Phew! We made it to final week of Lent! (Although, I’m pretty sure it won’t feel like Easter till quarantine is over . . . )
This week, we’ll be finishing the confession series by talking about a new category of things to confess: the sins done on our behalf.
Sins Committed by the Church
A few years ago, I visited Washington, D.C. on a university-sponsored professional development trip. A staff member from a small, D.C. Episcopal church was kind enough to show me around.
He gave me a tour of the sanctuary and pointed upstairs, to the balcony. I’d never seen one like that in a church before. “Many churches in the South have one,” he said. “They were built for the slaves.”
That’s obviously a shockingly concrete illustration of the sins committed on that church’s behalf. Slaveowners almost certainly contributed heavily to build and maintain its endowment, and thus made it viable today. Slave labor certainly generated a bulk of that money.
Not to mention, the balcony serves as a visible reminder of Christians’ theological endorsement of segregation, something that furthered the oppression of millions of African-Americans over centuries.
Maybe your church also has visible reminders of the sins done on your behalf. Or perhaps it’s more subtle.
For churches that are against alcohol consumption or violence, it might be an investment portfolio that includes those manufacturers. Or maybe your denomination used to exclude certain classes of people from ordination or marriage, in ways that your congregation regrets.
Some churches and religious organizations are already exploring this theme, primarily around race and slavery. Virginia Theological Seminary, which was built by slaves, began reparations funds for African-American clergy and descendants of slaves that worked on campus. Princeton Theological Seminary, which received donations from Southern plantation owners, opened a similar fund for an endowed chair.
Of course, slavery and racism aren’t the only examples. Sometimes, the sins done on our behalf are less specific to one congregation and more general to our faith as a whole.
On a research project for my university’s religion department, I encountered old course catalogs from the early 1900s. The Religion department had offered classes for aspiring missionaries preparing to travel to Africa and Asia. The language in the course descriptions describing unchurched populations and their native religions, made my stomach churn.
Of course, my religion department is far from the only institution that cultivated a narrative of whites’ religious superiority. As a Christian, I am participating in an institution that historically treated entire races of people as savages in need of conversion.
There are any number of financial, political, and theological actions that the Church has profited from, at the expense of others. They are painful and humbling examples of sins that the Church has committed on behalf of its faithful.
Sins Committed by our Country
In a Christian context, it’s important to start with the sins done on our behalf by the Church. But we can experience the same disconnect through our political systems, too.
You probably pay taxes that fund something that you believe is unjust. If you’re a conservative Catholic, it’s Planned Parenthood. If you’re a Quaker, it’s the war in Afghanistan.
Regardless of what you believe or your political leanings, most Christians can probably agree that the government is committing sins on their behalf, with their tax dollars. Simply by living as part of a diverse and civilized society, we end up funding things that don’t line up with our values as followers of Christ.
Again, whatever your persuasions, you probably feel that political leaders are committing sins, using your welfare as a justification for doing so. That’s something worth confessing.
Sins Committed by our Society
Anyone else watching The Good Place right now? (SPOILERS AHEAD–scroll below the tomato picture to avoid). In this fictional universe, each human being is judged by a point system. Every action contributes a positive or negative value that eventually determines admittance to The Good Place or The Bad Place.
The problem is, no one has gotten into The Good Place since the 1500s. At the end of the third season, the demon Michael finally figures out why.
The world has grown so complex that a single action, no matter how well-intentioned, will inevitably have negative consequences. “These days,” Michael explains, “just buying a tomato at a grocery store means that you are unwittingly supporting toxic pesticides, exploiting labor, and contributing to global warming!”
The show rightly points out that, simply by living in today’s multifacted world, we commit sins. My congregation, for example, has professed a religious commitment to the environment. Yet it’s almost impossible for us to exist without a carbon footprint. We can’t completely eliminate our emissions, waste, or pollution.
And, in doing so, we hurt the earth. We hurt climate refugees. We hurt those too poor to protect themselves from the health consequences.
For our congregation, then, that’s something to confess. And that just covers ecological sins! There are so many other systems that are hard, if not impossible, to avoid.
So if we’re serious about repenting of the “sins done on our behalf,” then we need to include the ones we commit just by being a part of society.
How do we confess the sins done on our behalf?
First of all, as with all kinds of confession, it’s crucial to limit shaming and guilt. People in your congregation might have no idea that certain injustices ever happened at all. Or they might not understand how they contributed to it or profit from it. Gentle, compassionate education will enable humble repentance.
Also, not everyone is going to have the same idea of what constitutes “sins done on our behalf,” especially in the realm of politics. Hammering out exact lists could just alienate and inadvertently create more judgment.
Instead, it’s helpful begin with an example or two that is not too charged. Find a local issue everyone can agree on, like a landfill being put in a poor neighborhood. From there, it might be easier to move on to stickier topics.
So, too, it’s important to focus on disavowing the act, without judging the people who do the acts. Everyone is a beloved child of God, even when their actions are antithetical to our belief in justice and mercy. That’s a fine line to walk.
And, finally, it’s important to strike a balance between mourning and action. All sins call for mourning, as we return to communion with God, ourselves, and our neighbors. Some sins also call for changed behavior, like creating investment portfolios that align more clearly with your values.
But other kinds of sins done on our behalf might not be able to be helped at all—places where our tax money goes, for example. These are the ones where mourning must be the predominant response.
I hope you’ve found this confession series useful and thought-provoking as we’ve journeyed throughout this rather unconventional Lent. Is there anything about dealing with COVID-19 that has shaped your understanding of confession?
What was helpful? What wasn’t? Let me know in the comments!
And give me a shout out on social media if there’s anything in particular you’d like to hear about after Easter. COVID-19-related resources? Something non-pandemic-related? Let me know!