Thursday, April 30, 2015

Fourth Sunday of Easter B



April 26, 2015


Jesus talks about sheep and shepherds in the Gospel.
What are some facts about these woolly creatures we call sheep?
Start with a comparison.
Maybe you and I remember our childhood when we turned various insects on their backs.
Childishly, we watched them struggle and never achieve their proper leg-side down position unless we had mercy on them.
An unshorn sheep is the same way, shepherds tell us: completely stranded if it gets turned on its back.
In order to turn it right-side up when it needs it, the shepherd carries a crook.
He hooks the sheep and turns it right.

He is kind and careful with his flock.
That is why they follow him.
History tells us that the many shepherds all brought their small herds down to Jerusalem, and that these various flocks were kept together in one big sheepfold.
There were no brands, no markings of any kind, just a fuzzy mob.

How, you might ask, does each shepherd retrieve the sheep that belong to him (or to his boss)?
The first way is by calling each of his sheep by name.
He has been with them on the hillsides to the point that they are no longer strangers to him.
The one with the nick in its ear, the one with the pretty face, the one that limps.
He has a name for each because they each have a personality that is special, just like we do.
When they hear their names they come and follow.

Second, the sheep recognizes not only its name but the actual voice of the shepherd.
This is a much loved sound to it.
It belongs to the one who flipped them back on their feet, the one who shielded them from wolves, the one who led them to fresh pastures instead of ones they had eaten down to nubs.
A stranger's voice could not have the gentle consonance of their master and friend. His sheep flocked to him.

Why does Jesus use such imagery on the Fourth Sunday of Easter?
I suppose you know the answer already, but, if you will pardon the comparison, you and I are much like sheep.
The shepherd calls sheep by name and the magnificent God of the universe calls each of us by name.
Through Jesus, God knows each and every one of us better than we know ourselves.
The name he confirms for each of us finds its way down to the deepest interior of our souls.
Through it he calls us to be most truly who we are, in our own self and in God.

We may misunderstand the voice of God, the shepherd, ignore it, resist it, button our ears to it, but in our moments of sane and solitary wholeness—or maybe in our times of trouble—our spirits pulse to the rhythm of that voice.
It resounds within us.
Like the shepherd with his sheep, this call is safe, in spite of wolves and wildness all around.
Christ's call lets our fear drop away, turns us right: side up, lets us follow our master and friend around rocks and even through dark valleys.

Sometimes the phrase, "people are sheep," is deemed an insult. This Sunday it is the greatest compliment we could get.

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Second Sunday of Easter B


Image: Caravaggio at Hermanoleon

April 12, 2015

Now Jesus did many other signs that are not written in this book ....
John knows how to tantalize an audience.
Just what were the other signs that Jesus performed in the disciples' presence that did not merit a few paragraphs in the gospel?
Showing up after he was supposed to be dead was miracle enough.
Getting past the locked doors and the barrier of fear was pretty impressive too.
The glorified wounds must have been a sight to see, and the reception of the Holy Spirit was certainly a fitting place to end a gospel.

But the story continues beyond that climax to the somewhat anticlimactic story of Thomas and his misgivings about the whole thing.
Thomas' story makes the cut because it is of course our story:
without seeing the events of those days, we are invited to faith.
But after Thomas makes his famous assent to faith, "My Lord and my God!", the evangelist tells us mysteriously that there were more signs, too, not written down.
Does he mention this simply to pique our curiosity?

It occurs to me that I have seen signs of the risen Lord, too, that have never seen print.
I have seen the courage of those who are dying.
I have embraced enemies who have been transformed into loyal friends.
I have experienced the melting of anger into healing forgiveness.
I have watched generous acts give birth to hope.
Friends caught in the grip of addictions have been liberated from their pain

Signs of the risen Lord are all around us, collected only in the Scripture of our hearts.
These too give us reason to exclaim, "My Lord and my God!"


The Resurrection of the Lord


April 5, 2015

The teacher asked her second grade class what they want to be when they grew up.
"A football player," "a doctor," "a policeman," "a fireman," "an astronaut," "a teacher," came the answers from all over the classroom.
 Every second grader responded, except Timmy.
 Timmy just sat quietly at his place.
 So his teacher asked him, "Timmy, what do you want to be when you grow up?"
 "Possible," Timmy replied.
 "Possible?" asked the confused teacher.
 "Possible," Timmy said.
 "Timmy, what you mean, you want to be' ‘possible.’”
 "Well," Timmy explained, "my mom is always telling me that I'm impossible.
 So when I get big, I want to be possible.”

 Easter is the great feast of possibilities.
 In his rising from the dead, Christ enables us to make possible in our own lives all that he taught and lived throughout his brief life among us:
 that love, compassion, generosity,  humility and selflessness will ultimately triumph over hatred, bigotry, prejudice, despair, greed and death.
 the empty tomb is the sign of perfect hope  that in Christ all things are possible,
 that we can make of our lives what we want them to be,

 that we can become the people God created us to be become.



Holy Saturday At the Easter Vigil in the Holy Night of Easter



April 4, 2015

What good would life have been to us, had Christ not come as our Redeemer?
This is the night when dreams come true.
As the words of the Exsultet remind us, the vigil of Easter is the night of nights for those who believe.
It is the celebration of every saving act rolled into one:
our Passover feast,
the great crossing of the Red Sea,
freedom from the tyranny of sin,
liberation from the chains of death itself.

This is the night when Christians dream the impossible dream, and our lost paradise is regained.
After the crucifixion of Jesus, on the darkest night of history, God lit a fire, and the whole church burst forth in its light.
Our paschal fire recalls for us that essential fire, and how desperately the darkness clings to our world still, waiting for us to bring our light.

What are the dreams this tired old world carries in its heart, awaiting the liberating light to ignite them into being?
We share a global longing for peace that is continually shattered by gunshot and economic disparity.
We hope for our children, for their health and education and moral integrity.
We seek respect across the dividing lines of differ­ence.
We look for meaning in our labor, and a chance to participate in community.
We pray for miracles in medicine.
We hunger for love and friendship.

On every continent, or in any city or town across our own country, people carry dreams like these in their hearts.
The darkness that continues to obscure them from view is the human choice for sin.

Tonight, we cherish the light that has already conquered every darkness and puts our dreams within reach.
In the wisdom of the church's liturgy, we each get to hold this light in our hands, to contemplate our responsibility to carry it into the world and make it more than a dream.
Where will you take your light tonight?
Where do you need to experience new life in your own circumstances?
Where will you make the liberation of Easter felt for some­one else?
The good news of this hour is, happily, relent­less.
Easter began that morning at the empty tomb, and remains the never-ending feast of the church.
Easter continues to shine forth its light in every decision we make life, every rejection of the darkness and death around us.
We wear Easter like a garment of joy,
from the moment our baptism till the day of glory.
Those among us who have died since last Easter
those people already live in its eternal light and share our alleluia with us.
What our beloved dead know, remains our hope.
Together with them and the whole communion of saints we rejoice:
Christ has con­quered!
Glory fills us!
Darkness vanishes forever!

Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion

"According to the Burial Custom,"
Jan Richardson, 2012.

April 3, 2015

In his painting, "The Erection of the Cross," the Dutch master Rembrandt portrays the final moments of preparation before the condemned Jesus is hoisted upon the cross.
 In the painting, the man raising the cross is dressed in contemporary clothing of the artist's time.
 Though he never spoke about it or offered any explanation, those who knew Rembrandt recognized the man in the painting immediately:
 the man raising up the cross is Rembrandt himself.

 Rembrandt's making himself one of the actors in Jesus' passion is more than just a clever conceit or artist's eccentricity:
 it is an act of humble faith;
 -a recognition that each one of us plays a role in the crucifixion of Christ that is repeated all around us in acts of violence, injustice and hatred.
  As we relive the story of Jesus' final hours and death during this Holy Week, consider the role you have played in the agonies, betrayals, condemnations and crucifixions around you.
 May our prayer this week be that God will give us the grace to overcome the inclination to be judging Pilates
 and become, instead, Josephs of Arimathea, making Christ's body our own;
 that we not seek to melt into the crowd of onlookers but become Simons of Cyrene, helping Jesus take up his cross,
 or become one of the women of Jerusalem who offers Jesus a cloth to wipe his face, a sponge of wine, the support of loving tears;
 that we may possess more courage than the disciples and be one of the
compassionate women who come early in the morning to complete the burial of  Christ.
May we not be builders of crosses but angels who roll back the stone
and proclaim the good news of Christ's resurrection.


Thursday of the Lord's Supper B

"In the Cup of the New Covenant,"
Jan Richardson, 2012.

April 2, 2015

It is incredible, this act of tenderness, washing their feet:
Touching, caressing what was most common about them,
What was reserved usually for the lowest of slaves (someone who didn't matter.)
There was nothing about them he did not love, could not forgive

I think that is what bothered Peter so much.

Peter knew—knew that, in this simple act, Jesus was reaching beyond camaraderie, beyond a simple wishing well or liking much.
Jesus loved them, him!
And that love was a black hole for Peter.
It terrified him, sucked him in and down:

You will not do this for me. 
I cannot take it.
I cannot take your love.
I will not allow you to love me without boundaries.
If you love me, stop!
Stop now because I don't know how I will ever be able to live with it.
I don't know how I can be "me" if you love me.
Do you understand, Jesus?
Look at me, Jesus.
Do you understand?

And then, it's Jesus' turn to speak.
Peter, if I do not love you,
Then there is no hope for you or for me.
Peter, do you not understand?
I have to love you, Peter,
This is the only way to make sense out of my life and my death.
I cannot die for an idea or a cause.
I cannot die because I am angry or frustrated.
I cannot die a martyr, someone who is larger in death than in life.
Peter, this is who I am,
And this is the only way I understand the word "God."
Peter, if you cannot take this, who can?
If you cannot take this, then we all must live without God

This is the terrifying truth of this night:
This is why I always tell people it's so important for all of us to be here on this night:
If you who have had your feet washed,
if all of us cannot take this love without boundaries—
This black hole that sucks us in and demands some response from what is deepest and truest in us—
That forgives us in advance—
Then we must all live without God

And that is equally terrifying to me.
I cannot live without God.
To understand that I cannot live without God is to under­stand two things:
I cannot live without God's love (however terrifying and life-altering that can be)
And I cannot live without you—each of you

Somehow, they are both the same
God's boundless love and you.
That is what Jesus knew.
That is what terrified Peter.
That is what you and I cannot forget.....

each time we break the bread and share in the one cup.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Should Catholic organizations fire employees who stray from church teaching?




Catholic employers have weeded out workers who don’t match up to the ideals of church doctrine, but the moral purge may do more harm than good.
By Scott Alessi, managing editor of U.S Catholic.
[Sounding Boards are one person's take on a many-sided subject and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of U.S. Catholic, its editors, or the Claretians.]
Please take the survey that follows this essay.
Shaela Evenson was about to begin her ninth year as a teacher at Butte Central Catholic Schools in the Diocese of Helena, Montana when she became pregnant with her first child. The news was at first met with enthusiasm and encouragement from the school principal, who gave no indication that being unmarried and pregnant would put Evenson’s job at risk. But just a few months later—and less than two months before giving birth to her son—Evenson was fired.
The diocese had received an anonymous letter telling them that Evenson, who taught literature and physical education classes to middle-schoolers in grades six through eight, had become pregnant outside of marriage. After confirming this with the school principal, the diocesan superintendent asked Evenson to resign. When she refused, Evenson was sent an email telling her that she’d violated her employment contract because “having a child out of wedlock is considered 'at variance with or contrary to polices of the School and the Diocese and the moral and religious teachings of the Roman Catholic Church.’” As a result, Evenson was immediately terminated early last year.
It is unclear whether the diocese knew Evenson was in a same-sex relationship, or that her unborn child was conceived through artificial means. The school had been always known that Evenson herself wasn’t Catholic, and this never proved to be a barrier in her job teaching literature and physical education. And there was no indication that she’d been performing poorly in her job. Being a single mom on the faculty of a Catholic school was reason enough for her to be fired.
Evenson’s story garnered media attention and led to a lawsuit against the diocese for employment discrimination, which is still pending. But her case is far from unique. The firing of church employees—regardless of whether they are Catholic—for failing to adhere to church teachings in their personal lives has become an alarming trend in recent years and one that has clearly crossed a line.
Evenson isn’t even the only single mom to be booted by a Catholic employer. Christa Dias, a computer teacher at two Ohio Catholic schools, was fired in 2010 for becoming pregnant outside of marriage. In her case the reason given for her termination wasn’t the pregnancy itself, but the fact that she’d used in vitro fertilization (IVF). Dias, who is also not Catholic, claimed she wasn’t even aware that the church is morally opposed to IVF and had no idea it would be grounds for termination.
In the case of both Evenson and Dias, church officials could point to a visible sign of their dissonance from Catholic teaching—pregnancy outside of marriage. But that wasn’t the case with Emily Herx, a married woman who began IVF treatments in 2010 when she and her husband were unable to conceive a child. Herx requested, and was granted, time off from her job teaching literature and language arts at an Indiana Catholic school to undergo IVF treatments. Her employee health plan, administered by the Diocese of Fort Wayne-South Bend, even covered the procedure.
One year later, when Herx again used sick time to begin a second round of IVF, another teacher tipped off the school’s pastor who brought Herx in for a private meeting. The pastor called Herx a “grave immoral sinner”—despite her assertion that care had been taken to not destroy a single embryo in the course of her treatment—and she was told her teaching contract would not be renewed because her situation could cause scandal for the school and the church.
Herx never actually became pregnant and, as a married woman, what scandal would it have caused if she did? Her only offense was being honest about her reasons for requesting sick time, and her private medical situation should have neither been public knowledge nor a reason for her firing. (A jury agreed, and Herx claimed $1.9 million in a lawsuit; Dias also won a suit against her former employer.)
These firings paint a troubling picture of a church so concerned with ensuring moral purity among its workers that it misses the bigger picture. Certainly, the church should take great care in choosing the people who are entrusted to carry out its work. And in some cases, an employee’s actions outside of work would indeed conflict with their professional role—a religious education director doubling as a spokesperson for a pro-choice group, for example. But should computer teachers, janitors, and cafeteria workers be held to the same standard?
Applying a moral purity test to employees at all levels, from diocesan leaders down to administrative support staff, runs contradictory to the very teachings that the church is trying so hard to protect. How can a church that preaches a strong pro-life message in the public square maintain credibility when at the same time it fires a single woman for getting pregnant and choosing to keep her baby?
The recent wave of firings haven’t been limited to schoolteachers, nor have they all been caused by pregnancy outside of marriage. In the vast majority of cases, the issue of concern is same-sex partnerships. Dozens of news stories in the past few years have detailed cases of employees, from parish musicians to gym teachers to food pantry workers, being fired either because they are gay or because they have entered into a legal marriage with their same-sex partner. In many cases, the employee’s sexuality was not a secret and was even made clear at the time they were hired. And often it has been an anonymous tip from one concerned party that led to the firing.
Miami Archbishop Thomas Wenski took things a step further in January when he sent a letter to all archdiocesan employees warning them that "certain conduct, inconsistent with the teachings of the Catholic Church, could lead to disciplinary action, including termination.” The letter immediately followed Florida’s legal recognition of same-sex marriage, and Wenski made clear that any implied support of same-sex marriage, including actions outside the workplace and even on social media, could result in a trip to the unemployment line. Other dioceses, including San Francisco and Cincinnati, have also instituted morality clauses that govern employees’ behavior both on and off the job.
Such regulations raise a host of questions about what is and is not acceptable behavior. Would an employee who attends the same-sex wedding of their own child be fired for public support of same-sex marriage? What about a person who congratulates a friend on Facebook on getting married to someone of the same sex? In response to such questions, the Archdiocese of Cincinnati recently issued some clarifications on what may constitute a fireable offense, but the lines remain blurred for the rest of the country, with such decisions left to the whims of the local bishop and diocesan administration.
Another concern raised by recent firings is the fact that in most cases it was not a school, parish, or diocese looking to weed out employees, but rather anonymous individuals voicing their concern. In one case, a teacher was even fired over something that an anonymous source spotted in an obituary for the woman’s mother. When church leaders give this kind of power to self-appointed morality police, it only serves to create a culture of fear among employees. Does the church really want to create an environment where employees must constantly fear what they say and who they trust both on and off the job, never knowing when something they say or do may be used to get them fired?
The selective scrutiny in focusing on only a handful of teachings related to sexuality also sets a double standard in the workplace. No employees have been fired for taking public stances on social justice issues that conflict with Catholic teachings, such as supporting companies that exploit their workers or backing politicians whose policies are detrimental to the poor. And if unwed mothers are to be fired, what about a female employee living with her boyfriend outside of marriage? Or a male employee, single or married, who helps to conceive a child through IVF?
Pope Francis has repeatedly called for a church of mercy, one that does not focus on the faults of its members or obsess over a narrow set of doctrinal issues. The church’s employment policies should take a similar approach. Instead of coldly putting Shaela Evenson out of work two months before she gave birth, just imagine what kind of message the church could have sent with a more merciful approach.
It is time to end the witch hunt for employees within the ranks of the church who may not always be living according to the letter of the law. If such a strict test were truly applied across the board so that anyone who sins were to be fired, everyone from the pope on down would lose their job. Instead of trying to purge the church of employees who may not meet the ideal, it is time to craft a new approach that appreciates their gifts and talents, recognizes the value of their contributions, and helps to point them—and all whom they encounter in their work—toward the gospel.

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The Walter Scott shooting and use of police force






Catholic moral theologian—and former police officer—Tobias Winright offers his insight on when the use of lethal force by police in the line of duty is justified.
The shooting of Walter Scott by South Carolina police officer Michael Slager is just the latest in an ongoing string of police shootings that have dominated headlines in recent months. The death of Michael Brown in Ferguson last year and subsequent incidents around the country have cast doubts among many in the public about the use of police force.
Tobias Winright has been outspoken about ethical concerns in policing, but Winright approaches the issue from a different perspective than other moral theologians. Winright was raised in a police family, with both his mother and stepfather serving in the line of duty, and Winright himself wore a badge while working his way through college. Now the Hubert Mäder Endowed Chair of Health Care Ethics at Saint Louis University’s Albert Gnaegi Center for Health Care Ethics, Winright has become an authoritative voice on the problems resulting from the transition in recent decades in the United States from a community-oriented model of policing to a more militarized approach.
U.S. Catholic spoke with Winright about his background in policing and his thoughts on the use of police force in the Walter Scott shooting and other recent cases. (Our full interview with Winright on changes in policing appears in the April 2015 issue of U.S. Catholic.)
How exactly did you get involved in policing?
My mother got a job with a local city police department in Florida in 1980, a few years after Angie Dickinson played a policewoman on TV. She started in patrol, transferred to the sheriff’s department doing the same, and later became a detective, working in the crimes against children unit before going into homicide. She was also a hostage negotiator. During that time she married someone from the sheriff’s department, who was a sergeant, worked in patrol, and flew one of the department’s helicopters.
I'm the oldest of four boys and I always wanted to go university. I'm the first and only person in my immediate family who went to college at all. When I graduated from high school, I started at Saint Petersburg Junior College (now Saint Petersburg College) and I applied to police departments in order to work my way through school. In 1984 I got hired by the same department where my mom and stepfather worked.
After earning my associate’s degree, I subsequently transferred to University of South Florida in Saint Petersburg, and I worked full time mostly during the midnight shift. I was a corrections officer in the maximum security jail there. I could do a little bit of reading during downtime, and I did that for a little bit over four years. I resigned not long after graduating and then went to Duke Divinity School to study for a master’s degree in theology.
Did the work you were doing influence your studies?
I studied political science as an undergraduate, and I was interested in international relations, but also found myself fascinated by the writings of Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, and Aquinas. I was thinking about law school, and part of me considered ordained ministry, but I became more and more interested in ethics and questions about the use of force.
When I wore a badge, I asked myself, would I really shoot someone to kill him if I had to? I'm a cradle Catholic, and in addition to considering law school, I toyed with the possibility of ordained ministry. So, I started thinking about what Jesus would do. And that question really occupied me, which is one of the reasons I focused on it during graduate school at Duke and then at Notre Dame, where I could study theological ethics, bringing all of these areas of interest together for me.
How should police deal with a situation where they need to use force?
It goes back to that community policing model. You have an offender, but your job as an officer is not to punish that person. The rest of the criminal justice system (courts, prisons) are responsible for that. The police are supposed to apprehend him, but hopefully you're going to do it in a way that's going to not inhibit or interfere with the prospect of that person’s restoration to the community at some point.
Obviously, if lethal force is necessary—and I think it might be under very limited conditions, when somebody's life is really, seriously at risk—you can't restore that person. That's a very last resort, and killing someone is obviously irreversible. The use of force is supposed to be proportionate to the gravity of the alleged offense, so deadly force is now justified only under circumstances where it is in “defense of life”—that is, to protect the life of the officer or of another person from a grave and imminent threat posed by a suspect. It seems to me that some of the incidents where lethal force has been used recently by police may not be congruent with these criteria.
What are your thoughts on the shooting of Walter Scott in South Carolina?
The shooting of Walter Scott by Michael Slager, a North Charleston, South Carolina police officer, appears very problematic to me morally and, perhaps, legally. Ever since the Supreme Court’s 1985 decision in Tennessee v. Garner, police use of lethal force has been restricted to where “it is necessary to prevent…escape and the officer has probable cause to believe that the suspect poses a significant threat of death or serious physical injury to the officer or others.”
Prior to that, police could use deadly force to shoot at any fleeing felon, because once upon a time that category of “felon” referred to fewer grave offences than today, but many of which were capital crimes, punishable by death anyway. That has changed. The life of even an offender who commits grand theft auto weighs more, proportionately, than the property stolen. A preemptive “execution” of that offender by the police officer is disproportionate to the gravity of the crime the offender committed. So now lethal force by police has been narrowed significantly, where it is almost at where the Catholic teaching on deadly force (self-defense, death penalty, just war) is referred to in recent teaching, like the Catechism, as “legitimate defense of persons and societies” (2263).
Walter Scott was fleeing from Officer Slager. It does not look like he was posing a “significant threat of death or serious physical injury to the officer or others.” However, just before he attempted to flee, he allegedly struggled with Officer Slager and took the taser that the officer tried (unsuccessfully) to use against him. Unfortunately, in my opinion, the Garner ruling was still a bit unclear about whether a police officer might be allowed to use lethal force in order to stop a suspect who had posed a serious threat during the offense committed, but perhaps no longer does so while fleeing.
The thinking here is that if a suspect posed such a threat this time, he is likely to do so again in the future, so shooting him is therefore justified to prevent that from happening. This will probably be what Slager will claim. Even though Scott was unarmed, he allegedly wrestled the taser from Slager and thereby posed a serious threat to him, meaning he might do so again if he gets away. That Slager apparently went back to pick up the taser and then dropped it near Scott’s body casts a lot of doubt on his account, though. Police are not supposed to tamper with a crime scene like that. Still, I think this area of ambiguity in the Garner decision needs to be addressed. For me, the threat that Scott might pose in the future, even if it is more than only possible, is still speculative; whereas shooting him in the back several times and thereby killing him seems certain. On which side shall we as a society, ifGarner is revisited, rather err?
Are police are trained to shoot to kill?
The police are taught to shoot “center mass.” Why? In the Des Moines Police Academy where I taught ethics while I was a reserve police officer—and this wasn't even me teaching, it was another academy instructor—recruits are taught that one’s intent is not to kill. His or her intent is to stop the other person from killing the police officer or someone else. What's the most likely way of doing that? Aiming for the center part of the suspect.
Why not aim for the leg to stop them without killing them?
Shooting is difficult. I never had to use lethal force, but even in training it's hard. Your adrenaline is up. It's not like in movies or TV. I could never, unless I was totally lucky, shoot a gun out of somebody's hand or shoot them in the leg or the foot. With a pistol, that's almost impossible.
Police aim for the suspect’s center area to increase the likelihood of actually hitting the person and stopping them from killing somebody else. Shooting at a leg is more likely to miss, and it might not stop the suspect. It also increases the likelihood of hitting somebody else, sort of like “collateral damage.” Most police departments don't even allow for warning shots anymore because of our denser populations—what goes up comes down, and you might hit an innocent bystander somewhere.
It's sort of like what Thomas Aquinas said with regard to personal self‑defense. The intent is not to kill; it's to stop the person. The primary effect is stopping the person from killing you or someone else, but the secondary effect is that they die. That's not your intent, even though it is foreseen. If you could stop them in any other way, you would, but this was the only way to do so. In the Catholic moral tradition, this framework is known as the principle of double effect.
That's actually how police are taught. That's different than the approach of soldiers at Fort Benning, where I once trained when I was in ROTC as an undergraduate, or troops carrying a bayonet and yelling, “Kill, kill, kill!” I don't know a police department that's doing that. They’d better not be.
For a sniper, the only way to stop somebody might be to do a head shot, but they’ve got their scope. The vast majority of police on the streets don't carry a rifle with a scope. That's why they're taught not to kill but to shoot center. I don't even like the phrase "center mass." You're dealing with a human being, not an object.
Recent news stories like the shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson and the death of Eric Garner in New York have raised serious questions about the relationship between race and police force. Do you think race plays a part in how police are using force?
I've seen references to studies that indicate these shootings occur more to people of color than to white people. I know people dispute that, too, and talk about black‑on‑black crime. There're a lot of elements to this that can muddy the waters, but I don't think that there's any denying that the sense among those of color is that something is wrong.
When these cases occurred in Ferguson and then New York, the communities obviously felt something was wrong, that there’s a sense of injustice that’s been percolating there. Not just with policing, I think, but that is the most manifest, visible symptom of it. These incidents have really forced us to not be in denial about it but to face it and to address it. Addressing policing is only one part of it.
How can police begin to address the systemic issues involving race?
Police in these communities should themselves come from the community. There was a story in the St. Louis news that one of the police departments near Ferguson had a mini-academy for high school kids. The number of kids this year tripled from last year, mostly children of color. That’s what the department was encouraging.
These children might want to become a part of a program where they can ride along with an officer and learn what policing is like. Some departments even have a cadet program. Maybe the local community college could say, "You get a tuition break or a cut, reduction, if you do well in school and, you’ll be a part of this cadet program." Start giving avenues for these departments to become more representative of the communities that they're policing. That will help a lot.


Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion

"Kiss of Judas"
Henn, Ulrich 

March 29, 2015

Zechariah had prophesied that the Messiah would ride into Jerusalem on a donkey.
Our modern Western notion of a donkey is not a flattering one.
We think of a donkey as a stupid animal.
G.K. Chesterton popularized this notion in a poem.
In it he has the donkey reflect on its ugliness and say to itself:

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devils walking parody
On all four-footed things.

Fools! For I also had my hour,
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears
And palms before my feet.

And so the donkey says in effect: "You modern people may ridicule and mock me,
But of all the animals on earth, I was the chosen To carry on my back the savior of the world."

People in biblical times honored the donkey.
The donkey was an animal of peace as opposed to the horse, which was an animal of war, carrying soldiers into battle.
Jesus' act of riding into Jerusalem on an animal of peace says that an important part of the Messiah's mission would not be to rally people to their cause and drive the Romans out of Palestine into the sea.

Jesus wasn't going to be a warrior-king, to sit on a throne and be served by conquered Romans.
Instead, he came to kneel on the floor and wash the feet of his subjects.
Jesus didn't to do battle against other people.
He wasn't riding on a horse.
He has come to rally them behind him and do battle against poverty, hunger, hatred,  and all forms of injustice.
Jesus hasn't come to condemn people.
He has come to forgive them.
Jesus hasn't come to destroy people's dreams.
He has come to fulfill them in the most wonderful way imaginable.

It is this Jesus whom we greet today.Scripture readings