This is My Church

Below is a reflection I shared at the "Faith at Eight" service at church on Sunday, May 12, 2024.

This past Thursday, I tuned into a webinar on Zoom that was attended by about 160 people. It was a follow-up to the "It's All About Love" festival of The Episcopal Church that was held in Baltimore last summer. The webinar was entitled "Empowering People of Color in Diocesan Life," and it was led by three Episcopal priests from the diocese of Washington State. One of the priests, the Rev. Rachel Taber-Hamilton, who's of indigenous and First Nations ancestry, spoke about how at various times in her ministry she's had to confront the Church's apparent lack of interest in promoting inclusiveness with regard to people of color. One thing she said that I found very meaningful was that when she had confronted exclusion in the past, she had responded by saying, "This is my Church."

      I think "This is my church" can be a very powerful, as well as empowering statement. At the same time, it's a reminder that being a member of a church shouldn't mean being disempowered because of your race, gender, ethnicity, age, socioeconomic status, or sexual orientation. 

      "This is my church" means that I'm just as much a member as you are, and that we're equally members of the church. It means that this is my church, just as it's your church, and that we both share in a community of faith, hope, love, and fellowship. It means that it's no more my church than your church, and no more your church than my church. It means that it's a church for everyone who wants to find a place of acceptance, fellowship, and belonging. It means that I have a right to speak and have my voice heard, just as you do. It means that I have a ministry within the church, just as you do, because every member of the church has a ministry by virtue of being baptized. It means that I feel I belong here, and that if the church hasn't yet empowered all its members to feel this sense of belonging, then it has work to do. It means that if this is my Church, then I should be able to fully participate at every level in the life of the church--in its mission, governance, stewardship, evangelism, and leadership.

      But "This is my church" is a statement that also entails a lot of responsibility. If this is my church, then I'm responsible for recognizing, telling the truth about, and responding to any instances in which the church has failed to promote equity, peace, and justice, as well as any instances in which the church has failed to acknowledge and respect the dignity of all human beings. If this is my church, then I'm also responsible for trying to heal the breach between the church and any of those whom it has ignored, shunned, disrespected, or marginalized. If this is my church, then I'm also responsible for trying to heal the brokenness and conflicts within myself, as well as within my local community and the broader society.

      Being able to say "This is my church" means that if I want the church to listen, then I must listen. If I want the church to be kind and welcoming, then I must be kind and welcoming. If I want the church to feed the hungry and protect the needy, then I must feed the hungry and protect the needy. If I want the church to promote fairness and justice, then I must promote fairness and justice.

      In a church with mostly white members, and in which the perspectives of its black members haven't always been fully taken into account, I've sometimes asked myself in the past whether I belong here. But my maternal great-grandparents had their children baptized in an Episcopal church, so being an Episcopalian is something that's been passed along through generations of my family and is in some ways my birthright. If I don't belong in this church, then where do I belong? This is the church where I've found acceptance, kindness, friendship, and community.

      I think I've asked others a few times in the past whether Memorial Episcopal Church thinks of itself as a white church or some other kind of church. And I think I've come away with the feeling that we're some other kind of church. But I think the correct, and perhaps the only viable, answer to what kind of church we are is that we're not a white church or a black church--we're God's church. And we all belong here.

Some of Plato's Views on the Art of Medicine

In Plato's Laws (Book 4, 720a-720e), he describes the differences between two types of doctors: the free-born doctor and the slave doctor. He says that both types of doctors acquire their art under the direction of their teachers or masters, by observation and practice, rather than by the study of nature. However, a free-born doctor is mostly engaged in visiting and treating the ailments of free people, and he does so by listening to their complaints, not prescribing any treatment without their consent. A slave doctor, on the other hand, is engaged in treating slaves and doesn't listen to any account of their ailments. He simply prescribes treatment based on his own experience and on what he thinks is best. He does so with the confidence and assurance of a tyrant or autocrat, then rushing off to see some other sick slaves so that his master won't be bothered by having to attend to them.

      In the same way, the Athenian lawgiver has a choice of two kinds of methods, persuasion or compulsion. The lawgiver has it in his power to use both methods, but he may mistakenly think that his legislation can be enacted by force alone. To ensure that those who are governed by his laws will actually obey them, the lawgiver must offer those whom he governs some kind of persuasion, just as a free-born doctor must offer his free-born patient a persuasive rather than despotic prescription.

      Plato's medical analogy has several implications for our current views of biomedical ethics. It indicates the need for doctors to listen to their patients, and to fully inform them about their conditions, as well as about possible diagnostic modalities, therapeutic options, and possible side-effects of treatment. It also indicates the need for doctors to obtain informed consent from their patients for treatment, and to fully engage and coordinate with their patients in order to ensure their compliance with treatment. It also indicates that the efficacy of treatment may depend on clear and effective communication between patients and providers, as well as on coordination of care, timeliness and appropriateness of care, compassionate care, respect for patient privacy and autonomy, respect for patient dignity, collaboration between patients and providers, and other components of the patient-provider relationship.

      In Plato's Republic, Socrates says that the physician studies only the patient's interest, and not his own (I. 342). Socrates also says that Asclepius treated patients by means of drugs or the knife in order to enable them to go on living as usual, but would not try to prolong the lives of those with advanced disease whose existence was miserable (III. 407). Socrates agrees with Glaucon that the best physicians may be those with the widest experience in treating healthy and sick patients, but he adds that physicians who have themselves suffered from various illnesses may be even more capable of treating those illnesses (III. 408).

Galen, on the Physician as Philosopher

Claudius Galenus (Kλάυδιος Γαληνός, 129-216 CE) was a Greek physician and philosopher who was born in Pergamum (now Bergama, Turkey). He traveled widely, to Smyrna, Corinth, Crete, Cyprus, and Alexandria, before becoming physician and surgeon to the gladiators in Pergamum (from 158-161 CE) and settling in Rome (in 161-162 CE), where he eventually became court physician to the Roman emperors Marcus Aurelius (161-180 CE), Commodus (180-192 CE), and Septimius Severus (193-211 CE). He died in Sicily in 216 CE.

      Galen combined the practice of medicine and philosophy, and he wrote an essay entitled Ὅτι Ἄριστος Ἰατρός καὶ Φιλόσοφος  ("That the best physician is also a philosopher"). In this essay, he argues that a physician must be practiced in logic in order to discover the nature of the body, as well as to know the differences between diseases and the indications for treatment. A physician must also be practiced in ethics in order to best serve his patient's best interests, rather than his own personal interests or financial gain. A physician must therefore know all the parts of philosophy: the logical, the scientific, and the ethical. If a physician doesn't put his own wealth before his moral virtue, then he won't put his own financial gain before his patient's benefit. If a physician despises money and practices temperance, then he will possess all the other moral virtues as well, since they all go together. Galen therefore asks: What grounds are left for any doctor not to be a philosopher?

      While Galen rightly explains that the pursuit of financial gain may be a corrupting influence on a physician and on the practice of medicine, some of the obvious defects in his argument that the best physician is also a philosopher include: (1) logic doesn't necessarily yield understanding of the physical nature of the body (although it may serve to promote consistency in thinking about the physical nature of the body), (2) he doesn't recognize ignorance as a cause of wrong actions on the part of a physician, (3) greed and intemperance aren't the only possible sources of wrong actions. Other vices, such as arrogance, carelessness, indifference, and bigotry may also act as sources of wrong actions, (4) possession of one moral virtue (at one moment or in one situation) doesn't necessarily guarantee possession of all the other moral virtues (at some other time or in some other situation), and (5) philosophy includes not only "the logical, the scientific, and the ethical," but also the metaphysical, the epistemological, the aesthetic, and the political, as well as other fields or domains.