Finishing Up

As our last Ethics-related blog, Trevor asked us to post our final papers online. The following was mine.

Ethics: Open Adoption Records

Once upon a time, there were a man and a woman who loved each other very much; so much, in fact, that they decided they needed more people in their family, to share that love with. So they had a daughter, and that was very good, indeed; but there was still something missing. So they decided that they needed another person in their family, and they went to talk to some people at an adoption agency called St. Mary's.

What's an adoption agency? Well, it's a group of people that works to help bring families together-- parents who need children, and children who need parents. Of course, this takes a long time. The workers at St. Mary's visited our house, and asked a lot of questions, and talked about many things, so that they could be sure that the people they were bringing together would be just right for each other.

Then, one day, a lady from St. Mary's called and said, "We have a baby boy here, and we think you would be just the right family for him. You may pick him up tomorrow."

Tomorrow! Oh, we were so excited, and there was so much to do! We had to get down the baby crib and the baby car seat. We had to wash baby clothes and diapers. We had to go to the store, to buy baby formula and baby wipes. Yes, there was lots to do, and we had to hurry, scurry.

But finally, the next day came, and we were ready. We picked Carolyn up from school, and off we went. When we got to St. Mary's, a kind lady carried in a tiny bundle in a blanket, and asked, "Who wants to hold him first?"

"I do!" cried Carolyn, and so she sat in a chair and held her new brother, while we all looked to see you for the first time. You were beautiful! Lots of dark hair, and big round cheeks, and a little squishy nose, and wide eyes blinking in the light.

Then the kind lady asked, "What are you going to name him?"

We answered, "His name is Kyle Joseph Foster, and we will love him very much."

And that's how we came to be a family, forever and ever. Amen.

-----------------------
The foregoing narrative is what our son calls "The Kyle Story." It began as a bedtime tale when he was very small, as a way of beginning to let him know something of the circumstances of his birth and adoption. Of course, it is far from complete; as with many oral traditions, there are details and portions that are added and subtracted with continued retelling. The most notable omission from the narrative is mention of the birth mother. Kyle was part of what is termed a "closed" or "sealed" adoption. His birth and adoptive parents have no direct contact with one another; and, although some information was supplied through the agency, most of it was non-identifying: no names or addresses, etc. An amended birth certificate was filed with the state when his adoption was final, and the original sealed by the courts.

In recent years, however, "open" adoption has become more a common practice. In this system, the birth mother and adoptive parent(s) not only come to know one another before the child is born, but often maintain contact throughout the child's life.

The shift in societal approach that allows for open adoptions today is also reflected in the drive to open up the older system, as well. A number of adoptees have, as adults, sought to find their birthparents; likewise, there are birthparents who, after many years, decide to seek information about the children they surrendered for adoption. This process is made difficult by the legal practice of sealing adoption records. As a result, there has developed a movement to retroactively open these records, to allow them to be searched, in order to facilitate reconnection of birthparents and adoptees.

However, this desire is by no means universal. There are also many concerned parties that have no interest in either finding, or being found by, one another. They prefer not to reopen what are often painful chapters in their lives, and do not care to have the records opened to allow access without their consent. How, they ask, can someone with whom we have no legal or societal link be allowed to interrupt our lives whether or not we welcome it? In this paper I intend to speak to this conflict, and to discuss the ethical implications in light of the Christian narrative. Does the retroactive opening of legally sealed records allow release, and reconnection of broken relationship, or is it a breach of trust and confidentiality? How does the Christian ethicist speak to the present pain of detachment and unknowing, over and against the pain and fear of dredging up past hurts long closed?

In order to address these questions, I will first offer a short history of adoption practice and thought. I will also discuss the current disparity in the political arena, and the reasons given for both support and opposition. Then I will look at our story: what does scripture say about adoption and connection, respect and responsibility, and how might a Christian narrative approach to this issue be shaped?

History
Adoption is far from a new concept; many ancient cultures (Greeks and Romans, Egyptians and Babylonians) saw adoption as a common practice.(1) The earliest known written laws regarding adoption date to the 18th century BCE, and the Code of Hammurabi.(2) Several sections in the Code(3) deal specifically with adoption; they establish rights and responsibilities, in terms of both position and property for both adoptive parent and adoptee. As many adoptees were adults, adoption was seen as primarily an issue of inheritance, and only secondarily as child rearing. The Code, however, makes provision for both scenarios, and thereby “institutionalizes” adoption as a state-regulated system.

Later, Roman Civil Law's Institutions,(4) (written in 535 CE) codified adoption as part of the Empire's Family Law system, and refocused on the adoption of young children (those below puberty). This latter regulation, with it's emphasis on infant/child adoption, and requirement for legal sanction, became the foundation upon which much of current adoption law stands. In both of these systems, open knowledge of the circumstances surrounding an adoption seem to be considered normative. The birthparents and adoptee relinquished all rights to one another, and stiff penalties might be levied (under the Code of Hammurabi, if an adoptee returned to his/her birth family, his/her eye would be put out!)(5) but no mention is made of any effort to conceal an adoptee's family of origin.

As centuries passed, adoption once again became a most informal practice. In the United States there was no legal recognition of adoption until the mid 19th century. Prior to this time, adoption was either an unceremonious inclusion of a child into a family (especially popular in farm families, with their great need for child labor) or a form of indentured servitude, with adoption seen essentially as a "transfer of title." In 1851, Massachusetts enacted the first adoption laws, regulating the necessity of consent, and considering the ability of the adoptive family to raise a child. The Indentured Servitude was abolished by Constitutional Amendment in 1865, which put an end to that sort of "adoptive" practice. State laws regulating adoption were largely ineffectual and unenforced, honored more in form than in substance. Still, the stated concern with "the best interests of the child" was a dramatic shift in approach compared to the rest of the world, which generally saw adoption in terms of inheritance, and the needs of the adoptive family.

By the early 20th century, more concern arose regarding a birthparent’s consent being voluntary, and the state's role in ensuring the fitness of the adoptive home. Beginning in Minnesota in 1917, state legislatures began to make adoption records more private. Heretofore, they were open not only to the parties involved, but to the general public as well. Many states required birthparents to give their consent to the adoptive parents in person; and adoption proceedings, including names of the parties involved, were commonly published in newspapers.(6)

Through the 1920's the movement to completely seal records took on life, mainly through the auspices of professional social workers' organizations. The reasons for this were largely cultural, and spurred by "the attitudes, myths and mores of the time."(7) The rationale was one of confidentiality as protection. As one history states:

"The birth parents were protected from the stigma of pregnancy without the benefit of marriage.

"The adoptee was protected from the stigma of illegitimacy and the concerns of "bad blood" which was loosely connected to what we know about genetics today, but carried with it overtones of the "sins of the father." Secrecy would also prevent the confusion of having two different sets of parents and the conflict that might arise should contact occur.

"The adoptive parents, often an infertile couple, were protected from the stigma of raising an "illegitimate" child. They were protected from dealing with their infertility and from facing the differences between being a parent through adoption vs. being a parent by birth. Closed records also precluded the possibility of birth relatives seeking out the child, an event associated with potential kidnapping."(8)

Other reasons often given for sealing records included protection from intrusion into the privacy of all parties; protection from blackmail; protecting the adoptee from disturbing acts surrounding their birth (incest, rape, etc.); enhancing the adoptee's feelings of permanency; enhancing the family's stability and preserving the nuclear family; and encouraging the use of adoption instead of abortion, black market placement, child abuse, or neglect. By the early 1940’s, sealed adoption records were part of the legal practice across the nation, and adoptive parents were urged to "put the past behind," not to talk about it; in the case of infant adoptions, not to even reveal that an adoption had occurred.

Shifts and Changes
Recent trends, however, have swung away from this position.(9) Beginning in the 1960's, there began a sociological move away from "secrecy as protection," and the debate burgeoned over whether adoptees should, in fact, be told of their origins. Social service workers began to suggest that adoptees be informed, though contact with birth families was still discouraged (this was seen as a pathological need; and counseling, rather than contact, was recommended). However, some adult adoptees, upon learning of their status, began to speak openly and publicly. They saw themselves and their pasts, their narratives, as incomplete; and began trying to make contact with their biological parents.

Thus, by the mid 1970's a new dynamic was added to the process: the reunion, and media coverage of the reunion story. By the 1980's, tales told in magazines and newspapers, on radio and television, began to sway a certain amount of public sympathy-- not only for the struggles of the birthparents, and the adoptee's desires for (re)connection, but for the difficulty they experienced in the process of searching, due to legally sealed records. Activist movements, like the Adoptee’s Liberty Movement Association (ALMA),(10) Concerned United Birthparents (CUB)(11) and Bastard Nation(12) developed with a twofold purpose: to assist adoptees in the search process, and to work to overturn sealed records laws.

In the latter case, they have only been partially successful. Currently, only Alabama, Alaska, Kansas and Oregon are fully "open records states," meaning that adult adoptees can receive copies of original documentation about their adoptions with no restrictions, simply by completing an application process.(13) Other states have varying degrees of accessibility, depending upon (a) the age of the adoptee; (b) the consent or veto of the birthmother; or (c) the need for the information, as determined by court order.(14) Many states now offer an adoption registry: a intermediary system that will facilitate a search, if both parties to the adoption choose to sign up for the service, upon the adoptee reaching adulthood.

However, there is no national consensus, either in law or registry; so this is where the present political action centers. A lack of cohesive national policy makes both sides uncomfortable: search advocates struggle through myriad legal mazes, trying to find the people they seek, not knowing where they are or what rules to follow. Opponents bemoan what they perceive as a lack of protection crossing state lines.

Current Thought
Controversies that continue to swirl around the opening of birth records stem in part from the wide variety of legal practice, and in part from the disparate views of the parties involved.(15) Some adoptees have no interest in seeking out their biological families, while others desperately desire to learn about their past, their roots. Some birthparents prefer to let the painful past stay in the past, and want the protection of the law, while others eagerly hope for reconnection. Some adoptive parents welcome their children' questions, and willingly support a search, while others are threatened by what they perceive as dissatisfaction ("Aren't we good enough parents?"), and still others are afraid for their child, worrying that the reappearance of a birthparent before the adoptee is ready may be grievous and disruptive.

Likewise, there appears to be a pervasive dichotomy in our culture regarding the family status of an adopted person. As Wegar notes,(16) there is a tension between the biological and social aspects of family life, between kinship identity and bonding. Adoptees are seen simultaneously as a full members of their adoptive family, both legally and socially, and "perceived as standing outside the order of nature, as Others." Adoptive parents also feel this distinction. The standard practice of speaking of a birth parent, especially the birthmother, as the "real" or "natural" parent, is an example of the way many people see the adoptive family. Originally, the practice of sealing records was intended to alleviate this tension, by legally eliminating evidence of it. However, the tension remains, and in many cases is exacerbated by the denial of reality.

Christian Narrative
So, how does the Christian ethicist speak to this? As I understand the virtue/narrative approach, one speaks out of the character one has formed, and is forming, through the Christian narrative tradition, with the intent of maintaining one's character as a cohesive part of that tradition. Babb states it clearly when she describes it thus:

"Instead of defining ethics through actions or duties, virtue based ethical frameworks emphasize character. Duty-based ethical theorists ask, 'What should I do?' Virtue-based theorists ask,'What sort of person should I become?'"(17)

As a Christian, part of the way I am formed into the "person I should become" begins with examples (positive and negative) and teaching gleaned from the biblical narrative.

So then, what does the Bible(18) have to say about this issue? The idea of detailed record keeping, as we do today, would have been a foreign concept to our scriptural fathers and mothers. However, adoption and genealogical connections are very familiar themes.

The story of Moses begins with an adoption, as Pharaoh's daughter plucks a floating baby out of the river, and raises him as her own son, privileged grandchild to one the ancient Egyptians considered kin to the gods.(19) In modern terms, this resembles something like open adoption. Moses was raised as the son of Pharaoh's daughter, but was nursed and cared for by his biological mother "until he grew up."(20) The great leader of the Hebrew Exodus would have been the product of both his families, and conceivably always aware of his heritage; scripture records no moment of revelation, but seems to take for granted Moses' knowledge of his ancestry as an adopted child. So, though Moses is seen by some as repudiating his Egyptian upbringing, and returning to his "blood" roots, in actuality it seems more as though he simply made a choice regarding which side of his heritage to follow. At the same time, he would not have been the effective leader he was in that situation, without the connection he had to both the Israelites and the Egyptians. Full knowledge of his whole narrative allowed him to grow into that which God wanted him to be.

Another story of an adoption is noted in the book of Esther. In the beginning of this tale, the author notes that Esther was actually raised by her cousin, Mordecai, who adopted her after her parents died.(21) Again, biological heritage is no mystery, especially since Esther is raised by a family member. As an adult, she lives into her role as adopted daughter, following Mordecai’s urgings to intercede with the King and thereby saving "her people" from genocide.

Of course, from a Christian perspective, the most notable adoption story is the narrative in the Gospel of Matthew, telling the story of Jesus. Though Mary conceived Jesus through the Holy Spirit, Jesus was accepted by Joseph, and raised as Joseph's son. Joseph was responsible for naming him,(22) and Matthew even traces Jesus' ancestry through his adoptive father's family tree.(23) Like the other stories, this seems to have been common knowledge. Jesus certainly showed his awareness of his multifaceted parentage, in the scene in the Temple, to which he referred as "my father's house."(24)

These narratives address the issue of open adoption; but what about those long sealed records? There are several biblical themes that apply. The first is the importance of honesty. Those who support opening records maintain that to continue to keep them closed is to continue to lie, and to force adoptees to live a lie. This is obviously not acceptable in terms of the Christian narrative. The eighth commandment speaks directly to this, forbidding the bearing of false witness,(25) which may be interpreted to include altered birth certificates. "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free,"(26) Jesus says to his followers; and search activists maintain this as a precept.

However, another theme to consider is that of promise. Opponents of opening records say that they were promised those records would remain sealed, and their confidentiality protected. Scripture refers many times to God's promises: to Abraham and his descendants,(27) to Moses,(28) to Joshua.(29) Rahab’s protection was vital to the safety of the Israelite spies, and the promises she and they made to one another saved their lives, and hers as well.(30) Over and over, the message is unequivocal: promises made are to be promises kept, and one does not lightly betray a commitment.

So, with these conflicting priorities, how do we discern an ethical path? I would suggest a closer look an overarching theme of the biblical narrative: that of community. From God's declaration in Genesis that "it is not good that man should be alone,"(31) to Jesus' promise to be "wherever two or three are gathered,"(32) to Paul's repeated references to the importance of all the believers as "the Body of Christ,"(33) there is an ongoing, pervasive emphasis on community.
This is a dynamic that flies directly in the face of the tenor of the current debate, with it's emphasis on personal liberties and individual rights. Wegar notes that "in the debate over sealed records, both search advocates and their opponents have argued that their views genuinely express the American ethos of individualism."(34) There is a distinction between the two factions, which Wegar portrays using Wuthnow's definitions of individualism and individuality. By Wuthnow's definition,

"Individualism emphasizes a concern for the moral responsibility of individuals toward other individuals, whereas individuality focuses on the moral responsibility of the individual toward his or her own self."(35)

Nevertheless, there is no reference to any concern of, by or for the larger community. I believe that the lack of a community ethic is at the foundation of the current, disparate factions in this scenario.

So, if we then turn to an ethos of community, caring for and respecting the needs of one another, what might that look like in this situation? First, I believe it removes any legitimacy from the setting apart of any member of the adoption triad, over and against the other. We cannot treat the adoptee as "other," nor look down on the birthparent, nor suggest the adoptive parent is "unnatural," if we own that each person is created in the image of God, and each is equally vital to the community that is the human family.

Secondly I believe that a sense of ourselves as community requires each side to acknowledge the other's struggle. St. Thomas Aquinas wrote that "human beings are moved by love and truth. So inherent is this drive for the truth that in human nature it becomes an imperative. To address a human being in any lesser mode is to do his nature violence."(36) We need to stop this violence; to speak honestly, but also to listen lovingly to one another. Search advocates need to realize that those who wish their records sealed may have good reason for doing so; search opponents need to admit the real hurt felt by those who long for truths long denied them.

Thirdly, focusing on community would force us to take the debate to a national level. Anything less leaves an unacceptable disparity in treatment for those affected by the issue.

Finally, I believe that a reasonable solution, and one in line with the Christian narrative ethic, is to (1) establish an active national registry, with records from all 50 states; (2) allow adoptees and birthparents access to the original birth records, once the adoptee is an adult; and (3) allow members of the triad to register whether or not they desire to be contacted, and require those who use the registry to abide by those stated wishes. This speaks to the virtue of honesty, in that those who desire their original birth certificate may then be provided the information; but also attempts to keep the "promise" to those who do not wish to be contacted, so they may continue to live "unthreatened" by the idea of an unbearable past turning up on the doorstep.

In our own case, I have no idea what Kyle will want to do when he is grown and able to make this decision. If he is not interested in searching for his birthmother, I am content, like Mary, to hold these things in my heart, and not share what he has no need to know. Likewise, I know there are disturbing memories that his birthmother may not want to face, and her wishes need to be respected.
On the other hand, if they do decide to contact one another, I will gladly help in any way I can. My reasons are twofold. First, Kyle is my son, given into my care, and part of what that means is being willing to help him to continue to grow into the whole of his own narrative, as he desires. Secondly, his birthmother, out of her own pain and struggle, gave me the incredible gift of his life to share. I have thanked God for this, and prayed for her, every day of his life; I would dearly love the opportunity to try to tell her what that gift has meant to me. I hope she will allow that.

Footnotes

1. The History of Adoption, Accessed 1May 2003.
2. We Three Kings, Accessed 2 May 2003.
3. The Avalon Project: Code of Hammurabi,Yale University , accessed 5 May 2003.
4. Medieval Sourcebook: The Institutes, 535 CE, Fordham University , accessed 5 May 2003.
5. "The Avalon Project: Code of Hammurabi" website, Section 193.
6. A Brief History of Sealed Adoption Records, Accessed 5 May 2003.
7. "The History of Adoption" website.
8. "The History of Adoption" website
9. Katarina Wegar, Adoption, Identity and Kinship: the Debate over Sealed Birth Records (New Haven, CN: Yale University Press, 1997), p. 108-109.
10. Adoptee's Liberty Movement Association, Accessed 8 May 2003.
11. Concerned United Birthparents, Accessed 8 May 2003.
12. Bastard Nation, Accessed 8 May 2003.
13. State Regulations: Non-Identifying & Identifying Information, accessed 10 May 2003.
14. Adoption Records by State, accessed 12 May 2003.
15. Arthur D. Sorosky, M.D., Annete Baran, M.S.W., Reuben Pannor, M.S.W., The Adoption Triangle (San Antonio, TX: Corona Publishing, 1984).
16. Wegar, p. 13
17. Babb, p. 78.
18. All scriptural references are taken from The New Oxford Annotated Bible, New Revised Standard Version, ed. Bruce M. Metzger and Roland E. Murphy (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991)
19. Exodus 2:1-10
20. Exodus 2:9-10
21. Esther 2:7
22. Matthew 1:21, 1:25
23. Matthew 1:1-16
24. Luke 2:48-49
25. Exodus 20:16
26. John 8:32
27. Genesis 17:4-8
28. Exodus 3:7-12
29. Joshua 1:1-9
30. Joshua 2:8-21
31. Genesis 2:18
32. Matthew 18:20
33. Romans 12:5; 1 Corinthians 12:12, 27; Ephesians 3:6
34. Wegar, p. 82.
35. R. Wuthnow, Meaning and Moral Order: Explorations in Cultural Analysis (Berkley, CA: University of California Press, 1987) p. 201.
36. Quoted by the Rev. Tom Brosnan, M.Div., M.F.A in Ethics and Adoption: A Spiritual Perspective, accessed 2 May 2003.

Morning Prayer

One of the good things about being a Christian is that we're never without Someone to talk to. So, while I'm awaiting my turn in the shower, Lord...

We're all scrambling here to finish up: too much to do, and to little time to do it in. Be with us as we work, and help us to remember that You're the point of all this.

Keep an eye on Heather as she meets with her Standing Committee about her candidacy for ordination. 11:15 this morning (10:15 central).

Thanks for yesterday (20 years isn't nearly long enough) and for however many tomorrows you see fit to give us.

Amen.

Ethics: "The Kingdom of God is like..."

I was fascinated by today's discussion, and our reactions to the use of modern metaphors to describe the Kingdom of God. Jesus' images of the kingdom-- a mustard seed, leaven, a priceless pearl-- might have been startling to Jesus' listeners; they're comfortable to most of us, 2000 years later. But boy howdy, are we rattled when we hear the Kingdom compared to a profitable corporation, or a teenager slaying vampires. We do a double take-- "say, what?"

A friend of mine recently shared this quote, from a Brit named John Stott: "We must allow the Word of God to confront us, to disturb our security, to undermine our complacency and to overthrow our patterns of thought and behavior." It's a healthy shaking of our self-assurance, but it's easier said than done, isn't it?

Busy Day!

People are actually going to be able to come for our cookout next weekend-- family, friends and neighbors, and even a Seabury contingent willing to venture over the state line. I'm just tickled at the idea of connecting the two sides of my life for a few hours on a Sunday afternoon.

Of course, the adventures that day will begin several hours earlier; Ben (my rector) has asked me to preach that morning. I'm excited, but nervous, too-- I've not stood in the pulpit but two or three times, and the last was almost a year ago. Praying God puts words in my mouth between now and then!

Now, I don't know whether this qualifies as another inducement, or will send folks running for the border; but if you'd like to come down early, our main service is at 10:15. We are, in Episcopal terms, a pretty broad parish. Contemporary music and sanctus bells-- something to irritate everyone!

Ethics: Christian bystanders?

Yesterday's class was a full one, spent discussing myriad topics; and, in true postmodern style, we had lots of questions and very few answers. It sounds strange to say, given our focus on virtue narrative ethics, but what I heard in our discussion was a struggle with a teleological worldview. In other words, we seemed to be asking how to hang on to our virtue ethic, and Christian practice, in the face of a societal focus on the bottom line.

We talked about the difficulty of behaving ethically in the business world, when one is responsible to shareholders staring at the profit margin.

Later we turned to a discussion of chaplains (military and corporate) who are allowed to function because they are also seen as benefitting the bottom line. After all, pastoral care and spiritual support result in a more productive employee-- or a soldier who can withstand the onslaught and go out to fight again.

These are ongoing tensions between Christianity and culture, and culture most often wins. Why? Because we're surrounded, and it's way too easy to fall into the trap of societal participation-- trying to maintain the status quo, instead of engaging an alternative path.

Now, let's be clear; I do not mean to say that the answer is to refuse to play-- to say, for example, that a "good Christian" would not consider serving as a military chaplain. There's no virtue in blindly dismissing a huge segment of humanity; keep up that sort of standard, and pretty soon we see ourselves as too virtuous to be ministering to anybody. That's following the Pharisees, not Jesus.

Rather, we need to stand in the balance, and articulate the struggle, clinging to Christ and continuing to let the Spirit work from the inside out. How am I different from those soldiers? More importantly, how am I not? Where are the dark places, and how do we let God in so that we don't fall into them?

Church and world engage each other all the time; but until and unless the church can speak to what's right and what's wrong, it has (we have) no hope of changing the culture-- or ourselves.

Oh, Look! Another one!

Yes, classmate Kassinda has joined the ranks of blogging Seaburians. Perspectives on life from an East Coast point of view.

So many papers, so little time

I have a couple of really big projects due in the next week or two, and I'm not nearly where I want to be on them. My NT Reasearch journal is not going well (apparently ideological critics are not fond of my chosen pericope), and a 12 page paper hinges on that, to boot. Then there's similarly lengthy piece of navel contemplation for Pastoral Care, and a "Self-Development Evaluation" for which I do not even understand the instructions. One more 5 page effort for Medieval History, too. Yes, I'm feeling a little stressed.

Blogging is going to be sparse for the next few days; I'll be back when I can breathe again.

Weinberger on the Web

I was part of the crowd that went to hear David Weinberger speak at Seabury last evening. He was talking about "Why the Web Matters;" and it was truly a geek evening. AKMA and Tripp were live-blogging the presentation (check them out for good notes), and several of us were iChatting (IM'ing, whatever) throughout, pondering thought pathways that the discussion stimulated. As you might expect at a seminary, the Q&A portion of the program evolved into a sort of theological discussion, around the difference between communication, and what of a person is revealed through blogging, and how that compares with "live and in person" interaction. David was, naturally, very enthused by the possibilities and dynamics of blogging (as well as other projects, like something called a wikipedia-- and I would include the Disseminary here) as a direct challenge to the "normal" notions of expertise, and limits on access to knowledge. People blog, etc., because we care about a subject/topic/issue; that the web can be essentially (my words, not his) a web of care for other people, as well-- and we're back to the community discussion.

You know, I think David has a point-- but I see limits to it that don't seem to phase him. Yes, there is a part of me that is revealed to folks in my blog, that may not appear to the casual observer-- or even to those who care to be less casual. However, I'd like to think there's more to me than what I choose to put in this blog-- for example, stuff I will discuss far more freely in person than I am willing to post on a public site. Getting those boundaries defined was part of my struggle with the whole idea of "required postings" for classes here, and why I was initially a most reluctant blogger. Further, no matter how technology may progress to allow transmission of virtual touch, most humans have a longing for physical connection that cannot be met by reading someone's journal.

Additionally, as Mark pointed out last week, it's too easy to be disconnected, and abstract, online. I can choose which blogs to read, or not, in a way that I cannot choose my family, or my neighbors, or the person sitting next to me on the bus or in a pew. I can remain in my room, talking without listening, retreating when anyone might actually need, or hurt, or offend, safe behind the cyberspace wall.

Yes, the blogging world is a strange and wonderful thing, but it's not enough.

This morning, I am going bowling with son Kyle's 2nd grade class. They have been penpals with a 2nd grade class from another school in the district, and are now getting together to meet for the first time. They have been writing letters to one another-- low tech blogging, in a way-- all year, which they've enjoyed. And now they will get to meet personally-- an opportunity that has my normally introverted son very excited. "The letters were okay, Mom," he says, "but it's way better to go really play with people."

Exactly.

Ethics - Life in the Magic Kingdom

Though it doesn't seem like it, I do continue to plow through stuff outside of what's required for writing papers. With the ethics dissertation (all 14 pages) off to my peer reviewer, I've turned back to the regular reading for the class. In particular, I've been caught up in Michael Budde's The Magic Kingdom of God: Christianity and Global Culture Industries. Budde argues that our current culture, and the industries that support it (media, entertainment, advertising) in the lifestyle to which we have become accustomed, make living a life of Christian discipleship incredibly, and increasingly, difficult. So pervasive is the influence that the church has in many areas succumbed to its insidious effects. It is struggling to survive by playing the game by current cultural rules, rather than taking on the role of subversive "countercultural alternative," as portrayed in the Gospels.

I can see his point. In fact, one quote that really resonated for me is Budde's observation that "the speed and intensity of contemporary life work against the development of prayer. 'Whatever our walk of life, we move through our days at breakneck speed... So who has time to pray? We live in an unrelenting atmosphere of busyness.'" (p. 88)

Now, Budde is referring here specifically to our love affair with multimedia saturation, and he's right. Television, movies, radios and computers take up enormous chunks of our days. Even if we're not simply sitting and watching something, there is continual background noise-- even to the MP3 files currently playing on my laptop as I type.

And this habit of busyness is hard to break. Even here at school, where I have no television, and rarely hear the radio outside of its function of waking me up and telling me the weather, I still get caught-- loads of homework, books and papers, meetings and services. It feels some days like a merry-go-round that won't stop. And, while the work (most of it, anyway) is directly related to my formation for ordained ministry, I find that I have a real tendency to let it take over, to the detriment of my prayer life. Formation is about balance, and that's awful hard to grasp, sometimes. How much more is this true in the world outside of Seabury, where there's little secular interest in even suggesting the importance of connecting with God, let alone allowing space for it?

So here's the question, then: where do we draw the line? How much use of the media (Contemporary Christian music? Advertising parish functions? Powerpoint in the sanctuary?) is good for building up the body, and how much crosses the line from helping to hindering? How do I begin to say no-- and then lead others away from the glittering temptations that are so "normal,"-- without using the very tools that I am railing against as overused?

Anniversary Waltz

20 years... wow.

Seems like forever... seems like yesterday.

As amazing as it is to say, Bruce and I will have been married twenty years, as of this May 28th. (Yes, betrothed in childhood, right, Dad? Right, Mom?!). That, on top of our having survived the first year of seminary, is worth celebrating, we think.

Now, this year the 28th falls on a Wednesday, which is a work day for Bruce and a school day for me, 50 miles north-- a distance not conducive to festivity, to put it mildly. So, in fine Seabury tradition, we are moving the feast day to the following Sunday, June 1. We're planning a cookout that afternoon, starting about 1:00 pm or so-- grilling this and that, and dishes to pass. Nothing formal-- not at our house. We're planning to cook bratwurst, I think, (and taking recommendations for our vegetarian friends!) and we'll have plenty of pop on hand. If folks would like to contribute a salad or other delicacy to the feast, that's great, but not necessary-- don't sweat it; just come.

Please don't even think about gifts; the opportunity to share the day with people we love is the best present we could hope for. If this gives you a twitch, buy a card; we are highly amused by cards.

Give me a call, or drop me an email, and tell us you're coming. If you need one, I can make a dandy map; just let me know.

Ethics: opening adoption records

How to do homework and blog at the same time: cyber-brainstorming.

The paper I'm writing for my Ethics class has to do with adoption-- specifically, the debate over retroactively opening previously sealed adoption records ( a practice dating back roughly to the 1920's - 30's), and allowing birthparents and adult adoptees access to their original birth certificates. How to approach this subject, from a Christian virtue/narrative perspective?

I'm in the process of firming up my arguments, and would appreciate hearing any thoughts on the subject. To start you off, here's some of the stuff swimming around in my head:

Originally, the argument for closed records circled around the idea of protection from social stigma-- primarily illegitimacy, and infertility. Although both sexes share responsibility for these issues equally, they culturally impact women far more than they do men. So-- how much is the legal sealing of records an act of protective confidentiality, and how much is it harmful secrecy, perpetuating stereotypes and misconceptions?

Likewise, the justification for both closed and opened records has long been that “it is in the best interest of the child.” How much of this is an attempt to prevent “the sins of the fathers from being visited upon the children,” and how much a refusal to acknowledge our own shortcomings?

Arguments for and against opening adoption records all seem to focus on the self-- on individual rights and needs. Yet, these decisions are neither made in a vacuum, nor do they affect solely the parties involved in the “triad” of birthparents/adoptive parents/adoptee. What about the larger community? What would/should a community-focused response/argument look like?

There seems to be a pervasive societal sense of adoptive kinship as inferior, or false-- witness the terms “real” or “natural,” used especially when referring to a birthmother, over and against the adoptive parent(s). What makes families "real?" Biological relatedness? Legal and/or emotional attachment? Is one without the other insufficient?

Related to this is a sociological identification of the adoptee as “other,” not normal, not fitting in. Unfortunately, neither side departs significantly from this view-- depending on perspective, either the desire to seek out one’s birthparents, or the lack of that desire, is seen as evidence of pathological issues on the part of the adoptee. Why can we not assume that, like any other cultural segment of society, there will be disparities of need and opinion, and respect that?

What does the Christian narrative have to say about this? Consider Paul’s interpretation: “For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption. The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs--heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.” (Romans 8:15-17) No distinctions - adopted means family, period.

That's enough from me for now. Well? Any thoughts?

Wasted Days and Wasted Nights

I have much to accomplish over Reading Week-- enormous papers for Ethics and New Testament to finish, not to mention my NT journal to tidy up-- but I'm doing a little decompressing first. I'll blog about these projects later.

Yesterday we stopped at the video store. The store we use is a good one, and cheap; we spent $6, for which we have a week with three films-- the better to suit our family's disparate preferences.

We started last night with Spy Kids 2-- a combination of high tech gadgetry and pseudoseriousness that was a hoot. Note: I want that treehouse.

This morning we're watching Romeo & Juliet-- the very modern version, starring Leonardo DiCaprio. It has much to recommend it, but is an inconsistent treatment-- varies from powerful interpretation to overblown overimagery. And they left out the nurse's speech, which is one of my favorite parts. Overall, it's worth renting, but I'm just as glad not to have paid full freight at the theatre.

Later tonight, Bruce and I have a date to watch Dogma-- a film that comes well recommended. If nothing else, I find the concept of Chris Rock as the 13th apostle intriguing. I'll let you know later what I think of it.

Another one bites the dust

Two of them, actually. First, my buddy Andrew has decided that his poet's soul is fit for public perusal, so I can joyfully name he to whom I only obliquely pointed, earlier.

Secondly, Mark has moved "further up and further in," taking the plunge into full-fledged blogging with a new site for questions and contemplations. Check out the musings of my favorite Air Force Chaplain and serious technogeek; he's got some things to say about war and cyber-communication that might interest you.

Oh, and AKMA-- You started this, so I hope you're paying attention. With (by my count) more than a dozen Seabury blogs, and more imminent, the ball is seriously rolling, now.

Music, and Theology, and Ethics, oh my

Mary Chapin Carpenter says it better than I can.

In this world there's a whole lot of trouble, baby
In this world there's a whole lot of pain
In this world there's a whole lot of trouble
But a whole lot of ground to gain
Why take when you could be giving, why watch as the world goes by
It's a hard enough life to be living, why walk when you can fly

In this world there's a whole lot of sorrow
In this world there's a whole lot of shame
In this world there's a whole lot of sorrow
And a whole lotta ground to gain
When you spend your whole life wishing, wanting and wondering why
It's a long enough life to be living, why walk when you can fly

In this world there's a whole lot of golden
In this world there's a whole lot of plain
In this world you've a soul for a compass
And a heart for a pair of wings
There's a star on the far horizon, rising bright in an azure sky
For the rest of the time that you're given, why walk when you can fly

See one another as God sees.

All right, I'm going to vent. Be ye warned. Also note that I am not exempting myself from this; part of where this comes from is an awareness that I am in error as much as the error I see.

I attended the Community Forum yesterday, which purported to deal with the topic of institutional racism at Seabury. Up on the wall was taped a sort of timeline around the topic, developed (as I understand it) a year or two ago by the faculty as part of a grant project. It ranged roughly from 1995 to the present. We heard various faculty presenters discuss events and crises that have occurred over the years.

It was very illuminating-- brought home for me the fact that we continue to repeat the same things that were identified as mistakes, or badly handled situations. Native Americans who struggled through lack of cultural sympathy and support 20 years ago would find their experience mirrored by the African students' situation today. Students of color who were dismayed by the monochromatic altar party at a 1997(?) Feast of the Presentation service intended to celebrate diversity, would have seen very little progress if they looked at the liturgical ministers at yesterday's Anti-Racism Forum Eucharist. MC'd services continue to be very Anglo-centered; the few exceptions still occasion the rolling of eyes among portions of the student body, and proposed liturgies have been, if not discouraged, at least not encouraged, and (in at least one circumstance that I know of) preempted and not rescheduled.

And yet, when I brought up this issue in our small group discussion, it was ignored. Passed over, not dealt with at all.

So, we see the problem, but continue the same behavior.

Paul maintains that “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” But we continue to erect walls, to build ourselves up by relegating others to second class status. We set standards, not by what Jesus is (or could be) in all of us, but by what we are that others aren't.

And race is certainly not the only way we fail to recognize God's gifts in one another with human double standards. Think about this: if it's not okay to dismiss one another as too young/female/gay/poor/redneck, then it's an equal error to dismiss as too old/male/straight/wealthy/citifed. There are two sides of this coin, and both bear the face of sin.

Isaiah's words echo here: "You will be ever hearing, but never understanding; you will be ever seeing, but never perceiving. This people's heart has become calloused; they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes. Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts, and turn and be healed."

We're blogging, we're blogging...

The blogging world at Seabury (or at least, my knowledge of it) continues to expand. Allow me to direct your attention to:
Dave, Anglo-Catholic film buff and seriously dry wit;
Stephanie, intrepid spouse of same, floral sexton with a gentle smile;
Jenni, our new president, iron fist in a pink velvet glove;
and Leigh, who's ethics blog is merely a shadow of Things to Come.

Stop by and say hi sometime!

Adventures

This has been a wild and wonderful weekend.

On Friday we got a taste of Chicago's theatre scene, joining a large contingent of friends and cohorts who went to see Trish burn up the boards in a fine little show called Heartbreak Waltz. You should check this out-- it's well done, albeit a little disconcerting to watch large chunks of one's teen years dancing across the stage. They're at the Chopin Theatre until the end of May; call and buy a ticket or four.

After the show we trooped back to Tripp's place to help celebrate Trish's 30th. Lots of joy and conviviality, fueled by incredible gumbo-- supplied by Jeff, bayou chef extrordinaire. He's promised me the recipe, and I'm going to stalk him until I get it (after all, I know where he lives...). We stayed up way too late, enjoying conversations and company. Good thing Tripp unfurled the futon for us (Many thanks, bro!). Check out his blog for a list of bloggers in attendance.

Both kids had games Saturday morning, so we left early to pick them up from Aunt Janice and Uncle Mike. We made it to the field, just in time for the kids to warm up for dueling 10:00 am starts. Fortunately, both soccer (Kyle) and softball (Carolyn) are at the same park, so we were able to trot back and forth between games. Our family split for the day-- Carolyn's team won, Kyle's lost-- and a good time was had by all.

I went home to spend a couple hours on my ethics paper, and an hour in blissful slumber, before we took the kids in to eat dinner with another Seabury contingent. Led by my favorite chaplain, we converged on Ed Debevic's for "fast food and fresh service." We had great fun, especially the kids, who hadn't been there before. Even Kyle, the serious introvert, was grinning at the general goofiness, and graciously shared his crayons so we could all color our hats.

This afternoon we spent an hour or two chatting with my grandmother, and some cousins who brought her baby sister in for a visit (Gram's 98, Aunt Harriet's only 93). This is family we don't see often, and I enjoyed the time. This was preceded by several more ethics hours this morning, so I could do this with a clear conscience. (I'm about a third of the way there, enough that I'm past the worst of the "I'll never get this done!" panic. No fear of relaxing entirely; there's plenty of homework left to sweat over).

Yes, we played a lot this weekend, and I'll have to be really diligent this week to make up for lost time; but it was worth it.

Ethics: Whose gospel are we preaching?

Yesterday we talked about what makes ethics Christian, and specifically the use of scripture as foundational narrative. This class I got: put me back in Bibleland, and I’m happy. (^_^)

In Truth is Stranger Than It Used to Be, Middleton and Walsh argue that the Bible “paradigmatically answers the worldview questions about evil and redemption and, in the process, highlighting its inbuilt ethical thrust and antitotalizing potential.” (p. 87) They identifiy two “counterideological dimensions,” consistent themes that “incline the Christian story toward... subverting violent, totalizing uses of the story by those who claim to live out of it.” The first of these two dimensions is a radical sensitivity to suffering; an awareness and continual reminder that pain, and suffering, and opression are not acceptable in any form. The second is the message of God’s overarching creational intent; what my more evangelical friends might term affirming God as Creator, willing goodness not just once “in the beginning,” but for all time, and as an ongoing plan for all of humanity, not just favored pieces of it.

These elements of the biblical narrative feed the Christian ethics of evangelization, liberation, and justice. And it’s the same message that allows folks (inside the church and out) to stand up and point out where we fall short-- when we’re not practicing what we preach, you might say. This is also what flies in the face of my fully embracing any human ideological system as sufficient, because inevitably “they all fall short of the glory of God.” and I think it’s part of my responsibility as a Christian to be willing to say that when I see it-- sometimes a hard thing, indeed.

One example of this was a sermon I heard last night. The Gospel reading for the service (the feast of Sts. Phillip and James) was a familiar one: the passage in John where Jesus’ states that “I am the way, the truth and the life; no one can come to the father except by me.” Now, as familiar as that is, it’s also hard to hear, when we’re trying to be warm and fuzzy and inclusive. And that’s precisely why I was looking forward to the homily, to hearing another preacher wrestle with the text. We need to live into the hard sayings if we’re going to be disciples, and leaders of disciples; and the way to do that is to do that.

Instead, the preacher chose to focus on marking the International Labor Day that is May 1st, and went off on a political rally speech about the virtues of marxism and socialism as iconographic movements, battling injustice and oppression for the betterment of humanity.

I’m sorry; that doesn’t fly. First, I was irritated by the selective reading of history. Marxist and socialist systems not riddled with examples of abuse and oppression? Please! Secondly, I was appalled by the embacing of fallible human structures as paradigm for God’s kingdom here on earth. This is precisely the sort of taking sides that I see the biblical narrative opposing, and I found its presence in the context of the Eucharist distasteful.

'nough said.