what makes human life tick - meaningful and worthwhile. Maybe that's why the churches of the Byzantine Rite chant the entire Acts of the Apostles - all twenty eight chapters - before the Divine Liturgy of Holy Saturday. One hopes it's not done in an upstairs room with open windows....!
During the Easter season, the first reading on Sundays and weekdays is taken from the Acts. But we don't get much sense of drama in the Sunday snippets. Behind all the colorful drama in the book, Acts tells the story of how the great apostles (Peter, Paul and John) carried Jesus' news throughout the Mediterranean world. The 'journey' of the gospel of Jesus from Jerusalem to Rome (center of the Gentile world) in Acts, matches the journey of Jesus himself from Galilee to Jerusalem (center of the Jewish world) as told by Luke. It's up to us to connect the dots.
We need some leisure in our lives to do that. I've discovered that retirement affords a measure of leisure. Watching and listening and reading all about the late Mike Wallace's life as a newsman conveyed the impression that somewhere inside him, despite all his running around the world after stories, there was a center of calmness which afforded him the leisure to see the big picture and connect the dots of life. British writer and Oblate of St. Benedict, Kathleen Norris, points out how leisure is almost impossible in today's frantic world. 'We settle for the folly of keeping up with the latest in fashion, technology, celebrity.'
Listen to the reading from Acts for this coming Sunday: 'The community of believers was of one heart and mind, and no one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they had everything in common....' (Acts 4: 32 ff.) Luke offers an ideal picture of the community of believers, a concrete image of the gospel in action. Luke's readers would have been asking what its significance was for their lives. They would have seen it as a kind of metaphor of all human community and living together. We need to sit back and look at Luke's picture and allow its ever widening and deepening dimensions come into view.
These lines from Elizabeth Barrett Browning may help us get with Luke's program: "Earth's crammed with heaven,/ And every common bush afire with God,/ But only he who sees takes off his shoes;/ the rest sit around picking blackberries." When we allow ourselves to muse and fantasize over the picture of Luke's community, the reality of greed, exploitation, violence and war is seen ever more clearly to be morally and humanly wrong, and not something we accommodate because we take it for granted. The choice offered in this reading is to either see reality or go off and pick blackberries. Luke invites us to connect the dots.
PASTOR EMERITUS
Scripture scholar Mark Powell says that Luke's book of the Acts of the Apostles has everything but dinosaurs. 'Earthquakes, shipwrecks, avenging angels, harrowing escapes, riots, murder plots, political intrigue, courtroom drama...the Holy Spirit roaring into a room, igniting the pious with tongues of fire and causing onlookers to think they're drunk...' There's humor there, too, he says, and instances the man who went asleep while Paul was preaching, fell through an upstairs open window and was killed (ch. 20). Many people have slept during my homilies but, as far as I know, my preaching hasn't killed anyone yet! And what are we to make of the spectacle in chapter 19 of the high priest's sons (seven of them) running stark naked in the middle of the night from a house of demons...?
These stories have the quality of 'Did you hear about the one....?' And Luke, to whom the Acts is attributed, seems to have liked telling a good story. He certainly had the gift. His gospel stories are masterpieces; practically all of them metaphors of what makes human life tick - meaningful and worthwhile. Maybe that's why the churches of the Byzantine Rite chant the entire Acts of the Apostles - all twenty eight chapters - before the Divine Liturgy of Holy Saturday. One hopes it's not done in an upstairs room with open windows....!
During the Easter season, the first reading on Sundays and weekdays is taken from the Acts. But we don't get much sense of drama in the Sunday snippets. Behind all the colorful drama in the book, Acts tells the story of how the great apostles (Peter, Paul and John) carried Jesus' news throughout the Mediterranean world. The 'journey' of the gospel of Jesus from Jerusalem to Rome (center of the Gentile world) in Acts, matches the journey of Jesus himself from Galilee to Jerusalem (center of the Jewish world) as told by Luke. It's up to us to connect the dots.
We need some leisure in our lives to do that. I've discovered that retirement affords a measure of leisure. Watching and listening and reading all about the late Mike Wallace's life as a newsman conveyed the impression that somewhere inside him, despite all his running around the world after stories, there was a center of calmness which afforded him the leisure to see the big picture and connect the dots of life. British writer and Oblate of St. Benedict, Kathleen Norris, points out how leisure is almost impossible in today's frantic world. 'We settle for the folly of keeping up with the latest in fashion, technology, celebrity.'
Listen to the reading from Acts for this coming Sunday: 'The community of believers was of one heart and mind, and no one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they had everything in common....' (Acts 4: 32 ff.) Luke offers an ideal picture of the community of believers, a concrete image of the gospel in action. Luke's readers would have been asking what its significance was for their lives. They would have seen it as a kind of metaphor of all human community and living together. We need to sit back and look at Luke's picture and allow its ever widening and deepening dimensions come into view.
These lines from Elizabeth Barrett Browning may help us get with Luke's program: "Earth's crammed with heaven,/ And every common bush afire with God,/ But only he who sees takes off his shoes;/ the rest sit around picking blackberries." When we allow ourselves to muse and fantasize over the picture of Luke's community, the reality of greed, exploitation, violence and war is seen ever more clearly to be morally and humanly wrong, and not something we accommodate because we take it for granted. The choice offered in this reading is to either see reality or go off and pick blackberries. Luke invites us to connect the dots.
PASTOR EMERITUS
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
GRASPED BY HOPE
Why does Easter remind me of an old Judy Collins song, 'Bring on the Clowns?' The song, a little classic, defined her and a whole generation. It's about one-way love -'I thought you'd want what I want...' - and sings engagingly about the ups and downs, the joys and hurts of human love. Easter is like a song of one-way love; God's total commitment and our 'on again off again' trust.
Easter, like the song, is born out of human passion and pain, and filled with the stuff of ordinary humanity. It's about hope and survival. It's about facing and enduring anything as long as we know it won't last forever - knowing that the Clown of Good Hope will come peeping through the darkened window pane. 'If winter is here, can spring be far behind,' the poet, Shelley, once hoped.
I have a niece who is dealing with breast cancer, going through a lot of medical stuff in hopes she'll be well again. As family and friends, we're all on her side as we pray and hope for healing. I've talked and prayed with young women newly out of prison, and seen a glimmer of hope for healing in their eyes as they try to re-adjust and re-rehabilitate. In one way or another, we all of us cope with our dark winter nights, searching for glimpses of light on the distant horizon in hopes that a new day will dawn.
Fr. Donald Cozzens recently summed up contemporary Christianity as 'not so much a law to be obeyed as a presence to be grasped.' I'd like to modify that description to 'not so much a law to be obeyed as to be grasped by a presence.' Christianity is about 'salvation,' being saved, being grasped by a savior. The roots of 'saved/salvation' have to do with healing and hope. I think hope and healing go together. Easter is the centerpiece of all our healing and hopes.
Easter is meant to assure us that there's no sin, loss, betrayal or despair that is final. Easter is more than a thing of the mind, the assurance of pie in the sky when we die. We are meant to experience it during our roller coaster lives. We are bundles of contradictions. Fierce tugs of war often go on inside us as hope tries to overcome despair - certainty struggling with doubt, suspicion with reassurance, and darkness with light. Those who've been in hospital or prison, those who have had bad medical reports, lost their jobs, benefits and homes know about that struggle.
They also sense they need something, or Someone, outside themselves to take them in the right direction. That's why we dare to hope that the Risen Christ will handle the whole curious package of humanity that we are, and offer some relief, some balm, some healing and hope. 'The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are,' are words I saw recently attributed to Carl Jung.
We begin our Easter Vigil celebration with the Garden of Eden story from the bible. We celebrate its mystery week by week so our humanity can be spiritually restored to the garden, and we become whole and complete once again. We need to have some awareness of what's going on behind the ritual and the story of this Holy Week so we can be grasped by its presence, and experience the hope it contains.
For me at least, the Risen Christ comes from the wings of the tomb and onto the circus ring dressed as a Clown of Hope. Bring him on. Let's lighten up and celebrate!
PASTOR EMERITUS
Easter, like the song, is born out of human passion and pain, and filled with the stuff of ordinary humanity. It's about hope and survival. It's about facing and enduring anything as long as we know it won't last forever - knowing that the Clown of Good Hope will come peeping through the darkened window pane. 'If winter is here, can spring be far behind,' the poet, Shelley, once hoped.
I have a niece who is dealing with breast cancer, going through a lot of medical stuff in hopes she'll be well again. As family and friends, we're all on her side as we pray and hope for healing. I've talked and prayed with young women newly out of prison, and seen a glimmer of hope for healing in their eyes as they try to re-adjust and re-rehabilitate. In one way or another, we all of us cope with our dark winter nights, searching for glimpses of light on the distant horizon in hopes that a new day will dawn.
Fr. Donald Cozzens recently summed up contemporary Christianity as 'not so much a law to be obeyed as a presence to be grasped.' I'd like to modify that description to 'not so much a law to be obeyed as to be grasped by a presence.' Christianity is about 'salvation,' being saved, being grasped by a savior. The roots of 'saved/salvation' have to do with healing and hope. I think hope and healing go together. Easter is the centerpiece of all our healing and hopes.
Easter is meant to assure us that there's no sin, loss, betrayal or despair that is final. Easter is more than a thing of the mind, the assurance of pie in the sky when we die. We are meant to experience it during our roller coaster lives. We are bundles of contradictions. Fierce tugs of war often go on inside us as hope tries to overcome despair - certainty struggling with doubt, suspicion with reassurance, and darkness with light. Those who've been in hospital or prison, those who have had bad medical reports, lost their jobs, benefits and homes know about that struggle.
They also sense they need something, or Someone, outside themselves to take them in the right direction. That's why we dare to hope that the Risen Christ will handle the whole curious package of humanity that we are, and offer some relief, some balm, some healing and hope. 'The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are,' are words I saw recently attributed to Carl Jung.
We begin our Easter Vigil celebration with the Garden of Eden story from the bible. We celebrate its mystery week by week so our humanity can be spiritually restored to the garden, and we become whole and complete once again. We need to have some awareness of what's going on behind the ritual and the story of this Holy Week so we can be grasped by its presence, and experience the hope it contains.
For me at least, the Risen Christ comes from the wings of the tomb and onto the circus ring dressed as a Clown of Hope. Bring him on. Let's lighten up and celebrate!
PASTOR EMERITUS
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
AN INTERESTING BOOK
I picked up an unusual book in Costco recently. 'The Source of All Things' by Tracy Ross is a searing account of childhood sexual abuse at the hands of the author's stepfather. One percent of the memoir describes the actual abuse; the remainder is an exploration of its effects on the writer, her decision to 'come out' as an adult, her parents ongoing denial, and how the family is hanging together with it all. I read the book because I was curious to hear about this from a victim's perspective.
Tracy Ross, a professional journalist, is a gifted writer. Her prose is terrific. And her story of fear, shame, embarrassment, rage, courage, confrontation, and finally a measure of hope and peace, reaches deep into the human soul. Catholic leaders have been faulted in recent years for their seeming lack of understanding of the decades' long nightmare with which the victims of sexual abuse live. This book is for their thoughtful reading.
Our bishops approached this from the three-legged sacramental confession model: God, the priest and the sinner. The persons sinned against were left out of the picture except in the case of stealing, when restitution was required. Growing up, I was never instructed to make amends to those I bullied, for example. During pastoral training, I was not instructed to tell penitents to go and apologize and make up to those with whom they lost their tempers and said bad things. Having being trained like this, church leaders themselves gave too little consideration to the victims of their abusive priests. They're paying dearly for it now.
Tracy Ross' memoir is far from being a morbid tale. She and her family are dyed-in-the-wool outdoors folk. Skiing, backpacking, mountain biking and boating in the Colorado, Idaho and Alaskan wilds is what they're all about. It's where she found her strength to deal healthily with what happened to her as a kid. Having being abused, probably a dozen times, she ran away, struggled with drugs, promiscuity and whatnot, eventually finding her way to the mountains, to skiing, backpacking and boating with friends. It was there she discovered the strength to tell her story to the world.
The book offers the story of what happens within a family when the abused person reports and confronts the abusing member; shock, denial, seeking accommodation with the victim but without fessing up, deep distrust. In Tracy's case, her mother continued to be in denial that her husband could do what he did to his stepdaughter.
I found this to be an absorbing read, not to mention a great description of life in the wilds of North America.
PASTOR EMERITUS
Tracy Ross, a professional journalist, is a gifted writer. Her prose is terrific. And her story of fear, shame, embarrassment, rage, courage, confrontation, and finally a measure of hope and peace, reaches deep into the human soul. Catholic leaders have been faulted in recent years for their seeming lack of understanding of the decades' long nightmare with which the victims of sexual abuse live. This book is for their thoughtful reading.
Our bishops approached this from the three-legged sacramental confession model: God, the priest and the sinner. The persons sinned against were left out of the picture except in the case of stealing, when restitution was required. Growing up, I was never instructed to make amends to those I bullied, for example. During pastoral training, I was not instructed to tell penitents to go and apologize and make up to those with whom they lost their tempers and said bad things. Having being trained like this, church leaders themselves gave too little consideration to the victims of their abusive priests. They're paying dearly for it now.
Tracy Ross' memoir is far from being a morbid tale. She and her family are dyed-in-the-wool outdoors folk. Skiing, backpacking, mountain biking and boating in the Colorado, Idaho and Alaskan wilds is what they're all about. It's where she found her strength to deal healthily with what happened to her as a kid. Having being abused, probably a dozen times, she ran away, struggled with drugs, promiscuity and whatnot, eventually finding her way to the mountains, to skiing, backpacking and boating with friends. It was there she discovered the strength to tell her story to the world.
The book offers the story of what happens within a family when the abused person reports and confronts the abusing member; shock, denial, seeking accommodation with the victim but without fessing up, deep distrust. In Tracy's case, her mother continued to be in denial that her husband could do what he did to his stepdaughter.
I found this to be an absorbing read, not to mention a great description of life in the wilds of North America.
PASTOR EMERITUS
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