Forgiveness

I need to forgive the people who actively support and are working to pass the GOP healthcare bill. Lately I’ve seen a slew of hatred aimed at the people behind the bill, not just the bill itself, and I’m afraid I’m quite guilty of this as well. As horrific as this proposed legislation is, as devastating as it will be for people like me, it isn’t worth adding more hatred to the world. Not hatred directed at the individual people responsible for this bill, at least. I need to forgive the people behind this bill, even as I believe they need to be held accountable for the millions of lives it will harm should it pass into law. It’s hard to know what that really looks like though.

How can I forgive people for something they believe is right for them to do? How can I personally forgive those behind this bill while continuing to make clear it is an immoral attack on people like me? Our society tends to frame forgiveness as a three-step process: person A apologizes, Person B accepts that apology, and finally Person B bestows forgiveness, ending the matter. Forgiveness is most-often taught as a response to an apology, not something offered freely and especially not given to those who feel no remorse. Forgiveness is usually thought of as the end of the matter too. ‘Forgive and forget,’ we say. And that just doesn’t apply here, at all. It’s just not how forgiveness works in this—and actually all—situations.

In the situation of this so-called “healthcare” bill, many legislators are working diligently to pass it into law, making deals to win over those on the fence about voting yes. Many people believe they are doing the right thing and would doubtless do it again if they got the chance. I don’t expect anyone working on this bill to apologize for it after it goes into effect and kicks people out of elder care facilities or cuts off treatment for children with disabilities who are on Medicaid. Or kills people like me with cancer who easily surpass lifetime and annual limits for their insurance coverage. Here, as in actually every other situation, forgiveness must be freely offered. I haven’t begun to do that, and I need to.

Forgiveness, as I see it, is not a favor given only in return for a sincere apology. It is a conscious choice to not hold a person’s actions against them, whether or not they apologize or even recognize a need to offer an apology. It is essentially waiving our right to use another’s actions as leverage against them or as an excuse to retaliate. It doesn’t mean everything will go back to the way it was. It doesn’t mean you have to forget what the other person did. But it does mean you cannot hate them for their actions, no matter how much you might hate their actions. Now, I don’t know how exactly to waive my right to hold this bill against people, to forgive them for their role in passing it while never accepting it and working to ensure that nothing like this ever happens again. But I have some ideas of where to start.

Forgiveness for this bill means I won’t let myself hate any of the people responsible for it, as a start. Be they voters who supported candidates calling for an ACA repeal or the legislators themselves who are working on it and whipping up votes, I must not let myself fall into hatred for any human being. They might be the closest thing I have to enemies, but even (and especially) so I must love them and pray for them. I have not and am not, so I will start there. Forgiveness for the terrible wrong of this bill also means that I will not let it affect how I interact with people who do support it. It means I must never let my words or tone become harsher because of this bill. It means I must not answer in-kind when I get into arguments over this legislation and instead seek always to simply state my case for opposing the bill, rather than descend into personal attacks. It means, in short, that I must treat all people with equal dignity as image-bearers of God, whether or not I agree with their politics—or really, if they agree with mine.

But forgiveness in this context doesn’t mean I will ever accept this bill or stop fighting it. It doesn't mean that if I die due to this legislation I don't still want my death held up as an example of why this law is terrible. It doesn’t mean that I won’t voice my opposition to the policies of the people who champion this bill and hope for or even work towards their losing reelection so they are no longer in a position to pass further, more damaging laws like this one. After all, forgiving a bully or an abuser doesn’t mean you have to spend time with them again, especially if they make no moves towards contrition and repentance. Forgiveness for this bill also doesn't mean I will stop fighting against this horrendous legislation any way I can while seeking to continually improve our healthcare system so it truly works for everyone, as I believe should be our goal. Simply stated, it doesn’t mean I’ll forgive and forget. I will forgive, but I will still remember—with fierce sadness instead of bitter anger, though.

So, to any and all who support the healthcare bill being worked on by the Republican Party right now, I forgive you. I love you. And please, please reconsider.

Next Post Delayed a Day

I was hoping to write this week’s blog post today so that I could still post it tomorrow, but it just didn’t happen. I have a start, but it’ll take some work before it’s worth posting. Tomorrow I’m going to Six Flags with my sister since my abdominal drain is finally out and I’m doing better and I need to do something fun. So I won’t be able to finish this week’s post until Tuesday. I’ll be sure to get to it then though; don’t worry!

The Church Should Care for the Sick. So Should the Government.

Here's a truly bizarre statement that I’ve seen and heard too many times already and doubtless will too many times again: “The Church should care for the sick, NOT the Government!” First, this idea ignores the realities of what it takes to care for the sick in this day and age. It also presents a clearly false dichotomy about the roles of church and government that nobody I know actually believes; not when applied to other issues, at least.

I’ll start by making a minor concession and agreeing with the first premise in this statement. Yes, the church should and must care for the sick. Jesus makes clear in Matthew 25 that those who provide food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, hospitality to the stranger, clothing to the naked, care to the sick, and companionship to the imprisoned are considered righteous in God’s eyes. The parable of the Good Samaritan too proclaims that it is good and right to care for others, perhaps especially when it is inconvenient and costs us our time, money, or even our own safety. So yes. The Church needs to care for the sick. But it isn’t. And it can’t. Not on its own, at least.

Now, I don’t want to sound like I’m criticizing The Church too harshly here. Numerous churches—from the one I grew up in for eighteen years to ones attended by friends of friends—have sent us care packages, cards, and yes, money. In many ways The Church has gone above and beyond in supporting me and my wife through my ongoing cancer treatments. We have been visited and hosted by people from church. I could not and would never expect or ask for more support than we’ve already received. From special offerings collected to generous individuals who continue to give to us, we have been helped immensely by the generosity of more churches than I can keep track of.

Yet the fact remains that none of this comes remotely close to covering the costs of my medical treatments. It never could, really. That’s why I have insurance. That’s why I NEED insurance. Insurance that, thanks to current government regulations, can’t be cut off for annual and lifetime limits that I would easily surpass. No church I’ve ever been part of has an extra million dollars per year in its budget for the medical bills of just one member or regular attendee. That’s how much my cancer treatment has averaged these last two-and-a-half years though. If caring for the sick were solely the responsibility of The Church, people like me with rare and expensive medical conditions would bankrupt churches and end up without access to life-saving treatments. The Church can and must tend to the sick, but it cannot pay for everyone’s medical care on its own.

Even if medical care we far cheaper or a lot more rich people donated copious amounts to The Church and The Church could somehow pay for everyone’s medical bills, that would still be no reason why our government should not also play some role in our healthcare system. The idea that it’s The Church’s job and therefore not the government’s would still be a false dichotomy. If The Church should do something—if something is noble and just—why should the government then necessarily avoid such things? The only possible answer to this question is that we must have separation of Church and State, yet that doesn’t really apply here. Certainly, no religion should unduly influence our government. But that doesn’t mean that a government’s duties to its citizens—such as providing for the right to life and therefore healthcare—should be abandoned just because members of a religion also believe in that duty and want to help in that area.

I don’t think anyone really believes this false dichotomy anyways though. Certainly I don’t know anyone who applies this principle consistently. It strikes me as very odd that many of the same people who say the government should get out of healthcare because The Church should care for the sick also want—for religious reasons—the government deciding who can marry whom based on something as trivial as the physical characteristics of their bodies. It is wildly inconsistent to vote for elected officials who promise to bring “Christian” principles to our government while saying the government shouldn’t do something the church is supposed to do.

I think when it comes down to it many Christians are simply embarrassed that our government is doing a better job than The Church at systematically providing food for the hungry and giving the sick a way to receive the healthcare they need. Really, we should be embarrassed by this. I know I am. I do next to nothing to contribute to these areas myself, and I wish I and The Church were better examples of Christ’s love. Sure, my current health makes that difficult, but that’s really just a tepid excuse. I didn’t exactly volunteer all that much before I got cancer, after all. We The Church can and must do better. But if Christian opposition to government involvement in caring for the sick does in fact stem from embarrassment, that’s about the most petty attitude I’ve ever encountered.

So how should the church care for the sick while recognizing the government’s role in healthcare? First, we must recognize there are in fact many ways of caring for the sick that the government cannot take care of. The Church can provide community that the government cannot. The Church can provide spiritual care that the government cannot. The Church can be a source of comfort and strength extending far beyond financial support—though it can and should work to improve its care in that area too. But The Church simply cannot provide comprehensive medical coverage for everyone. In light of that, we The Church should support and encourage our government to work towards healthcare policies that protect the sick and ensure they are cared for, even as we work together to care holistically for those facing illness.