A Letter from Bishop Chris (May 2024A)
Friends,
In his book, The Holy Wild, Mark Buchanan recounts a story told by Elie Wiesel, the Jewish author and Nobel Prize winner who survived the Nazi concentration camps.
Wiesel tells of a group of Jewish men, ghoulishly withered, huddled together in a Nazi death camp. Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, comes. The oldest and frailest of them stands up. “Let us fast and pray for forgiveness, to atone for our many sins,” he says.
One man is appalled at the idea. “We have to atone for our sins? What about God? Who allowed us to be in this misery? What about Him asking for our forgiveness?”
There is silence, until finally the old man says, “And now let us go and pray.”
Buchanan makes this point: “There are a great many people of God (a great cloud of witnesses) who, living by faith, refuse to reduce God to their own experience, to limit His love by the evidence of their own circumstances.”
As I’ve thought about this, I realize that there have been times in my life when I’ve been tempted to do that very thing — to limit God’s love by the evidence of my own circumstances. Maybe you’ve experienced this too?
In the midst of hardship - real trials, real pains, real-life difficulties - I’ve noticed a subtle shift can come to my heart and mind. It feels something like a relational cloud that hovers over me and obscures my perception of God, all the while, subtly insinuating that the heartache or mistreatment is evidence that God is absent, unfair, unjust, impotent, or callous.
When this happens, I’ve learned to move toward God and toward others, seeking discernment from the Holy Spirit in the midst of a praying community. Sometimes this experience is actually evidence of our enemy, the devil, “prowling around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” (1 Peter 5:8) As Mother Teresa warned her Sisters a few years before her death, “the Devil continuously seeks to make you feel it is impossible that Jesus really loves you, is really cleaving to you. This is a danger for all of us.” At such times, I’ve learned to, “yield to God and to resist the enemy until he flees,” as St. James admonishes. (James 4:7)
At other times, I’ve realized, it’s not the enemy that obscures God’s love so much as it is the pain of what happened to me or to someone I love. When I was the rector of a church, I often experienced this as I walked with my parishioners through their hardships, sicknesses, accidents and betrayals. Now as a bishop, I’m experiencing this same thing in a new way while one of our churches is hurting.
Over the past months I have experienced deep heartache as I have walked with victims and the church leadership at the Falls Church Anglican. Recently, a report was published revealing the past abuse many years ago by a former youth pastor against children (now adults). The trauma of the victims and their families is tremendous- some have been deeply damaged and others find themselves feeling far away from God because of the sinful actions of someone they once trusted.
As I’ve prayed, I’ve found myself thinking often about St. Thomas (“doubting” Thomas). Following Jesus’ first resurrection appearance to his gathered church (which Thomas missed), Thomas declares, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” (John 20:25)
I hear in Thomas’ words a kind of painful, angry, despair. It’s a roaring questioning of God’s care for him. It’s almost as though he throws down a gauntlet of pain before the Lord. “If you really love me God, why? Why did it happen? Why are you treating me like this?"
What’s so amazing is that Jesus didn’t banish Thomas for his struggles. In fact, after a period of waiting that must have felt like an eternity to Thomas (it was only week - but pain has a way of stretching time), Jesus revealed himself to Thomas. At Jesus’ second appearance Thomas was no longer alone but instead was in the midst of the other disciples. I praise God that he moved toward the church and not away from it.
And then what happened?
As Buchanan writes, “Christ risen but wounded” appears. And what did He say? Essentially Jesus said: Thomas, touch my wounds. Bring me your doubts. See the depth of my love for you. Know that I didn’t abandon you. Be clear that your circumstances aren’t the evidence of my love for you - my wounds are. I suffered on your behalf. Recognize that I have loved you - I did for you what you needed most - I went to the cross and the grave. I offered myself in your place and took God’s displeasure at sin so that you don’t have to. In love, I suffered for you. In love, I suffered as you.
The Scripture makes clear that God didn’t simply talk about love. He showed it in the most powerful way possible. In space and time, at the cross of Jesus Christ, God gave each of us a definitive word when our circumstances tempt us to limit His love.
Eastertide blessings,
+Chris
p.s. As I stated in my recent pastoral letter to the diocese, “To the victims and to all people affected by the pain of sexual abuse, I am profoundly heartbroken by what has happened to you. I grieve with you, and more importantly, so does our God.”