Mostly angry

I am mostly angry at the church today.

I am angry on behalf of all the women who were never ordained because it "wasn't time yet" and all those who will not be consecrated bishops. I'm angry on behalf of the lesbian and gay priests in relationships who have been forced to decide between honesty about their relationships or recognition by the church. I'm angry on behalf of those who have chosen celibacy when they might not have done so. I am angry on behalf of those people who have loving, sacramental polyamorous relationships and so are turned away, and on behalf of those who would best express who they are in a polyamorous context but do not because of the church's disapproval. I'm angry on behalf of those who courageously commit themselves to another in every way except legal marriage and are sent the message that this doesn't count, doesn't mean anything. I'm angry on behalf of anyone denied any sacrament because they don't fit into a tickybox, whatever the sacrament and whatever the tickybox.

For Christ did not come to condemn the world.

What are we doing as a church, what are we doing as the Body of Christ, if we condemn those who do not fit our received, preconceived notions of sanctity?
Lord, have mercy.

What are we doing as the Body of Christ when we draw a line in the sand and say that those who stand on one side of it are worthy, and the rest are somehow not in receipt of God's grace?
Christ, have mercy.

What are we doing when we define priesthood in such a way that some who feel called to it are excluded, not by their selfishness but by their integrity, commitment and honesty? What are we doing when we define membership of the church that way, or say that church membership is somehow many-tiered with one standard of goodness for laity (which is just a fancy way of saying "people") and another for clergy?
Lord, have mercy.

What foul deception is this, this idea that we get to decide who God invites to serve in one way or another? Oh, we have to take an active part in the discernment process, certainly. But "I don't understand your choices, so your experience of vocation means nothing" is not discernment; "You don't fit into this tickybox, so you can't possibly be obedient to God's will in your life" is not discernment; it is rejection, condemnation. This rejection, this condemnation holds the entire church ransom to fear, so that those who would ask the questions of discernment (try "What is God doing in this situation? What do this person's experiences, in light of Scripture, tradition and reason, say about God's will for them? How can the church encourage this person to grow to be who they really are, for the greater glory of God?" for starters), those who have open imaginations and loving hearts, can only do what is right by pretending that they don't know, making sure nothing is official. Of course, it isn't those who are fearful of anyone different from them getting authority who are blamed for "putting the church in a difficult position" -- it's those who are trying to make the best of a bad situation, those who have got their toe caught in the door and are trying to pry it open despite the crushing weight of all that fear, those who would rather display mercy than demand sacrifice, those who act with love and welcome in Christ's name despite being told they must condemn and judge, those who hunger and thirst after God despite being told in no uncertain terms to go away until they can behave themselves and conform to the received cultural norms -- those are the people who get accused of putting the church in a difficult position.

Is this, truly, the Kingdom we are invited to help build? I don't think so. It saddens me, sickens me, this scrabbling at boundaries, bickering over control of grace as if there isn't enough to go around. Do we really think the Holy Spirit follows our measly little rules?

And yet... Love is stronger. Love is stronger than fear, love is stronger than death, love is stronger than any of the hogwash the church might throw at anyone.

I just wish I knew what that means about what I should do next.

So I did sit and eat.

I realised, talking to Kathryn last night, that it would be a matter of when I decide to receive Communion, rather than if.

Put like that it didn't make much sense to wait. What would I wait for? Being ready? Being worthy? Isn't that somewhat missing the point? If a dear friend sees that you're hungry and invites you in for a meal, you don't stand around on the doorstep with your coat on, wondering if they really mean it.

I'd like to write that it was a profoundly moving experience, that there was some shift in perspective at that moment. That would be dishonest. It didn't feel all that different from my more usual going up and receiving a blessing, except that the wafer stuck to my teeth. I had the same feeling of slightly nervous apprehension beforehand, the same creeping focus on one moment and one moment only and forgetting everything but the presence of God, the same pounding heart afterward. I'd like to compare all the various sensations and ideas and thoughts, take things apart and analyze them until I can find out how this is actually any different, but I can't observe from a neutral position. There is no double-blind test for sacrament. It's as gloriously mundane as every other part of this sacramental world.

And yet... I can say I feel a little lighter, somehow, more buoyant. There's a great deal of relief in just giving in. There was no wondering afterward whether I should have taken part, no throbbing regret about not being able to trust, no wrestling with myself over whether I'd done the right thing. That much, at least, was easy, and I almost wonder what I waited so long for.

That's how I feel now, anyway. It will be interesting to see how I feel in a few days.

Who do you say that I am?

What is a Christian?

It really depends who you ask. Some say that being Christian means following Jesus. Some say it means worshiping Jesus as Lord and King. Some say it means acting with love in the world.

Am I a Christian? Again, it depends who you ask. I don't suppose God minds much either way what I call myself.

There are people who would classify me as Christian based on my spiritual practice: I pray daily using Christian prayers and I attend church most weeks, though not on Sunday mornings as is traditional. But I don't think that going to church makes me a Christian (where did I read that line about going to the garage not making you a car?), and I don't think that using Christian prayers or prayer structures makes me a Christian. I do think that such prayer can be transformative and over time it may transform me into being Christian (or more Christian, if you think I already am). That's a risk I'm willing to take, if it also makes me more loving, more compassionate.

There are people who would classify me as Christian because on some level I am trying to engage with God, to discern God in the world, in a Christian context. There's a lot of Christian doctrine that I don't believe or can't relate to, a lot of detail that I am trying to understand and really failing to grasp most of the time. But I don't propose that one has to understand all the doctrine to be Christian. Wanting to understand it may be a considerable step.

But... I am not trying to understand God in a Christian context because I think that is the only true or valid context, but rather for more pragmatic reasons. I tried elsewhere. I got so pissed off with Christian doctrine and the hypocrisy I saw in the Christian church that I up and left for ten years, and looked elsewhere. It didn't work very well. I learned that all religions have doctrine with which I will struggle, all faiths have a motley assortment of adherents, some of whom are perhaps more spiritually astute than others. So I'm trying to understand Christianity because it's more convenient than trying to understand another faith. It or some variation of it is the dominant faith in the culture where I grew up, it is the established religion in the country where I live, and though I will need to learn a lot to get close to understanding it I have a head start as much of the worship and study materials are already in English and easily accessible. I need to consciously acknowledge and discern God in my life, but every lens I can look through is speckled or tinted or just plain cracked. I may as well use the lens that is closest to hand. I need to talk to God, to worship God, but I'm not very good at finding the right words. I may as well use the same imperfect words as the established church in this country, and hope God will, in mercy, know what I mean.

Some would use creeds as the ultimate earthly test of whether someone is Christian. If Christianity were a faith only of belief and not of practice then I might agree with that. But I don't fully agree with any of the Christian creeds as I currently understand them. And I've always been of the opinion that what you do or attempt to do is more important than dogmatic adherence to a set of rules about what you may or may not believe to be true.

There is a song, most of which I can't remember the words for, but the chorus ends "...and they'll know we are Christians by our love." By our love.

I fall short there, too. I'd love to love the world more. I am growing in that, every day, every hour even; as time passes my awareness of God's love mostly increases and my love for the world seems to increase in parallel with that. But my actions don't reflect that as they could. I try, and fail. If being a shining example of God's love in the world is what it is to be Christian, then I desperately want to be Christian... and I know I'll never get there, I'll never reach a standard high enough that I don't feel I have a lifetime of work ahead of me. But it's worth trying anyway.

If wanting to be a shining example of God's love in the world, if trying to do that and failing most of the time but trying anyway, is what makes someone Christian, then I already am.

I still don't know where that leaves me with taking Eucharist! People like their labels and rituals. But with all due respect, that seems like a small doctrinal detail if I've the potential, the opportunity, to act for and with God in all of life. Maybe I'll change my opinion on that if my understanding of sacrament changes, but if loving action isn't an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace then I don't know what is. As it's a small doctrinal detail that some people take very seriously, though, I'll abstain until I have a better understanding.

Credo

Revd Kaeton called this post a statement of faith. That caught me out; I hadn't really intended it to be such, it was more a response to questions, a clarification for my own benefit of ideas that were floating around looking for words.

I struggle with the creeds I grew up with; parts of each of them don't ring true for me at all. But what is any creed but a response to questions, a clarification of ideas?

I've been doing some further clarification this week, talking with friends and also reading what others have written. And I think I do want to write some of this down, have some record of it. It isn't necessarily where I'll end up, it isn't any permanent creed, but it is a snapshot of what I believe right now.

I believe in God. I have always believed in the existence of a Creator God... I cannot remember not believing. That belief has been refined over time and I have come to understand the Creator as being omnipresent, omnipotent, perfect and infinite. And being both perfect and infinite makes God essentially undescribable.

For me, the Oneness of God and the interconnectedness of all things are overwhelming to the point that even very monotheistic Trinitarian doctrine seems to me to be a thought-shorthand, a way to make it easier for humans to think about God rather than describing some innate reality of God. (That isn't necessarily a bad thing, as long as we remember that what are dealing with is an approximation, a metaphor, a thought-shorthand, not some Absolute Literal Truth.)

I lose sight of it easily, but I believe we are all children of God, beloved of God. I believe all Creation is beloved of God.

I believe we are invited, called if you will, to act to improve the world. This might be through seeking justice for the oppressed, through creating beauty, through showing care for one another. It may be through healing the sick or through feeding the hungry or through seeking truth. But we have been given, through free will, the opportunity to choose to act as agents of God's love for the world, in the world.

Sometimes, I think that it is our responsibility, our obligation, to do this. Other times I am not sure. To me, it seems a very compelling invitation.

But, having been given the choice, we have made mistakes. I'm not sure I can go as far as to say we are fallen, as such, but we are certainly wounded, imperfect, ignorant, incomplete. If we weren't, I'm not entirely sure the choice of right action, the choice of acting as agents of God's love, would be meaningful.

But if God is perfect then by extension (unless I've misdefined 'perfect') God is loving and God is just, and if God is loving and just then, having created us imperfect, God cannot condemn us. So... we are redeemed. We are saved. To my mind, forgiveness is absolutely unconditional and universal. It doesn't matter how horrible you are, it doesn't matter what you believe, who you hurt, you are forgiven. This is hard to swallow: there are people in the world who I sometimes think do not deserve salvation, cannot imagine forgiveness for. Thankfully I am not God! God's mercy is a lot bigger than mine is. God's mercy, like God's love, is infinite.

I only this week realised that if this is the case there must be some sort of life beyond this world, some sort of continuation after death. It surprised me. But I was talking to a friend about my anger at (God? the world?) for the treatment of another friend of mine, who has seen sadness after sadness, though she does so much good work. And I know that what she is going through now will make her, eventually, stronger, but it still seems unfair. And the friend I was talking to said, "Yes, test people, but not to destruction... except we do all die, we are all tested to destruction." So. Either death (as we see it from our side) is not the end, or God is not loving. Ouch! But as I am so often reminded in my life, love is stronger than anything. Even stronger than death. So, quite simply, death cannot be the end. I don't claim to have any details on this. I don't understand what "death is not the end" means, in any sort of practical terms.

God's infinite mercy, unconditional forgiveness, does not mean that our actions do not matter. Because of the interconnectedness of all things, because all Creation is created, any harm that comes to any creature is painful to God. We are not punished for that, because of God's love for us. God bears the pain of our failures, no matter how grave, rather than banish us from grace. But the forgiveness, the lack of punishment, the rescue from eternal condemnation: these don't mean that our actions matter less. They mean, somehow, that our actions matter more. They are our invitation to extend that same lovingkindness to the world, to dare to pass it on.

I don't really know what this means: it's too big for me to imagine. But the more I allow myself to accept the depth of God's love, the more I feel able to love the world.

In summary: Love is stronger. Pass it on.

So, about this Jesus bloke...

Over at Telling Secrets there's a great post with some good questions. Do go read the whole thing.

I'm having a little attempt to answer some of the questions for myself, here. Because really, a lot of this is what I'm trying to figure out.

So, here’s my question: Do you know Jesus? Yes, I know you do, but how would you describe Jesus? In your own words? Who is Jesus for you and why does he make a difference in your life of faith?

I don't know that I do know Jesus, really.

I know what some people say of Jesus.

My familiarity with the Gospel is somewhat rudimentary; I'm working on mending that, through daily reading and prayer. But I'm not a literalist, and I'm sufficiently cynical that I will always wonder how much of what is in the Bible is entirely context-dependent, I will always wonder how much of what people wrote is true in any sense. Sometimes, that doesn't seem to matter much: the Summary of Law speaks to me on a level that doesn't take into account literal truth in any sort of rational way, it just feels right. But even then, there's this bit of me that says, "Okay, nice idea, admirable idea, I'll buy that, I'll try to live that way, but how do I know that it's this Jesus guy who said it? Hillel came pretty close for all that. It's an idea that was floating around at the time, it needed a story." It's all a bit too convenient, and I can't accept on any rational level the authority of a text that isn't even consistent within itself on that level.

If I were to say that the Bible is a finished work rather than a snapshot of an ever-growing library, then I might have to conclude that Jesus was a person who was hugely inspiring to a number of people. I know how I feel when I have am falling in love with someone, how my entire world revolves around them and I think they are the Best! Thing! Evar! (better than kittens!) and I want to tell everyone I meet how shiny they are. I can see an extrapolation of that leading to the conclusion that a person is somehow more divine than the rest of us, somehow sent by God for the benefit of the rest of us. The psychological wrenching shock of the crucifixion would make that an easy leap to make, I think.

But... somehow, that doesn't really feel like the right answer. I can't put my finger on all of why. Partly it's that I don't accept the Bible as a standalone, finished work. I think there's a very strong possibility that it is still in progress.

I said that I know some of what others say of Jesus. Contemporary accounts are part of that, too. And most of that isn't so much in the form of words as in the form of actions.

There is Deacon Friend, who reaches out to those in need no matter how great her own suffering, who has turned her life upside down and inside out in some very unfavorable circumstances to pursue a vocation to priesthood. There is Catholic Friend, who has provided so much practical and moral support through some very difficult times of my life and who takes so much care to speak truth and reduce harm. There is C of E Friend, who balances his public and private life in a way that makes me think even someone as strange as I am (for I am, in some ways, less strange than he) can perhaps find a community and fit in without dishonesty or confrontation. There are many other examples, people who seem to be doing what I perceive as God's work in this world, moving heaven and earth to help others. Many of them seem superhuman in their stamina and I can see, in some of them, that their ability to do this work is tied up in their relationship with God. For many that relationship with God is very much in a Christian context, inseparable from their relationship with Jesus. And that's one of the things that does make Christianity itch for me, does keep me curious about Jesus: if so many of the people who make this world worth living in are Christian, if so many of the people who I would actually trust with my life are Christian, then maybe there is something to it. Maybe I was wrong to walk away.

There are plenty of examples of people I think do God's work, or at least have been Godsends in my life, who are not Christian. Some belong to other faiths, some to none. Some of them are not even theist. And yet all seem to have the same modus operandi: that nobody, alive or dead, is worthless, that we are responsible for compassionate action in the world, that the world is interconnected in ways too deep and complex for us to understand, that unconditional positive regard (that's, er, love) can change the world. The theists among them would expand that to say that we are all loved, unconditionally, that we are all God's children.

And I think that maybe that's what Jesus was getting at, too. And whether the Gospel is an accurate historical account, a mythology, or something somewhere in between, it says Jesus was so committed to this message that He was willing to die for it. That this message is so important, so sacred, that even death couldn't kill it, because love is stronger.

I don't think that Christianity is the only religion that has these linked messages of God's love for us and our invitation to act for God in the world, to become an active part of God's work. But human beings love stories, and as stories go, the Passion is a pretty good illustration of those messages--whether it's true in a strict historical, rational sense or not. As a metaphorical thought-shorthand it works very well. And I don't know about you, but I do need metaphorical thought-shorthand. I need images and symbols and rituals in my life because without them I get disoriented and lost.

If some visitors who weren’t Christian came in today because they wanted to meet Jesus, who would they find? How would you describe Jesus to them?

I guess I would try to explain what I already explained above. I would say that the story of Jesus' life and death and resurrection is one that assures us we are loved and invites us to participate in the world in a loving manner. I would explain that the more loved I feel the more I also feel called to love the world as much as I can, that service from this position of an overflow of love becomes a joy rather than a chore, that when I am exhausted or discouraged or frightened or lonely or hurting it is love that keeps me going and that I seek to augment my awareness of God's love so that I can augment my love of the world so that I can augment my awareness of God's love, that it's a cyclical process, that love is stronger than fear, love is stronger than death. And that doesn't seem, at first glance, to have much to do with Jesus at all. Maybe I can understand the meaning of the story without accepting that it happened as literal descriptions would claim.

Here’s the important question of faith: How would you tell others about who his is and where to find him? And, would they know that any of that is true by how you live your life? One of my favorite images of the church is that of one hungry beggar telling another hungry beggar how and from whom to get bread.

If I had to point to a text to sum things up I don't know where I'd start. If I were talking about my own personal experiences, then I guess I'd start with how other people have affected my own spiritual path. I'd say to find Jesus look for love in the world, try to see the love in any situation, add to it if you can, and especially add love if you can't see any.

I hope that the way I live my life might say a little of this. I know I routinely fall short.

I am a genuinely caring and affectionate person; I try to communicate this, I try to let people know by my words and actions that I do love them. I know I often fail, or overshoot and come across as horribly forward and inappropriate (especially in British culture).

I am a teacher. One of the things I strive for in my teaching is to be honest with my students and respectful of them, to invite them to learn rather than intimidate them into it. Children really do get an awful lot of flak and I don't want to add to that. I try to make it clear that I am there to teach them music and the reason for that is that it is fun and worthwhile. I try to make it clear that some of what I teach them about music is applicable to learning other things, or to life in general. I try to teach them that learning to love what they are doing is more important than learning not to make mistakes, that learning to love a piece of music so much they want to play it for others is more important than passing exams. I try to teach them that practising is a tool, not a punishment, that it is okay for them to have bad days as long as they are genuinely trying their best, that I do believe they are giving it their best shot. Because I do, you know, maybe I'm just naive, but I believe every last one of them does the best that they can with the resources and information they have. My job is merely to try to frame the information in a useful way. I don't know that I succeed at any of this, but objectively I can say that I do not shout at my students as much as some teachers I have had, and that they do mostly seem to want to continue learning, and that today I had students smiling, rushing to their instruments as soon as I arrived so they could show me what they'd done this week. So maybe I do get it right some of the time, this teaching stuff, enough of the time to know it's worth it for me to keep trying. And maybe none of my students will see Jesus in that, but I hope they get the message that they are loved, they are worthwhile, that it is worth doing the best they can.

Here’s the thing: If you want to meet Jesus, you don’t need a formal introduction. All you have to do is walk with him, and let him walk with you. Put your body and your mind and your soul with him and open yourself to his presence.

And, believe. Amen.

I'm working on it. It sounds so simple, and yet I trip over my rational doubts so often. I don't seem to be able to relate to Jesus much except on a very metaphorical and symbolic level.

Have a heart. And a liver. And some kidneys...

As most readers here will know, Roseann over at Give Peace a Chance needs a kidney. I don't really know Roseann, but I've been praying for her all the same, because she seems to be part of this community and you all seem to care, and a little more prayer isn't going to hurt her or me. And I've known others waiting for kidney transplants and it is every kind of not fun, folks, that you could ever imagine.

Roseann has been turned down for a transplant waiting list, because she's considered too high-risk by that particular medical institution. Now, there are lots of things wrong with that, and they'll probably be discussed elsewhere, but here's the thing:

She's been turned down because there are so few kidneys available that only those with the greatest need and the greatest chance of survival even qualify for the waiting list.

If you aren't on the organ donation register in the country where you live, I want you to have a good long think about why not. If you were hit by a bus tomorrow, what would happen to your liver, your kidneys, your heart? Those could save three or four lives, and you'll have no need of them.

If you aren't on the organ donation register in the country where you live, and you have no strong objections to donating your organs after you're done with them, I'd like you to sign up. I would consider it a personal favour.

Here's how to get started in the UK.

Here's how to get started in the US.

I'm not sure about other countries, but feel free to add links in comments.

Consider, also, becoming a living kidney donor. I've considered it--seriously--but my own health problems prevent me being a suitable donor at this point.

(It's quite likely that this did the rounds months ago, long before I got here. Too bad. It's important enough to repeat.)

419

I'm really upset by the Church of Nigeria's support for anti-gay legislation. Come on, people. Humans can do better than this. We can love better than this, we can live better than this, we don't have to be so afraid of one another that we would imprison those who are different from ourselves.

All theological or doctrinal issues aside (and I've got a few of those), how can I even consider joining a Church which is in communion with people who support such hate and violence? I do not expect perfection, I expect there will be diversity and disagreement. I expect people to make mistakes, and I expect it to take time for those mistakes to be rectified. I expect I make a fair few mistakes myself, the sort that frustrate others. But I don't see how this kind of hate-mongering is ethically acceptable. I certainly don't see how it follows Jesus Christ, who (as I understand it) preached love and forgiveness a lot more than judgement and punishment.

It's one thing when your child gets caught shoplifting, age 13, and you take him back home and have a Serious Talk about why that sort of thing is Not Okay, and also seriously examine your own parenting skills. It's quite another thing when that same 'child' is 25 years old and has moved on to armed robbery and is still living in your home. At what point does supporting a person condone their actions? At what point is that support collusion rather than just tacit approval? And yet, and yet. People have to make their own choices. Turfing out that 13-year-old would be considered too harsh. Turfing out the 25-year-old would be, well, it would be too little too late. And where did that 25-year-old learn that armed robbery is an acceptable strategy for success, anyway?

As far as I can tell, as long as the Anglican Communion accepts this sort of thing, it is aiding and abetting some pretty vile discrimination. I don't know how to respond to that, or to the discrimination--less violent, but still marked--within the Communion in supposedly more 'civilised' countries. But joining up doesn't seem like a very good idea.

Whatever you do unto the least of these, you do unto me.

Lord, have mercy on these people who re-crucify You, two thousand years later. Apparently Your forgiveness is infinite. Alas, mine isn't. I can't even forgive the sins of my own insignificant life without Your help. I'm pretty sure I don't even perceive all of the ways I nail You to the cross every day. I cannot comprehend mercy on this scale.

(In other news: the essay is going to be a day late. I'll take a 10% docking of marks for it. I'm annoyed but resigned: I can't do everything. Still.)

Love your neighbour. Love your enemy.

The world is a diverse place. There are a lot of people in it who interpret life differently than I do, and a fair few who seem to share some of my interpretations.

As long as we're sitting around our nice cozy metaphorical fireplace, talking about theoretical situations, that's all well and good. It's easy to accept, "Well, I would do differently," or "I think this is right/wrong/crazy," and pour another whisky or make another round of hot chocolate.

The world we live in, though, isn't so comfortable. We are compelled to act in the world, to make decisions about what we should do or not do--and even choosing not to act is a decision about action.

I believe in God and I love God. I try to reflect that belief and that love in my actions. I also try, though my beliefs are less secure in this area, to act as though God is loving and merciful. I am certain that I fall short most of the time. To err is human.

I do not believe I have any special claim to knowledge of God's will, for myself or for other people. I try not to judge or condemn those with whom I disagree. But if I can make errors in discerning right action, so can anyone else. I think that by discussing divergent viewpoints with compassion and an open heart, we can all get a little nearer to knowing what is the right action, get a little nearer to making this world a reflection of God's will.

I believe compassion and tolerance are integral to this process. Love has to be part of the discussion; love has to be what drives our actions.

I see so many examples of fear. Those links are all to people who I believe are trying to act with grace, people who are lovingly questioning the way things are and looking for how we can do better, and they're all discussing things that have gone wrong in the world, things that I think come from fear.

A theme that keeps coming up, again and again in these conflicts and countless others, is how and indeed whether to engage with those we could consider our enemies.

I am a teacher; my instinct, when I see someone in confusion or someone who is engaged in self-deception, is to try to clarify the truth. The greater the confusion and self-deception, the more horrific the wrong committed, the more I want to take that person aside to somewhere quiet and safe and talk to them, and listen to them. I want to try to understand how they got where they are, and either adjust my own attitudes accordingly (referring, always, back to God's love and mercy as my yardstick of right and wrong) or help them to see things in a less painful, less harmful way. If people had not done this for me, countless times, I would not be where I am today.

So, what to do? A church I am not a part of excommunicates someone who made a faithful and compassionate decision that happens to go against the doctrine of that church. As far as I can tell the decision for excommunication is either very misguided on a personal level, or a symptom of a much deeper systemic confusion between the function of the church as an agent of God's mercy and as an agent of God's judgment. Those are some pretty deep-seated fear and control issues. Do I imagine that I can get through to someone like Archbishop Jose Cardoso Sobrinho? No. Do I imagine that others haven't tried? No. Do I imagine that the Archbishop has not given this some thought and prayer himself, and simply come to a much different conclusion? No. Does that absolve me from a responsibility to respond, somehow, to this issue? Absolutely not. So I read about it, and I ask questions. Further discussion online would amount to feeding the trolls. I pray about it, and hope that the log in my own eye is smaller than the speck I see in someone else's. I consider whether I might write to the Archbishop, but he'll have thousands of similar letters from people far more qualified than I am. I remind myself that some of my regular charitable donation goes toward an organisation that, among other things, supports young women who flee their families because of a similar sort of religion-backed misogyny, that of female circumcision. I hope that I am supportive of the women in my life and a good role model for the girls. I try to get back to my 'regularly scheduled programming' of living my life (learning, teaching and creating: truly a blessed existence) as best I can and not thinking too hard about the great weight of fear and hate in this world... I can only do so much.

It doesn't feel like enough.

I have had so much help from so many people, religious or not, people who loved enough to take a risk on me and try to help even though odds were it wouldn't do much good. These people didn't give up on me, they didn't cross to the other side of the road. They took responsibility, whether they knew it or not, for representing God in the world.

How can I, in any sort of faithful good conscience, walk away from situations that cause so much pain? I do it every time I don't have spare change and a kind word for the homeless, every time I walk away from a discussion--even with trolls--about compassion and mercy, every time I decide I don't have the strength or money or endurance for one thing and another thing and choose the thing that I enjoy or do better rather than the thing that is going to do more good in the world, every time I just don't even do the research to find out which is going to do more good in the world.

Is there ever an excuse for anything less than tireless acts of lovingkindness, complete self-sacrifice to improving the world through caring for others? It seems impossible, unreachable. No wonder so many people lose their way.

Lord, help me to do better, and forgive me when I fail.