the flavor of life

St. Thomas’ Church, Whitemarsh

Proper 21, Year B, 2015

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, * O LORD, my strength and my redeemer” (Psalm 19:14). Amen. 

One of the things I love most about Jesus’ disciples is how comically human they are. Yes, they are the founders of the Church and do many incredible things, but they also fail to grasp key points of Jesus’ teachings. Last week, we heard how they were arguing on the road about who was the greatest of them. Jesus tells them that they’re missing the mark; they should be humbling themselves rather than trying to outdo one another. 

This week’s reading shows us that they haven’t seemed to learn much. John, presumably hurt by Jesus’ gentle correction and wanting to regain Jesus’ favor, tells Jesus that the disciples saw someone the other day performing exorcisms in Jesus’ name, and since he wasn’t a follower, and since the disciples had been unable to perform an exorcism themselves earlier—which made the disciples look bad (Mark 8:14-29), they tried to stop him. Maybe John expects a pat on the back, but even Jesus doesn’t appreciate tattle tales. Jesus turns around and, harking back to Moses’ rebuke of Joshua (Numbers 11:26-29), admonishes John and the disciples, saying, “whoever is not against us is for us” (Mark 9:40). 

You see, a big theme in Mark’s Gospel is the cosmic battle between God and the forces of evil. In fact, the first of Jesus’ public demonstrations that Mark writes about is an exorcism of a demon (Mark 1:21-28). In this ongoing war, help is not needed, but is definitely noted and appreciated. Furthermore, in doing deeds of power in Jesus’ name, the exorcist might be inspired to become a follower of Jesus. 

Jesus goes on with his teaching, further correcting the disciples’ behavior by sharing some pretty violent metaphors. I’m pretty sure that all of us can agree that our hands, feet, and eyes are important parts of our body, and so I don’t think Jesus is saying that he literally wants us to chop them off and tear them out; Jesus is exaggerating to make a point. 

And the point he is trying to make is that no one should stand in the way of other people’s faith in Jesus, especially other Christians, and leaders, in particular. If the disciples are arguing among themselves over who is the greatest, what message does that send to followers? And if the disciples prevent someone from exorcising a demon and freeing the person just because the exorcist isn’t part of the inner crowd of disciples, how does that reflect on Jesus and his message? 

Jesus continues with other metaphors, this time using salt. Most everyone loves salt; it preserves food and provides flavor to meals. The Good News of Jesus Christ is what flavors life, and this is what Jesus’ followers are called to do. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus calls his followers “salt of the earth” (Matthew 5:13). As Jesus said in today’s lesson, “salt is good” (Mark 9:50), but salt can also be misused. Too much salt can ruin a meal and salt rubbed in a wound is a form of torture. There are also stories that during the Civil War, after an army destroyed a town, they would sometimes sow salt on the fields to ruin them so that the townspeople couldn’t grow crops, causing a food crisis for their enemies. 

We in the Church are not exempt from the ability to cause harm to others. When we are jealous, hateful, or exclusionary, we lose our effectiveness in proclaiming the Gospel; we lose our saltiness. Here’s where the part about “everyone [being] salted with fire” comes in (Mark 9:49). The image of being salted with fire symbolizes cleansing, purging, and refining. Jesus doesn’t expect us to be perfect, but he does expect us to try our best to follow him and when we stray, to admit our wrongdoing and ask for forgiveness. 

Today’s passage is calling us to self-reflection: what stumbling blocks are we putting in others’ way? When have we prevented someone from receiving the Good News of Christ? What parts of our lives that we think are essential are actually separating us from God?

Perhaps no one in the past few years has done more to spread the Gospel of Christ than Pope Francis. His actions have brought hope to millions of people, Christian and otherwise. Actions like refusing the fancy clothes, cars, and housing typically reserved for the Pope. Like sneaking out of the Vatican at night to feed the homeless. Like spending some of his limited time in Philly meeting with prisoners to highlight the problem of mass incarceration in this nation. 

What appeals to people about Pope Francis is his humility and compassion; the Pope points to Christ with his words as well as his actions. In his speech to Congress, among other things, he said, “A nation can be considered great when it defends liberty as Lincoln did, when it fosters a culture which enables people to “dream” of full rights for all their brothers and sisters, as Martin Luther King sought to do; when it strives for justice and the cause of the oppressed, as Dorothy Day did by her tireless work, the fruit of a faith which becomes dialogue and sows peace in the contemplative style of Thomas Merton” (Pope Francis’ address to the U.S. Congress, September 25, 2015). 

We need reminders from time to time of how and why we need to lead our lives according to the Gospel. Pope Francis lives out the Gospel of Christ, adding flavor to this typically cynical, bitter world.

The Pope’s message is the same as Jesus’. We are being called to live into our baptismal vows of spreading the Good News and recognizing each person as a beloved child of God. May we be inspired this weekend by Jesus’ words and the witness of Pope Francis to follow in Christ’s footsteps.

Waiting to see Pope Francis drive by in the Popemobile

Saturday, September 26th, 2015

be opened

St. Thomas’ Church, Whitemarsh

Proper 18, Year B, 2015
Audio version here.

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. Amen. 

When you picture Jesus, what is he like? Most often I imagine him walking through the streets, surrounded by a crowd, teaching, preaching, and healing people. Sometimes I picture him sitting around a table with his disciples, cracking jokes, grateful for a chance to rest after a long day. Jesus must have had a magnetic personality to attract so many followers. Perhaps it’s because I’m an introvert, but I tend to envision Jesus speaking not so much with a booming voice, but commanding respect from a place within of deep peace and conviction, with a twinkle in his eye.  

To be sure, these are all safe images. I would venture to say that most of us do not like to think about the angry Jesus who throws the tables in the temple over and chases people out with whips or the Jesus who turns away a disciple because he wants to bury his father first. But all of these images together make up a more complete picture of the complex person who we know Jesus to be. 

We are faced with another uncomfortable version of Jesus in today’s Gospel reading. Jesus has been traveling around for some time now, healing and teaching and performing miracles. He has selected his disciples, lost his cousin John the Baptist, fed thousands of people, walked hundreds of miles on dusty roads surrounded by crowds, and as we heard last week, the Pharisees—religious leaders—have been on his back, criticizing his methods. He’s undoubtedly exhausted! So he heads up into a land occupied mostly by foreigners where no one knows him so he can escape from all of it for a while. The text says “Jesus…went away to the region of Tyre…entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there” (Mark 7:24). However, his respite is short-lived; he cannot “escape notice” for a local woman hears about him “immediately” (vv. 24, 25). 

I don’t know about you, but I tend to get a bit grumpy when I don’t get enough rest, especially when I’ve been traveling for a long time. And my attitude is not improved when, just as I’ve put my feet up and begun to relax, someone asks a favor of me, especially when that person is a stranger and not a close friend or family member. So I can certainly relate to Jesus’ impatience when the Syrophoenician woman interrupts his well-deserved vacation. 

The woman is desperate; her little girl has “an unclean spirit” and she is at her wit’s end. She has heard a rumor that a healer is in town, one who has cast out demons on several occasions. Maybe he can heal her daughter!! She busts into the house where Jesus is staying and throws herself at his feet, begging him to cure her child. 

The woman’s request is not an unusual one. Jesus has already cured a Gentile man possessed by demons earlier in Mark’s Gospel (5:1-20). Why is his reaction to her so strong? Jesus’ rude response calling the woman and her daughter dogs is not simply a retort from our weary, aggravated Lord. No, this response comes from a place much deeper than that. Jesus has grown up a Jew, the son of Jewish parents, in a Jewish community. Being Jewish, as far as his family and community are concerned, is his primary identity. The Jews of the time keep to themselves, as do the other ethnic and religious groups. The Jews are God’s chosen people, and there are laws in place preventing them from mingling with people of other faiths, lest they become tempted by their neighbor’s gods. 

When we segregate ourselves we begin to view people not part of our group as “other”, which can easily translate to “less than”, especially if there is a power differential involved. In this case, the wealthy landowners in the region of Tyre have been exploiting their Jewish neighbors.* And so it is from this place of deep-seated distrust and prejudice that Jesus calls the woman and her little girl dogs, not worthy to receive the same treatment as God’s chosen children. 

Let that sink in for a moment. In this passage we have been privy to a very human moment in Jesus’ life. This is not the kind, compassionate Jesus we like to think about. Jesus’ prejudice is showing, and it is not pretty; prejudice doesn’t look good on anyone, least of all the Son of God. 

Luckily, the story doesn’t end there. The courageous woman comes right back and declares that God is big enough to also provide for her and her people, even if they are dogs and not God’s chosen children. There is room for everyone at God’s table. 

I can imagine the look of shock on Jesus’ face at being spoken to in such a way by a Gentile woman. And then almost as quickly the dawning realization as the woman’s words begin to sink in that his mission is much larger than he initially thought. The Syrophoenician woman has done the incredible: she has changed Jesus’ mind. 

There are only two times in the Bible where Jesus changes his mind. One is this instance today, and one is at the wedding in Cana, when Mary convinces Jesus to perform his first miracle and turn water into wine (John 2:1-11). Both times it is women who convince him to change. In a patriarchal society, this is huge!

The woman’s love, courage, and conviction change Jesus’ mind, opening him up to expand his ministry and reach out to all people, and not just his own.  

The next story in today’s passage is another healing one, and it serves as a metaphor for Jesus’ newly-broadened vision. Jesus heals a deaf man with a speech impediment. Just as the man’s ears are opened, Jesus has been opened to the universality of God’s love. 

The Good News of God’s universal love is especially pertinent today. The Presiding Bishop, Katherine Jefferts Schori, sent a letter to clergy this week, “calling on Episcopal congregations to participate in ‘Confession, Repentance, and Commitment to End Racism Sunday’ on September 6.” In light of the systemic racism found in our society brought to the Church’s awareness especially on June 17th in Charleston, South Carolina, we are joining our sisters and brothers in the AME Church and other denominations in praying for and working toward an end to racism. In the Presiding Bishop’s letter, she quoted AME Bishop Reginald T. Jackson, who said, “Racism will not end with the passage of legislation alone; it will also require a change of heart and thinking. This is an effort which the faith community must lead, and be the conscience of the nation. We will call upon every church, temple, mosque and faith communion to make their worship service on this Sunday a time to confess and repent for the sin and evil of racism, this includes ignoring, tolerating and accepting racism, and to make a commitment to end racism by the example of our lives and actions.” 

Katherine Jefferts Schori’s letter goes on to inform us that this summer at General Convention, a resolution was passed stating that, “The Church understands and affirms that the call to pray and act for racial reconciliation is integral to our witness to the Gospel of Jesus Christ and to our living into the demands of our Baptismal Covenant” (Resolution C019 of the 78th General Convention). 

The vows we make in our Baptismal Covenant include the promise to “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being” (BCP 305). We are called to examine our lives to see where our prejudice shuts people out rather than welcoming them in, and where our privilege gives us unfair advantages over others. 

In our world we are inundated with information and images. Every day we hear of horrible things happening around the world and in our own backyard. Admittedly, the enormity of the pain and suffering and tragedy is overwhelming, and it’s much easier to block out the sound of distress than to try to choose where to start helping. But we can no longer keep all of this at a comfortable distance. We can no longer make excuses to ignore what's going on around us. Like the deaf man, our ears must be opened to hear the cries of our neighbors in distress. Like the deaf man, our tongues must be loosened to repent of our discrimination and call for reconciliation and justice. Like Jesus, our vision of the children of God should be widened to include all people, regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, faith, age, or socioeconomic status. 

So...where to begin?

This Saturday there is a 5-K to support St. James School, an Episcopal middle school in North Philadelphia that serves children growing up in low-income families in the neighborhoods surrounding the school. Not only do they teach children the core subjects, but they also have an anti-racism curriculum. The effect of the education goes beyond the students to their families and community, as the students are required to do community service. Our middle and high school youth groups have been tutoring students once a month this past year and have found it to be an eye-opening and incredible experience. I invite you to join us in tutoring one Saturday to get to know these wonderful kids who come from a different walk of life. 

This fall we will be offering a book study to begin examining racism and privilege in America. During this time we will listen to and share stories to examine how privileges and challenges have affected our lives and the lives of our neighbors. It will give us an opportunity to broaden our perspective. I hope you will join us!

On October 17th the Diocese is hosting a symposium on the history of race, slavery, and discrimination in our diocese. This is a response to the resolution from General Convention that I mentioned earlier. 

These are just some of the ways to educate ourselves, to open our eyes to where our prejudices cause separation among God's people. Jesus didn't come to the realization of God's universal love on his own; he listened to the Syrophoenician woman's story and his heart was changed. May our own ears be opened to listen to our neighbors' stories, our hearts opened to expanding, and our tongues loosened to go forth into the world rejoicing in the spirit and proclaiming God's all-embracing love. 

Image of Jesus and the Syrophoenician woman found here.

*Wilhelm, Dawn Ottoni. “Mark 7:24-37.” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 3. p. 47.

white clergy reading racism: intro

As a young clergy woman (YCW), one of the things that has helped my ministry the most is being a part of the Young Clergy Women Project (YCWP). The YCWP is a private Facebook group for women clergy (Christian) who are ordained before 35 and includes women up to age 40. As of today, there are 832 women from various denominations all over the world who are part of the group. We share our joys, sorrows, struggles, victories, resources, jokes, sermon ideas, and prayer requests. I can't tell you how much it has meant to me to have this resource; work in the Church is rewarding but also very challenging, and without the support of the group, I might have considered leaving ministry a long time ago. 

In light of recent events in our country, some members of the YCWP have formed a sub-group to discuss matters of race. The description of the group says, "This group begins from the assumption that white folks need to educate ourselves about the history and present reality of racism and racial dynamics in the US context in order to create meaningful change...this is a place for loving accountability...while the conversation is focused on the education of white folks, members of color are welcome." The group is not limited to white folks, but we are the ones who need to be doing the work of learning about our privilege and educating ourselves on issues of race; it is not the responsibility of people of color to teach us, though I welcome any insight that people of color are willing to give us (if we think this work is hard, remember that many people have to live with this reality every day). 

In the sub-group we share articles and resources for having discussions about race in our faith communities as well as committing to reading books together. Our first book is Bruce Reyes-Chow's But I Don't See You as Asian: Curating Conversations about Race. We will read one chapter every two weeks and answer questions. I would love it if you read along with me/us! I know that race and racism are neither easy nor pleasant topics to discuss, and that in the course of this process I will have to face some really uncomfortable realizations about myself. But things in this country cannot stay the way they are, and so in order to help bring about change, I need to begin by challenging my own assumptions, stereotypes, and biases. I need to change my heart. 

You are welcome to participate in this process to the degree with which you feel comfortable, whether that's reading along and answering the questions on your own, to just reading this blog (although if you're following along I would be worried if you didn't become uncomfortable at some point). Note that these answers, thoughts, and experiences are my own, and do not necessarily represent that of the Church or anyone/anything else. I will do my best to be as honest, open, and vulnerable as I feel safe and comfortable. I ask that you be respectful in your responses; as it says in our sub-group: "this is a place for loving accountability--I hope we can assume good intentions while also gently pointing out places where [we] need to examine assumptions, learn new language, or do further research." Thanks for joining me!

image found here

Here are the questions for Chapter 1:

1. Reyes-Chow seeks an audience of readers who are "living in the tension between intellectual pursuit and passionate action." How or why does this describe you?
2. In discussing privilege, Reyes-Chow cites some tweets from the #blackprivilege response. Did any of the tweets in the book (or those you found on Twitter) offer you a new lens on racism?
3. Especially for (young clergy) women, how did you relate to the dismissive comment that "gender doesn't matter anymore"? Does or does this not help you enter into the conversation about race?
4. How do you experience this truth in your church and in your life of faith that the "church too often finds itself trapped in the vernacular and strategies of a generation past. We have failed to find new ways to deal with the nature of race and racism that manifests in different ways"? Where do you see hope?
5. Reyes-Chow concludes this chapter with a statement about Christianity's role in conversations about race. How might you claim this possibility as a guiding force in your ministry and/or your life?

a reflection on negative symbols

My friend Melanie M. sent me this article (http://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2014/07/the-graffiti-that-made-germany-better/373872/?utm_source=SFFB#disqus_thread) and wanted to know what I thought about it, since I am half-German. Her church has "made public invitations to a process of 'prayerful discussions' about [their] historic confederate architecture and symbols throughout the worship space"(the symbols include the Confederate flag). What follows is what I sent to her [side note: just to be clear, I agree with the removal of the Confederate flag from all state buildings with the exception of museums].

Here are my thoughts, as a half-German who has never lived in Germany:

I think [the article is] a great illustration. It presents the arguments for the many various cases for the decisions that people have to face in a situation similar to yours. 

What is the reason for the flag's removal? If it is because it is (understandably!) offensive to worshipers and it inhibits their ability to worship as part of the community, then by all means, it should be removed. 

But if it is because it is embarrassing to the worshipers, or makes them feel guilty or uncomfortable, then I think that is not a good enough reason to remove it, and probably all the more reason to keep it and own the full history of the congregation/city/country. 

What I'm afraid of is that the Confederate flag is going to be removed as a way of whitewashing our history, of deleting our past because white people can't face the fact that we were (are) complicit in the subjugation of black people. 

With the removal of the flag, are we making actual steps toward reconciliation, or is it just an easy way for white people to pat ourselves on the back and say that we did something without owning what we did in the past (or present)?

People are not cut and dry; we are complicated, nuanced creatures, and we have both good and bad at play (at war?) within us. To quote one of my favorite book series (Harry Potter, of course): "We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are" [for context: This is when Sirius Black and Harry are looking at a tapestry with Sirius' family tree. Many of his family members were evil wizards, but Sirius fought for the side of good].

I think this is why I have always had a morbid fascination with the Holocaust--I think that for so long I have sought to understand how the people I loved, who I knew as good and kind people, were part of a system/society that committed such atrocities. And I admit that I feel personally responsible for what happened, though I am two generations removed (I have heard that even younger generations feel similarly). But what I have begun to realize (rather late, I'm afraid) is that "good" people are capable of evil acts, and "bad" people are capable of generosity and kindness (Matthew 7:7-11 seems to echo--well, foreshadow, I suppose--this somewhat). 

What I appreciate about the Reichstag building keeping the graffiti is that it makes us Germans face the entirety of who we are as people. We are not all bad, and we are not all good. We are simply broken people, made in the image of a God who loves us despite our brokenness. It is through acknowledging this brokenness and our desperate need for God that we are finally able to take steps toward reconciliation. 

Image of graffiti from the article I mentioned above. 

in the margins

St. Thomas’ Church, Whitemarsh

Proper 8, Year B, 2015

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. Amen.

You’ve heard me fondly refer to Mark’s Gospel as the comic book Gospel. While I maintain that claim because of Mark’s quick jumps from action to action, I would be remiss not to give Mark credit for instances of elegance and symmetry found in the midst of those actions. 

We have before us today a story within a story. Both tales deal with healing, with the unclean, with the marginalized. While there are many parallels, there are also several contrasting elements. On the one hand, we have Jairus: a religious leader, respected member of society, and most likely a pretty wealthy man. On the other hand, we have the hemorrhaging woman: unnamed, unclean, unimportant. They couldn’t be more different from one another, yet they both approach Jesus in a state of desperation, and risking their reputation and perhaps even safety, they throw themselves at Jesus’ feet.

Jairus’ persistent pleas are met with silent consent; Jesus gets out of the boat and begins to follow Jairus, the crowd pressing in around them. This is the moment when the hemorrhaging woman makes her move. 

Now, when reading the Bible, it is important to note when people are named. We know Jairus’ name, but the woman remains anonymous; and yet we are given the woman’s back story and are even privy to her thoughts, so in a way, we know more about her than Jairus. The woman has been suffering from this blood disorder for as long as Jairus’ daughter has been alive: 12 years. She’s done everything she could—spent all of her money—on trying to come up with a cure, to no avail. She hears about Jesus and, having absolutely nothing to lose, not even her dignity, she sneaks into the crowd and reaches for his robe. 

Now, Jesus could choose to ignore the woman’s touch; after all, he is on his way to the house of an important spiritual leader whose daughter is on the brink of death. But, in typical Jesus fashion, relationship trumps status, and Jesus stops, the whole crowd halting with him. He has sensed power leaving his body, perceived that someone has believed in him. And rather than disregard it, he wants to talk to this person face-to-face. The woman benefits twice from this act: she has been focused on her mission for so long that she cannot think about anything beyond physical healing. When she confesses to Jesus that she is the one who has touched him, he affirms her faith, but also acknowledges in front of everyone that she has been healed; she is now able to return to society. What’s more, by naming her “Daughter,” he has invited her into his family, recognizing her identity as a child of God. 

As Jesus is saying these words, messengers come to relay the news that Jairus’ daughter has died. Now it is the little girl who has become unclean. She is a child, considered property, and even less valuable than a boy, who at least can carry the family name. Rather than leave well enough alone and focus on the many sick people around him, Jesus leaves the crowd and most of his disciples behind and goes to Jairus’ house. Once again, Jesus has demonstrated that he prioritizes the marginalized. Evoking memories of the prophets Elijah and Elisha, the only other people to have raised the dead, Jesus tells the little girl to “get up” (Mark 5:41). Then Jesus asks them to give her something to eat (Mark 5:43), showing his care for the child as well as foreshadowing his own post-resurrection meal on the beach (John 21:12-14). 

There is another element of this story that we lose in our modern context, now that we don’t live our lives according to the Laws of the Old Testament.

Because of the effects of her particular disorder, the hemorrhaging woman is considered unclean, untouchable. She is supposed to warn people of her presence so that they can get out of her way. Imagine going 12 years without touching or being touched by anyone. Reports have shown that infants can have all the required basic necessities: food, shelter, clothing, and medical care, but if they are neglected—if they are not held or touched enough— they will die. While it may not be life-threatening for an adult, the psychological and emotional devastation is huge. 

We may think that we are immune from this type of neglect, that we Americans are much more advanced than the orphanages in Romania, where after the Communist government fell, thousands of orphans were crowded into orphanages and abuse and neglect ran rampant. We might think that we are way more civilized than Jesus’ first century Palestine, under vicious Roman rule. 

And in many ways, we are. But in many ways, we are also not so different.

Let us not forget that for hundreds of years in our own country we thought that slavery was not only okay, but authorized by God. And that even when slavery ended, laws were created so that African Americans were not allowed to drink from the same water fountains, swim in the same pools, shop in the same stores, go to the same schools, or marry someone who was white. Imagine the effects of that kind of discrimination, of being seen as less than, over the years. It turns out we are not so very different from the society that shunned the hemorrhaging woman.  

I think this is why we are so moved by stories of people who cross societal boundaries to aid in the healing process of others: think of Mother Teresa bathing lepers, of nurses caring for AIDS patients in the late 80s and early 90s, when the process of transmission of the disease was still unknown. And not just healing in the sense of sickness, but healing divisions, as well. People like martyr Jonathan Daniels, who 50 years ago left seminary early to come down to Alabama and help with the Civil Rights Movement. People like the Lovings, who fought for their right to marry the person they loved, regardless of race. And people like the members of Mother Emmanuel AME Church’s Bible study, who warmly welcomed a young white man into their sanctuary. 

In today’s Gospel, Jesus shows us that he consistently prioritizes people on the margins of society. He is inviting us to reflect on our own lives:  Who have we welcomed into our family, and who have we left out? What things or people claim our attention? How can we take part in the healing process?  

In our baptismal covenant, which we renew every time someone is baptized or confirmed in our church, one of the things we vow to do is to “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being” (BCP 305). We recognize that we have a long way to go, but we do not face this journey alone. God is with us, and we will be able to accomplish everything “with God’s help” (BCP 305). 

Photo by Elliott Erwitt found here.

Image found here.

Image found here.

Image found here.

get in the boat

St. Thomas’ Church, Whitemarsh

Proper 7, Year B, 2015 

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. Amen.

"Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” (Mark 4:38)

These are the words of Jesus’ disciples: terrified, anxious, panicking because of the waves beating fiercely against the boat. The incident takes place early on in Jesus’ ministry, and the disciples call Jesus “Teacher,” not yet realizing that he is the Son of God. They cry out in their fear, completely taken aback that Jesus is not interfering when their lives are in danger. 

Today we find ourselves also faced with a storm. The horrific killing of nine Christians at Mother Emmanuel AME Church last Wednesday night have us crying out to God, just like the disciples, “Do you not care that we are perishing?” 

Every time we are faced with senseless death, we repeat this question to God. Following natural disasters, upon being diagnosed with a life-threatening illness, or after freak accidents: “God, do you not care that we are perishing?”

But today the storm that we face is a storm of our own making. And now it is our brothers and sisters of color who are crying out to the privileged—to you and to me—“Fellow Americans, fellow Christians, fellow children of God, do you not care that we are perishing?”

Too often we have responded to acts of violence with passive hopelessness. We are quick to quell protests, claiming that we seek peace, and protests are not the way to achieve it. But our mantra of “Peace! Be still!” only serves to stifle the voices of the people who are suffering. When we advocate for peace, what we are really advocating for is maintaining the status quo. Change makes us feel uncomfortable. We don’t want to change, because the truth is, we benefit greatly from the way things are right now. But you and I have benefited far too long at the expense of our sisters and brothers of color. 

Fifty two years ago Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. sat in a jail cell in Birmingham, Alabama, and wrote a letter to white Southern clergy responding to their claim that it wasn’t the right time for action. He lamented their lack of participation, saying “all too many [religious leaders] have been more cautious than courageous and have remained silent behind the anesthetizing security of stained-glass windows” (MLK, Jr. in Letter from a Birmingham Jail). He grieved that white people of faith were choosing not to get involved, pointing out the blindness of their privilege “I guess I should have realized that few members of a race that has oppressed another race can understand or appreciate the deep groans and passionate yearnings of those that have been oppressed, and still fewer have the vision to see that injustice must be rooted out by strong, persistent, and determined action” (ibid.). 

The month after Dr. King wrote this letter, he addressed a congregation in mourning. The reason for their grieving? On September 15, 1963, a bomb exploded at 16th St. Baptist Church in Birmingham, killing 4 young girls. Four white men, motivated by hatred due to their racist beliefs, took the lives of four innocent children as they sat in church learning about God. The bombing became a turning point in the Civil Rights Movement, helping lead to the passing of the Civil Rights Act the following year. 

What happened last week in Charleston is really not all that different from what happened at a different church in a different town 52 years ago. Just as a moment of tragedy was a turning point for the Civil Rights Movement back then, let us honor the lives of the 9 martyrs—Sharonda, Cynthia, Tywanza, Depayne, Susie, Ethel, Clementa, Daniel, and Myra— let us use this moment of tragedy as a turning point for us. 

Dr. King’s words in that jail cell 52 years ago still ring true today: “We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the vitriolic words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people. We must come to see that human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability. It comes through the tireless efforts and persistent work of men willing to be coworkers with God, and without this hard work time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation” (MLK, Jr. in Letter from a Birmingham Jail).

As Philadelphians, we are well-acquainted with the Declaration of Independence: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness” (The Declaration of Independence). As Derrick pointed out to me the other day, “there’s a reason why ‘life’ was listed first, before ‘liberty’ or ‘pursuit of happiness’”. It seems we have been confusing the order, placing the pursuit of our own happiness before the lives of others. It’s time to change that back around.

Earlier this morning we welcomed a little girl named Fiona into the Body of Christ through the waters of baptism. Every time we baptize someone, we recommit ourselves to following Christ by renewing our Baptismal covenant. One of the things we vow to do is to “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being” (BCP 305).

So, where do we start? First and foremost, we begin with prayer, both personal and communal. Prayer reorients us to right relationship with God and each other. But we can’t stop there. We also need to get involved in conversations about privilege and racism. Intentionally seek out and listen to the voices of people of color. Read articles and books on these issues. Call people out when they make racist jokes or treat people differently based on the color of their skin. Get involved in community events and learn to know our neighbors. To this last end, this Wednesday night at 6:30pm the Wissahickon Faith Community Association, a local interfaith group, is hosting a Solidarity March to “stand against hatred, violence and intolerance.” The march will conclude at Bethlehem Baptist Church with a healing service. I hope you will join me. 

One of the most poignant things about the events of last week was the response of the family members of the martyrs. They shared their pain and grief with the man who murdered their loved ones, but each one of them spoke words of forgiveness, as well. If that’s not the Gospel of Jesus Christ lived out, I don’t know what is. In the face of tragedy and in the wake of such a demonstration of love, we are compelled to act and respond to our sisters and brothers, “Yes—we DO care that you are perishing!”

Toward the end of Dr. King’s letter, he remarked, “…[T]he judgment of God is upon the church as never before. If the church of today does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authentic ring, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century” (MLK, Jr. in Letter from a Birmingham Jail).

Jesus is calling us to action. It’s time to get in the boat with him and “go across to the other side” (Mark 4:35). 

The 9 martyrs of Charleston

(image found here)

those crazy Christians

St. Thomas’ Church, Whitemarsh

Proper 5, Year B, 2015

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. Amen. 

When we picture Jesus, I imagine most of us have an image of a long-haired, sandal-wearing, roaming preacher who healed the sick and spoke gentle words of love and peace and forgiveness. I’ll admit this is the first image that pops into my mind, as well. But this is not the complete picture of Jesus, which is made quite clear when we have passages like the one today.  

In this section of Mark’s Gospel, Jesus is in the very beginning of his ministry. He has traveled around the Holy Land, teaching and healing the sick. Just before today’s reading, he has chosen the last of his 12 disciples and now he has made his way back to his hometown. Rather than welcome him with open arms, however, his family comes to where the crowd has gathered around him to bring him home because they think he’s gone crazy. The townspeople are afraid of the miraculous things Jesus has been doing, especially his performing exorcisms. Now, I don’t think that exorcisms happen the way they do in Hollywood movies, but the fact that we have horror films entirely devoted to this rite demonstrates the power of the evil that is represented; demons are not something to mess around with, and the townspeople know it. The only logical explanation the townspeople can come up with is that Jesus must be in league with the devil, otherwise how could he have the ability to counter such a powerful force? The other option is that Jesus has lost his marbles. 

As Christians, we may find ourselves in a similar situation as Jesus. The world, and especially the U.S., is becoming increasingly secular, and as a result, it is no longer out of the ordinary to find people who do not identify as Christian, whether religiously or even merely culturally. In fact, a growing number of people have not grown up in a faith community at all. As this trend continues, cultural perspective is shifting. Gone are the days when Sunday was a day of rest and holy obligation; now we have sports and rehearsals and brunch taking up that sacred time. People now might wonder: Why would you get up early when you have the chance to sleep in? Why would you make the kids come to one more thing when they are already so over-programmed? In this day and age of incredible scientific advancements, isn’t believing in God old-fashioned or naive, like the adult version of believing in Kris Kringle? 

Maybe some of those same questions have run through your mind before. Maybe you’re struggling with these issues right now. I know I’ve thought about them often! 

But I think that we—you and I—whether we are aware of it or not, are here tonight because something about Jesus’ life and ministry has made an impact on our lives, or we have felt the tugging of the Holy Spirit, masked as a yearning for something deeper and more profound. We have realized the truth found in the Gospels, the truth of a God who loves us so profoundly that God took on human flesh, lived among us, and showed that not even death can keep us from God’s love. 

If you think about it, Jesus’ teachings don’t make sense--not by the world’s standards, anyway. Where society says “me and mine first,” Christ answers “love your God and love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:30-31, Matt 26:38-39, Luke 10:27). Where the world says the goal of life is to achieve success and wealth, Christ counters, “[the] first will be last…[and the] last will be first” (Matt 19:30, Luke 9:48). Where leaders, filled with greed and lusting for power, plot wars against each other, Christ responds, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God” (Matthew 5:9). 

The Good News of Jesus is radical, flying in the face of society’s messages of consumerism, violence, individualism, and corruption. To be a Christian in this day and age is to go against culture, and people may think us crazy for it. In the words of the Apostle Paul, “We are fools for the sake of Christ…[w]hen reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; when slandered, we speak kindly. We have become like the rubbish of the world, the dregs of all things, to this very day (1 Corinthians 4:10, 12-13). 

When people told Jesus that his mother and brothers had come to collect and restrain him, Jesus looked out at the crowd and said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother” (Mark 3:34-35). 

Jesus welcomes all who follow him into the Body of Christ. We are all fools for Christ. And we are in good company.

Image found here.