What is your name?

February is Black History Month.  My daughter-in-law wrote about a conversation she had with Liam the other day.  He overheard a news broadcast mentioning Black History Month and asked why it is Black history month when the color of the skin is brown.  Jackie wisely did not trivialize his thought nor did she give an extended lecture.  Rather she asked him what he thought they would want to be called.  Liam answered “By their name”

Of course it is more complicated than that.  Right?  Maybe.  Or perhaps we are missing the whole point of Black History Month.  As a child in rural Louisiana I was taught literally nothing about the part people of color played in the making of our nation other than the many ways in which we oppressed, enslaved, and tried to eliminate them.  Nor was I taught about the persecution of Gay and Lesbian individuals.  Harsh words I know, but I know of no other way to talk about the Trail of Tears, the Triangle Trade, the Sand Creek Massacre, the Pulse Nightclub massacre or decades of lynching, voter suppression, bullying, and profiling.  As an adult I began to pick up on the massive injustice.   I wondered about the moral validity of separate but equal or the existence of reservations.  What I have come to understand is that it is literally impossible for me to imagine the pain and suffering of people of color or immigrants or the LGBTQ+ community in our country.  If I truly want to know our history, then I must listen to the stories told by those who have experienced that history.  In other words I must know them by their name.

Julius Lester is the author of a children’s book called “Let’s Talk About Race”.  He gently leads us to imagine going out into the world with no skin – where it is impossible to tell woman for man, dark skin tone from light skin tone, Hispanic from Caucasian, etc etc.  Instead he says the thing that makes us who we are is not gender or race or place of origin, rather it is our STORY.  He asks what kind foods do you like?  What is your favorite time of day?  When were you born?  WHAT IS YOUR NAME?  The book ends:  “I am so , so, many things besides my race.  To know my story, you have to put together everything I am.  Beneath the skin we all look alike.  You and Me.”  And then he admonishes us ….  “I’ll take off my skin.  Will you take off yours?”

Studying the history of our country should include more than one perspective.  Black History Month is important because we need to know the stories of others in order to fully understand our own stories.  Perhaps we also need a "Native American History month, a Growing up Gay History Month, a Born in the South, or the North or the Midwest History Month.  Silly and overkill - perhaps.  But until we know the stories of the parts, we will not know the story of the whole.  

We are inextricably linked – you and I.  We all have fears - nuclear war- car wrecks, climate change, house fire, being robbed or raped.  We all have likes and dislikes - spinach, thunderstorms, magnolias, cats and dogs, spy movies, reading.  We all have pain, sorrow, love, loss.  We are not so different you and I.  I’ll tell you my story.  Will you tell me yours?

Images of God - A Conundrum!

In our book club, which will meet this Tuesday at 6, we are reading the Dance of the Dissident Daughter by Sue Kidd Monk.  Since I had driven to Jackson to play tennis I was totally immersed in listening to the book.  Then when I read the Gospel lesson for today I could not believe my luck…  How easy this will be I thought!  Just talk about resurrection!  Well no….  It’s more complicated than I had thought on first blush.  The thing is it is hard for me to get past the parable to Jesus’ message.  The injustice just jumps off the page.

How dare the Sadducees to assume that this woman who had not born any children for seven brothers has no say in the matter herself.  And here we are, in an “enlightened society” and we just read this story focusing on Jesus’ authority - without ever giving her rights, her dignity, her humanity a thought.  At least we have read it that way for some 2000 years.  But I suspect that you, like me, find this parable revolting.

How did this happen?  How can we overlook the assumption that a woman is simply chattel and not worth a moment of concern.  I get a lot of ribbing for my “adjustments to the liturgy”  Most often the changes I make involve substituting God for Lord or Creator for Father.  Instead  of “Praise Father Son and Holy Ghost in the Doxology I sing “Creator. Christ, and Holy Ghost”. I would use Spirit but the notes don’t match.  LOL 

There is, though, a serious method to my madness.  Lord usually translates adonai, which is the equivalent of ruler or master.  Sometimes it is translated from Yahweh (Jehovah), the sacred covenant name of the Desert God of the Hebrew people.  God, on the other hand, most often translates elohim, which appears to mean something like "the mighty one."   For me it is the difference between “set over” and “set apart”.  To be set over is to rule, to control but to be set apart implies a companionship and mutually loving relationship.  I also realize that there are times when the syntax makes it awkward to make that substitution.  But here’s the thing, everytime it is awkward it makes us think about what we are saying.  Sue Kidd reminds us:

“The core symbols we use for God represent what we take to be the highest good....These symbols or images shape our worldview, our ethical system, and our social practice--how we relate to one another.  For instance, [Elizabeth A.] Johnson suggests that if a religion speaks about God as warrior, using militaristic language such as how "he crushes his enemies" and summoning people to become soldiers in God's army, then the people tend to become militaristic and aggressive.
Likewise, if the key symbol of God is that of a male king (without any balancing feminine imagery), we become a culture that values and enthrones men and masculinity.”
― Sue Monk Kidd, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter: A Woman's Journey from Christian Tradition to the Sacred Feminine

The Patriarchy that is woven into our Gospel lesson today is a perfect example of the normalization of a tradition that has little of nothing to do with God who is Love.  And it effects not only our liturgy and music and prayer, it infects our everyday lives.  It tears down the value of half of God’s children and puts unreasonable stress on the other half.  Kidd’s book is subtitled “A Woman’s Journey from Christian Tradition to the Sacred Feminine”.   There is a fundamental truth in the realization that in fact this awakening is a journey of loving self that opens the door for being able to love the other.  What we say in our worship can place roadblocks or build super highways for that journey.  In truth we have no way of speaking about God, about the “mighty one, the holy one” without images.  Our images and our symbols, Kidd says, those things expressed in our music, in our prayer, in our physical space, they create a universal language that the deepest reaches of our souls understand.   (loosely quoted)

There is a theological truth… Lex Orandi Lex Credendi.  Our prayer shapes our belief.  Embedded in our Eucharistic prayer is an admonition from the celebrant…  Proclaim the mystery of faith!  And the congregation responds “Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again”.  Right there in the midst of the Eucharistic Prayer we profess to believe in Christ’s Resurrection and note that it is unprovable and therefore mysterious.  Mystery is one of my favorite words.  It is at once awful and wonderful, powerful and gentle, forceful and yielding, firm but graceful.  Mystery is that which we seek, but which is just outside of our grasp. 

In our gospel lesson this morning the people with the rule books, the Sadducees, try really hard to make Jesus slip up and look like a fool in front of all those people who have been following him around and listening to him teach.  These Sadduccees were well-heeled politically and economically.  They followed the Torah, but put less emphasis on the writings of the prophets than some other groups.  Since Torah does not speak of Resurrection they did not profess to believe in it.  Other Jewish sects, notably the Pharisees, did believe in some form of resurrection.  Jesus doesn’t really sidestep their question, but neither does he fall into their trap.  Instead he alludes to a different paradigm for living, one that is not bound by mortal constraints.  But, I am not going to delve heavily into the theology of the Resurrection now, rather I want to make the point that this particular story that is told about Jesus is less about the theology of resurrection and more about the authority which Jesus has claimed. 

The Sadducees address Jesus as Teacher, but only to set him up –– asking a trick question designed to stump rather than to enlighten –– attempting to embarrass Jesus –– to undercut his authority as a teacher.  They invite Jesus into the no-win territory between the no-resurrection Sadducees and the resurrection Pharisees –– a place where he is bound to alienate at least half the crowd.  But Jesus is not stumped.  Instead he boggles the mind by taking the discussion out of the present context all together- honestly I think He would have been uncomfortable with 7 brothers owning a woman… -  He leads those gathered into that place of mystery where the boundaries of 1^st century Palestine society do not apply.  To a place where the children of God transcend mortal coils and live in relationship with God and with each other throughout eternity - for in God all are alive. 

Jesus’ teachings in Luke, so full of parables and healings stories, serve as an invitation to us to move beyond the confines of our own limited knowledge and experience and to embrace the mystery of abundant love and mercy.  Come and see, take, eat, enter in, behold, consider, dwell.  Jesus invites us to consider a different way of being in relationship with God and with each other.  The invitation we have is to consent to a relationship that surprises us, astounds us, comforts us and baffles us.  But for this relationship we must put away our earthly desires, paradigms, ways of being, and open ourselves up to the limitless possibilities of God.  We must turn from being in control to trusting that whatever is down the road, God will travel it with us.  We must as Sue Kidd says, allow the feminine Goddess in each of us burst out of the shackles of patriarchy.

Trusting in God in this way allows us to free ourselves from the literalistic rules that limit God.  Frees us from energy sapping guilt and shame.  Trust allows us the time and space to let life happen without worry and anxiety about what others think of us or how we will juggle all the balls that we carry around day to day.  Trust liberates us to live joyfully in the midst of the mystery of God.  How we express that trust in word and action really does matter.  Amen

We only have one Earth!

(As the story is told the reader provides the cribbitts)

I want to tell you a story.  It is one that I am told originated in Zaire.  Once there was a cruel chief who lived in a remote village in Africa.  He was a tyrannical chief who demanded absolute obedience.  Everyone lived in fear of him except one very old grandmother who had seen much in her life.  Only she was brave enough to speak truth to the chief.

Now the village was located in a lush, verdant area that had many acres of marsh surrounding it.  At night there was a chorus of insects and amphibians (cribbitt) that lulled the people to sleep.  At least everyone except the chief.  The chief often had bad dreams that would wake him up when it was still dark.  The incessant noise (cribbitt) would prevent him from returning to sleep and he would be really grumpy the next day.

This foul mood got worse and worse until one night the chief lept from his bed and shouted at the frogs who were joyfully croaking (cribbitt) to be quiet.  The chief said “Quiet!  I demand silence!  And I want it NOW!”  But guess what the frogs did.  (Cribbitt)

The chief lay awake the remainder of that night but early the next morning he called all the people of the village together and said to them.  “The frogs have disobeyed me!  Take your sticks and go to the marsh.  Kill them all!  If I hear one single croak tonight I will take my revenge on you!”  All the villagers except the old grandmother ran to the marsh with their sticks to kill the frogs.  The chief turned to the old wwoman and said “since you are old and feeble I will let you stay in the village.”  The old grandmother looked and the chief and said to him.  “Since you are so foolish in your demands I will tell you the truth!”  “All things are connected!” “ What does that mean” asked the chief.  “You will see replied the woman – you will soon see!”   

That night an eerie silence engulfed the village.  The people were restless and unable to sleep, but the chief slept like a baby.  He was convinced that he had made the right decision.   And then it happened.  The first night there was this faint buzzing sound, (zzzzzzz)  but it got louder and louder and then the villagers began to feel mosquitoes biting them.    (slap)  The chief was bitten too and soon they mosquitoes were coming in swarms both day and night. 

“Leave me alone!” the chief shouted at the mosquitoes – “or I shall have you killed too!”  But the mosquitoes only buzzed louder (zzzz) and bit harder.  (slap)  So the following morning the chief ordered all the people into the marsh to kill the mosquitoes, but alas there were too many of them.  Without the frogs to eat the mosquito larvae they just multiplied and multiplied.  Thousands upon thousands so that the village was alive with hungry mosquitoes and both farm animals and humans suffered. 

That night the villiagers secretly packed their bags and moved far away.  Now the chief had no one except the mosquitoes to rule over and they would not obey him at all.  Al last the chief knew what the old grandmother had meant….  “ALL THINGS ARE CONNECTED!![i]

Not too long ago we remembered with great pride for our country’s achievement the moment when mankind first set foot on the moon and Neil Armstrong acknowledged that it was not his achievement but one for all of humanity.

What was your reaction when you first saw the image of Earth beamed back from space?  How did you respond when you first grasped that Earth is indeed a green blue ball of living beings floating in air?  If you were born more recently, the image of Earth as we see it from space may be something you take for granted.  If so, maybe you might consider how it is that Earth is different from other planets or life worlds in science fiction books or television shows such as Star Wars?  Does it make you feel a little vulnerable to imagine the Death Star lurking out between the moon and earth?  All part of the movie world though.  Thank goodness we don’t have to worry about Darth Vader setting his sights on us.  But perhaps we have something much more dangerous to worry about….

One of the blessings of the Episcopal tradition is that it encourages us to move away from debate about the literal text and to look instead on how this Creation story that we know so well, written thousands of years ago, captures transcendent insights into God’s relationship with Earth and consequently our relationship with Earth.

In this story of creation the earth is not just one more object of God’s handiwork.  The earth is a participant, a character in the story, -  giving birth so to speak; to the world that encompasses it.  The opening line of the chapter declares that God created everything.

The birth of Earth is a revelation, and in my Episcopalian understanding of the relatedness of all of creation - it is a revealing of the nature of God.   This is confirmed for me after God names the land ‘Earth’ and looks at what has been created and declares it to be good.

And then a wonderful thing happens.   God calls on Earth to be a co-creator.   “Let the earth put forth vegetation: plants yielding seed…  and let them multiply.  And he does the same with the animals.  This is not a clockwork God – this is God who puts into motion the wonders for rebirth and resurrection and calls it Good.  Just as we are God’s hands and feet and caretakers in this world, the earth is the physical source of life.  All that we are and all that there is stems from the love and attentiveness of God.

Now the earth, this birth-mother of creation, is faced with ominous signs.  Greenhouse gases are building rapidly causing a shift the temperature that is threatening the Arctic ice pack and the Antarctic glaciers.  Sea levels are rising and that could have more disastrous consequences for the Earth.  There is abundant evidence that we the people are the cause of this change in climate.  That is bad news but the good news is that if we caused it then we can halt it.  But such a change will mean that we must become good stewards of our world.  We must change the way we live our lives.  We must stop the wanton destruction of our wetlands, reduce our consumption of petroleum products, and to the best of our ability eliminate as much waste as possible from landfills.

I remind you of some of the ways that you can make a difference for the next generation and for generations to come.

Reduce plastic – carry a bag with you to the grocery

Drive less – we would probably be healthier

Use compact fluorescent bulbs, turn the heat up in summer and down in winter.  Being good stewards is not all don’ts though – we can also help by planting trees, using pine straw instead of cypress mulch in our flower beds, buying energy efficient appliances and insulating our homes.  All it takes is that we be intentional about it.  Do it for your neighbor, do it for your family, do it for your children, do it because this is God’s creation and we are called by God to love it just as much as God does.

---

[i] Story comes from a collection of stories told at a Mississippi Center for Justice workshop.  The work was funded by the generosity of the Feltzer Institute.

Yea though I walk through the valley...

Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray the Lord my soul to keep

Guide me safely through the night

And wake me with the morning light.

That was the prayer I said with my children each night from the day John was born until Barbra began to stay up later than I did.  It is a simple prayer – a child’s prayer – and yet it expresses the same concern that we adults carry all through our lives.  To say that the violent attacks on faith communities, our schools, on just our right to get up in the morning without fear of being shot, have been horrendous – well that is an understatement.  I fear for my eldest son that he will be isolated because he is gay.  I fear for my second son that some nutcase will shoot him because he is a police officer.   I fear for my daughter because she is so outspoken in her political opinions that some white nationalist might run her down with a car at a demonstration.  I feel helpless to intervene in the violence.  I suffer and I suspect that we all suffer - from compassion fatigue.  Our hearts just cannot take much more sadness.

   This prayer that I taught my children is meant to reassure and comfort a child who after hearing the news of yet one more act of violence wonders what if something happens to me or to my family – “Who will take care of me?”  In the face of this question children and adults come face to face with the questions of why?  Can it happen to me?  How could someone do this?  Questions for which we adults often do not have good answers. 

The violence that fills our world today is horrific - yes – but we must not give in to the uncertainty of life with anger and fear because even in this terror, God’s love is alive and visible in the compassion of those who come to aid those who are hurting, those who put their own fear in God’s hands and defend us, fight fires, do first aid, provide pastoral care and more.  And for absolutely sure the church – our church- steps in to help in sacrificial ways…  but here’s the thing that keeps nagging at me… the language that we use in our liturgy and in our prayer is often more about Jesus’ sacrifice of his life for us than it is about the love that he admonished us to give.  And I wonder - could that language be shaping us in ways that romanticize heroism rather than standing against the violence?  Does our focus on the cross rather than the foot washing make us complicit with our society’s propensity for violent justice?  When did it become gospel to stand against violence by having a bigger gun or by taking a life to atone for another life lost?  Is it possible to rethink God’s nature as a God of love and mercy rather than a God of power and might?  

I raise this question because I think it is important for us to think through what it is we say we believe about our faith.  And for sure the Episcopal Church pays way more attention to these kinds of conundrums than the more conservative branches of Christendom.  Being ready and willing to question our faith is at the backbone of our formation.  And I think that is important for two reasons:  one it keeps us from becoming lemmings when some preacher gets up and using the pulpit for political purposes.  (that works both ways I might add) and two it increases the depth of our faith – it makes us strong in faith.  The next step is for us as community and as individuals to think through what it is our faith calls us to do about the violence around us.

I am always drawn to the Mr. Rogers quote about reminding children to look for the helpers when something is scary.  Focusing on the good in the midst of the horrible, helps children move past the fear to a place of assurance and confidence.  I have to admit that’s probably pretty good for adults too.  With each violent act we also see totally ordinary people doing extraordinary acts of bravery and kindness – radical acts of love.  One thing I learned from Fred Rogers was that when I was sad, or angry or fearful my children knew it – no matter how hard I tried to cover.  And I learned that honesty with them was most likely the best way, but honesty did not mean explaining all of the gory details of what it was that made me feel bad.  Sometimes the simplest answer to the questions might be something like,  “I’m sad about the news too, and I’m worried. But I love you, and I’m here to care for you.”

Today is Good Shepherd Sunday and the Psalm offered is the 23^rd.  A Psalm meant to reassure and comfort us when it feels like the world is falling apart.  To say the Lord is my shepherd is to say that we live in an unpredictable and terrifying world.  Always aware of the bad things that might happen in the world around us.  So  we get up each day aware on some level of the fragility of life – we can do that with some confidence - because we hold in our hearts the sense that there is someone in that world who care about us and wants us to be safe.

Theologians have lofty descriptions, understandings and mis-understandings about God, but for me when I read this Psalm I am reassured that God is the presence that makes the world seem less frightening.  I do not think that I will shock anyone when I say that the primary message of the 23^rd Psalm is not that bad things will never happen to us.  It is that we will not have to face those bad things alone.  Psalm 23 is about how God shepherds us – protects us, leads us to safety and comfort.  So we ask if God leads us to green pastures and still waters why is our world not that way.

I read a blogger somewhere in past meditations saying 23^rd psalm is a sort of symphony in a way.  It begins in serenity, in a pastoral relationship with God expressing protection and provision of need.  There is a sense of governance, God is in charge and will lead us, guide us - to places of safety.  And then in the second movement there is the turbulence of life, - dark and stormy – a life that is interrupted by tragedy, turmoil, loss.  Instead of dwelling in green pastures we find ourselves in the grip of terror and anger.  But as that turmoil gives way to understanding in the third movement, we see that we are not alone in that turbulence.  God is there beside us, being present, supporting, - we are not isolated or alone.  We learn in that moment of darkness that God is not only the source of the good life, but also the source of consolation and comfort in times of stress.   And we learn that it is God’s love that leads us up out of the darkness into the sweetness of light.  And then in that 4^th movement - in a sort of return to a place of serenity - we get this promise from God.  

We are invited to dwell with God in light and life.  We are invited to be in God’s house.  In Robert Frost’s Death of a Hired Man, Frost tells us that “home” is a place that you somehow don’t have to deserve.   “I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”  Because God is our shepherd we have a place to stay in God’s house – unearned, there for our accepting.  To be invited to dwell in God’s house is an expression of God’s Grace.  Open to all, undeserved, abundant.

I change the wording in the liturgy often.  I suspect you have noticed.  But I don’t do it to be cute or progressive or even inclusive.  I change the wording to shift our perception of God from one of judgment to one of compassion, from one of sacrifice to one of companionship.  I change the wording in the liturgy in order to consider the ways that God might be revealed in the life and ministry of Jesus.

In Michelangelo’s Pieta Mary’s gaze on the broken body of Jesus is tender, loving, feeling the hurt as if it were her own.  Is that not what God’s love is like?  God whose creation is vulnerable and fragile. God who grieves for each beloved child when they are cruel to one another, when they hurt and kill one another,   I have no doubt at all that as the seeds of evil began to grow in the minds of those who would do harm that - God’s heart began to break.  This psalm that we love so much does not promise us that we will not suffer, does not promise us that all endings will be happy, instead this psalm promises us that in all of our life, the good and the bad, God is with us – we are never alone.   Amen

What must I do to inherit eternal life - It's Stewardship Season!

"As Jesus was setting out on a journey a man ran up to him and knelt before him and asked…  Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?"   Mk 10:17

Three years ago I completed my first pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago.  There is a tradition on the Camino that on the last hill, just before Santiago comes into view, the Pilgrims run up the hill in order to be the first in their group to see the city and its cathedral spire.  I was walking with a group of three or four women.  Having just completed a 500 mile trek the thought of running up anything gave all of us pause.  The angst was compounded by the fact that no one knew just exactly which hill was the last hill. 

On the last day, immediately after a pretty hefty lunch, we came to what we believed was the last hill.  And so I began to run, slowly for sure, up the hill.  Lots of comments erupted from other pilgrims.   What the heck is she doing?  They called out encouragement - sprinkled with laughter from the bottom.  I got to the top, raised my arms and shouted Santiago!!  Slowly my friends made it to the top to join me.  What did they say?  Not “Wow great run!!”  But….. They reminded me the first shall be last and the last shall be first.  Popped my bubble pretty quickly.  The Camino de Santiago is not about winning and humility is doled out in daily doses.

It is said that whoever walks the Camino will find answers to their questions.  The problem for many is that we go out to walk the Camino without knowing what our question is?  And if we do have a question in mind we often go into the pilgrimage with a pre-conceived notion of what the answer will be. 

As I set out from St Jean Pied de Port I had no clear notion of what answers I might find or what questions I should ask.  I definitely had a pre-conceived notion of what I should find on my Camino.  I was out to discern how my life might play out in the coming years as I got older and began to contemplate such weighty matters as being a grandmother, maintaining my health so that retirement years would be fruitful, how best to ensure that I would be able to care for myself and not be a burden on my children, perhaps trying to prove that I was physically capable of doing the trek at all….  Well no such profound insight came to me on that journey.  In fact I had a great deal of trouble getting myself to even consider such weighty matters as I walked.  Instead I found myself obsessed with sunflowers, the labels on cans, toenails, bathtubs, internet access, and with learning the Spanish word for fig – which is higo by the way.

What I came to understand, although a hazy awareness even now, is that pilgrimage is not about heading out with a question and finding an answer.  Pilgrimage is about being present to that particular moment in time and place and about perceiving the nature of God through the relationships that are honed on the way.  In my quest to prove my physical stamina, to be the first to the top of the hill, or to be the most prepared for any situation, I often could not see the forest for the trees so to speak.  Other pilgrims occasionally admonished me…  “You are walking too fast – you will miss the signs along the Way”  It only takes one time of missing the signs and walking a couple of kilometers the wrong way to make one see the wisdom of that advice.  No matter how clear the signs are, no matter how numerous the signs are..  If you do not slow down enough to take notice, if you do not listen to the voices of others who have walked the road before, if you do not stop, look, listen and then follow - you will surely head off in the wrong direction.

In this story of the rich young man, Mark tells us that the first thing on Jesus’ mind is not to answer the question, but rather to simply be totally present to this pilgrim with profound love.   I think there is a sadness in Jesus’ voice when he realizes that all of those “things” that this man holds in high esteem – his wealth, his material possessions, his status in society – these are the things that are blocking his spirit entering into the Kingdom of God.

Arriving in Santiago all I had left was tears.  Tears of regret for the times I was immersed in my own self and missed God’s presence, tears of sadness that those times of quiet on the road were behind me, tears of fear that the road ahead might be too much to bear, tears of gratitude for that moment in time when I had nothing to do but to give my life to the journey.  I met many other pilgrims on the road from dozens of countries – some whose names I remember some whose names I never knew.  But each encounter revealed something of God’s Kingdom, each encounter enriched my soul in ways that I have yet to understand.  One does not have to travel around the world to experience that truth.

I want to invite you to go with me on a pilgrimage through prayer this fall.  It will be a pilgrimage to discover what it is that draws us close to God.  Draw a line down the middle of a page.  On one side write "Pushes God away" and on the other side write "Draws me close to God" Now think back over the past week.  Think about your activities, think about what you bought, think about what you did not do, think about your responses to people you met, to events, to yourself.  Were they angry or manipulative or were they responses marked by  compassion, care, respect, and love?  Think about how you used your gifts, your time, your possessions.  Mark these things down on one side or the other - on whichever side you feel they belong.  As this next week goes by do some mental assessment of the value of these things in God's time.  How do these things draw you closer to God's loving embrace or how do they push you farther and farther away?

It’s stewardship time at St Patrick’s - the time when each of us is asked to take a look at how we support the ministry of our faith community.  As you consider your pledge to St Patrick’s please consider all of the ways God enters into your life through the life of our parish and then prayerfully decide how you might make a sacrificial commitment to support the work of your church.  Jesus is telling us that we need to find what it is in us that's a stumbling block--a detriment--to our living as children of God, and then to pray about it, to turn to God for the strength to face whatever that thing might be, and then with God's help to do something about it.  We need to do this as individuals, and we need to do this as a faith community.  It takes prayer, honesty, and a serious decision to want to live as a people of God. 

But be forewarned - considering the implications of our actions in this way might really turn our lives upside down.  Jesus is calling us to get rid of the stumbling blocks that infect our lives.  No doubt about that!  And he lets us know that it's not easy to get rid of them, and that deciding to try sometimes leads to the Cross.  But he also promises us that if we follow Him, the reward is many times greater than what we've been clinging to.  And - this is the real kicker - Jesus promises us that God will be the power behind us in this journey. 

Remembering 9/11

Bronze of Mary Magdeline at the Norbertine House

I am not a big fan of television, but there is one show, no longer on TV, that I really liked watching called West Wing.  It centered around the White House and the presidency of a character named Jed Bartlett, who, surrounded by his bright, articulate and committed West Wing staff struggled to steer a course between what is politically right—or I should say, politically expedient, and what is—reflective of his core beliefs.

One sequence I remember dealt with the difficult issue of capital punishment.  Jed Bartlett the man is opposed to the death penalty.  But Jed Bartlett has been elected by a country in which 70% of the people support the death penalty.  It falls to Jed to decide whether or not to commute his sentence.  It is an agonizing decision -one that he had not wanted to make, a cup from which he did not want to drink.  As the program progresses, he asks various aides, advisers and friends what they think of capital punishment.  Toby, who is Jewish, tells him that capital punishment is wrong.  Another aide, a Quaker, tells him capital punishment is wrong.  His Roman Catholic faith tells him that capital punishment is wrong.  Still he wrestles with his obligation to uphold the will of the people.  Should he follow his conscience—or uphold the decision of the Court.  In the end, he decides to allow the legal system to proceed, and the young man is executed. 

After that decision is made he meets with his priest who asks him if he prays.  “Constantly,” the President replied, “and I don’t get many answers.  I’m getting pretty tired of it.” Thoughtfully the priest tells him the story about a man who lived in a town where a hurricane was due.  Despite multiple attempts at rescue the man refused help saying that God would protect him, but in the end he drowned.  Marching up to the gates of Heaven, he demanded to see God.  “I had faith,” he cried, “I prayed, I believed you would save me from the flood.” God looked at him sadly.  “I sent you a radio message.  I sent you two guys in a rowboat.  I sent you helicopter.  What are you doing here?”

The priest looked at the President, sitting very quietly.  “God sent you a Rabbi.  God sent you a Quaker.  God sent you a priest.  What are you doing here?” The president looked down at his hands.  The priest asked, “would you like me to hear your confession?” The program ended with the President kneeling beside his priest’s chair, hearing him pour out his pain and suffering for the cup that had not passed from him.

Tuesday is the 17th anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.  It is one of those events that has left so great an impression on the fabric of society that life - as it was known before - no longer exists.  In those 17 years since, we have seen hurricanes, tsunamis, wars, more bombings and the reactionary rise of fascism.  Trump is not the cause, President Obama said yesterday, he is the symptom.  I agree, we have been headed down this path at a pace that has accelerated to light speed in the years since 9/11.  We have seen violence on the streets, and drug and gang wars.    We have seen the church –torn apart by its own malfeasance and entitlement.  Torn apart by one exclusive group after another – by differing factions who think that they know the mind of God and who choose anger, separation, and hostile rhetoric over restoration and reconciliation.  We have seen our country and others respond to violence with more violence.  We have seen our elected public officials, including our president, flaunt power and wealth and turn public oratory into a mayhem of bullying and boasting at the expense of the most vulnerable in our society.  The people who have been hurt the most are those who were simply in the way – the weak, the elderly, the children, the women, people of color, people of differing sexuality, or the poor.  So here’s my question.  Given that we live in a world where such tragedies happen what kind of a response does God expect from us?  If violence changes the life we know, what does our scripture, tradition, and reason tell us our response is to be?

It’s not my favorite piece of Hebrew scripture but this coming Sunday we will hear from the book of Proverbs.

"A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches,
and favour is better than silver or gold.

The rich and the poor have this in common:
the Lord is the maker of them all.

Whoever sows injustice will reap calamity,
and the rod of anger will fail.

Those who are generous are blessed,
for they share their bread with the poor.

Do not rob the poor because they are poor,
or crush the afflicted at the gate;

for the Lord pleads their cause
and despoils of life those who despoil them."

Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23

Sometimes the tragedies that beset us are outside of our understanding or ability to intercede, but too many times they are of our own making - through ignorance, greed, or the desire for power over one another.  We who desire Love so much - constantly alienate ourselves from it.  So what is it that we are left with?  How do we, who live in the constant murkiness of real life, respond authentically to the persistent itch in our souls that is our conscience - our desire for God’s closeness?  How do we reconcile our faith with life’s realities?   Do we turn our backs on the suffering or do we engage?

Anger, vengefulness, simmering hatred and violence are products of fear - not faith and the only possible outcome is more anger and violence.  I wish that I could tell you that I have all the answers.  Some pastors seem to believe that they do.  Some politicians believe that they do also.  But I just do not believe that any action or inaction that we might take will reconcile this world of ours.  Only God can do that – and yet I also know that we are part of that healing process.  Our faithful turning back to God does make a difference.  This conundrum of faith and works in response to the realities of life that we face every day is at the core of the mystery of the Gospel that I preach each week.  Our hurting world will not be totally healed by our own actions.  No bombs, or missiles, or security measures, or miracle drug, or laws can protect us from the ravages of life.  But it is our fear, our lack of faith - that causes us to move about blindly, to turn our backs on the weak and helpless, to strike out at those we perceive to be our enemy and causing pain to those who are innocent in the wake of our action.  Whether we are acting on the global stage or in our own backyard, the result is the same. 

But there is another way.  It is the path of reconciliation and restoration and redemption in response to God’s pleas for us to turn back.  It is the path of welcoming all comers into our midst and ministering to their needs in the same manner as we minister to our own without regard to the color of their skin or their faith, or their age, or their sexuality.  It is the path of forgiveness and compassion and it is the hardest request that God makes of us. 

The reality of our lives is the same as the reality of the fictional president on West Wing.  We are never quite sure whether we have done the right thing or not.  But we keep trying, we keep praying, we keep turning and turning back to God who loves us, who cares for us, who calls us, and who walks with us through all of the 9/11s of our lives.  Jesus did not promise us a tragedy free life – no matter how "right" we might be.  What Jesus told us is that we would never be alone. 

Slave labor???

Look what popped out of the bottom of the can!

A letter to my representatives in Congress and in the Mississippi State Legislature in response to the nationwide inmate labor strike now underway and to reports on CNN that inmates are fighting fires in CA for a dollar an hour with no possibility of receiving work in the field after their release due to restrictions for certification with regard to criminal records. (https://www.cnbc.com/2018/08/14/california-is-paying-inmates-1-an-hour-to-fight-wildfires.html)

August 25, 2018

Dear Sir/Madam:

What is the purpose of incarceration?  Is it to provide an avenue for vengeance for those who are injured in some way?  Is it to separate criminals from the general population?  Is it to provide punishment for acts of criminality?  Or is it to improve the safety and prosperity of our society?

I vote for the latter and I would like to offer my opinion on how that might be better accomplished within our criminal justice system…  Foundationally we should base our justice system on restorative justice rather than retributive justice.  Most criminals have the capacity to learn, grow, rehabilitate and to become productive citizens. (http://tedtalkspsychology.com/the-neuroscience-of-restorative-justice-with-daniel-reisel/)  Inmates who are released with basic financial resources and a means to support themselves vocationally are less likely to become repeat offenders.   I believe that our society will be made safer by reducing the number of repeat offenders and my hypothesis is supported by research.  “Highly rigorous studies of educational and vocational programs have found lower recidivism rates for program participants and positive returns on investment.”  And furthermore education and vocational training is cost effective to me the tax payer.  “Prison-based vocational training programs provided an average of $5.76 in taxpayer benefits for every $1 of cost.” (Two quotes taken from a Colorado study https://cdpsdocs.state.co.us/ccjj/Resources/Ref/WhatWorks2008.pdf) 

I want my elected representatives to support justice programs that will:

• Encourage inmates to learn a trade and pay them fairly for a job well done.  (Mississippi pays them nothing which is literally slavery:  https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2017/04/10/wages/)
• End the practice of forcing inmates to purchase items such as tampons, deodorant and phone calls to family unless there is a means for them to make a salary that will support those basic necessities.  Rehabilitation will not be possible unless we treat our inmates with respect and dignity that is the right of all God’s creatures.
• Provide training for law enforcement and correctional officers in the ways to obviate the prevalence of minority detentions, arrests, and convictions.
• Provide immediate and sustained access for all detainees to both physical and mental healthcare and to substance abuse treatment.

Thank you,

Rev’d Jane Bearden