In 2015, Anne Lamott, the writer who introduced many readers (including this one) to the template of “liberal Christian,” retweeted offensive remarks about Caitlyn Jenner. After being called out for misgendering Jenner, Lamott doubled down on the comments by saying she would refer to Jenner as “she” as soon as Jenner went through a particular surgical procedure.

The backlash was swift.

She wrote about the incident in her latest book, “Somehow: Thoughts on Love”:

“At the time, nearly ten years ago, the tweet went viral, I was chastised in the media, my son turned on me, and I did everything possible to make amends. I wrote a long and entirely contrite essay in a book. I steered clear of the obvious excuses. I bared my soul. I groveled. I crawled. I felt shitty. I did as much as I could do. And then, because life has to go on, I laid it to rest.” 

She added, “But surprise, not everyone did.”

During the COVID-19 pandemic, she was asked to give a commencement address by video for a Catholic college. After the address was recorded, but before the day of the ceremony, a handful of students went to the college dean, furious that someone with a “history of transphobia” would be invited to speak.

The address was shelved, and the dean sent a letter apologizing to the student body, which was released to the media.

Lamott felt hurt, but buoyed after several writers publicly defended her. Once again, she decided to lay it to rest.

Several months later, inspired by reading 1 John, she decided to host a fundraiser for a Berkeley law firm specializing in pro bono cases for LGBTQ+ refugees. The head of the firm was a family friend and was enthusiastic about the offer.

After spreading the word about the fundraiser, Lamott’s friend called to let her know that a board member was concerned because she had heard that Lamott was transphobic and wanted assurance that Lamott had “evolved.”

Lamott froze. She said she had what felt like either an “MSG attack or a stroke” and was reminded of the Faulkner quote, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.”

Lamott finally gathered herself and told her friend she had “always been like this, centered in my values of loving and affirming of the LGBTQ community.”

She then suggested to her friend that she give the board member her latest book, which she wrote about the incident, about contrition and grace. She said to share Lamott’s work over the past forty years. 

But she could no longer have the conversation. It was in their hands.

She also put it in God’s hands, placing the law firm’s name in her “God Box,” a receptacle where she physically places all of her prayer requests. 

The result was a moment of grace and light. The law firm accepted her gift, and the fundraiser was a success.

In 2021, Morgan Wallen, the country artist who shot to fame with a mullet and the song “Whiskey Glasses,” was caught on film using a racial slur.

His record label dropped him indefinitely. Awards shows made him ineligible for participation. Country radio stopped playing his songs.

Wallen made a public apology, announcing he had been counseled by folks in the black music community and was making a sizeable donation to their causes. 

Though the incident may have stained his image, it did nothing to hurt his career. In fact, it did the opposite. 

In the weeks after the video was released, sales of his albums, both digital and physical, grew by over 100%. At one point, every slot on Apple Music’s top-20 list was a Morgan Wallen song.

With dollar signs in their eyes, his record company quickly resumed his contract. Radio began spinning his records again and he has been a mainstay on country awards shows ever since.

That incident wasn’t Wallen’s first or last brush with controversy. In 2020, while death tolls were rising and much of the rest of the world was in quarantine due to the COVID-19 pandemic, Wallen was seen partying at bars, flaunting public health guidelines.

Saturday Night Live canceled his upcoming appearance, but later backtracked and invited him back two months later. The show featured a sketch joking about the incident and their reversal.

Last month, Wallen was arrested on charges of throwing a chair out of a six-story bar in downtown Nashville. The drunken incident came close to injuring a police officer. Wallen released a statement “taking responsibility” for his actions, though stopping short of issuing an apology, likely due to legal counsel.

What will happen to Wallen now remains to be seen, but if past is prologue, I see more platinum albums and industry awards in his future.

We are about a decade into the social project some call “Cancel Culture” and others refer to as “holding people accountable.” I’m not sure we know what we are doing now, or why we are doing it, any more than we did when we began. 

What is clear is that we all apply our own standards unevenly.

The Democratic Party ended the political career of their own Al Franken, who had been accused of sexual misconduct that occurred years prior. Later investigations found substantial inaccuracies in the allegations against Franken, but the damage was done and he was removed from office.

Meanwhile, Bill Clinton, who has a much longer history of far more credible and severe accusations against him, is still seen as a wise and sought-after sage within the party.

The mostly conservative country music industry will continue to platform Wallen. At the same time, The Chicks are still “personas non grata” for saying things about George W. Bush and the Iraq war in 2003 that fans applauded Donald Trump for saying in 2016.

At the core, we seem to be saying that some behaviors and actions merit removing a platform from a public figure, at least temporarily.

But what behavior and actions?
How much platform do we remove?
Who determines why and for how long?
What happens when some harmful behavior is rewarded, while others love reputations and livelihoods over more minor indiscretions?
Can we enjoy someone’s artistic contributions to the world while still holding them accountable for their actions?

The questions are legion, and the answers simply invite more questions.

We must find ways to protect people from language and actions that enact and uphold systems of violence and harm, while also recognizing that all things exist on a spectrum. We have to figure out how to prioritize those who have been harmed, while also creating some mechanism for redemption.

The beauty of the gospel of Jesus is that it proclaims justice for those who have been wronged. The scandal of the gospel is that it invites wrong-doers to the table.

I don’t know how to lean into the beauty and the scandal, but I think we need to find a way to try.