Reflections on Rwanda 1994

I just finished Left To Tell, a compelling memoir by a survivor of the Rwandan genocide. Imaculee Ilibigaza spent nearly 3 months cramped shoulder to shoulder in strict silence with a group of women in a tiny bathroom, while murdering mobs made periodic searches of the house where she was sheltered by a Hutu pastor.

During that awful time she had a profound encounter with God through her desperate prayers for deliverance. Her book is not a theodicy but it is a testimony to the presence of God in the midst of evil and a tribute to the the human capacity to find grace even in the context of horror. Her relationship with God enabled her to survive and to move through grief to to a life of joy. It even set her free to forive the murderers of her family and friends.

Not long ago I read a biography of the German theologian, Paul Tillich, including his escape from Germany just as the Nazi reich was beginning its campaign of violence against those who did not support their hatred. Reading such books in these times compels serious reflection.

The Church has a theology and a spirituality, not a political philosophy. But politics is always susceptible to spirits that are larger and more powerful than ideologies -- sometimes, spirits of mercy, justice, and reconciliation; sometimes spirits of hatred, fear, and blame (Rene Girard). Whatever our political convictions may be, Christians have a duty to infuse politics with a godly spirit and to resist the spiritualy of malice.

The Ugandan legislation imposing death for homosexuality is an example of a spirituality of malice. The Arizona immigration legislation is not as bad as that, but it is plenty bad enough. However, my concern is broader than specific legislation. I would not equate the extremist rhetoric of today's American politics with the Rwandan madness -- but it is deeply troubling -- not in its content, not in its political positions -- it is troubling in its malice, its dehumanizing of those who differ.

Christian may hold any variety of political and economic theories. But we cannot forget each other's humanity, which means we cannot forget when we speak of each other that we are speaking of God's children. Our calling is always to bless and not to curse.

The habit of blessing grows. The habit of cursing grows. They grow in opposite dirctions. Our basic freedom is to choose which direction we as individuals and as a society choose to follow.

Green Buds On The Branch

We baptized three people at St. Christopher's, Boulder City today and received another into the Episcopal Church. Last week, we confirmed three teenagers at Christ Church, Pioche. That may not seem like a big deal to larger congregations. But to me it is something special.

Christ Church, Pioche is in a small community that has been bypassed by the economy since its mining hey day now long past. A couple of years ago, their matriarch and priest -- then in her 90's -- suffered a fall and had to move away to assisted living. The congregation went through a difficult time of grief and adjustment.

Unlike Pioche, Boulder City is thriving but St. Christopher's was not. They went from being a 3 priest church to a no priest church in a short time, as one moved, one became ill, and the third retired. Their understanding of themselves and how they could go about being church was no longer working, but they had not yet found a way forward. That was just last Fall.

But Christ Church, Pioche just had an engaging upbeat home made curriculum confirmation class modeled on Jeopardy -- a class that ushered 3 teens into the Church. The congregation, inspired by the teens who now know so much interesting stuff, has decided to take the course themselves and reaffirm their Baptismal Vows next year. Meanwhile to the South, St. Christopher's, Boulder City, continues its strong tradition of community ministries, and is now growing again. I saw lots of new faces today in a church considerably more full than I've ever seen it. They are continuing a process of discernment about their future with an outside consultant. They have called Fr. Jim Lyons to serve as their priest, at least for now, and they celebrated his ministry with grateful statements interrupted by several outbursts of spontaneous applause at our forum.

Since I have been in Nevada, there have not been intitation rites (baptisms, confirmations, receptions) at either Christ Church, Pioche or St. Christopher's, Boulder City. But now on back to back weekends, we have celebrated new life in Christ in these congregations. There are green buds on the branch. It must be Spring.

St. Bart and the Atomic Testing Museum

On Saturday, we drove up the lovely green Pahranagat Valley to White Pine County. We were visiting St. Bartholomew’s, Ely – not the regular annual visit but a special visit. I was there to dedicate their Memorial Garden. It is a lovely place with a superb sculpture of St. Bart in the center. The congregation commissioned it in memory of their late priest, Fr. Dale Miller. The statue represents the good saint leaning forward toward the street extending a hand as if to help a fallen child to her feet. It is a gesture of simple compassion. I have heard stories of unchurched folks who found the faith through the good works of St. Bartholomew’s, Ely “proclaiming the gospel” by such simple compassion. Their garden is the most serene and aesthetic spot in Ely – itself a blessing and sign of deeper blessings over the years and for years to come.

Then it was on to St. James, Eureka. Frank the musician, who plays old time evangelical hymns on the piano while Ministry Developer Norma Engberg accompanies him on the xylophone, had the heat on for us. The little church was toasty warm on a chilly sunny day. The congregation was Frank, Norma, Linda, a state patrolman, his fiancée, and me. It is small now, but there will soon be a mission there, a big mission. The molybdenum mine will open in the near future, hiring 400 miners, most of whom will bring families to this hard life in the wilderness. I hope we can find ways to help them with their daily struggles.

Monday was another day on the road back down the Valley – the Upper Pahranagat Lake is bluer than blue with bright green grasses -- enjoying a sandwich stop at Windmill Ridge. South of Alamo the vegetation switches from pine and willows to Joshua Trees and wild flowers. Stopping for road construction, we rolled down the windows and were awed by the depth of silence.

The St. Bart’s Memorial Garden lingers in my mind. Partly it is because the garden is such a beautiful work done so lovingly by good people. But there is something more. Tonight I will be at the Atomic Testing Museum with Nevada Desert Experience to say a prayer for an event to support the New START Treaty. Ely was downwind from the test site and has a high incidence of cancer. People there with some forms of cancer get special federal benefits because of the atomic testing connection. I think of the statue, St. Bartholomew reaching out a generous hand to suffering people there. Life is already so fragile and so precious. It makes war unthinkable; yet we keep thinking it and doing it, bombing others, bombing ourselves for practice. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done” by us now.