Showing posts with label Christ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christ. Show all posts

Thursday, February 19, 2015

Promise in the Dust


Today, as a part of beginning this Lenten season, I took a picture. Each day in Lent, I will be taking a picture that coincides with a word from Scripture during the Lenten season and then contemplate where that picture takes you in connection with the story of Scripture and our lives. Everyday taking a picture and posting it to #lent2015. Appropriately enough, today’s prompt was “dust” and as you might imagine most of the pictures I saw posted to Facebook, Pinterest, and Instagram were of the ashes we’re wearing tonight. I decided to take a picture that was not the expected. I could just take a picture of the dust of the ashes, but I was looking for something more connected to me than that. Something that spoke of our daily existence and what it comes down to. I ended up instead, taking a picture of dryer lint.

And you know, if you stop and think about it, dryer lint tells a story- it not only tells what you were wearing and using, but where we have been. It tells of our living, reacting and responding. Look closely enough and it tells our struggles and failures, frustrations and heartaches. And it tells our joys and hopes and dreams pursued.

And especially with children, that dust came complete with the occasional partial Kleenex, candy wrapper, loose change or ticket stub interspersed. Each representing the sadnesses, celebrations, losses and triumphs of a life.

Perhaps that little label “Clean after each cycle” reminds us that dustiness is our reality but God longs for us to start anew. Dustiness is what we all share.

Young and old, at the end of the day, what is left, is our dust, and frankly, scientifically, we also carry the dust of others. And if you’ve ever gone to the laundromat, and had the dryer someone else forgot to clean, you know the moment- having to clean up someone else’s dust. It’s hard enough dealing with our own. In any event, at the end of the day, the week, a life, what we see is what we leave- dust.

Today we are reminded of our dust.

And as we look around the world, we see it on a larger scale- the giant swirls of trash in the ocean, those piles now sometimes given names, which breaks my heart; the belching of factories taking life up and downstream and people can’t breathe from all the dust; and the unquenchable thirst for violence reducing people and places to dust in ways the prophet Joel couldn’t even fathom. As we ponder how on earth we can possibly overcome these forces that seem to inevitably point to destruction, what we see is our limitation, and our frailty.

Today we are reminded we are but dust. The ashes more vividly remind us of our dust, our ashness.

Years ago, as we took our children to church for Ash Wednesday , it was the day most feared. And it all started when Catherine was very young. We carried her forward for ashes as a preschooler, at an age just old enough to be aware. Our pastor at the time had a booming voice and a particularly large thumb. There was our girl, confronted by this seemingly enormous black thumb approaching her, too close, and the voice thundered “Remember you are dust. And to dust you shall return!”

And perhaps in the truest response to such a pronouncement, she responded perhaps as we all might, or might want to. In a high pitched lament, she cried out, “Noooooooo!” And burst into tears. While at first we laugh, if we stop and think about it, perhaps she expressed what if we allowed ourselves to think it, was our response.

If we allow ourselves to think it, we can see our mortality. Today we are reminded we will be dust. Today we are reminded of our dust.

And that is for me the thing about Ash Wednesday- that cross we bear breaks into our world and tells us what we try not to hear, or contemplate. It breaks in and speaks intimately, too close.

Yet, as soon as we say return to the Lord, we are already feeling that “too close.” And amidst the ashes of our lives are, as Walter Brueggeman writes, “burdened with the tasks of the day, (and) we are already halfway home, halfway back to committees and memos, halfway back to calls and appointments, halfway on to next Sunday, halfway back, halfway frazzled, half expectant, half turned toward you, half rather not.”

Please don’t make us confront our ashness. The consequences of our living, the limitations of our control and our frailty. How totally opposite that cross is to our world which attempts to minimize and sanitize, or to dominate and isolate any experience of what real life and death involve. We would rather insulate ourselves.

We’d rather not hear the prophet pleading-consider your ashes, and consider how far you’ve strayed. We’d just as soon not look at how many layers insulate us from reality. That black thumb my daughter feared, you see, truly represented our reality. And while we have over the years made receiving ashes a once a year act-saying “we got ashes.” There is the truth- we’ve always got ashes.

Brueggeman writes in his poem “Marked by Ashes”

“All our Wednesdays are marked by ashes- we begin this day with that taste of ash in our mouth; of failed hope and broken promises, of forgotten children and frightened women, we ourselves are ashes to ashes, dust to dust; we can taste our mortality as we roll the ash around on our tongues.”

And what is the response to this? Today at Bible study we talked about someone’s experience in worship on Ash Wednesday of a garment being torn- rending a garment is no small act. And act of mourning, or of contrition. The ripping open of what seems to be woven and fused together. And comparing that to our hearts. As God, our God calls to us to rend, to break open our hearts and return. Break through those layers of ash and insulation so we not only see the reality of our ashes, we see the reality of our Lord,

It’s not too late- come back to me. Fast from your ashness-from the ashes we bear each day. The ones we bring to this place each week. To come and experience changed hearts.

Come back to the God who is YOUR God. Who is not just saying, but begging, pleading, longing. God’s heart is torn by our absence. God longs to restore us and take our ashes. And make us new.

Richard Lischer writes, “it is only in Jesus that (our ashes) are gathered together in the shape of a cross. Time and time again we bring them to him, and then return to our mortal lives with something far better.”

The God who formed us out of chaos and ashes, gives us new form in Christ. Out of these ashes.

As Marcia Shultz writes, there is promise in the ashes

“No! I thought.

No black cross

Not on my forehead

No revealing mark

Of failure

Of grief

Of death

No.

But yes,

Take up your cross

Be marked

Perishable

Fragile

Blessedly alive

Human.

God’s best work

Marked as acceptable

Wounded

Broken

Acceptable to God

Not by my will

But Christ alone

Bearing the Cross

Wearing the Cross

In hope

The sign of the promise

Humanity lived

Fulfilled

Redeemed

By Christ alone.

This is the journey we enter and we pray to our God who promises that dustiness may be our reality but not our destiny.

Sunday, December 7, 2014

Ending Wilderness


Back in the day, our reading from Isaiah in the King James read “Comfort ye, my people.” Which when I was little I thought as “come for tea, my people.” Like a tea party was commencing. When I was amusing myself with that this week, I thought of one of the episodes of the “Big Bang Theory” on TV. Leonard has had his heart broken and his roommate Sheldon is generally socially awkward, approaches Leonard with a cup of tea in his hands. Leonard asks- what are you doing? To which Sheldon replies that he understands from where he grew up that when someone is upset the culture dictates you offer them a hot beverage. And he hands Leonard the tea, and awkwardly hugs him, patting his back and saying, “there, there.” And then he steps away thankful that Leonard’s problem is not his own.

In todays lessons of wilderness, I wonder if that’s not part of what’s going on. We have the people in Isaiah in exile because of their unfaithfulness to God, at least the first generation, but perhaps the second generation wondered why this was their wilderness. And in the Gospel of Mark, we hear of John the Baptist in the wilderness and people are flocking to him. From Jerusalem and beyond, they are headed into this place which frankly matches their lived reality. They are already in the wilderness- excluded from the temple perhaps by poverty, illness, ethnicity, by the abject refusal of those with power to see them. Already not receiving what the temple was created to offer- community, forgiveness, God. The temple is where God ought to be found. But some lives don’t matter.

But as is so often the case, while God is present in places of worship, God is also quite likely to be found in the places where one does not expect- places of separation, where its messy, and not proper.

God meets people, seeks them out, in their wildernesses.

Wilderness places still exist today- perhaps each of us has had some moment of this, but on a larger scale, we know in our country alone, there are these places- of poverty, illness, loneliness, exclusion and  bias. Still. The people coming to John are excluded and longing. These places exist still.

While it is a comfort for us to hear that God in Christ meets us wherever that wilderness has been or is, and that God helps us overcome obstacles and see the way prepared, it is not enough that it is for us.

In the Gospel of Mark we don’t get cute nativity sets and fluffy angels, we get- this is the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ and bam! The wilderness.

It’s the beginning of the good news- not the end.

We are called to continue the telling and the living of the good news- and of God’s desire that wilderness ends. The way for the good news to be experienced must still be prepared. And the Word must still be declared not only in these comfortable places here, but there- in the wildernesses of others.

We cannot sit here comforting ourselves that Ferguson or Staten Island or California are somehow just elsewhere. Or that the pain and suffering of others is too messy for us to solve, so why bother- be glad it’s not us. We cannot simply think it's not here- in a heartbeat it could be. God forbid it be so. It's not that simple.

No

In the days of the prophet Isaiah- there were good and right structures and people. Yet things had gone awry and people ended us separated and overcome. In Jesus’ day, there was a good and right structure that should provide for worship and community and support of the needy and forgiveness. But in some places it was fundamentally broken.

This is I think what we too are experiencing in this country. And especially what our sisters and brothers of color face in disproportionate numbers. We simply cannot deny this. We cannot tell another that their wilderness isn’t real, not can we act like someone else’s wilderness is someone else’s problem. We cannot just take comfort that their wilderness is not our experience.

Law enforcement officers put their lives on the line and face exrtremely complicated situations every day, where a split second matters, in a way most of us will never know. People of color face a world where just walking out the door is different, and where being a person of suspicion is true in a way most of us will never know. And we cannot tell them that their perception of life is invalid. We cannot diminish it. We don’t know.

We can honor law enforcement and the legal system while also acknowledging that sometimes and in certain places, it is broken. That’s what sin in our world creates. So we can honor those who serve and yet wonder what happened with Eric Garner and others. We can admit people made a tragic mistake. Because when someone says “I  Can’t Breathe,” you should let them breathe.

Our Bishop, Elizabeth Eaton offers this, “We are church… in Ferguson, in Staten Island ( and more). As we anticipate the arrival of the Christ child, let’s recall our baptismal covenant- to live among God’s people and strive for peace and justice in all the earth.” For all peoples and all wildernesses.

It’s the season of Advent where we dare to say “stir up your power, Lord Christ and come!” Where we again this day will say- “Come Lord Jesus!”

While we live a world of crying and pain and injustice, a world ruled by sin and death. Preparing the way means that we as Christians cannot simply put out our nativity set and be content.

We must never be content with such a world. Wilderness is not OK. It must end.
Because we know that overshadowing that nativity set is the cross- not only good news for us but our mission. We too continue the good news by preparing the way.

Preparing the way means Christians cannot be content with a world where barriers and struggles exist. There are valleys that must be filled and barriers brought low.

Our worship here draws us close to remind us of Christ as “God with us” and our restoration. But then it propels us out, back out into a hurting world- not so we can say “thank God” things are someone else’s problem. But to share the love and grace of God, to keep preparing the way for Christ, to break down barriers and meet those who long for wilderness to end. To name what must change and believe in the power of Christ to respond.

To cry out what must be heard for the sake of Christ whose coming we await and to turn away from the forces that suggest otherwise because all lives matter to God. May it be so.

AMEN

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Communion of the Saints (that someday thin places might stay thin)


As we gather once again on this All Saints Sunday, we see the light of these candles and it reminds us of saints not only from this congregation but who have touched our lives. Those God has given us across time. They are on our minds today. Perhaps today more than ever we sense that presence of the communion of the saints. Today we hear words from Revelation, this last book in Scripture intended to be words of hope. At every funeral I preside over I read words from the book of Revelation and say that they are intended to be words of hope and at least half of the faces crinkle up like that is a strange statement. So many are caught up in things like imagining Armageddon, and the Rapture and who’s left behind and who will be in hell. But what we are really given is saints around the throne of God whose struggles are no more. Tears are wiped away and we’re drawn to God.

The Celtic people in Ireland speak of “thin places”- places where worlds come together- the world here and the world beyond. The barriers we normally experience are not there. There are sacred spaces where you can get that sense. There are also events that function that way and for me All Saint’s Sunday feels like that. Being drawn close to God and a longing to be together when all the struggles are done and all the tears are wiped away. And there’s a moment- that’s communion of the saints. Perhaps you experience it this day as well.

I think that’s what we experience at funerals- the thin place where people come who haven’t been here in a while, drawn closer not only by a life lived for which we give thanks to God, but often a time where people speak of a closer sense of God and what the church means- at least for a moment. We forget the things in life our loved one did that weren’t the best- they fall away and we remember the good of people and community. If only those thin places could stay thin and continue to be communion of the saints.

Yesterday I attended the funeral of a colleague, Sadie, who fought the good fight with cancer and we celebrated her life’s work, in particular, her commitment to criminal justice system ministry. Something I know some of you are connected to in different ways. Most recently she worked as a chaplain at a state correctional facility in Camp Hill where she labored tirelessly. But a mentor said she once called him with a question, in the midst of her labors, she aske- “why did some people respond to God and to help and others did not?"

Her mentor suggested that maybe some people are just broken beyond the point of being helped- their souls are just too broken. And at this point Sadie just laughed at him and said,” Why on earth would God give anyone a permanently broken soul?!” Why indeed.

And for her this was, I believe,  the vision of communion with God and the saints- a place much broader than our vision. A place where the thin place stayed thin.


That’s what Revelation points to this day. That’s what we say each week in our Creed- that the vision John speaks of is so different. The multitude around the throne- different languages, and races and lives lived- all there.

And it’s so captivating he doesn’t even stop to wonder- why are THOSE people there? He’s in awe of what God is doing, calling us all children of God with a place. It’s not about us and “our” beloved- it’s about God who God loves.

And the number continues to grow and grow and the communion gets ever larger because there are no permanently broken souls beyond help-truly. Communion of the saints means we are given this privilege by God. And we are given a purpose.

We are given this vision and we are given words of faith that include saying we believe in this communion of the saints. The words we say in our Creed- our statement of faith. After speaking of God our Creator, and Christ our Redeemer, and the power and work of the Spirit, we say more. That we believe the church is holy- may it be holy when we are here. We say is it catholic- which is a way of saying united and we say we believe in the communion of the saints. That we are in communion with God in Christ and with the saints who have died and for whom God’s promises are made known. And we are in communion here and now-we are each of us, saints. Sinners to be sure, but also saints claimed as God’s children in our baptism. Given communion- a community, and a promise and a purpose. This too is communion of the saints.

Which is why it makes complete sense that after the funeral of a saint committed to criminal justice ministry, I was meeting with a family whose lives are in another part of the system as their son works and indeed labors to make changes and to be reunited with his loved ones.

I asked him what keeps him focused and helps his work and he of course mentioned his family. But the first word was “God.” And he shared with me that he keeps a tiny Bible in his pocket because it reminds him that God is always with him. And he thinks of his family and of this church. And then he shared the work of one of our saints here who, on her own had asked for his address and without waiting to be asked or seeing if anyone else was doing so, sent him a card and a care package. He was in awe, and I was too.

He received a card of encouragement and support and candy that he could share. Candy that helped him make friends with other boys there- and I imagine them all around that box sharing- and while some might look at them and see a group of sinners- God saw communion of the saints.

The gathering of those in this life around God and community is what we are given now to give us hope. Because in this life we labor and struggle, all of us. But God in Christ Jesus gives us communion and community- may it be what we sense each time we are here. Until that day when the thin places stay thin. We’re given these things so we too can be in awe of what God is doing right now and to not rest until everyone knows it.

Monday, August 4, 2014

Touch as Many as You Can


On Sunday we started church with the readings from I John and the Gospel of John.

After I finished reading the gospel where Jesus speaks of joy being complete, I invited some of our kids/youth/and my daughter who works at Camp Nawakwa up front to help me have complete joy.

Because one of the things that gives me joy is “The Hippo Song” that we know from Day Camp or other camp experiences. And we did the Hippo Song and I promised that not only was my joy complete, that I would get to why later. And the congregation was experiencing joy too. I personally think that moments we get to be a kids again are essential.

Just in case you are not familiar with the lyrics-
In the Beginning God made the seas,( hands make a wave gesture)
 and the forest filled with trees. (hands moving up and down like tall trees 
God built the mountains up so high,( hands moving up like to steps of a mountain)
 above it all God placed the sky. ( arch your hands up from the sides to make a big circle) 
God's fingerprints are everywhere just to show how much God cares.
( run around and touch your fingers on everyone's arm or shoulder- get as many as you can)
In between God had some fun, ( stomp) made a hippo just for fun! (jump and stomp)
Hip hip hippopotamus ( stomp in a circle)
hip hip hooray God made all of us! (spin and wave arms wildly)

But then I transitioned us to the sermon:

That moment of togetherness was such joy. But the writer, Simone Weil once wrote about two prisoners in solitary confinement cells next to each other. Their cells are divided by a stone wall. Over their long captivity they figure out a way to communicate with one another with taps and scratches on the wall between them. “It is the same with us and God,” Weil said about this story. “Even in separation there (was) a link.” A colleague of mine said that when she read this she began thinking of love as “the taps and scratches on the walls of our existence that mediate a direct face-to-face experience of God. The wall is hopefully not has stark or impassable as the wall of a jail cell, but essentially we live in a cell that is defined by what we can perceive with our senses and our experiences.

So, our cell is… made up of the creation around us that we sang about… and the people in our lives, and everything we can see, hear, taste, feel, and smell. (That is our reality).

The reality of God is that God is outside the wall of what we can experience with our five senses. God is bigger than what we grasp. But God chooses to tap and scratch.

God chooses to try to communicate from the other side of the wall of our cells, and God desires that we will communicate back through taps and scratches ourselves. Love is these taps and scratches.”

And contrary to popular opinion sometimes, God’s primary form of communication is love. Not judging and not hating. Not wall building. Love. A love that God says nothing should ever separate us from.

When we engage the stories of Jesus, we can see this love. Where the wall was totally down and in the flesh Jesus embodied what all those taps and scratches looks like lived out. The person, life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus is what the writer of 1 John points to. Jesus touched a lot of people. And tore down a lot of walls. Because after all, in the beginning of all that creating of everything including hippos God said, it was not good for a human to be alone. All the way from the beginning God intended love.

And I wonder for us gathered here whether we get a sense of God’s love for us, and that love reflected through others. So  

I invite you to close your eyes as I ask a couple questions. And I want us to close our eyes so everyone feels they can risk being honest.

Not counting spouses, has anyone told you they loved you today? Have you told anyone?

Has anyone told you they loved you in the last week? Have you?

And now I wonder, have you felt God’s love shown to you through us here?

You may open your eyes. Some people didn’t raise their hands and it’s because I think there are some walls we don’t realize. And I know this is Berks County, but with so many folk coming here who live alone, we need to hear those taps and scratches and see and sense that touch of Jesus.

And maybe we need a dose of the Hippo Song. It’s the exact opposite of wall building. I told you I’d get to it.

The other week I was at Camp Nawakwa to talk about being a pastor, and showing some early elementary school kids my pastor gear. I talked about what I did. One girl was most impressed with my hospital badge that I said let me go places other people could not to care for people. And she said she wants to be a pastor so she can have a cool badge with that power. My husband, Michael was there talking about being a judge. And people liked banging the gavel. Toward the end, I mentioned that we all have jobs we do that are how we God’s work with our hands.

And suddenly this one little girl got wide eyed and said “God’s fingerprints are EVERYWHERE!” It’s from the Hippo Song. And I was thrilled because she connected what we do with what God has done. “God’s fingerprints are everywhere” happens to be a line from the Hippo Song. The song is about creation, and how God made hippos for fun. But in the middle, the song says- God’s fingerprints are everywhere just to show how much God cares.” She got it!

The Hippo Song has hand motions, and at that point the kids are encouraged to run around and touch as many people as they can before the song goes on. And because they have no sense of limits the kids go wild. But the message is the gospel-touch as many people as you can.

We have been raised to be less exuberant, and yet the love Jesus embodied, is the same love we are called to as brothers and sisters in the family of God.  The same love called upon when the resurrected Christ asked Peter “do you love me?” If you do, feed and care for others. You can’t just love God, you have to love people. Eugene Peterson’s translation of our I John passage says- If anyone boasts, “I Love God” …but won’t love the person he can see, how can he love the God he can’t see?”  Touch as many people as you can.

Today we have a baptism that I think is just the most recent example of love in the life of our community. Michael first came here needing community service hours.

And was paired with Robert as his supervisor and co-worker. They have not only worked the 15 hours Michael needed, they have gone on to do more together. One easy way to see is to look at the fresh coat of paint on the outside of the church office and 423 Windsor. But that is not all, they have worshipped together here, and when Michael wondered about baptism, Robert answered some of his questions. Touch as many as you can.  

And Robert came here a couple years ago first looking to hang out under the shade of our trees in a hot summer. But then began to come here to worship and be a part of our community. And has become a volunteer at the Doves Nest and more. Little by little- the message of love gets carried and lives are touched. And it could have just hit a wall. Thank God it didn’t.

We are Christ’s gathered community called to be the taps and scratches and touches of God’s communication for others, and we are gathered to give thanks for those moments when we recognize the love we receive within creation, God’s taps and scratches touches to us.

They tell the story of an abiding love, dwelling love, love that will not let us go, especially when we feel the wall of separation our world offers. We are given God’s abiding presence and love. A love that reaches its goal in relationships of love. In the abstract, love falls short. In human love by the power of the Spirit we see the love of God.

So touch as many as you can with the fingerprints of a God who dwells with us and gives us the chance to live in this love- to receive and to give those around us what it means that actual people who see, hear and experience the sharing of God’s love because Christ first showed us. AMEN

Monday, July 14, 2014

Sermon from "Racism and the Legal System" and Holy Trinity, Lancaster, PA


Grace and peace to you in the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ from my family, myself and my congregation, Holy Spirit, in the city of Reading. I am grateful for your hospitality and Pastor Mentzer’s gracious invitation to preach in this place, especially to be a part of speaking about the racism, and bias, in the legal system while also holding up the call of the gospel.

I serve in a city with a population with 65% Latino ethnicity, as well as a significant African American community, along with Caribbean Africans, and many multi ethnic people. Many kids and families are served by the Doves Nest, our afterschool program for as many as 80 kids three days a week each school year. Crafts, music, fitness, games and food. But most importantly, education. Education, I believe is the key to life.  All our kids fall below the poverty line, and 90% are people of color. Yet I have a hard time using those labels because to me they are just my neighbors.

But I’m not perfect in that, none of us are. Nor are the systems we create, and I sadly see firsthand the effects of racism and bias as I have worked with offenders and victims. There are immediate and broader victims in a society where insecurity runs high. The effect on our kids and families starts long before adulthood and lasts in ways that are profound. The neighborhood is also a vibrant historic district with many young couples moving in and renovating old Victorian houses, and events like garden tours take place. But there can be such a stark contrast between the world some of my neighbors and I live in, and the world many of my neighbors confront as a part of their normal.  

Lately, at the recommendation of the young adults in my house, I’ve been watching the series on Netflix called “Orange is the New Black.” It’s the story of Piper Chapman, a mid-30’s white WASP-y sort from New York whose life goal is to get upscale stores to sell her handmade soaps. But her past catches up and she’s arrested for once being the money runner for her drug cartel girlfriend.

She ends up in prison much to the shock and dismay of her fiancé, Larry. The series is based upon the 2010 memoir of a woman whose life the series chronicles across a 15 month stay in a federal minimum security prison where she discovers 2/3 of the population are African American or Latina, and where the inmates all look at her like someone who truly is befuddled by a world that has become their normal. Some are serving longer sentences for similar or lesser crimes, and their lives keep them stuck behind ever slamming doors.

One of them is a prisoner named Tasha Jefferson. Her nickname is “Taystee.” She becomes eligible for parole. Taystee is bright and funny and works as a prison librarian. On the day of her parole she’s hustled early in the morning out of the prison. The staff give her little time to say goodbye, shouting, “Let’s Go, Let’s Go!” But she gets to the open door and it’s like a dream.

It’s how I imagine the last part of our passage from Isaiah- you walk out of the door first thing in the morning and you’re immediately greeted by all of nature bursting into song, and the trees are clapping, almost grabbing you by the hand to say “Let’s Go!” There’s a whole world of life! She stops, closes her eyes and stretches out her arms and looks up with a smile and a deep joy as it seems like a whole new life really is possible. It’s like resurrection- leaving that prison as the door slams behind you. She’s going to get a job, and settle in and maybe go to school and be something!

But she gets to the apartment a friend arranged, and the friend is gone, and the other tenants don’t want her, and she struggles to find work, much less eat and pay fines and costs. And one by one the doors are slamming-this time in her face. She ends up shoplifting and back in prison. In prison she’s a librarian. Outside, she’s just another black woman with problems. And her consequences are, and always have been, graver than those of white girl, Piper. And it’s kind of predictable because the systems we have put in place to provide for health and welfare and orderly society though intended for good, are in some places, busted.

Those who feel this the most are the ones we call “minorities.” Yet where I live, clearly I am the minority.

Watching the show, I was reminded of my experiences as a young lawyer, like when 23 years ago, as a part time public defender, I was assigned a “simple” case-young man charged with possession of drugs with the intention of delivering to others- but for this young Latino, the circumstances of his arrest still shock me. He was a passenger in a car pulled over by police on a state highway in NW Lancaster County. Pulled over for driving BELOW the speed limit. Driving a little slow at dusk. Nothing else.

The officer testified that the reason he pulled the car over was there had been a bunch of robberies in the area. This slow driving car full of people looked suspicious because- they were Mexicans and “only white people live here. You can’t be too careful.” No traffic citations. They were all ordered out of the car, and since they might be dangerous, he did a pat down of all of them spread-eagled on the car. He found one marijuana joint- in my guy’s pocket. But since we have a war on drugs, he was charged with a higher offense. It took three months to get through the system that got him out of jail.

Don’t drive too fast, or too slow.

Last year, in the aftermath of the killing of Trayvon Martin, a NY Times columnist who is African American lamented that he used to tell his sons not to run down the street because they might draw suspicion. But Trayvon was walking- “What do I tell my boys now?” Don’t run? Don’t walk?

African American women speak of feeling vulnerable and worried for the men in their lives. Angela Glover Blackwell noted, “I want to be in the world wishing them the best, but I know that if I stand for them, I am not safe.” Speak up? Be quiet?

It’s like so many slamming doors. And for people of non-Caucasian ethnicities and races, even just walking out the door is different.

Too often, our systems perceive them as dangerous, aggressive, people to be watched.

When we reach the point where too fast and too slow are both bad, too loud and too quiet might mean trouble, there is a loss of life. The sin of racism and bias have corrupted the very things we rely upon to provide life for all of us.

This past week a young African American high school student came looking for community service to work off 2 citations. The first was for fighting, and he owns that he made bad choices and wants to move in a different way. The second was for leaving school to attend his court hearing without the right paper. Stopped on the street, when perhaps another might not have been, while attending to what he needed to. And given a new citation for not having the paper. Having talked to him I know he wants to go to college and his favorite artist is Louie Armstrong. And I wonder whether doors will open for him, or slam shut.

So imagine after each set of statistics, another door slams.

Statistically, 1 in 17 white men face the likelihood of imprisonment. For blacks 1 in 3 and Latinos 1-6.

The “War on Drugs” has sentenced many- 2/3 are persons of color according to the Sentencing Project.

While heroin is a drug with white victims and a problem to be solved, crack is a drug violation by blacks and Latinos.  

While 17% of the population are African American youth, 31% of arrested youth are African American and a slightly lower but growing number are Latino.

As troubling as statistics are among males, among women the statistics are just as skewed.

In 2010, of the 500,000 placed young women, 67% were African American or Latina. And often girls are placed for offenses of lower levels than boys, so called Status offenses, such as loitering, curfew violation, disorderly conduct. Young women have fewer rehabilitative resources and are more likely to be re-arrested for running away or truancy, things for whom adults would not even be charged, and with no one asking why they run.

In our education system, 32-40% of suspensions and expulsions, 27% of all law enforcement referrals and 31% of all school based arrests, involve black students. And so, the very education promised to kids evades them. Out of school suspensions under Zero Tolerance policies shunt kids off the path to well-being and into for-pay corporate run Alternative Schools. And later into corporate run prisons- mass incarceration is big money in this country.

For those who needing residential placement for behavioral juvenile offenses, local kids are sent far away rather than treated close by. Not because of risk, but insurance. Place a youth 5 hours from family and the ability of the family to help with any plan, or successfully reintegrate suffers dramatically.

The goal of protecting children has pushed many away, out of schools, and support systems into what is now commonly known as the “School to Prison pipeline.” This pattern fails to provide vocation or real support. With limited mental health assistance and a 50% decline in federal funding of juvenile facilities in the last 10 years, the doors just keep slamming.

But perhaps the most chilling statistic is that of the out of school suspension rate for preschoolers. Yes, preschoolers. Almost half of all out of school suspensions for pre-K and Kindergarten were black students. For infractions as small as wearing the wrong socks. Students of color are suspended or expelled at a rate 3 times higher than their peers.

The later in life costs are profound- 49% of all black men enter the job market with a record and 44% of Latinos. Yet 60% of youth detained are there for offenses not deemed a threat to society.

And while the rates of offending are higher for people of color, so are the rates of victimization. And yet, it often to fails to make the news- with people saying that crimes where they are victims are just “between them.” There is a shockingly disparate treatment of victims, where often it feels that the victim is on trial. Remember we don’t call it the George Zimmerman case, but the Trayvon case. Last year, two blocks from my house, a teenage boy had his throat slit as he was on the way to play basketball at the playground. His death barely made the newspaper, being overwhelmed by some big news about Taylor Swift who’s originally from the Reading area. A 14 year old bled out on the street and died, and it took days for any information about his family or situation to even surface. And initial comments ranged from whether it involved drugs, or the fact he was Latino must mean he was in a gang. A JROTC student with a good academic record on his way to teach kids basketball, murdered by a man who got away was hardly of note. In a place where some people used to call our afterschool program “Future Felons of America.” Victims are victimized.

And often notices of important stages in cases are communicated to victims of color at a substantially lower percentage-from hearing dates, and plea bargains to release dates. There are so many slamming doors- including ones people feel they need to hide behind. How desolate. And if you do get out from behind them- you find- Schools don’t want you, employers don’t either, and you just don’t fit. No wonder the rates for re-offending or self help is so high.

Years ago I was taught not to hammer people so hard with the law they are too tired to hear the gospel. But today maybe we should feel that tiredness others feel. The system is broken in profound places. And I wonder in the year just past the 50th Anniversary of that great “I Have A Dream” speech- if we have a dream as God’s people, where do we find it?

The gospel breaks in to open the doors that racism and bias slam.

Eugene Peterson’s translation of Romans in the Message Bible is masterful. “With the arrival of Jesus, the Messiah, those who enter into Christ’s “being here for us” no longer have to live under a continuous low lying dark cloud. The Spirit of life in Christ, like a strong wind, has magnificently cleared the air, freeing us from a fated lifetime of brutal tyranny at the hands of sin and death. In Jesus, God personally took on the human condition, entered the disordered mess of struggling humanity- in order to set it right once and for all.”

“The law code, weakened as it always was, by fractured human nature, could never have done that. The law has always ended up being used as a Band Aid on sin instead of the deep healing of it…And now what the law asked for but couldn’t deliver is accomplished- as we, instead of redoubling our own efforts, simply embrace what the Spirit is doing in us.” Instead of redoubling our efforts. More prisons and more regulations are not the answer.

Simply embrace what the Spirit is doing in you.

In the face of slamming doors you here at Trinity, have already embraced the Spirit with your mission to Break Down Barriers and Build Community- your commitment to criminal justice system participants, the homeless, and to schools is already established and provides the gospel in the lives of so many. You already stand with our sisters and brothers in the African American community in scholarships, assistance at Crispus Attucks and Arbor Mix and honoring the legacy of Dr. King.  You provide positive outlets through Shop with a Cop, and the Bike repair ministry. Doors are being  opened-Thanks be to God!

But yet… I dare to come to open another door-for you to ponder with the Spirit. To begin to address the effects of zero tolerance and the school to prison pipeline before the doors are all slammed shut for students of color. It’s called Youth Court and is a part of an initiative of the Pennsylvania Bar Association and Project PEACE. Youth Court is a student run alternative to the juvenile justice and school disciplinary process. Students are trained by lawyers and professionals to perform all court functions (judge, bailiff, jurors, etc.).  Positive peer pressure helps offenders reflect on their behavior, recognize that actions have consequences, and accept responsibility, and to gain skills to cope with their environment.  Without these resources, and the openness to other ways of interacting, students fall behind, and schools and courts become trapped in a wilderness cycle. Across the state many places have begun and seen the promise fulfilled of another path.

Youth court participation improves life outcomes for these youth and helps educate the next generation of social justice leaders. Participants report its transformative impact in ways they will use the rest of their lives. One student profiled credits his encounter with youth court as being pivotal in changing direction and achieving a 3.9 average.

Offenders get to tell their story to their peers and view youth courts as more fair. They experience restorative justice, and instead of being suspended they stay in school, and are less likely to re-offend.[1]  They become engaged and empowered and many former offenders become leaders. They all gain knowledge and a positive attitude towards the legal system and themselves. They see the value of collaborating to restore community and in being vulnerable to the life and experience of each other.

What a wonderful alternative! For the sake of the gospel I encourage you to support efforts to engage this resource here in Lancaster. It’s not only an opportunity, but I believe it is a moral imperative of the gospel.

 

Just imagine those doors opening! And the cheering and rejoicing as what seemed like hopeless wilderness is reborn. And the best part is that it’s not just wilderness reborn for an offender- but for all of us. We are all in the wilderness in need of restoring our vision and living.  

Where we stop seeing labels and start seeing people, and continue to work as those with the Spirit of Christ we blow open the doors of the kingdom for all God’s children.

And we can cease laboring under systems that fail to bring life. We can stop reaching for Band Aids and start the deep healing process.

And you know, we might have to work harder to pull open some doors than others, but we actually get a great job as God’s people-being door openers.  We get to be God’s door openers- being those who work with and then who cheer on the ones whose wilderness and desolation can end when we work together in Christ.

We get to open the door to resurrection!

Eugene Peterson writes-“This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike question, ‘What’s next, Papa?’”

May you embrace that Spirit and keep being God’s door openers!

 




[1] (Urban Institute, 2002; Hamilton Fish, 2008)
Other resources include Pennsylvania Bar Association resources, Tufts University, La Raza, Bill Moyers, ALCU, NAACP. Links to Youth Court can be found through www.pabar.org

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Christ Will Build the Church


Today we commemorate the Confession of Peter, and begin a week set apart to call us into prayer for Unity of the Church. And we sit on the eve of the day when we remember the life and witness of Martin Luther King Jr. who called us to embrace the beloved community. At the center of it all- building and unifying and living as Christ’s church question that we must encounter is how we confess, or make known God’s relationship with it all.

We all know the questions- How does the church survive? How can we work together with people differing from us? And lots of other questions that all tend to start with “How can we?”  

This is our question.

Jesus has brought the disciples to Caesarea Philippi, at the heart of places where people do not worship God. They worship the imperial cult, and mythological gods and animals. They do not worship the God of Israel. Yet there in that place, he asks, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?”  And the disciples give the answers of their people, “Some say John the Baptist, Elijah, one of the prophets.”  But no one in Caesarea Philippi was thinking any of that. Those are insider answers.

Then Jesus asks “who do YOU say that I am?” And no one answered at first. But that is the real question. And it’s not really a test, it’s an invitation. “Who do you say I am” drives deeper to what is needed. Finally Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God!” Words that just tumbled out. Maybe you’ve had that moment where words just happened and you’re not sure how.

Then Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.”

Jesus identity is made known. He is the Messiah and son of God and Peter didn’t figure it out on his own. “I am the Son of God and you are Peter. And on this rock, on the truth of who I am, I will build my church.” A church so strong even the gates of hell won’t prevail against it.

The foundation of life together as church is Christ.

Who Jesus is and what God’s purpose is will be revealed in him- God saves people. And Christ is the rock. We hear about the rock in Corinthians too as Paul tells us that the rock was with the people of Israel.

And the rock was Christ. The rock’s presence didn’t mean that they lived a golden age where life became perfect. There was no immunity from challenge or greater testing not common to all. But… God is faithful and you won’t be tested beyond your strength. Your strength will come from God who provides the way.

The sustainer of the people together is Christ.

Always. So flee from whatever else you think it’s about.

Including thinking you are the rock. Or that you have to be the rock. Or that some really amazing person is the rock. Or the right program is the rock upon which to build the church. Or that we should worry about what others are doing and criticize their living of faith and then feeling good is the rock. No.

Periodically I run into people who tell me about a connection to this church- the one we’re sitting in today. They’ll tell me how great it was coming to teen dances here, or the Scout troop, or going on bus trips, or being in the ladies circle, or eating great meals. The theory as many people ponder how to build or rebuild this church or even maintain the building was and is…If we just get them in the door they’ll see. Jesus will just “happen.” If we just have the right combination of things it will build that church. That will be our salvation.

Here’s the problem. While no one intended it, all those people I’ve met- when they got beyond the age of the teen dance, or the bus trip, or whatever else was the draw, there was no rock. Frankly sometimes this is a great sadness to me because when rough times happen, or death occurs, there is such great fear. A fear is that none of it was saving. The institution of the church rolled on but what it revealed was often more about us than anything else. And no one really meant that to happen but often it did.

Now as ever it is important to hear that the rock upon which the church is built, and in which we all move and are embraced is in Jesus. And our purpose as this generation of disciples is to tell this story and reveal this God and remember that though we’re not sure, let God be the power and strength nothing can overcome.

Peter’s confession is important for what it reveals to us not of him, but what it reveals of God’s love and grace and desire for salvation seen in Jesus Christ. Salvation is in no other.

But just speaking the words and listing the names or memorizing them won’t build the faith God gives. It takes community living it. Peter began with what God revealed but then God moved him from blurting out words to being drawn into what the name does. Jesus saves. It’s not about his words, or actions, and whether he lives up to them, which he doesn’t a lot of the time.  Nor do we. What deepens faith is those moments when we look and say it clearly came from God. God made it so. Meant to be shared.  In a proper confession of faith the subject is God. Salvation is in no other- for us and our world and God’s church.

God wants to liberate us from the notion that we are our own saviors, or that we are the saviors or defenders of the church. There is no gospel if the center is only us. But still we are invited to encounter and follow Christ and that is not only good news, it invites us all into that question- who do you say God is? Where do we as people with real problems encounter God at work our real lives?

So what is your confession? Your statement of faith?

For a year now I’ve been asking that-where you have seen God? I want to share where Donna and I met God this past week. In a woman we met on the street in front of the office. She approached in tears asking where 423 Windsor was. I pointed and she became sadder. Because she was looking for the NA meeting, believing it was here. The empty building told her it was not. For some reason the information was not updated. She was despondent because she was not just looking for a meeting, she had called the hotline. That’s what you do when you are desperate. She had the look of someone standing at the gates of hell. And we did not have what she needed. She needed the meeting to be here-and it was not. She needed to get to that meeting right now and she could not. So she brushed me aside,  crying and broken. But then she stopped walking and disintegrated.

We urged her to come inside in the warm and let’s find out where you need to be and when. Slowly she moved with us to the office and we began to talk and look for the right information. And we couldn’t find it.

While Donna looked, I stayed with her and the story came falling out of her mouth of her struggle. And we still couldn’t get an answer. No one answered the phone where we were calling. the information she had was wrong and it would seem we had nothing to give. And then a paper fell out of the phone book with what we needed. And there was more than one meeting to help her hold on. But the real Jesus moment came when I asked her if she wanted to pray and she latched onto me in the fiercest, tightest life seeking hug so tight I ended up literally praying in her ear. And then she began to relax.

Before she left she spoke of being overwhelmed and frustrated and then she said, “but you wouldn’t let me go, you were in my face calling me to not give up.” I didn’t remember it like that. But she wasn’t seeing me really-God was speaking salvation to her. Inviting her.

She came back 5 days later- just to give share a joyful hug and to thank us for helping her get to that wholeness and restoration and unity. Because in truth her family had told her to do 60 in 60 or they were done. She looked like a totally different person as she shared with me her confession of faith of being reconnected to that rock of Christ. You brought me to Jesus.

Salvation is in no other. And we shared something about Jesus deeper than just words, something shared, drawn together as the body of Christ. Not so she would be a member of Holy Spirit. Our mission is not about getting the right people or programs but simply proclaiming that Jesus Christ is salvation. And helping ourselves and others find that rock through God’s power.

It’s not about how will we, but how does God bring grace and power that saves.

Now your name is not Peter- it’s Bill or Terry or Jane, but you’ve seen it, these moments somehow.

Where have you seen God’s grace and salvation come to you? What confession would you write?

Let’s start sharing that story together- the story of Jesus as our rock and salvation- and Christ will build the church.

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

The Star is the Light


Earlier tonite we had over a hundred people here for our Family Service, and one of the features of it is that the kids of our congregation and our afterschool program, the Doves Nest, help us tell the nativity story in real life. I found costumes and even animals, this year including sheep and cow hand puppets. This year as we were planning for the Family Service and our acting out of the story of the birth of Jesus, one of our youth insisted he did not want a role in any way. Which was kind of understandable because he is a high school student surrounded by little kids. I pondered for a moment as he and his family were there-what to do for someone who doesn’t feel part of this if he doesn’t want to be a shepherd, or a wise man or really anything. But yet he came to practice. And then, Shazam!

“You can be the star!”  I exclaimed excitedly, which of course got the most confused, skeptical, even irritated look.  After all he had just said he did NOT want a role. “The star,” I said again, gesturing and holding my hands above my head to demonstrate. “We need someone to hold the star over the holy family.”  This received a crinkly but growing and even grateful smile. And after a moment kind of a look of pride that he could as the tallest, and seemingly awkwardest one have a place in the story after all.

At home, my daughter and I set about trying to make a star, and after a lot of cutting and glue and glitter and hope, turned some discarded cardboard into a mighty fine but not audacious star. And I imagined him standing there in this unexpected joy that had replaced his expectation of disappointment.

That star led me to the focus I want to share tonight-The star is the Light.

Not just literally because stars, glowing orbs fiery gas shine in our night sky. More to the point- in the face of all our striving to make Christmas perfect to overcome our disappointments. In our longing to be stars for a just a moment-

into this world of ours, comes the real star-The Light. The star of this night and our whole lives is the Word- Jesus Christ who brings light to the world.

As we look around we can see just how much we all long for the light. In today’s paper on the front page were two stories of this side by side. The one on the left is about a man who has been working since mid-October to string 60,000 lights and synchronized music. Competing in a national TV contest to win $50,000. And he won! The quote in the paper from his wife is that since he was never athletic she was glad he could finally say he won something. Wow.

The second story was of a woman whose mental health and financial troubles led to her electricity being turned off in October, and until members of her church found out she had no light, no heat, nothing. One person is immersing himself in lights and another wondering if she really would just be in the darkness. And there it is.

I wonder if our profusion of lights and inflatables and the escalation of getting more, faster, suggests we long for the chance to overcome he dark places we know all too well. Then imagine that first night when the star was the light. There was no display of fine things. It was not beautiful. Or even light. And perhaps Mary like poor women still in the world, gave birth in the dark, perhaps without any light at all. Lonely and scared just hoping it would be OK. Yet-this is how and where God chose to enter. Not to encourage us to ignore the dark, to meet us in it and help us walk into the light.

This night we came here to step out of dark places and into the light. Each with our own stories, to Christmas- knowing we all strive to create those star moments. Perhaps ones where we hope the light will hide our lives so we can be our best selves, if just for a moment. Maybe it’s the first Christmas without a loved one, or another week without a job. Or Mom’s dementia is worse, or the medication isn’t working. Or you walk with a secret or wonder where everyone has gone.

The poet Wendell Berry says that “it gets darker and darker and darker-

and then Jesus comes.”

Jesus has come. Somehow the light comes. It is quiet but wondrous news that God comes to remind us again that we don’t have to be stars. We don’t have to be stars to receive Christ.  

We the people who walk in darkness are shown the light. It’s not overwhelming, or domineering. It’s also not artificial or temporary. It just IS. Light for us.

It’s what I think moves us to tears when we sing Silent Night in the candlelight. That flickering yet hopeful moment. It almost seems fragile. Yet we realize how powerful God is in the stillness with the light and the birth of a baby.

We silence the noise, as God shows us the holy and reminds us that we all really do have a place after all. In the light.

To grasp that who we are for real is exactly who God seeks out to love and to save. And that is wondrous news! It’s not about us and how we Christmas.

God’s life dwelling among us invites us to see the real star and to point to that light. God in Christ with us-not only in this night but in all the days to come. We don’t know how, but it is so.

I close with words of blessing from Jan Richardson:

I cannot tell you how the light comes.

What I know is that it is more ancient than imagining.

That it travels across an astounding expanse to reach us.

That it loves searching out

What is hidden, What is lost, What is forgotten Or in peril or in pain.

That it has a fondness for the body

For finding its way toward the flesh

For tracing the edges of form

For shining forth through the eye, the hand, the heart.

I cannot tell you how the light comes, but that it does.

That it will.

That it works its way into the deepest dark that enfolds you

Though it may seem long ages in coming

Or arrive in a shape you did not foresee.

And so may we this (night) turn toward it.

May we lift our faces to let it find us.

May we bend our bodies To follow the arc it makes.

May we open

And open more

And open still

                                 To the blessed light that comes

 

Sisters and brothers-Rejoice in the light! And may the light of Christ born for us shine in our hearts and in our lives! Amen