Rest in Peace, Rachel Held Evans

The New York Times is memorializing her as a "wandering Evangelical".  It's probably a fitting title, for a woman who wandered her way from Creationism and the depth of conservative Christianity to become one of its leading, yet most compassionate critics.  That woman I speak of, is progressive Christian, Rachel Held Evans, and she was only 37.

How to describe Rachel?  She was kind.  She was generous.  She was compassionate.  She was Pro-Life in the sense of the seamless garment, a critic of those who would state their pro-life stand, but then be against everything that would actually reduce abortions.  She was someone who loved others and was beloved by so many, with even Hemant Mehta over on the Friendly Atheist blog writing a touching tribute to her, a friend lost far too young to the clutches of death.

This Easter season began in Holy Week, and I cried as I watched the Notre Dame Cathedral burn.  However, even though I cried for its loss, I wept at the passing of Rachel, and I still am as I type this.  She fought the good fight of trying to get her fellow believers to love as Christ loves us, and her books like Searching for Sunday are a raw memoir of faith.  In a time where so many are trying to turn the American church into the First Church of MAGA, she extolled upon us to remember that we are all people, all children of the same God, and we are all upon this Earth together. 

Her last blog post, made on Ash Wednesday, touches upon that poignantly; how each week she had people reach out to her about how they felt betrayed in their faith, from the Evangelical embrace of Trumpism to Catholic and Southern Baptist (and now we know, though she did not, Mormon) sexual abuse scandals, to the deep division of the United Methodist Church over the inclusion and exclusion of LGBTQ+ people.  That we are called toward healing, and that we are not alone. 

The end of that blog post is more fitting than Rachel ever could have known, "Death is a part of life. My prayer for you this season is that you make time to celebrate that reality, and to grieve that reality, and that you will know you are not alone. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."