Under Construction

When I traveled to Washington DC recently, the expected grandeur of the U.S. Capitol building was marred. Scaffolding shrouded the dome, and plastic sheeting covered portions of the façade. A companion expressed her disappointment. “So much for the photo op.”

I was superbly glad for this glimpse of this symbol of our nation.

In the preceding days I had come face to face with injustices being committed in my name (and yours) through the enforcement powers invested in our government: The over-incarceration of our fellow human beings, at rates that far exceed most countries. Mandatory sentencing that falls unduly on persons of color, effectively making our criminal justice system the vehicle of what some have called a New Jim Crow. Detention of immigrants and their families, driven by quotas that benefit private prisons operating for profit. An inadequate response to human trafficking, which is happening not just in distant countries but right where we are.

That sight of our capitol building under construction spoke to me of a nation that isn’t done yet, a system that is still being built, needing restoration, renewal, new life.  I’m glad for that.  I pray that it’s true.

Indeed, the pics we snap of our churches, our businesses, our institutions—even of ourselves!—would be more real, more genuine, if the scaffolding were made visible. It’s always there, isn’t it?  Or it should be. The post-Reformation church has understood itself to be reformed, and always reforming.  The minute we think we’re done:  that’s the minute we’re in trouble.  We look out, always, through wreaths of scaffolding, with construction always in process.

If it were more obvious that we, and all these things, are under construction, perhaps we would be more patient with—and more resolute about—what isn’t done yet.