Showing posts with label Death. Show all posts

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"But what then is capital punishment but the most premeditated of murders, to which no criminal’s deed, however calculated it may be, can be compared? For there to be equivalence, the death penalty would have to punish a criminal who had warned his victim of the date at which he would inflict a horrible death on him and who, from that moment onward, had confined him at his mercy for months. Such a monster is not encountered in private life."

Image by Alain Bachellier via Flickr

I’d like to address the MacPhail family. Let you know, despite the situation you are in, I’m not the one who personally killed your son, your father, your brother. I am innocent. The incident that happened that night is not my fault. I did not have a gun. All I can ask … is that you look deeper into this case so that you really can finally see the truth. I ask my family and friends to continue to fight this fight. For those about to take my life, God have mercy on your souls. And may God bless your souls.

Image via WikipediaEric Landry, over at Out of the Horse's Mouth, has what can be called, fairly, a scathing analysis of Willow Creek's Summit of business leaders and church leaders.  I think some of his criticism could be called, fairly, heavy handed.  I assume there are many things pastors of large or small organizations can learn from business leaders...from those who have found new and exciting and successful ways of leading people.  Lord knows I could learn a few things.

But, how much can we learn from business?  I know it is not terribly uncommon to hear business language in the church..."bottom line," "clients," even "product."  But the end goal of business is to make money.  While I'd love to be bringing in more money at our present church that's not "our business."  "Our business" isn't "getting more butts in the pews" -- although, again, it would be great if we had more of those as well.  Our business is offering Christ.  Our business is doxology, offering our praise.  Our business is discipleship.

Landry's most pointed, and I think strongest, theological argument is directed at Bill Hybells.  Here it is:

Bill Hybels said yesterday that the church is in the life transformation business. I’m glad to say that the Bible doesn’t support that view though it does seem to be a fairly common misconception today. We all want Jesus to come alongside us and improve us, our marriages, our children. We want to go to sleep at night confident that we have taken several steps forward, getting a little better every day. We want to reach the end of our lives and see that we have accomplished something of lasting significance and worth, to know that we were worth something. In all of these scenarios, however, Jesus is a means to an end (a very personal, therapeutic end: feeling better about ourselves). As one new acquaintance said at dinner last night, the problem isn’t that we need to align our hopes and dreams with Jesus; it’s that Jesus upends our hopes and dreams, intruding into our lives with such force that what we thought was important actually dies and new life is born in its place. As the great Episcopal preacher Robert Farrar Capon puts it, “Jesus came to raise the dead. He did not come to teach the teachable; He did not come to improve the improvable; He did not come to reform the reformable. None of those things work.” As long as the church thinks it is in the life business instead of the death business, it will constantly clamor after every tool to improve life and it will judge its success in the way that bookkeepers and accountants judge success.

Image by Rachel Ford James via FlickrI read a few blogs from Great Britain, assuming that heaing a European perspective balances out some of the American viewpoints I get, merely from the air I breath. 

This was found over at Ruth Gledhill's blog from across the pond.  I think it tries to put the American mission to get bin Laden into a different perspective.  On that blog you will also find a video of the Archbishop of Canterbury condemning the manner with which the mission was carried out.

But I thought Wright's stuff was thought-provoking:

Consider the following scenario. A group of IRA terrorists carry out a bombing raid in London. People are killed and wounded. The group escapes, first to Ireland, then to the United States, where they disappear into the sympathetic hinterland of a country where IRA leaders have in the past been welcomed at the White House. Britain cannot extradite them, because of the gross imbalance of the relevant treaty. So far, this is not far from the truth.

But now imagine that the British government, seeing the murderers escape justice, sends an aircraft carrier (always supposing we’ve still got any) to the Nova Scotia coast. From there, unannounced, two helicopters fly in under the radar to the Boston suburb where the terrorists are holed up. They carry out a daring raid, killing the (unarmed) leaders and making their escape. Westminster celebrates; Washington is furious.

What’s the difference between this and the recent events in Pakistan? Answer: American exceptionalism. America is allowed to do it, but the rest of us are not. By what right? Who says?

Consider another fictive scenario. Gangsters are preying on a small mid-western town. The sheriff and his deputies are spineless; law and order have failed. So the hero puts on a mask, acts ‘extra-legally’, performs the necessary redemptive violence (i.e. kills the bad guys), and returns to ordinary life, earning the undying gratitude of the local townsfolk, sheriff included. This is the plot of a thousand movies, comic-book strips, and TV shows: Captain America, the Lone Ranger, and (upgraded to hi-tech) Superman. The masked hero saves the world.

Films and comics with this plot-line have been named as favourites by most Presidents, as Robert Jewett and John Shelton Lawrence pointed out in The Myth of the American Superhero (2002) and Captain America and the Crusade Against Evil (2004). The main reason President Obama has been cheered to the echo across the US, even by his bitter opponents, is not simply the fully comprehensible sense of closure a decade after the horrible, wicked actions of September 11 2001. Underneath that, he has just enacted one of America’s most powerful myths.

Perhaps the myth was necessary in the days of the Wild West, of isolated frontier towns and roaming gangs. But it legitimizes a form of vigilantism, of taking the law into one’s own hands, which provides ‘justice’ only of the crudest sort. In the present case, the 'hero' fired a lot of stray bullets in Iraq and Afghanistan before he got it right. What’s more, such actions invite retaliation. They only ‘work’ because the hero can shoot better than the villain; but the villain’s friends may decide on vengeance. Proper justice is designed precisely to outflank such escalation.

Of course, ‘proper justice’ is hard to come by internationally. America regularly casts the UN (and the International Criminal Court) as the hapless sheriff, and so continues to play the world’s undercover policeman. The UK has gone along for the ride. What will we do when new superpowers arise and try the same trick on us? And what has any of this to do with something most Americans also believe, that the God of ultimate justice and truth was fully and finally revealed in the crucified Jesus of Nazareth, who taught people to love their enemies, and warned that those who take the sword will perish by the sword?

Image by Stuck in Customs via FlickrAccording to Jared Wilson, from whose blog I got this, this is a poem engraved on the tomb of CS Lewis' wife, Joy.

Here it is:

Here the whole world (stars, water, air
And field, and forest as they were
Reflected in a single mind)
Like cast off clothes was left behind
In ashes, yet with hope that she,
Re-born from holy poverty,
In lenten lands, hereafter may
Resume them on her Easter Day.

photo © 2008 Gillian C | more info (via: Wylio)

Jesus, I believe you laughed as Mary bathed you and Joseph tickled your toes. I believe you giggled as you and other children played your childhood games. And when you went to the Temple and astounded the teachers, I believe you chuckled as all children chuckle when they stump adults. And surely there were moments of merriment as you and your disciples deepen you relationship. And as you and Mary and Martha and Lazarus fellowshipped, mirth must have mirrored your faces.

Jesus, I know you wept and anguished. But I believe you laughed too. Create in me the life of laughter.*

Yes, suffering and despair are to be taken seriously; and that is precisely why the Christian life is a life of joy. In the midst of it all, God has made a way out. In the middle of our lost ways, God has found us. Only God can destroy death and defeat darkness. Only God can turn our despair into joy. Only God can turn sorrow into laughter. Only God can turn cross into resurrection.

The worst that can happen to us cannot compare with the best God has already accomplished for us in Jesus Christ!
___
*Cal & Rose Samra, Holy Humor (New York: Mastermedia Limited, 1996).

photo © 2006 Mark Skrobola | more info (via: Wylio)

photo © 2009 Hartwig HKD | more info (via: Wylio)
November was rough.  It drained me.  It was hard on me and many persons that I care about.

I came into November participating in two different productions--the "Halloween Train" Murder Mystery at Hotel Alyeska and the production of "Once Upon a Mattress" by (the still-forming) Girdwood Community Theater.  October 30th was the Murder Mystery.  October 31st was a Sunday with worship and Sunday School and Trick-Or-Treating with our little ones.  I was wore out.

But November came in and was ruthless.  Now, I know that this is not really the fault of any month.  But it's clear that this month, as I've said to some persons, "Kicked my butt."

On November 1st, someone connected with our church committed suicide.  It was traumatic for the the family, the community, and me.  While I had done funerals for suicide victims before, I don't think I'd ever been there "the night of" and followed up with the family over the next week.  I think I said some good things.  I think my presence was appreciated.  I think I was helpful and I think my presence made a spiritual difference through prayer and comforting words and merely by said presence.  This challenged me as pastor.  It also challenged my emotions as I love this family that was having to deal with the very sudden grief and pain and begin the healing process.  I did a lot of self-reflection throughout this process and was able to examine my own psychological and physiological responses to the hurt that I was feeling.  The Wednesday of that week I drove into Anchorage for a minister's lunch mainly because I needed the prayers to keep going.

Two weeks to the day after this, we had another traumatic death.  Again it was a family I loved and cared about. Again it was unexpected, though not suicide. It was a very painful scene.  It was in the middle of the night.  It was long.  My heart was broken as I could see and hear the brokenness of those I was called out to be with. It was November 17th that I wrote a blog post entitled "Dealing With Death/I'm Not OK."  And I wasn't OK.  I knew I would be OK.  But I wasn't at that moment.  It was going to take me time.  And it was clear that it took me about four days before I really felt like I could do any real work.  Also, it was clear that I didn't want to be alone.  I didn't want to be alone because it all felt too raw when I was left by myself.  I found comfort in the company of others.

In the midst of this we had rehearsals and three nights of production for "Once Upon a Mattress."

Then, a week later, on another dreadful Monday, we got word that a family member committed suicide in Indiana.  Really?!  Again!?  Here the difficult thing was our distance from the loved ones who were grieving.  You could hear the pain in the voices.  There were no indications that this was coming. There were no clues that anyone had.  Totally unexpected.

Three deaths in 21 days.  That was a lot.  That was a lot for me as pastor and a lot for me as...well...just me.

Then came Thanksgiving with a community dinner and all the celebrating that comes with that holiday.  Dinner with friends.  Kids home from school.  

Other pastors and people look to the holiday season and look at their December calendars and wonder how they are going to be able to get it all it.  This can be an overwhelming time and season and month for persons.

But I look toward tonight's exit of November with relief.  This was a tough month. 

I plan on embracing December and being embraced by God throughout all of it.  I plan to drink in the beauty of Advent and celebrate with my family and others all that this season means.  I look forward to the message of hope and love which comes with the birth of the Christ child and reminds us once again that God is in control and he, himself, has entered and is always entering this messy world of ours.  I pray for healing for myself and I pray for healing for those who have lost loved ones.

And November...good riddance.  Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

Image via WikipediaHad another death in the community recently.  I'm going to be purposefully vague about it to keep the details private.  Like many deaths, it's not anyone who actually lives here but someone who was in the Girdwood area enjoying something the area has to offer -- fishing, hiking, skiing, etc.  On any given day, a lot of the people around here aren't actually from around here.  They're from Anchorage, or the Peninsula, or Outside, or overseas.  And this particular person was not from here.


I've been chaplain of the local Fire Department for the last nine years or so and death is one of the things I do...particularly if it's very traumatic for the first responders or if there are friends and family around at the time who need some emotional/spiritual care.  Part of the job is making sure the Fire Department and State Troopers can do their jobs.  Sometimes it's a matter of trying to calm down those who are distressed so that questions can be answered.  Sometimes I pray.  Sometimes I just listen.  Sometimes I'm just not sure what exactly it is that I should be doing.

I have found the chaplaincy to be a very rewarding part of my ministry over this time.   I can't say that I "enjoy" it.  But I can say that I'm appreciated by the Fire Department for the care I'm able to offer and I can say that my presence seems to be appreciated by those who are grieving and are mostly in shock at the scene of a death.  It's hard, but I feel like these times are holy times. 


There is a look of relief on the faces of some persons when I show up... on the mountain, on the trail, on the road, in a home.  The Fire Department may ready for me to deal with the grieving loved ones after they've been at a scene, hard at work, in "rescue-mode" for a while.  The family may be looking for someone to hold onto them and help them transition into all of the tough questions that are going to lie ahead.  Both may be happy to have someone there to be a go-between for communication.  It often helps to have someone who is not really a "rescuer" but understand what is going on.


But, there are those...particularly bystanders who know me...who see the Fire Department around and see me show up and come to the very valid conclusion that something bad is happening.  They're respectful.  They keep their distance.  But they realize that someone has died...when they see me.

At this recent death, I was waiting for loved ones to show up where I was so more loved ones could be brought together for the first time after hearing the news.  While waiting, someone who knew me, a friend with kids I know, started trying to talk with me...small talk...simple stuff.  My mind was focused on the arrival of the family members and the role I'd need to step into at that time.  I'd already been with some of them for a while.  And when the newly widowed woman arrived and embraced her child and cried in front of us, the look on my friend's face changed.   It sunk in what was going on. This friend pulled her kids away from that situation so the grieving could continue. 

There was hustle and bustle all around.  There was business.  There was travel.  There was eating.  There was laughing.  And, in the midst of it, a family crying.  It's kind of surreal when I look back on it.  Oftentimes, there is a small, intimate window full of pain and grief and love that kind of opens up in the real world.   It's strange.


Sometimes, in these situations, I feel like the angel of death. 

They are holy times and I know that God is using me to bring some peace to a very tumultuous place in the lives of persons. 

I just wonder how many persons think, "Oh no.  Jim's here.  Someone must have died."