The End of Denial
Excerpt from Isaiah 58:1 - 12
"…Ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in."
Reflection by Donna Schaper
Protestants are almost at the end of the denial of our own death as an institution. As Orhan Pamuk chronicles so well in his memoir, Istanbul, there is nothing so melancholic as the sadness that comes of living amid the ruins of a lost empire.
At the end of denial, we recognize how much it hurts to lose and to be "losers." We know the hurt and we are in the tender – and tendering – stage.
Will Christ—and Protestantism—return in triumph? Triumph is the kind of answer people who are in denial give: we want back what we used to have. Ancient ruins want something deeper and different. When our energy returns, the people will follow. So will the money. Any question that is money or survival driven is theologically suspect in terms of resurrection. Resurrection has less to do with trumpets of triumph than with a couple of lost and confused women holding on to each other on an early Sunday morning.
For now we repair the breaches and cling to each other, in the precious predawn of hope. There is a breach between who we were then and who we are now. Another breach is the awful hate—against immigrants, Muslims, gays—that flourishes because institutions stay in denial, instead of daring the dawn. To repair the breach, end the denial. To raise up the ancient ruins, be tender with each other in grief. The rest will follow.
Prayer
O God, tender us into the breach and tender us through it. Amen.
Excerpt from Isaiah 58:1 - 12
"…Ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in."
Reflection by Donna Schaper
Protestants are almost at the end of the denial of our own death as an institution. As Orhan Pamuk chronicles so well in his memoir, Istanbul, there is nothing so melancholic as the sadness that comes of living amid the ruins of a lost empire.
At the end of denial, we recognize how much it hurts to lose and to be "losers." We know the hurt and we are in the tender – and tendering – stage.
Will Christ—and Protestantism—return in triumph? Triumph is the kind of answer people who are in denial give: we want back what we used to have. Ancient ruins want something deeper and different. When our energy returns, the people will follow. So will the money. Any question that is money or survival driven is theologically suspect in terms of resurrection. Resurrection has less to do with trumpets of triumph than with a couple of lost and confused women holding on to each other on an early Sunday morning.
For now we repair the breaches and cling to each other, in the precious predawn of hope. There is a breach between who we were then and who we are now. Another breach is the awful hate—against immigrants, Muslims, gays—that flourishes because institutions stay in denial, instead of daring the dawn. To repair the breach, end the denial. To raise up the ancient ruins, be tender with each other in grief. The rest will follow.
Prayer
O God, tender us into the breach and tender us through it. Amen.
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