Discrimination has become a bad word in America – a really bad word. But branding discrimination as a bad word is to use the word indiscriminately. It indiscriminately links discrimination with injustice. But that is the injustice.
We have forgotten that there is such a thing as just discrimination. We “discriminate” – that is, we distinguish and discern by recognizing differences – all the time, and must do so. Discrimination is unjust when the difference recognized has no bearing on the matter at hand. Discrimination is just – and required – when the difference matters.
Notice whom Christ is raising from the dead here in this classic icon of Easter Sunday: it’s the first married couple. Marriage has been under attack since the beginning. It’s nothing new. And Christ always raises it up.
In light of last week’s Supreme Court decision, which effectively legalized same-sex “marriage” nationwide, it may seem like marriage is facing unweatherable storms, and that Christ is asleep on the boat. The temptation to despair or “freak out” like the disciples on the stormy sea is understandable, but let us never forget: God is in control and, in the end, the truth is always victorious. “Do not let your hearts be troubled” (Jn 14:1). Remain calm. Nothing should shake our peace.
I just noticed in typing the above title that there’s a double meaning here. I meant it first as a statement about the toxic nature of our Western production-oriented-always-doing (“do-do”) mentality. But it’s also true to say that this mentality is a load of doo-doo.
I sat in this week on a colleague’s class at the TOB Institute – “Theology of the Body and Art: The Way of Beauty” taught by Bill Donaghy. He stressed our need for “detox” from our constant need to “do something” and helped us enter in to what it means to be a contemplative – someone who has slowed down enough and quieted himself enough to see and hear and smell and taste and touch the beauty all around him. And, more importantly, to decipher its meaning.
Heterogenitals. What are they? Inquiring minds want to know.
The word comes from a recent piece of journalism written for the National Catholic Reporter by Michael Lawler and Todd Salzman. Claiming that Pope Francis is departing from the rigid teaching of Saint John Paul II and thus opening the way for the acceptance of homosexual behavior, they write:
“John Paul and the magisterium condemn homosexual acts on the grounds that they violate heterogenital and reproductive complementarity, but they never explain if and why they also violate personal complementarity, other than to assert in the Catechism of the Catholic Church that homosexual acts ‘do not proceed from a genuine affective and sexual complementarity.’”
Analogies that teach us something about God can be found everywhere in nature. (Photo/Jen Messing)
[CW NOTE: This post was written by friend and colleague Jen Messing, founder of Into the Deep. Like Into the Deep on Facebook here and on Twitter here.]
Having been raised in Minneapolis proper, I am very much at home in the bustle of all the city has to offer. But I was also raised with a balance that I recognize to be unique: a full month of every childhood summer was spent on the border of Minnesota and Canada at our family cabin – and a genuine cabin it was: no roads, no electricity, no phone, no running water. As a girl who always listened to music, called friends daily, and didn’t leave the house without curling her hair, one would think I dreaded that month away from “civilization.” In reality, I have never stopped excitedly anticipating each return trip and the strength of impact on my body and soul remains evident as an adult.
The playground God provided includes the lake for swimming, canoeing, or waterskiing, the woods for hiking, hide-and-go-seek-tag, or obstacle courses, and the rocks for scrambling, sitting with a book, or lying on our backs. Inevitably, even with family all around, there were pockets of quiet. It was in that quiet of the woods that I learned to simply BE with God – it was where my senses soared as I gazed at the wonder of creation, listened to the wind blow through the trees, smelled the sweet air, felt the sun and the water on my skin, sat by the fire with my family – and it was where, as a teenager, I said to God in that silence: “I suppose I could actually talk to You….”