Without Shame or Fear

The Proper Preface for Holy Eucharist in The Book of Common Prayer during the Advent Season goes like this:

Because you sent your beloved Son to redeem us from sin and death, and to make us heirs in him of everlasting life; that when he shall come again in power and great triumph to judge the world, we may without shame or fear rejoice to behold his appearing. (BCP 378)  

Bishop Rob Hirschfeld of New Hampshire is a friend and former colleague of mine, having served as rector of Grace Church in Amherst before being elected Bishop. He has written a book that takes it's title from this Proper Preface. It's quite good. In fact, I read it before it was published and had the opportunity to write one of those little "blurbs" recommending the book that is on the back cover. Pretty cool, huh? I'm almost famous! I'd share what I wrote here but the book is in my office and I'm still working from home; as I recall it was pretty brilliant though!

I've been thinking about this book - or at least this Proper Preface - during this pandemic for a rather odd reason. I've been "binge watching" a Netflix show called Shameless. Until I just Googled it, I didn't realize it was based on a British series. In any case, I described it to a family member as This Is Us on steroids! It's intense. It's raw. It's sad. It's about the poor dysfunctional family of Frank Gallagher (played by William H. Macy) on the south side of Chicago. Frank is drunk most of the time. The mother, Monica, left the family when they were very little but she does show up occasionally. She suffers from severe bipolar disorder. The show is focused on the impact that these two parents have on their kids. The oldest daughter, Fiona (played by Emmy Rossum) basically raises her younger siblings. She is admirable and capable and determined. Yet all of that "responsibility" also takes a huge toll on her. She never gets to be a kid herself. Eventually she starts making her own bad choices. The title of the third episode in season four is "Like Father, Like Daughter." Yes, that sums it up. Shame is passed on from generation to generation.

So, I've been watching this show and pondering it's brutal honesty. It's intense. It's not everyone's cup of tea, for sure. Yet the Gallaghers are quite likable, at least to me they are. Their lives are hard and they make lots of bad choices. It's both their fault and not their fault because, well, because life is complicated and being poor and from a rough neighborhood is hard enough but having a drunk father like Frank and an absent mother like Monica makes it that much harder. But at some level it's also on them, because pain that is not transformed is transferred.

Shameless? No, that's ironic. Shame-filled.

In his book, Bishop Hirscheld reminds his readers that shame is "the master emotion." It can be internalized and become part of our inner landscape. It distorts our sense of self.  Shame, he says, not only reminds us over and over again of our mistakes; it tells us that we are a mistake. The consequence is that we no longer seem safe in our own skin.

This didn't occur to me when I first read Rob's book and wrote that little blurb, but I tend to notice and preach on fear a lot more than shame. It occurs to me in this time of pandemic (when I have a lot of time to reflect on what it's like for me living in my own skin) that there is a narrative I see over and over again in scripture, where faith casts out fear. Fear, as I understand it, paralyzes us. Faith and hope and love liberate us. Hope allows us to imagine the world as otherwise. I have spent a lot of time thinking and praying about all of this over many years. Attentive listeners will hear it in so many of my sermons and it is a very Biblical idea. Every time an angel shows up in the Bible it's to tell God's people, "do not be afraid."

But what I've been "ruminating on" lately is that shame is almost as important in the Bible as fear, and I've given it far less attention. Going back to the Garden of Eden, but popping up again and again as the narrative(s) unfold.

Take Peter, who on the last night of his teacher's life, says, "I do not know the man. I do not know the man. I do not know the man." Cock-a-doodle-doo. I think that my explicit thinking and preaching on such a moment has tended to be focused on fear. Peter's afraid of being arrested. He's afraid for his life. What he gets later - this is what unfolds in Acts during the Easter season - is that he's no longer afraid, but has been transformed by Easter to be fearless. Or we might say, hopeful.

And I stand by that. But right there before my very eyes all these years has been something else: shame. Peter is exposed by the fire that night and exposed is a shame word. He is not only afraid; he's ashamed of himself. He may even wonder if he's a mistake, if he's no rock at all. What is the antidote to shame? Trusting that the God who created us in love and redeemed us in love still sees us through the eyes of love?

So I'm pondering these things, these days. I don't have it figured out and maybe I never will. But I want to pay attention to shame more. I take my friend, Rob as an inspiration to do that and when I get to my office I'm going to re-read that book. But I also look to my fictional friends, the Gallaghers, as well. And my own life, because I have experienced both fear and shame along the way.

By the time Advent rolls around next time, I want to be praying that Proper Preface in new ways, with new insights, wondering what a life without shame or fear really looks like. Every now and again we do get glimpses. And praying for that kind of full and abundant life that rejoices in the God who is with us every step of the way.