Some allegories are like fingernails on a chalkboard

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/101518.cfm
Galatians 4:22-24, 26-27, 31-5:1
Luke 11:29-32

The topic for today’s reflection comes from an off-hand analogy I made at a men’s book group this past evening that turned into the solution for how to write about the allegorical point of today's reading from Galatians. I mentioned in passing during our discussion how much the Department of Motor Vehicles seemed to resemble the Catholic Church. Martin, the leader of our group, found the analogy odd enough for a lengthy giggle fit. Others were appropriately skeptical and questioned my logic.

The Church is not actually like the DMV. That’s not what I meant to say. What I actually meant was the DMV reminds me of church. That’s different. Both statements, though, are probably sacrilegious. My thinking, as Mike from our reflection group on Wednesday put it, says both the DMV and Church are privileges not rights. That's the weaving in the basket of the tale. 

In Galatians, the author uses the comparison of Abraham’s slave woman, who bore his first child, and his freed woman wife, who was barren for more than 50 years, as an allegory for God's promise of freedom from the slavery of sin. The tale Paul tells (assuming he is the author) draws, however, more attention to the horrid life of slavery bore by Hagar's descendants and the seemingly unfair freedom rewarded to Sara's progeny. Readers have a hard time letting the allegory teach. Politically incorrect things jar our sensibilities about fairness and the workings of God. We have to work at letting go of our agendas. Paul knows that of the listener. He insists that we remember, “Now this is an allegory.” 

I struggled to find a way to explain Paul's allegorical scratching of fingernails on the chalkboard while he taught. An important point is being made by this awful allegory of slavery and freedom accorded to Hagar and Sara. That's when the strange but provoking analogy of the DMV and the church popped into my head. 

We go to the DMV for a bunch of reasons throughout our lifetime. Some we have to repeat every five years or so (license renewal, if we’re old), or whenever we buy or sell a car. Many other times we show our license for proof of who we are. Why put up with these bothersome annoyances? We want to drive. 

Both the Church and the DMV insist upon specific steps in the process of their privileged membership and licensure. At the entrance to the DMV sits a variably kind or surly person who greets us. “What do you need to do today?” We're there for everything from auto plates to replacing lost licenses. The DMV greeter resembles our Church office receptionist. All day long folks ring the door. We go to the church office to get a copy of our kid’s baptism certificate, or to sign up for training to volunteer, or to schedule a time for a relative’s funeral. We get welcomed dependent upon how busy folks are.

“Take this number and sit over there,” we are told. “Someone will call your name.”

Once in the DMV hall we are confronted by a giant space full of chairs, almost like pews. We take a random seat, separated by empty chairs from another person. The choices get dicey when all spaced seating is filled up. Nobody’s going to move over to give you room. You’ve gotta shove a little. Be bold. Sounds just like church.

It’s just an analogy. Don’t get too upset here. The Big Brother and government stultifying imagery is just for giggles. But, it’s also kinda true. That’s not the point though. The point is that going to the DMV lets us drive. We go to church to be inspired to live in faith. To live in faith we need to go to Church. It’s not really optional. Likewise, we go to the DMV in order to drive. It’s a requirement. 

The DMV steps us through the institutional process that gives us permissions, identifies our responsibilities, and sometimes even celebrates our license to drive a car. Very similar to Church. We celebrate with a hearty “Yes!” and applaud when we pass our driving test or properly navigate the eye chart. There are unfortunate times, too. Our drivers license photo never looks right. That picture resides on a card that will be viewed, analyzed, and compared to our actual gorgeous visage more times that we eat pizza in a year. It’s an unbelievable affront to our face. And there’s nothing we can do about it. The Church we belong to also stereotypes us. When we tell people our religion is Catholic they will immediately pigeon-hole us. "Oh, that explains a lot."

The DMV world is like Church in more ways that you think. We gather at Church, attend functions at Church, fill out forms for Church, write checks to Church, go to confession, stand in line whether we go to communion or get a plate at pot luck. We line up just to have coffee and donuts.

We go to the DMV and write them checks and fill out forms, too. Not everything happens at the DMV office. Our driving privilege comes with other responsibilities. Every time we pull our car into a gas station we stand there filling it up. If we have to wait long enough we go inside and get a coffee and a donut, where we also wait in line.

We also go to confession because of the DMV. Yes. We show up in court and plead guilty in public. “Guilty, your honor. I went 13 miles over the speed limit. I am admitting this of my own volition. My mother did not make me say this.” Then we pay a fine and get points against our record. It's just like Father giving us three Hail Mary’s as our penance, and telling us to go and sin no more. 

At Church we’re constantly asked to give money to some new charity. The Department of Motor Vehicles adds a new fee to our privilege of driving every year explained as us helping society to run more efficiently. We sign away our organs on our drivers license. We even fill out a Church approved "Do Not Resuscitate" form in order for our bodies to be used for science. 

Those similarities are interesting, but that not the the point of the allegory. The moments at the DMV, and at the gas station, and yes, even at the courthouse, are not the thing. They are not the point of the DMV. The point of the Department of Motor Vehicles is that going through the process means that we are allowed to drive. The thing is driving. We embark on the mission of automotive transportation rather than perambulating down the street dragging our stuff in a wagon. Driving is one of the most thrilling thing we get to do as adults; just like going to work at a job that we love, fixing dinner with our family, loving our spouse every time we see her or hear her voice, and talking to relatives and friends on the phone.

The thing, the point of our rituals, isn’t the phone, that new jacket our spouse wears that looks so good, that fabulous looking spreadsheet, or checking the oil in the car. The thing is driving around, conversing, touching the heads of our grandchildren, admiring our wives, and singing. We need to concentrate on the real thing at the root of all the perfunctory things we do.

Church quite often gets separated from the thing and lost in the rules and expectations. We argue with great intensity over the exact way to perform a ritual, or everyone being quiet at the right time, or standing up at the right time, or wearing a name tag, or having our own code to get into the chapel, or sitting where we always sit.

Sure, they’re important parts of the thing. We can’t drive if we don’t have a serviceable and legal car. We can’t drive if we’ve had three DUIs. (Does it really need to be that many times before they finally take away our license?) We can’t drive if we don’t know the difference between a stop sign and a cross walk.

We can’t be Church if we don’t know who’s gathered us together. (it’s the Holy Spirit, by the way.) We can’t be Church if we don’t know that Galatians is a book in the New Testament and we are clueless about what it says. We can’t be Church if we don’t believe Jesus loves us so much that he wants us to be his brothers and sisters. 

Coffee and donuts are great. So is the choir. And good preaching is absolutely fantastic. The thing, though, is that when we take the Eucharist we’re going to go be Church with Jesus living in us. We’re in Church for an hour or so and then we’re living Church for a week (depending on our practicing frequency). 

Confusing the form with the function (thank you, Father Don) is like thinking that the wedding is the marriage, or the on-camera interview of the coach is the basketball game, or the recipe book is the meal.

That disturbing story of Abraham’s women diverts our attention. We focus upon the slave woman put upon by her station and ending up with children living in slavery, and the fortune of barren Sara who because she is the true wife gets to have children of freedom. That is not the message. The DMV is not actually the church.

“For freedom Christ set us free; so stand firm
and do not submit again to the yoke of slavery.”

That verse from Galatians offers us freedom, just like the DMV offers us driving. Driving is the whole point of the DMV. It’s a terrible allegory to align the DMV's perfunctory requirements with the responsibilities of being Church. I’m just making a point. 

For freedom Christ set us free; so stand firm
and do not submit again to the yoke of slavery.

We don’t want to hear that our privilege sets us apart:

Therefore, brothers and sisters,
we are children not of the slave woman
but of the freeborn woman.

And yet, behind the awful allegory is the thing.