CBC Drama "Pure": Gift or irritant?

I watched the first episode of CBC's new mini series entitled "Pure."

Understandably the various expressions of Anabaptist/Mennonite faith will feel misrepresented. The depiction lumps them all together like a typical potluck plateful of various foods.

As anticipated there is discomfort when particular shortcomings of the 'quiet in the land' is given national profile. We like to be known for our humble service not our humiliating deviations.

The spotlight is not a comfortable place for Mennonites. But it feels better resisting praise than it does refusing blame.

I don't know of any Mennonite who would feel comfortable being called "pure". But neither do we like faults being publicly flaunted.

However, this time of discomfort might offer a gift of self reflection. I think our discomfort mirrors a common Protestant aversion to facing shortcomings. To acknowledge the need of a Saviour is not problematic. But to describe the areas of personal struggle is.  When the confessional booth was discarded, our admission of sin was driven into private, unnamed remorse. Forgiveness then has also become a private struggle of acceptance.

We feel most comfortable looking like we have it all together and avoid portraying our frayed and frazzled selves.

I wonder how our God of grace views either the hesitation of admitting guilt or the fixation of holding onto guilt. Grace has never been an easy thing to accept.

The attention could provide the watching world with a refreshing display of self comfort. A faith community that is confident in Gods grace is able to smile at its own short comings. A faith community rich in experiencing grace is able to more easily extend grace to members of its own extended family without a nervous need to distinguish itself from bad behaviour. Such a comfort with who we are could be a refreshing contrast to the marketing culture dependent on having individuals feel bad about themselves.

This might be a gift to us as Mennonite communities. And we have the next few weeks to accept and use this gift wisely.

The Covenant of Disagreement

In the past, the Church could hardly imagine placing 'covenant' and 'disagreement' into a shared concept. Disagreement represented the opposite of covenant. Covenant necessitated agreement.

But no longer. It is now possible to discuss covenant in the context of disagreement.

Followers of Jesus Christ are beginning to realize that covenant speaks more to relationship than it does to theological agreement. Jesus made it clear that covenant people commit to "turning the other cheek" and "praying for" those considered enemies.

This is no easy task! Indeed an endeavour quite impossible if not empowered by the spirit of Jesus Christ.

It is only reasonable then for followers of Jesus Christ to extend that same grace to fellow members of the body of Christ. If covenant people are instructed to love their enemies, how much more their brothers and sisters with whom they disagree?

In a recent trip to Israel/Palestine an ecumenical organization challenged a group of denominational leaders that unless we are able to speak as a unified voice of diversity, we have no platform to offer anything to the situation in the Middle East. I agree.

A reshaped understanding of covenant is an important challenge to a world becoming increasingly fragmented by ideological, theological, and ethnic conflict. Followers of Jesus Christ must stand ready to embrace disagreement within the covenant of loving your neighbour as yourself. This is not a poetic ideal. It is a covenant responsibility.

The global community has considered it important to remember the devastation of war. Divided church bodies realize destructive outcomes of internal conflict. Loss of life, destruction of families, relationships broken by harsh words are the lamented impacts results of armed violent conflict. Such lament should be expressed. But so should a commitment to peace that displays a new comfort with disagreement. Disagreement is an opportunity for conversation, not a reason for conflict. The Christian faith must learn to embrace disagreement if it hopes to be relevant in a diverse world.

I think God has provided an opportunity for the church of Jesus Christ to shine. This is a chance to display a renewed commitment of love and respect for all people of diverse understandings. It is an opportunity to boldly model how to remain in disagreement without resorting to hateful and hurtful rhetoric. It is an opportunity to portray the compelling love of Jesus Christ.

I pray that we will rise up to this opportunity. I pray that followers of Jesus Christ everywhere will commit themselves to represent the covenant of disagreement.

Another possibility

I like to pause and imagine myself in the Gospel stories. When I do, the familiar passages often burst with new meaning.

I have been drawn to reconsider the story of Jesus encountering the crowd who brought the woman caught in adultery for judgement (John 8:1-11). The central feature of the story is when Jesus stooped to write something in the sand. Scripture does not tell us what Jesus wrote. I have always assumed that shame had a pivotal role in this story, because whatever Jesus wrote caused the accusers to leave one by one.

But recently I have been drawn to consider another possibility to the story. As I imagined myself in the crowd, I envisioned how I could have felt as I watched the finger of Jesus scribe the words in the dirt:

The gentleness with which his finger traced the words in the sand; it felt like he was tracing the words across my tear streaked face. I was out done. He never looked up; not wanting to expose anyone. But the honesty of the choice words made me feel like he was staring directly into my heart. More than that; shining a light into the space of my heart I barely am able to recognize. 

It took everything in me not to gasp out my astonishment. But that would identify me; associate me with the words unfolding in front of everyone. 

I didn't feel shame. I wanted to. But the tenderness with which his finger touched the earth wouldn't allow shame. 

It wasn't a stern Jesus. This was not an act of protective defiance; as though he was saying; "Go ahead throw the first stone, I dare you!" 

No, he was granting us the freeing gift of truth. He was letting us know that in his sight, our sin was as public as the woman's. He wasn't accusing us. He was acknowledging us. He was revealing to us that we were known; known and loved. 

It wasn't guilt that made us pull away. It was grace. It was a profoundly numbing grace. 

I walked away. But I have never seen myself the same again. I was truly known. Because of that I now knew I was truly loved. 

The miracle that day was not that I didn't throw a stone on the woman. The miracle that day was that I finally stopped throwing stones at myself. 

It was as though I was invited to allow the tenderness of God's love to gently trace the words that will expose me across my cheek. Then in that space of that vulnerable truth I could hear the voice of my Saviour - and finally - be set free. 

It is a sad faith that tries to hide what is already known. It is a suppressed faith that permits guilt from acknowledging the sin that God has already forgiven.

Not until we recognize that we are truly known do we realize that we are truly loved.