No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to
prison:
We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage:
When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down,
And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too,
Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out;
And take upon's the mystery of things,
As if we were God's spies: and we'll wear out,
In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones,
That ebb and flow by the moon.
We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage:
When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down,
And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too,
Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out;
And take upon's the mystery of things,
As if we were God's spies: and we'll wear out,
In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones,
That ebb and flow by the moon.
King Lear
Act 5 Scene 3: Lear to Cordelia
Who’s in and who’s out—that is the question (with apologies to Prince Hamlet). That question has been resonating with me recently. I have had three encounters with that
question in the past couple of weeks.
The first, and most timely for today, was in an interview with American
theologian and Episcopalian Diana Butler Bass on the CBC program Tapestry. The subject of the talk was Religion and
Spirituality. Bass noted that she first
truly realized why people were turning their backs on organized religion was on
the tenth anniversary of 9-11 which fell on a Sunday. She was hesitant to attend church as she was
fearful it might turn into a celebration of nationalistic triumphalism. She was assured by the priest that the
service would have very quiet, reflective liturgy. She decided to attend and was reassured when
the liturgy was all the priest had promised and quite appropriate to the solemn
occasion. The preacher, who was not clergy,
but rather someone, who had been working at the White House that day spoke in
his sermon of the four thousand people who had lost their lives in the decade
following that event. She was at first
incredulous and thought, it is fifty thousand; it is a hundred thousand! Then she realized he was referring to the
American lives lost in Iraq. (Note: a
Google search puts the actual count has the loss of life at of up to 190,000
people including 134,000 civilians).
Bass walked out of that service and when her husband texted her and
asked if she was coming back to church, she replied, “I don’t know.”
Another example of who’s in and who’s out was in an article in the Globe
and Mail on September 2nd which was entitled, Hell and High Water. It was
addressing the seeming resistance to actually preparing for the ever increasing
‘floods of the century’ which are occurring with increasing frequency. The article noted the example of the Mississippi
River’s Great Flood of 1927. The article
noted the official death toll was 246.
However, that was only the people that officially mattered. It didn’t include the lives of African
Americans—Negros as
they would have been classified—which brought the death toll to over one thousand. Who’s in and who’d out; who’s counted and who
doesn’t; who’s lives matter and who’s lives don’t.
The last example was inspired when I read the article and I recalled the
passage in the Gospel of Matthew regarding the feeding of the five thousand by
Jesus, “And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and
children”. Oh by the way there were
women and children but we don’t need to mention how many. That is a recurring situation in the bible
where women are often not named e.g. the Syrophoenician woman or the woman at
the well. People in the bible are often not
named in the bible even when they are central the story. This is true for men as well as women e.g.
the Good Samaritan or the Prodigal son. However,
perhaps we should be thankful for all the people who are named and bring life
to the stories.
However, the question I place before you today is, when does a person
count and when do they fade into the background of the story of our lives? We have made progress in recent years to
address this question. The response of
Black Lives Matter is addressing the frequent impunity with which the police
treat people of colour non-people who don’t count. This is not restricted to the United States.
In Canada deaths by police action is much rarer, thank God. However, we still have police insisting that
‘carding’ is necessary for them to do their job. People carded just happen to be mostly
non-whites. In Canada we have the
hopeful move of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission which reviewed the
institutionalize mistreatment of aboriginal Canadians. The institutions of the people who were ‘in’
treated aboriginal people as objects rather than as people.
Of course it is easy to sit back and point fingers and judge events and
attitudes of actions of the past by today’s standards and values. How do we examine culture, our governments, and
our institutions including the churches, and above all ourselves, in how we
view others? Who do we hold as being in
and who is out. Who counts and who doesn’t?
Some years ago I attended a conference on a group of mostly white men
who were trying to deal with white middle class male privilege in ourselves and
in our society. Unfortunately the group
tended to look mostly at society and not at ourselves. The conference was attended by two Inuit men
from northern Canada. One of them noted
that in their culture they believed that, “no one was bigger than anyone
else.” At resonated with me then and it
still does.
How do we treat no one as bigger than anyone else; everyone as the same
importance as everyone else? As a
Christian, how do I treat each person as a child of God? How do I relate to each person as someone who
is “in” and not as someone who is “out”?
If I do not I truly am in the prison that Lear and Cordelia are going to—however
they are aware of their prison walls unlike the rest of us. I know I am going to fail; in a state if
sin; I am going to miss the mark.
Fortunately I am offered forgiveness and can start again. That is the mystery of things indeed.
Thank be to God.
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