Last semester, one of my professors was giving a lecture about President Clinton. He vaguely mentioned the affair for which Clinton's second term is remembered. He presented a single image: a photo of Monica Lewinsky. Without summarizing the scandal, without explaining political consequences or the impact of the media, he simply remarked, "need I say more?" and moved on.

Is Monica Lewinsky nothing more than an image on a screen? Is she nothing but a moment from seventeen years ago? Is she nothing but the shame and humiliation that her name now denotes? 

This dismissal made me uneasy, but I accepted his treatment of her and bought into the lie that shaming someone online is okay.

In a TED talk last year, Monica Lewinsky queried her audience: “Can I see a show of hands of anyone here who didn’t make a mistake or do something they regretted at 22?”
 
Nervous laughter follows. “Yep. That’s what I thought.”

This rhetoric is uncomfortably similar to "You who are without sin, cast the first stone."

Why are her mistakes worse? Because we have all heard them and seen them? Because we would never sin "like that"? Because our own shame and desire to hide requires us to be distracted by mistakes that seem comfortably distant? 

Monica is incredibly brave. She's speaking up, seventeen years later. And she's speaking for the voiceless, for those who are humiliated online and are uncertain whether life is worth it. She's saying that we cannot continue in public humiliation, in perpetuating a money-making industry of exposure, in pointing fingers and throwing stones:

“Public shaming as a blood sport has to stop. And it’s time for an intervention on the internet and in our culture. The shift begins with something simple, but it’s not easy. We need to return to a long-held value of compassion. Compassion and empathy. Online, we’ve got a compassion deficit, and an empathy crisis.” 

Our culture has made Monica an object lesson. However, the only thing I've learned from shaming someone else is shame. 

Yes, we do need to say more. 

If I claim to follow Christ, and if I claim to believe in grace and forgiveness, then I will display compassion in my words. Monica quoted researcher Brene Brown: "Shame cannot survive empathy." ​

A journal entry from last year's Pentecost Sunday, May 24, 2015. 

And Peter said to them, "Repent and be baptized, every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you and for your children, and for all who are far off, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to himself." --Acts 2:38-39

'We went to celebrate Pentecost at St. Martins here in Landshut, Germany. The service was entirely in German, but there were so many other types of nonverbal communication and worship. The most striking image was when the Holy Spirit was signified by a wooden dove coming down from heaven (the lofty ceiling of the highest tower in Bavaria) and the falling fragrance of flower petals. Dozens of children ran to the alter and gathered the falling flowers. It was unforgettable to see such a physical expression of the Holy Spirit's presence. Also, when I was sitting in the service, the lack of language comprehension made me realize how difficult it is to quiet myself. I felt irreverent and unbelonging in such a formal and reverent service, and it revealed that my heart is still hard toward God in many ways. I realized again today how close I hold my time and how unwilling I am to allow God to have it. I thought of this lack of quiet when I read Bonhoeffer and he observed, "Our attitude toward our brother only reflects our relationship to God." I show God the same kind of impatience I show to others, because I prioritize my time far too much. Also, Bonhoeffer says, "Anyone who thinks that his time is too valuable to spend keeping quiet will eventually have no time for God and his brother, but only for himself and for his own follies." 

Taking a day as a Sabbath was so refreshing. It allowed me to have some distance to look at my experiences and the community we are living in and appreciate it more. It makes reading Life Together tangible while also reminding me that of myself I'm not capable of staying sane and having a good attitude when I want to be alone. I'm learning that as Bonhoeffer says, "Only in the fellowship do we learn to be rightly alone and only in aloneness do we learn to live rightly in the fellowship." For most of my life as a Christian, I have resisted vulnerability and avoided community. I'm realizing that way of living is contrary to scripture, to example, and to growth in the Christian walk.'