Traveling in Place

Removing our Masks

Today – the day before Halloween – I went to my credit union to deposit some money in my account. As I was walking in, I was struck by a sign on the front door that read: “For your own safety, please remove any masks or disguises before entering.”

Of course, I understood why the sign had been posted, but I immediately thought of Jesus’ harsh words toward the religious leaders of his day. He called them “hypocrites,” the same word used to describe actors in the Greek theatre who wore masks so they could play different characters. For Jesus, “mask-wearers” were not just stage actors. They were religious people who projected false images of themselves in order to appear spiritually superior to others. They were indeed “hypocrites” because, as Jesus pointed out, they didn’t live up to the demands they placed on others.

Jesus did not call people to put on spiritual costumes. He called people to discover their genuine spiritual selves. He did not require people to project any image other than the divine image in which they were made. Presumably, then, the church that gathers in his name is a place for people to remove their masks and be real. Christian worship is not an occasion for spiritual pretension, but for sincere confession, genuine thanksgiving, and authentic encounter with the living Christ.

So, what would happen if we posted that same sign on the entrances to our churches? “For your own safety, please remove any masks or disguises before entering.” Even if those arriving for worship understood the spiritual connotation of the request, they might take offense. The truth is, we wear all sorts of masks for our safety. Removing them can be a scary prospect. We learn to cultivate particular images in order to gain approval from others, or we wear innocuous masks just to hide ourselves because we’ve been wounded and don’t want to be hurt again.

One Brilliant Autumn View

This morning, a chill has entered the autumn air that portends the return of our famous Central New York winter weather. The fall colors drained out of the mountains a couple of weeks ago, and now they are at or past peak in the Syracuse area. Steady winds over the weekend snapped a lot of leaves off their branches. The raking ritual has begun.

Before all the autumn color is gone, I share a picture from three weeks ago. It was a Thursday, and I was driving through the Adirondacks to the place where I stay for my annual spiritual retreat. Abundant sunshine brightened the peaking fall colors, and I knew from the weather forecasts that this was probably the only nice day I would see all weekend. (In fact, from Thursday night until I came home the next Monday, thick clouds blanketed the whole region and produced a near constant mist and occasional rain.) So I took a detour on the way to the retreat house and drove to Keene Valley. I climbed Blueberry Mountain, which is one of those lower peaks among the high peaks. The trek to the summit is only 2.3 miles, but portions of the trail are wickedly steep. I had to stop frequently to catch my breath.

About two-thirds of the way up, I reached the first open vista. It wasn’t on an outcrop, and wasn’t even mentioned in the trail guide. The trees had thinned just enough to allow an open view of Keene Valley and the surrounding peaks, including Hopkins, Giant, Round, Noonmark, and Dix Mountains. The mountainsides were painted red. The trees right in front of me blazed with color. It was late afternoon, and the sun was at just the right angle to illuminate everything I was beholding. The wispy clouds seemed perfectly placed in the sky. I removed my backpack, took a long drink from my water bottle, and enjoyed the view. I would have stayed longer, but it was already late afternoon. The trail was getting steeper, I didn’t know how long it would take to reach the top, and I didn’t want to be in the woods after sunset.

A Prophet in the Nation's Capital

During the government shutdown that ended late Wednesday night, billions of dollars were lost to the U.S. economy, our reputation around the world was badly tarnished, millions of our own citizens suffered from an interruption of critical services, and Americans have pretty much lost whatever confidence they still had in our elected officials in Washington.

And yet, amid the cynical, disingenuous, demagogic rhetoric that nearly sent our economy over the cliff, one voice emerged that brought clarity to the chaos. Over the course of the government shutdown, the normally innocuous position of Senate chaplain was transformed into latter-day prophet.

Rev. Barry Black, a navy chaplain whose faith was formed in the Seventh-day Adventist tradition, was elected to serve as 62^nd Senate chaplain in 2003. His most public duty is to begin each session of the Senate with prayer. Always measured in tone, he speaks directly and forcefully. Near the beginning of the shutdown, he began proceedings this way: “Save us from the madness. We acknowledge our transgressions, our smugness, our selfishness, and our pride. Deliver us from the hypocrisy of attempting to sound reasonable while being unreasonable.” In truth, this prayer could have opened any session of either legislative body in Washington. At any other time, it might sound like a rather boilerplate acknowledgement of our human imperfections and the temptations that always threaten the effective use of power.

But in the climate of political brinksmanship that played fast and loose with our national security and economic well-being, his words gained notice. The chaplain wasn’t just fulfilling a pro forma duty. He was speaking truth to power.

Grace to Overcome Division

To paraphrase Pogo, “We have met the government, and it is us.”

The partisan ice in Washington appears to be thawing as elected representatives feel the heat from fed-up voters. Those who claimed that a government shutdown would be “no big deal” were not considering the ripple effects of furloughing hundreds of thousands of government employees. The hardship imposed on the families of veterans and government workers around the country has been shameful. And towns and villages near national parks have lost $750 million in revenue since the shutdown began. Let’s hope momentum for resolving the crisis will bring quick results.

American citizens like to rail against the federal government as though it is an alien force operating against their collective will. But let’s not kid ourselves. We got the government we elected. We live in a democracy, which is by nature messy. In recent years, our democracy has become dysfunctional for several reasons. Among them:

1) Television, which has steadily transformed politics from “public service” to “public image.” Our image-oriented culture rewards grandstanders and punishes those who would rather work behind the scenes to get things done.

2) The rise of the 24-hour cable news cycle and social media, which together create an expectation of “transparency” that is impossible to meet.

3) The continuing “culture wars,” which really began in the 1960’s and have continued to polarize our political system to the point that consensus is nearly impossible.

4) Gerrymandering of Congressional districts, which protects incumbents from serious electoral challenges.

5) A broken primary system that favors the most ideological candidates over the most pragmatic.

None of these aggravating factors were imposed upon us. As a culture, we have created the climate we are in right now. The only way we will return to a working government is if a critical mass of the public demands it by electing people to office who are more interested in governance than in demagoguery.

That of course, is no easy feat. It means that Americans will have to come together

Shutting Down Shared Responsibility

I’ve just returned from a five-day spiritual retreat, an annual practice that takes me to a favorite place in the mountains far away from any cell phone service. I do have Internet access, but as in years past, I determined to take a break from the news. So I was blissfully ignorant of what was going on in the world while I attended to my interior spirituality.

Before I left for my retreat, I was obsessed with updates on the partial government shutdown that resulted from Congress’ inability to do anything constructive – even pass a six-week funding bill. I was hoping that when I returned, I would be greeted by headlines like, “Congress Ends Deadlock, Re-opens Government,” or “Coalition Passes Funding Bill, Avoids Default.”

Silly me.

Instead, I returned to headlines like this: “Boehner Maintains Hard Line as U.S. Barrels Toward Default” and “Shutdown: No End in Sight.” Nobody has budged. Nothing has happened.

Yet, this all seems so unnecessary. It is not simply a case of partisan gridlock. A majority of representatives in both parties of both houses of Congress would have voted last week for a Continuing Resolution to keep the lights on while Congress continued to hammer out a budget for 2014. We’re in this mess because a rogue caucus of between 30 and 50 members of Congress has been given veto power over everything. These representatives want to gut the new healthcare law before it fully takes effect. They vehemently oppose its implementation, railing against it with apocalyptic fervor. Plenty of their colleagues in Congress agree that the law is flawed and needs work, but they are not demanding its death in the cradle as a precondition for funding the federal government’s day-to-day operations (if for no other reason than that these two issues aren’t even related).

Speaking as a political centrist (not a wishy-washy moderate but a thoroughgoing centrist who resists extremes in any direction), this spectacle of political sabotage