Sunday, January 18, 2015

Serendipity or the Work of Satan?


It seems that whenever I’m having trouble coming up with a topic to blog about from my own (some people say overactive) imagination, something will come along from The Real World to inspire me.  It might be the refusal by the manager of a Christian soup kitchen to allow atheists to volunteer (“And the Award Goes To . . .”  October 26, 2013), or a diocese’s proposal of a resolution to eliminate the titles of Father and Mother for priests because this reinforces stereotypes based on the patriarchy (“It  Came from the Risen Consciousness,”  October 22, 2014), or the recent tragedy in Baltimore in which a bishop driving under the influence struck and killed a cyclist (“This is all about me.  And it should be!” January 1, 2015).

This week, the bishop, Heather Cook, was indicted on charges of drunk driving and leaving the scene of an accident.  She was bailed out by her “steady companion” of a number of years, Mark Hansen, a former Episcopal priest who was defrocked for abandonment of his parish in protest of his diocese’s support of gay bishops in 2005.  She returned to the rehabilitation facility she had entered before her arrest. As they seem to be saying more and more, you can’t make this stuff up.

Naturally, tongues that had had a break for a few days before the indictment, felt obligated to wag again, often via the social media.  She is being treated too leniently either because she is a bishop (the church still has too much power and influence) or because someone in her circle had enough money to pay for bail (mo’ money, mo’ justice).

Often, especially on Christian websites, posters would call for compassion for everyone, including Bishop Cook and say that they were glad she was getting help.  Others said the best place for recovery would be jail, where maybe she could hit bottom and perhaps wise up.

And as usual, I joined in.  My first comment was “curiouser and curiouser” and the observation that anyone who gets involved with organized religion has gone down the rabbit hole.  I also wondered why the companion didn’t help her before all this happened.  And why she was associating with someone who at the very least had disrespected her church and could possibly be called a heretic?  Could that have been part of the stress that caused her to relapse?

This did not set well with a lot of people. I was being judgmental of both the bishop and her friend.  I realize that I have no right to judge and should have compassion for everyone involved.  And I do, for the victim’s family and for Bishop Cook and her family.  For Mr. Hansen, not so much, but some.

Like my previous post on the subject, this, too, is all about me.  Bring a relationship into a situation, and I (and I suspect a lot of people) forget about being objective.  After all, we get a lot of practice analyzing our own and our friends’ love or like problems and we usually don’t have trouble choosing sides.  I thought of all kinds of ways to condemn someone:  he didn’t help her and probably enabled her; she didn’t accept his help; he may have been in denial about what was happening; she manipulated him.   I told myself that I am a writer (often of fiction) and that I can’t help wondering “what if . . .” Is this an excuse?  Maybe.  Don’t people need to discuss or at least ponder tragic and frightening things?  Of course.  But at the end of the day the bottom line is that we must remember that everyone deserves our compassion, love, and prayers. 

So I am praying for everyone, including myself.  “Have mercy on me, a drama loving, gossiping sinner.”

And, whether I deserve it or not (probably not), God will.


Also:

I am not going try to make any connection, except as another thing you can’t make up, but on Friday, I came to work and heard that one of my coworkers had been badly injured when hit by the body of a woman who had fallen from and eighth story window.  The woman, an eighteen year old college student was allegedly leaning out the window to take a picture.  She was killed.

Perhaps I am adding this story as a chilling end note to remind us all of the randomness of life.   It’s something to pray about.


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