Christian Piatt Blog

Christian Piatt column

Love can be as close or far as one condition away

A middle-aged mother faced a reality every parent prays to avoid, the premature death of her son.

She lost him to AIDS two years prior, but the pain she feels over the loss is still like a fresh wound. Even now, she receives dozens of sympathy and support cards from friends of his.

New cards arrive on birthdays, anniversaries and those holidays with images of family that only magnify her son’s absence, and therefore, her sorrow. Some family members offer comfort from a distance, while others try to ignore the death altogether. Though the judgment and awkwardness is hard, she tries to understand. She struggles with her own degree of shame about it all.

As she begins to learn more about parts of her son’s life he was reluctant to share, she befriends others within the gay and lesbian community who share her sense of grief. For them, her son is one of many friends and loved ones they have lost to AIDS in the past two decades. Knowing they hurt alongside her is of some solace, though she still hesitates to talk about his personal life.

After the death of yet another young friend of her son’s, she shuffles through the handful of condolence cards, wishing to find something conveying the empathy she has for them. She finally settles on one and takes it to the counter.

The clerk behind the register wears a bright smile and a rainbow bracelet. He asks how her day is and she lies, saying everything is fine. Noticing the card, he asks if she has lost someone special.

“No,” she pauses. “I mean, yes.” She explains that although this card is for another family, she lost her own son to AIDS two years prior, the word “AIDS” suppressed to a muted whisper as she casts her eyes toward the counter.

“You don’t have to whisper,” said the man, coming out from behind the counter, offering her a long, warm embrace. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I didn’t know that man,” she explains, “but in that moment, I loved him.” She carried that love he shared out into the world that day, resolving never again to speak of her son’s life, or death, with shame.

Another mother confronts her daughter, who has told her she is a lesbian, and confesses that she will never accept her as such. “I prayed she would change,” says the mother. “I felt she was committing a horrible sin.” She even took her daughter to corrective counseling, though it was clear the girl, only a teenager at the time, didn’t feel there was anything wrong with her that needed to be fixed.

As time went on, the distance between mother and daughter only grew, until the daughter stopped corresponding all together. The final words the mother received from her daughter were in the form of a letter that explained the irreparable damage she felt as the subject of her mother’s “shaming words.” She ended the letter with the words, “Heal thyself, mother.”

In 1997, the family received a call about their daughter’s suicide. She hanged herself in her closet, leaving no note. Through friends, the family learned their daughter had been undergoing treatment for depression for some time.

The woman’s parents began to study everything they could about homosexuality and the Bible the following year. “It was a big jump for us,” says the mother of their change of heart. “(But) in the end I found myself far away from the safe place I’d been all my life.”

Since then, she has started speaking publicly about the dangers of homophobia, creating an educational program called TEACH: To Educate About the Consequences of Homophobia.

“Now I know the value – the power – of unconditional love,” she explains, “and though it came too late for Anna, I believe she knows what we’re doing. And she is proud.”

Christian Piatt is the author of “MySpace to Sacred Space” and “Lost: A Search for Meaning.” For more information, visit www.christianpiatt.com.

Thoughts on satire, pop culture and the Gospel

I don’t usually use column space to respond to letters I get either in support of, or in opposition to, a piece I’ve written. However, the response I’ve received about my column last week on “The Golden Compass” has prompted me to add some more points to ponder.

To get everyone up to speed, “The Golden Compass” is a movie due out this holiday season that is at the heart of much controversy. The author of the “His Dark Materials” trilogy, the inspiration for this movie, is a noted atheist who many claim is determined to destroy children’s faith through the propaganda in his books.

Last week, I drafted a satirical piece that poked fun at those who have such profound issues with this movie and the preceding books, yet who have not seen either, short of a commercial on television and some e-mail rumor that’s been spreading like wildfire across the Internet. In fact, there was an article in the paper to this effect a little more than a week ago.

While most people appreciated the humor of the piece, there actually were those who didn’t get somehow that it was satire. I got all kinds of angry e-mails calling me a hypocrite, accusing me of propagating a narrow-minded position that did more harm than good.

To those who haven’t read my columns at all over the past two years and just happened to pick this one up with no background, I can understand this misunderstanding. For anyone who has read my columns before, come on, you know me better than that.

There were more than a few responses from the “other side,” criticizing my attacks on people with more conservative ideology. One reader actually compared my satire to the Nazi propaganda cartoons published against Jews prior to World War II.

Ouch.

A word of caution about this sort of “slippery slope” argument: First, consider that the cartoons in Germany were not about a set of beliefs people of all backgrounds maintained, but rather castigation of an entire race of people for who they were by birth. While someone cannot be criticized for who they were born as, they certainly should be prepared to undergo some scrutiny for what they claim to believe, including me.

Also, it should be noted that much, if not all, of the anti-Semitic propaganda in Nazi Germany was state-sanctioned, which inherently means a manipulation of free speech. While some folks may object to my point of view, it’s not propaganda, because I’m free to write what I want. There’s a big difference, and one that is the cornerstone of our democracy, I think.

The point is for people on both sides of the argument to stop and think about what they believe, rather than reacting from the gut. No secular book or movie should dictate our beliefs, be it “The Da Vinci Code,” “Passion of the Christ,” “The Golden Compass,” “Harry Potter” or Kirk Cameron. Jesus challenged us to look beyond the written law even in Scripture, pushing us to find truth within ourselves. It’s easier to find it in a book or on TV, but that’s not Gospel.

I respect those with differing views and their right to air an opposing perspective, but for crying out loud, if you’re going to stand against something, know what it is that you’re condemning first. I can’t say whether or not “The Golden Compass” and the books on which it is based are good, bad, dangerous or a wonderful opportunity for rigorous debate.

Why not? Because I haven’t read them, and the movie hasn’t been released yet. My guess is, however, that New Line Cinema is as thrilled about this sort of uproar as Dan Brown and Ron Howard were about the controversy surrounding “The Da Vinci Code.” It’s the best free press they could hope for.

Each of us ultimately must decide for ourselves which movies and books are appropriate for us and our families. I don’t know if I’ll take my son to the movie or not; I have to know more about it first. But if I can read Nietzsche, who famously claimed “God is Dead,” all the way through college and still have faith, I’m pretty sure it will take more than a two-hour movie about a kids’ book to convince me to claim atheism.

Christian Piatt is the author of “MySpace to Sacred Space” and “Lost: A Search for Meaning.”  He can be reached through his website, www.christianpiatt.com.

How do we respond to violence?

Christian Piatt

In April 1945, Lutheran pastor and noted pacifist Dietrich Bonhoeffer was led naked to his execution in the gallows of a Nazi prison camp. He was 39 years old.

Though formal charges against him included trafficking Jews across the border to Switzerland, the ultimate justification for his death was his involvement in plans to assassinate Adolf Hitler. One of the central tenets of Bonhoeffer’s faith was submission to God’s will. How that is manifest in a world crippled by violence is an ongoing debate.

Bonhoeffer presented what he considered to be a theological dilemma when he said, “Responsible action is how Christians act in accordance with the will of God. The demand for responsible action is one that no Christian can ignore. Christians are, therefore, faced with a dilemma: When assaulted by evil, they must oppose it through direct action. They have no other option. Any failure to act is simply to condone evil.”

This principle of Christian justice raises debate about what constitutes appropriate direct action. To stand by while grave injustices are done is inherently un-Christian, according to Bonhoeffer. However, as arbiters of peace, how can we justify responding to individual or systemic acts of rape, genocide, and other human atrocities with more bloodshed?

I acknowledge an ongoing inner conflict around this issue, with which I have struggled for many years with respect to gun control. As a civil libertarian, I believe the government’s legislation of individual rights often is in opposition to the intent of the founding fathers. As a pacifist, I shudder at the consequence of the constitutional right to bear arms.

One reality of civil liberties is that any permissive system is vulnerable to abuse. Even Bonhoeffer’s dilemma has been co-opted by those who would stand on it to justify acts like the bombing of abortion clinics. The debate, then, comes down to whether the loss of personal liberty outweighs the ability of the greater society to conform human behavior to the majority’s value system.

Those who choose to lean on Bonhoeffer’s dilemma to justify a violent response to grave injustice should heed a word of caution, however. What Bonhoeffer claimed is that, when we recognize transgressions of justice, we must respond by taking action. This is all that he claimed in this statement. To jump to the justification of the use of force is a misappropriation of his point.

It is true that Bonhoeffer called us to action, though he did not say what sort of action is necessary. In the particular context of Hitler, he determined that an assassination attempt was his only option. Even in doing so, he recognized the sinfulness of his choice and submitted to God’s judgment for the consequences of that choice. He felt compelled, but he was anything but divinely justified in his choice.

Reality suggests that a nonviolent response to Hitler’s acts of evil would not have led to the desired change. It was, in fact, on the field of battle that the Nazis ultimately were weakened to the point of submission. One can look back now and easily justify the means by which we achieved a more peaceful end.

I would argue, however, that justifying human behavior based on outcomes is not what we are called to as Christians. Like Christ, we are called to action; but also like Christ, we are called to peace rather than violence. In doing so, we give up much control over the result of our actions, which none of us likes to do.

We jump to justifying the greater good in using force, whether it’s through capital punishment, preemptive strikes in Iraq, or challenging the corrupted government in Sudan. After all, wouldn’t Jesus have been justified in rallying forces against the Roman Empire? Certainly, history would have looked upon a Jewish revolution sympathetically. Even the majority of Christ’s followers expected such an overthrow, right up to Jesus’ final days.

But it never happened.

In the short term, some may have viewed Jesus’ peaceful confrontation of the Roman Empire as a failure. But in the greater context, long after the empirical reign dissolved, Christ’s gospel message endures.

Violence never redeems. It may yield the immediate result we desire; it may even save lives. It is a natural human response to injustice but, in my estimation, it never has been, and never will be, justifiable from a Christian standpoint.

Piatt is a nonprofit consultant, newspaper columnist, and author of Lost: A Search for Meaning (Chalice Press) and MySpace to Sacred Space (Chalice Press). He is minister of music at Milagro Christian Church in Pueblo, Colorado.

Meaning what you say isn’t always easy

I have a brilliant friend who, by the time he was about 30, was teaching graduate-level classes and was on track to become a full-fledged professor. Though he hadn’t yet finished his dissertation and didn’t have his doctoral degree, the school hired him with the understanding that he would complete the doctoral work within a certain time.

Pressed with the demands of academic research as well as those of his job and growing family, he had to push forward with his graduate work. He struggled with the dissertation, but believed he did not have time to start a new project.

Finally, he completed the document, and as he delivered it to the committee, promptly sank his own ship before it had a chance to leave the harbor: “Here,” he said, laying the massive tome before them, “I don’t believe a word of it, but it’s finished.”

In relatively short succession, his dissertation was rejected, his Ph.D. was left incomplete and he lost his teaching position for lack of credentials.

As someone who makes a living in large part by having something worthwhile to say on a regular basis, I can identify with the pressure of regularly pulling together meaningful material. My wife, who preaches nearly every week, relates as well. Though I don’t think either of us would preface something we presented in print at a pulpit with the claim that we don’t believe a word of it, there are times when you feel less confident than others to stand behind the claims you’re making.

Each of us has been in a situation where we feel forced into offering words when we’re less than inspired. Maybe we’re visiting relatives with whom we have little or nothing in common. It can happen when someone comes to us in crisis, seeking comfort or answers.

One hard lesson I’ve had to learn in my first seven years of marriage is that sometimes there are no appropriate words. Sometimes, it’s best just to shut up and listen. Often, our very presence and attention can be more comforting than any words we can muster, particularly those that fall back on old cliches or sentiments that sound nice, but that we don’t really mean.

In Romans 8, Paul assures that the Spirit intercedes, even when we can offer nothing more than “sighs too deep for words.” In some instances, the best thing we can do, rather than trying to fix the problem, is to sigh, struggle or mourn alongside someone. It’s a lot harder than offering a trite phrase or poorly timed humor, but those moments of presence and compassion can go a long way toward healing.

In those instances when we feel compelled or forced to use words, the wisdom of Theodor Geisel – aka Dr. Seuss – comes to mind. One of my favorite books from childhood was “Horton Hears a Who,” about an earnest elephant that cares for a small community of creatures no one else even seems to notice.

The Whos are understandably guarded about his offer to help, not only because of his tremendous size and power, but also because they are so used to being overlooked. Horton’s response is simple. He says, “I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. An elephant’s faithful, 100 percent.”

Meaning what we say, and saying what we mean, may seem easy enough. But too often it’s more efficient to say what sounds good rather than something with real meaning. Sometimes, in those weeks when nothing I feel I can stand behind has come and my deadline is fast approaching, I start with a prayer. Instead of staying in “author” mode, I think of myself as a vessel, often laden with sighs too deep for words.

Eventually, the words come, not always on command, but so far, so good.

Why Al Gore shouldn’t run

Former Vice President Al Gore has hit his popular stride. In the last year, he has won both an Oscar and an Emmy, and now he has been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

Millions have heeded his warnings about imminent climate change, and he has won support from both major political parties who now acknowledge we’re a big part of the problem.

Gore’s visibility and popularity likely will never be stronger than they are now. More than 150,000 people have signed a petition to urge him to again run for the office of president. So far, he has refused, much to the relief of the Clinton and Obama campaigns.

Why would a career politician waste an opportunity such as this to jump into the fray? After all, if he’s truly a champion of stemming or reversing global climate change, couldn’t he do the most good in the most powerful position in government?

Not necessarily.

In a recent follow-up article to his Time magazine feature about Gore, Eric Pooley explains not only why Gore won’t run for office again, but also why he shouldn’t.

“Running for president is by definition an act of hubris,” says Pooley, “and Gore has spent the past couple of years defying his ego and sublimating himself to a larger goal. Running for president would mean returning to a role he’d already transcended. He’d turn into – again – just another politician, when a lot of people thought he might be something better than that.”

Eight years ago, I wrote a satirical piece about why Groucho Marx was the perfect presidential candidate. Many will recall Marx’s famous quote about how he never would want to be a part of any club that would accept him as a member. Beneath this self-deprecating humor lies an inconvenient truth that can be applied, at the very least, to national politics: The very act of claiming your worthiness for such a powerful office in some ways makes you less desirable for the job.

Gore has been most successful when he has put the cause before the man. This is, by its very nature, impossible when running for president. Though issues and ideas have some importance, you are first and foremost a salesperson for yourself. In Gore’s case, his resonant message about climate change would take a back seat, at least through the end of 2008.

Nelson Mandela’s moments of greatest heroism came from behind bars. Martin Luther King, Gandhi and Mother Theresa shunned political spotlights in exchange for a place among those whom they served. Though the greatest threat Jesus seemed to pose to the Roman government was the potential power to incite rebellion, he always worked beyond the reach of government, all the way to his death.

I expect there always have been those who urged such compelling figures to claim their positions of power in a more official capacity, but there is something to be said for remaining on the perimeter. If, indeed, a cause for which we advocate is of primary importance, then political office may have just the opposite effect.

It would be easy to criticize the modern media machine for adulterating a potentially pure system into a cult of personality. However, from Genghis Khan to Charlemagne, and from the Caesars of Rome to the British monarchy, there always has been a galvanizing figure at the center. While we fancy ourselves people of ideas and principles, we’re ultimately comforted more by a familiar face and a compelling personality.

If Gore wanted to cash in his chips for another run at the White House, there may be no other time in his life when it makes more sense to do so. On the other hand, if the cause for which he currently stands is in fact bigger than he is, it would be in everyone’s best interest if he pursued his agenda as far away from Pennsylvania Avenue as possible.

Christian Piatt is the author of “MySpace to Sacred Space” and “Lost: A Search for Meaning,” and is the music minister at Milagro Christian Church in Pueblo, Colorado.

A moral question: Who deserves what health care?

Former Colorado Gov. Dick Lamm has taken a bold step in engaging people in discussion around the true substance of health-care reform. While his ideas border on philosophical, the implications are very real.

While presidential candidates from both sides of the aisle struggle to convey their own version of win-win coverage, Lamm hits the issue of health-care entitlements right between the eyes.

Why is his approach an act of bravery? Because in doing so, he raises intensely sensitive implications about who should get what kind of care. Let’s consider a couple of examples.

An 80-year-old woman is diagnosed with a rare form of lymphoma that ultimately will be terminal. Without a costly regimen of medications, she will die within weeks. With the drugs, her life expectancy is extended six to 12 months. The medicine will cost $40,000 for a six-month supply, but the woman is on a modest fixed income, dependent upon Medicare for her coverage.

A 5-year-old boy has a congenital heart disease that is causing the faulty organ to shut down. He is a candidate for a transplant, although the odds of surviving more than a few months after the surgery are 50-1. The cost of the surgery is in the hundreds of thousands of dollars, and the transplant organ is available, but the parents of the child are quickly reaching the coverage limits of their company insurance policy, and have no savings to pay for the operation.

Our initial reaction is to say that if the resources are there, we should do everything in our power to save, improve the quality of, or at least extend lives. No one wants to be in charge of telling a family that their parent, child or spouse will not receive care that might save them because of cost. For some, the valuation of life in terms of dollars and cents is callous and wrong. So instead, let’s consider it in more human terms.

The Center for Health Care Policy Research and Analysis reports that 18,000 people die annually in the United States because of inadequate basic health care. Meanwhile, Lamm notes that the sickest 1 percent of Americans account for 27 percent of total health-care costs. At what point do we cry foul, suggesting that just maybe we have our priorities out of order?

Let’s consider the two anecdotes above in another way. The woman facing terminal lymphoma who receives $40,000 worth of meds results in a trade-off, resulting in a lack of prenatal care for half of a dozen young women without insurance.

The cost of the young boy’s high-risk transplant means that a clinic in downtown Chicago will not be funded, resulting in hundreds of homeless people not receiving basic checkups and preventive health care. The long-term costs of hospitalization and other care for the health problems that could have been avoided escalate into the millions over the next 10 years.

Where does the moral social responsibility lie? At what point do we put our foot down and say this life deserves care and that one does not? Given this context, is it any wonder so few political incumbents or challengers want to tread into this moral quagmire?

Lamm has his finger on the pulse of a systemic issue that will have to be addressed before any substantive reform can take place.

As a society, we must come to terms with what is more important in the health-care service delivery system, drawing clear limits around what is publicly subsidized and what becomes the private responsibility of the affected family. On a case-by-case basis, this will be a bitter pill to swallow, but it will test the mettle of those who proclaim that health care for all is of paramount importance.

In a time when our state is debating the merits of a handful of so-called universal health-care plans, we’re still skirting around this more esoteric, and emotionally charged, gorilla in the middle of the room. One place where such dialogue can and should begin is in our local faith communities. If the preciousness of human life is contemplated any more thoroughly than within the medical profession, it’s arguably within the walls of our churches, mosques and synagogues.

Who would Jesus/Mohammed/Buddha cover?