The Sabbath Was Made for Man

I was hoverng in the Religion stacks of my beloved bookstore last week. The male half of a young couple struggling with a squirming toddler was also scouring the shelves. The decibel level told all about why Pop was seeking solace. When the child grabbed The Spirituality of India, Papa snatched it and replaced it on the shelf. "Isn't that just like you," Mom said, "stealing Gandhi from a baby."

I note Epsicopals are now charged with the same offense. A woman claims if the Diocese is successful in re-inhabiting property it already owns, then Sunday School children, crayons and all, will be out of pocket. Not content to stop there, another commenter posted it's likely the crayons would be melted down into rainbow colors.

Why so mean? A personal goal as I age is to blossom as a curmudgeon but I'm having a hard time swinging it. The just late and lamented Molly Ivins said she couldn't help feeling sorry when Nixon left the White House. She wrote, "birds gotta fly, liberals gotta bleed." When those who voted to leave the Episcopal Church finally leave, flock, Brock and Carol, I will harbor nothing but profound sorrow on their behalf. Knowing the hearts of the Faithful Fabric, once the old familiar pews are regained, there is no doubt they will make provision so that no child will be left behind.

Bishop Katherine was also mocked this week by fans of a reporter with an agenda who sought to pin her down about who goes to heaven, and why. The reply that earned their scorn was, "that's not a question that concerns me day in and day out. I think I'm meant to use the gifts I have to transform the world in this life." I attended a Diocesan meeting on Virginia poverty once at a tiny church in the poorest part of Richmond. The pulpit was surrounded by chairs like spokes in a wheel. This is a place where people have no choice but to take notice of their neighbors whether they may be sleeping during a sermon or missing in action. The priest told me likewise he was more immediately concerned about saving the neighborhood than saving souls.

In the Brothers Karamazov, Dostoyevsky portrays a scene where a policeman says, "We're not particularly afraid of all the Socialists, anarchists, infidels, revolutionists, we keep watch on them and know all their goings on. But there are a few peculiar men among them who believe in God and are Christians but at the same time are socialists. They are dreadful people. The socialist who is a Christian is more to be dreaded than a socialist who's an atheist."

I'm no socialist, neither is Bishop Katherine nor the Richmond priest, though I suspect we hold something in common. When I was managing a faith based homeless shelter, I was told by some what mattered most was saving souls. I found what mattered most was saving lives. Attempting the latter publicly, I prayed for the former privately. At best, shelter evangelization encourages less harmful if not holier lives through the example of a poor imitation of Christ. Rather than the salvation of questionable souls, it's more often the constant humbling, not of Dostoyevsky's dreadful Christian socialist but God's faithful social worker that is regularly attained.

I'm humbled by the emails I read from The Fabric in all their uncompromising good will in the face of difficult circumstances. I was especially elevated this week, though, by the reaction of an old friend in response to the story of the dictionary that got away. He's a former member of St. Margaret's who left before the brouhaha saying that although we didn't agree theologically, he was leaving because he didn't want others like me to have to go. After he read the blog, he said he'd mail his great grandmother's 1868 Websters. What blessed assurance that even though there are serious matters that divide us, there remain bonds we both hold dear.

A critic once wrote, "the play's a success, the audience is a failure." When the unpleasantness ends, when the play is over, Sunday schools will be open again for wholesale business. Most of us aren't really mean although some of us try from time to time.