A prominent religious journal has launched a movement encouraging pastors to refuse to perform marriages as representatives of the state. The concept is not entirely novel and isn’t just being proposed by conservatives. Americans should seriously consider it.
Saint are reminders that if you follow Jesus, in the words of Flannery O’Connor, “you will know the truth and the truth will make you strange.” We Protestants could use a few more of those if you ask me.
(RNS) “This activity separates people from God and the human community, it is contrary to charity and goodness, and it places participants dangerously close to destructive works of evil,” the Archdiocese of Boston said.
Before we moved to Malawi, my husband and I celebrated our tenth anniversary a little early by going to see Philip Seymour Hoffman as Willy Loman in Death of a Salesman in New York. I’d long loved Hoffman’s film performances — particularly in Doubt, Capote, and The Savages — and regularly channeled his perfect, nasally-whiney Truman Capote (with whom I share a birthday as well as what one Times writer called his “elfin stature”) to express my writerly anxiety or confidence, depending on the day. Death of a Salesman always does me in, even reading the script — all the longing, desperation and futility of life distilled down into commonplace gripes about a broken refrigerator — buying things on credit only to have them break just as you’re done paying for them, paying off a house just as the kids are growing up and leaving. Willy Loman’s self-delusion, his awkwardness and his bravado is nothing short of heartbreaking, and though Hoffman was just 44 when I saw him onstage, he inhabited the role with the gravitas of a much older man. It was magnificently sad and beautiful to watch.