I grew up before the time of Barbies and American Girl dolls and after Ginny and storybook dolls. Mine were Madam Alexander and Tiny Tears. When I was five I started saying Mass for them and used white poker chips for their Holy Communion. When I was seven my dad was very sick and priests came to the house to say Mass and distribute consecrated Eucharist. Non-consecrated hosts were kept in the house and my parents let me use one or two for my doll congregation. I fully expected to be a priest when I got older and no one bothered me with the truth ~ that I couldn’t be. The future (and John XXIII) could change all that anyway.
And so this devout little girl listened to all kinds of sermons with great enthusiasm. Until one Sunday when there was this odd declaration from the pulpit that parents should not let their children watch Ed Sullivan that night as Elvis (who?) was going to be on. Who was this man that was so wicked he warranted being admonished by a priest at Sunday Mass? Could his form of evil come right through the box of wires and light? WOW. I wanted to see that. The point being that even at six or seven, I was clear that I would determine what I would and would not accept as appropriate from the pulpit at a Sunday Service.
As I got older I got even more hip to what was going on. Pastors were telling people what movies to not see, TV to watch, who to vote for, what is a sin, who should be in church, GIRLS SHOULD NOT BE PRIESTS. Bingo - Deal breaker. So I got more discerning and looked for priests that were more in my definition of what a representative of Jesus would say. From ages thirteen to twenty-one, I looked. I changed “celebrants” many times. Redemptorists, Diocesans, Franciscans; both Black and Brown (orders of priests); I searched for ones that inspired and challenged, taught and interpreted, shared insight and grace. At twenty-one, it was clear that no one in the pulpit inspired me.
I did not want to hear any more about judgment, sin, damnation, evil, sexism, racism, homophobia, righteousness. So I stopped. I stopped going. And my seeking continued, progressed, expanded and never stopped. How could anyone sit in a pew to listen year after year, marry their sweetheart, bring their children, share one’s inner life with a pastor and when convenient, when the world can see in, say that he does not agree with the preaching.
I am genuinely befuddled about this. I am around many sincere Christians who find their pastors/priests inspiring, informative; their touchstone in a world gone mad. I know many Jewish people who have gone from temple to temple to find the certain Rabbi that speaks to their soul. And in the world of Buddhism practitioners know that finding one’s teacher is part of the journey of self-discovery. His Holiness, the Dalia Lama rings my bell at the deepest core of my being. I just look at his photo and feel my smile spreading warmth through to my soul.
I want to ask something I have not heard sincerely asked, what does it say about a member in a congregation who disagrees with the essential teachings of their pastor and 1) remains in the community for twenty years and THEN 2) ditches his pastor when the world gets wind of it. Is this convenience? Is this disingenuous? He wants me to think he is really smart, really insightful, really loyal and I can trust him – but, to me, this is a demonstration of very bad judgment. How can Senator Obama say, “I had no idea that this man was saying all of these things.” It sounds like a marriage in which no one communicated honestly for two decades, feigned true care and now dumps the association as it does not serve their purposes.
Isn’t this what we want from people in the military? To be able to say to their commanding officers, “no, this is not moral.” Or for kids to say to their peers, “no I won’t jump off the Brooklyn Bridge.” This is what I expect from myself. If and when someone speaks about things which I find unjust, no matter how difficult, I have to say NO. I demonstrate by leaving as soon as it is apparent that it will not / cannot change. To remain is my approval. The only question is how long does it take for the facts to be revealed. Maturity and consciousness is measured by one's ability to size up a situation and match it with the proportionate response.
And even more important to me is watching how this congregant is peeling off his relationship – like a used wetsuit after years in the surf. This is not a an artificial layer. This is not merely a surface shell. In the context of a twenty year relationship, the leader of the congregation has been invited into one’s mind, one’s heart, one’s soul. Jessup or Jones make that clear, Graham or Falwell make that clear ~ bad or good.
I do not believe that Barack Obama sat in his pew not hearing, not responding. Moreover, I do believe that Barack Obama loved his pastor, his pastor loved him. I am just disgusted that either and/or both are disavowing one another. That is a Deal Breaker.
