A big week

It's been quite a week here in the land of the free and the home of the brave. Tomorrow is Independence Day, and several Supreme Court decisions have transformed the emotions, opportunities, and political rhetoric of millions of people across the country, in all parts of the political spectrum.

As for me, you can all probably guess what my emotions and outlook are in the wake of this momentous week. But regardless of my personal views, as a Christian theologian I want to resist the framing of these issues as Christians versus Everybody Else. That framing requires us to distinguish between True Christians and Fake Christians (since people who consider themselves Christians are on all sides of the issue), and that leads us down a path that is untenable in light of history (Christians have always believed and behaved in a wide variety of ways; there is no one pure doctrine or creed to point back to).

I've shared a lot of resources on Facebook and Twitter over the past week that I think do a good job of raising issues, pointing out nuances, and providing perspectives that people like me, my family, my neighbors, and my students are likely to find helpful. I thought I'd collect them all here.

However, for those seeking to be faithful to the example of Jesus, to the prophetic strain of Jesus' message, and to the countercultural vision of the kingdom of God shared by Jesus and Paul (at what I consider his best moments), here are a few ideas you might find inspiring or thought-provoking.

A New Day (Jason Hines)

Let There Be Light (Don Bowman)

An Open Letter to My Fellow Christians Regarding Today's SCOTUS Decision (J. K. Doyle)

Some Advice on Same-Sex Marriage to US Church Leaders from a Canadian (Carey Nieuwhof)

Till Death Us Do Part: A Call to Unity Offered the Sunday Following SCOTUS Decision (Rev. Jeremy Troxler, UMC)

And a few takes that reflect some righteous anger, but which make points I needed to hear:

There's Only One Thing You Can Say to Ken Paxton, But I Can't Say It. Yet. (Jim Schutze, Dallas Observer)

After gay marriage, expect social amnesia (Jonathan Merritt)

Denying our rights denies our dignity (George Takei)

Solo entertainment

When you're a couple with kids, seeing the latest movie or show takes on a whole new complexity. You have to find someone to stay with the kids to make your night out possible, adding planning and expense to the equation. This makes non-home-based entertainment a rarer proposition than for your single or childless friends.

Of course, you have another option -- you could choose to go out separately, making the childcare question moot. That's easy enough when only one member of the couple is interested in the show. When both are, though, there's a feeling that you ought to wait to see it together, both in terms of economy and solidarity.

We were hoping to get a sitter this weekend to go see Super 8, but haven't been able to find one. And Noel and the kids are going to be out of town next weekend. So he decided to go out on his own to see the movie tonight (and run a couple of other errands), since I would have plenty of time while he's gone to see it on my own.

That makes perfect sense, and while I wish we were going to be able to experience it together and discuss it afterwards -- it's one of our more anticipated films of the summer -- that means depriving him of the chance to see it for the next couple of weeks.

Noel deserves a night out; he's not only been working hard but also dealing with the sudden addition of two full-time summer-vacation kid charges to the household for the last two days. And I'll get the time back in spades when he takes them to Nashville next week -- not that an evening at home with them is hard work, since they are hard at play together in their rooms by 6:30 pm. Still, even though it's eminently reasonable to split up the moviegoing, it feels like a regression to a pre-married or pre-kids era, or a temporary pause in the agreed-upon arrangements. With such unspoken consensus about our mutual time, we have forged habits that are surprisingly rigid even when they do not serve any perceptible interest.

With this ring

I took off my wedding and engagement rings about three weeks ago.  Something had bitten me on our vacation -- right under those bands.  So I wrestled them over my knuckle and carefully secreted them away in a zippered pocket of my purse, where they've sat ever since.

At first I was intermittently aware of the spot where they used to be.  I had a band-aid around it for awhile so that the swollen, bitten place could heal.  Then the dry, chapped skin around that area called attention to the missing band for awhile.  It was like a red, discolored negative impression of the ring that used to be there.

Gradually the finger healed.  Now the negative impression was the opposite -- it was the place where my skin was lighter than the rest of my hand, not as tanned by the sun.  I also noticed the missing rings less often, although there was one reliable time when I was always brought up short by their absence.  In the morning when getting ready to leave the bedroom after getting dressed, I would frequently notice in the mirror that I had neglected to put on my watch and earrings.  The bareness of my left wrist always seemed to highlight the bareness of that hand.

Today I reached in that pocket and put the rings back on.  It was startling how easily they popped over the knuckle and back into place.  I'm used to having trouble getting them on and off, leading me periodically to worry about whether I'm gaining weight or need to have them resized.  And then once on, I felt them intensely for the next half hour.  My left hand felt abnormally heavy.  I caught the glint of the metal and the stone every time the hand entered my peripheral vision.

I like having them back on.  I felt periodically bare without them, like I was inviting awkward questions about my marital status -- like I was a failure, where the rings had previously announced a life accomplishment.  In the movies, taking off the wedding ring is a sad admission of an ending, a ploy to entrap someone, a triumphant return to independence, or a moment of guilt akin to turning a picture facedown before doing something you shouldn't.  Something of all those emotions seemed to be mixed up in my ring's absence, imported wholesale from those pop cultural meanings without regard to their lack of relevance here.  I often joke to students who get married that they are now part of the club -- the married people's club.  Without my rings, I felt like I'd lost my password to the club, even though nobody else even noticed as far as I could tell.  Now that they're back, there's an unexpected satisfaction -- a wholeness I had barely even registered as missing.