The Mandate of Inclusion

I have often heard people use the Bible to justify “putting out” a sinner from the church community. In Matthew, Jesus taught a form of conflict resolution: Confront the person, confront the person with a witness, confront the person in the presence of the church, kick the person out. In 1 Corinthians, Paul urges the church to turn their back on a sinning member.

But in today’s reading, 2 Corinthians, Paul has a different message: “Most of you opposed him, and that was punishment enough. Now, however, it is time to forgive and comfort him. Otherwise he may be overcome by discouragement. So I urge you now to reaffirm your love for him.” It’s pretty clear that Paul is following up on the case he mentioned in 1 Corinthians.

We like kicking people out. The us v. them mentality is ubiquitous and deeply satisfying. We like bringing people into our club and we like pushing them out. We like joining and then leaving. I have heard far too many stories of churches kicking people out for their sins.

And this isn’t a hobby just found in the American Evangelical and Fundamentalist groups. Early church history is a long list of excommunications and double anathemas. Part of the spread of Christianity is due to the exiling of “heretical” priests. They went into the wilderness and spread the gospel.

I personally believe that the church needs to transcend this divisive mentality. As we prepare to celebrate Maundy Thursday, it would be good to meditate on the actual words Jesus spoke. Maundy comes from the same root word as “mandate.” Jesus gave us a mandate: to serve one another. To wash each other’s feet; in other words, to do lowly and humiliating service to everyone in our community. Jesus taught us very clearly that it is in abiding in Him that we will be identified. Not by who we exclude. But by our willingness to extend our loving service to every single person.

As always, I’m not bragging here. I write these words as a reminder as much to myself as to anyone else. Today I will strive to abide in God’s love, and I will fail. But God will always open Her arms back to me.

Teaching Empathy

I work with a family therapist, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. She does more work with Tori than with me, but I do join them at the beginning or end of the session. During one session, she asked me if I gave parental advice. I was shocked. I mean, here I am, at a family therapist. Doesn't that mean I'm not qualified to give advice? But she was serious. She thinks I'm doing a really good job, and that I should share my ideas with others. I have to say, I'm not sure I really am qualified to be a parental advisor, but here's a story I'm comfortable sharing, with the hopes that it may help other parents.

Every so often my daughter gets chatty about school. It’s usually at night, when the lights are off and we are engaged in “quiet” cuddles. I know it’s a delaying tactic, but since she NEVER talks about school otherwise, I let it happen.

Generally speaking, the narrative is one about how she is the hero of the playground. Quite often, there is also judgmental commentary on the kids in the class who misbehave. My daughter may think nothing of slamming doors at home, but at school she is truly a little angel. People often tell me that's a sign of good parenting. Sometimes I wish I weren't such a good parent...

Last night she was telling me about a kid in her class who clearly has some behavioral issues. This child, I’ll call them Pat, is taken out of class to work with a special teacher and my daughter mentioned that Pat goes to the principal’s office to avoid “hurting the other kids in class.” I don’t know if Pat has a learning disability, or a severe behavioral problem. I don’t know anything about Pat except that my daughter disapproves and feels superior.

I'm all about removing stigma from mental health issues, and I don't think 6 is too young to start her education. So I said: “It sounds like Pat has some big feelings and doesn’t know how to handle them. You know, when you had big feelings, we had to go see the counselor.”

“Yes, I used to hit you, and then I saw the feelings doctor and learned how to get my angries out.”

“That’s right. And then you wanted to go again, so you get to go now.”

“Yes, I like going to see her. I get a lot out of it.”

“Well, it sounds like Pat doesn’t get to go see a feelings doctor. Isn’t it great that Pat can see a feelings doctor at school? Sometimes, when people have big feelings and don’t know how to deal with them, they do bad things. They hurt other people.”

“Yes, Pat tells lies about the other kids in the class.” Then followed a long story about kids tattling on other kids. Teachers are saints. I would go insane - just listening to my daughter recount all this drama is wearing me out!

I brought us back to the matter at hand: “So the important thing to remember is that when we meet people like Pat, it’s OK to set boundaries and stay away so they can’t hurt us. But we also need to give them sympathy. Because they have big feelings and don’t know what to do with them. They are feeling really bad when they do those things. And if it really bothers you, you can pray for Pat. That’s what I do.”

She responded with silence to this, thinking it over. I know I haven't won the Nobel prize for this conversation, or answered all her questions about mental health. But it's a start. 

I want her to be compassionate towards all people. Compassionate for kids who are less intelligent than her, kids who have less opportunities or money than her, kids who have disabilities. It's a big goal and will take me the rest of her time at home, and maybe longer. And it's a lesson I need to keep learning for myself.  

Note: I used a gender neutral alias for the child in this post.

The Hideous Surprises of Growing Old

“I thought you’d get more time out of this tooth,” he says with a sigh.

Overhead the TV is broadcasting interviews with the USA hockey team, wearing their gold medals.

“Is there something I can do? Should I brush more often? Take calcium?”

Another sigh.

“It’s just a matter of time now. We don’t usually remove teeth until there’s pain or swelling.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

So there’s a reprieve, of sorts. I get to keep this molar until it becomes painful.

The medalists smile, young faces filled with shiny white teeth. Teeth that aren’t being rejected by their gums.

I continue my questions, hoping for some word of hope, some instruction for preservation. It’s small comfort to realize that there’s nothing I can do: the roots of my molars just aren’t normal, and so they don’t really work. But I’m only 43. I didn’t expect to be discussing tooth implants with my dentist today.

This is the worst part of aging. It’s the unexpected parts. The random chin and neck hairs that sprout overnight and are somehow a full inch long. The way my newly limp skin droops around my neck. The surprising shifts in menstruation.

My birthday was Tuesday. Everyone wishes me well and asks me how it went. What is there to say? It was a good day, in a good life that I have worked very hard to create. A life in which, I’m learning, there is no way to sit back and rest on one’s laurels. Because a good life is also a life where there is constant change. As a parent, I’m teaching my child, the love of my life, how to successfully move away and live without me. As a wife I’m investing my energy and intimacy into another mortal, which means one day I will be left without a partner (or he will). As a coach, I pour out love and support to equip a person to move ahead without my help.

I’m not happy about potentially losing my tooth. But I will adjust and move forward. And once I get comfortable, my body will jump into another surprise of middle age. Life will happen no matter how I feel about it. I might as well choose acceptance and find joy.