42: Chapter 1 – In the Beginning

On Easter, R. and I made our way, miraculously on time, up the massive central hill of California to Grace Cathedral. The bishop for the diocese of San Francisco, apparently a political man, was preaching. (With all the lethargy surrounding religion and the political correctness enveloping us, which seems only to preclude counterattack against the self-righteous right, it is an unexpected pleasure to hear current, liberal logic in a public, social forum. Alan Jones, the dean of the cathedral and a man of considerable calm and charm with his British accent, high white hair and beard and air of confident resilience, took a similar tack during Advent. His comment, which I will write about in a future piece, that we ought not to think that those who did not vote with us were “evil and stupid”, was met with refreshing laughter. Between these two, the Episcopalian Church is beginning to look attractive again.)

The thrust of the Bishop’s remarks was that, while we can handle the crucifixion (as amply demonstrated by the sick large numbers of people who went to see Mel Gibson’s overblown and erotic Passion of the Christ), we have serious trouble with the resurrection. By way of illustration, he cited the conflict over Terry Schiavo’s “immortal soul” staged by the fundamentalist Christians who maintain that it will be lost if she dies. This is bizarre and desperate, even by their own standards: if Schiavo is indeed “killed” by the horrible, damned people who believe she should be left to die in peace (myself among them), her place in heaven is all the more assured. Unfortunately, you can’t have it both ways: either she is murdered (a passive innocent) or she takes her own life (her soul is in danger – Catholics only). Of course, some of these same people believe that newborns are already so sinful as to require immediate baptism to preclude hellfire in the event of their death. Original sin’s an illogical bitch for the devout Catholic. The thought that Schiavo would be resurrected, in keeping with the basis of all Christian faiths, was entirely absent from the discussions of morality.

The Bishop headlined his second example “Arnold Schwarzenegger”, a more recognizable name than the “James” he discussed in detail. Apparently, this James witnessed a murder as a teenager, was convicted and spent his time in jail – some twenty years – amassing the necessary credentials to receive a Master of Divinity and generally becoming an upstanding and reformed member of his community, both in and out of jail. Once released on parole, he applied to the bishop, this bishop, for ordination which, approved, was to take place in June. The day before Easter, however, California’s parole board, under the direction of our favorite Austrian, issued the judgment that James was not sufficiently rehabilitated to have been let out and he was summarily returned to prison. James’ clear rehabilitation was no match for California’s distrust of all who have been incarcerated. Again, a failure of belief in resurrection.

Easter, not Christmas, despite its superior marketing and multitudes of gifts, is the primary holy day for Christians for this very reason: belief in the resurrection is the ultimate statement of faith. Without it, the crucifixion is just another act of all too mundane cruelty and the point of Jesus’ life is lost (something that Gibson entirely missed, for all his self-righteous blood and gore). Christians are supposed to celebrate disbelief (“The tomb is empty? What the?!?”) converted to belief (“He is risen indeed!”). It is the basic tenet of faith and the most difficult to accept, even more problematic than the virgin birth, which, if nothing else, involves a much, much smaller body to relocate.

In thinking about the preceding failures of faith in the face of resurrection, it has occurred to me that they represent fundamental social, political and personal challenges we face regularly, the complexity of which remains unaddressed in the American quick-fix paradigm. As the media has noted endlessly over the last few weeks, Schiavo?s situation has heightened awareness of end-of-life issues immeasurably and James’ case certainly calls into question the standards our state government is applying to its prisoners. I would suggest though that the basic questions raised by these two examples are larger, less immediately practical and more important. For instance, at what point does life become unnatural and unwanted? What is conciousness and does it have an intrinsic value (to the thinker, even) beyond its application or sharing? What do we think about rehabilitation (aka re-birth)? Where has our confidence gone in trusting its existence? Are those judgments extensible to, say, a judicial system or are they entirely unique and subjective? Under what circumstances is rehabilitation possible? Does the responsibility for it rest solely with the rehabilitated or on society at large? How do you alter thinking on these subjects without compromising the separation of church and state? Is it possible to fast-forward through a country?s frequent (historically, at least) period of religious zealotry (and its resulting violence)? How do you reach those with whom you violently disagree? Is, at some point, argument pointless? What do you do in that case?

I’ve decided to create a set of chapters running through some of these questions – stay tuned. Readers should take note that, as usual, this will largely be about me and the writing will be based on my weird and totally incomplete reading habits, at best, if not entirely on personal opinion. Which should be entertaining, if nothing else. I do not pretend to know everything. I don’t even pretend to know a lot, relatively speaking. There is almost nothing on which I am an expert. But I do know a little about a lot of things, as do most people in this over-informationed age. I’ll also probably go into religion and its place in both my head (lapsed Episcopalian) and society at large. (I don’t usually go to church, but I know a lot more than about it than any one person really has any business knowing, so I may as well put it to good use, don’t you think?)