the destruction of the illusion of security

St. Thomas' Church, Whitemarsh

Proper 28, Year B, 2015

Mark 13:1-8

“Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down" (Mark 13:2).

After the Israelites escaped from slavery in Egypt and were making their way to the Promised Land, God traveled with them in a tent. When they finally made it to the Promised Land, the Israelites were able to build a proper temple in which God could reside. The temple in Jerusalem was a sign of God’s presence among the Israelites. They believed God dwelt in a sacred space within the temple, called the Holy of Holies. The Israelites felt safe knowing that God was right there with them, that God was on their side. 

Now, the stones that made up the temple were massive. They were not small like those that make up the walls of St. Thomas’, but were several feet long by several feet wide by several feet tall. They weren’t easily moved; God’s dwelling place was secure, and so the people of Israel were also secure.

But in 70 AD, the temple was destroyed by the Roman army in response to a rebellion, and any illusion of God’s divine protection vanished. As Jesus predicted, the stones were thrown down, and it seemed to dash the Israelites’ hopes, as well. I imagine they must have felt abandoned by God.

a mourner at one of the sites in Paris

The past few days have been difficult. On Thursday, 67 people were killed by a truck bomb in Baghdad, Iraq. Also on Thursday, suicide bombers killed 43 people in Beirut, Lebanon. And on Friday night, 132 people were killed in multiple suicide bombings and shootings in Paris, France. The last one, in particular, seems to have struck a chord throughout the world. Like the Israelites in the aftermath of the sacking of Jerusalem, our temple, our illusion of security in the West, has been shattered. We have once again been reminded that just because we are faithful Christians or decent human beings doesn’t mean that we are immune to bad things happening to us and to the people we love. Unfortunately, this is not the way the world works. Like the Israelites, we may be feeling abandoned by God, too.

I can’t tell you why God doesn’t prevent bad things like this from happening. I can’t tell you why God allows us to commit these violent crimes against each other. I do believe with all my heart that God doesn’t want to see us suffer, and indeed that it must tear God up inside to watch us destroy one another this way. After all, God created this world, God “knit [us] together in [our] mother’s womb,” God counts the number of hairs on our heads and calls us each by name (Psalm 139:12; Luke 12:7). But God didn’t create us to be automatons; God wanted us to love freely, and because we are flawed creatures, this means that we are free to make both good and bad decisions, free to love as well as to inflict pain.

God does understand what it means to be human, though. What it means to be faced with difficult decisions and to see people you love treated poorly. To know that for every one person you help, there are 10,000 more who need it just as desperately. How it feels to be betrayed and abandoned and abused and tortured and finally killed.

If we put our faith and hope solely into this world, we will come away disheartened. But as Christians, our hope is not in this world; Jesus spoke of another, greater existence—the kingdom of God. And if we look closely, there are signs of the in-breaking of the kingdom of God—and of God’s presence—all around us, even and perhaps especially in times of tragedy.

The much-loved Mr. Rogers once said, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’” When the attacks in Paris happened, a hashtag that translates to “Open Door” began surfacing on twitter, offering people stranded in the city a safe place to escape from the violence. Taxis turned off their meters and drove people to home or to safety free of charge. Yesterday hundreds of Parisians lined up to donate blood to assist the more than 350 people injured in the attacks. And perhaps the best example of all, last Thursday, right after the first suicide bomb went off in Beirut, Adel Termos left his daughter’s side and tackled a second suicide bomber headed for the crowd, saving hundreds of lives by giving up his own.

Love is not merely a feeling; it is an action. Love put into action is a sign of the kingdom of God breaking into our world. The love put into action in Paris and Beirut and the many examples of people all around the world, from India to Israel to Korea to Iran, expressing sorrow in solidarity with Parisians, is where I find hope in the midst of this tragedy.

Jesus warned his disciples, “When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed…” (Mark 13:7). This is perhaps easier said than done, but I think what he was trying to convey to his disciples is that they should not be “thrown into an emotional uproar,” to be overcome by all the evil that exists in the world. Despite our best efforts, the world will never be a truly peaceful place, and there will never be a time when the world is in complete harmony.

Several of my friends have been sharing this poem by the Somali-British poet Warsan Shire:

later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?

it answered 
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.

We are reminded daily that this world that we live in is not the kingdom of God.

And yet. 

And yet God is calling us to overcome the evil we experience by putting our love into action and helping to bring about the kingdom of God. To be the voices speaking against violence and working to bring about justice and peace. To show compassion for our neighbors, which as much as I hate to admit it, includes our enemies.

If the task seems too great, if the cause seems hopeless, if all of the pain and suffering and death is too overwhelming, remember that we do not walk this road alone. Jesus showed us the way of peace, love, and mercy, and promised that we would never be abandoned on this path, though it may feel that way sometimes.

We are assured of God’s abiding presence in the Old Testament (Psalm 139, 6-9):

6	Where can I go then from your Spirit? *     where can I flee from your presence?
7	If I climb up to heaven, you are there; *     if I make the grave my bed, you are there also.
8	If I take the wings of the morning *     and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
9	Even there your hand will lead me *     and your right hand hold me fast.

God is with us.

And we are assured of God’s abiding presence in the New Testament (Romans 8:35-39):

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written,

“For your sake we are being killed all day long;
    we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.”

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

God is with us.

All this death and destruction is “but the beginning of the birthpangs” (Mark 13:8). And what follows the birthpangs? A birth, of course! In two short weeks we will begin the season of Advent, in which we prepare for the birth of Jesus, Immanuel, God with us. It is also the time of year in which we prepare for Jesus’s second coming, when God and God’s kingdom will once again break into the world, and we will see a new heaven and a new earth, God will make all things new, God will wipe away every tear from our eyes and will—once and for all—put an end to suffering (Revelation 21).

Until that day, we carry on, putting love into action, doing our part to bring about the kingdom of God.

answering the call of Christ

The Feast of St. Martin of Tours

November 11, 2015

COLLECT
Lord God of hosts, who didst clothe thy servant Martin the soldier with the spirit of sacrifice, and didst set him as a bishop in thy Church to be a defender of the catholic faith: Give us grace to follow in his holy steps, that at the last we may be found clothed with righteousness in the dwellings of peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.

Martin of Tours

Martin was born in 330 in what is now roughly Yugoslavia. His dad was in the military; when Martin was 15, his dad enlisted him in the army. Martin saw a beggar one winter’s day who didn’t have clothes for the cold weather. He tore his cloak in half and gave ½ to the beggar. That night, Martin dreamed that he saw Christ wearing ½ of his cloak. He was baptized soon after this. 

Martin asked to be released from his military service after the next campaign: “Hitherto I have faithfully served Caesar. Let me now serve Christ.” The army didn’t take too kindly to this and accused him of cowardice. In response, he offered to stand unarmed between the armies. They jailed him, but released him when the armies signed a peace treaty.

Martin became a student of Hilary of Poitiers, who opposed the Arian denial of the full divinity of Christ. He went back home and argued so effectively against the Arian view that he was chased out of town. He made his way back to France and founded the first monastery there (which remained open until the French Revolution!).

Martin was elected Bishop of Tours in 371. Tours was mostly pagan. There is a legend that the pagans worshiped a large tree in the town center. The pagans offered to cut it down if Martin would volunteer to stand in the path of its fall. He agreed and the tree narrowly missed him. Also in Tours, Martin intervened when the Imperial Guard were going to torture and execute a batch of prisoners. He was able to get them released.

In 384 a man named Priscillian and 6 of his followers were found guilty of heresy. A group of bishops gathered and asked the emperor to execute them. Martin spoke up and said that heretics should not be tried and punished by the government but within the Church; up until that point excommunication had been sufficient, and he argued that this should be their punishment rather than death. Martin waited for the emperor to agree to this and then left. As soon as he left, some remaining bishops convinced the emperor to break his promise; Priscillian and his 6 followers became the first people to be killed for heresy. In turn, Martin excommunicated the bishops that had done this. He eventually brought them back into communion, however, in exchange for a pardon by the emperor for some men who had been sentenced to death and for the emperor’s promise not to kill any more of Priscillian’s followers.

Martin died around November 11^th 397. His shrine is a stop along the Camino de Santiago de Compostela.

November 11^th is also Armistice Day, the day when fighting in WWI, the “war to end all wars” ended. It was intended to be a day “dedicated to the cause of world peace.” In 1954, after the horrors of WWII had ended, President Eisenhower changed the holiday to Veteran’s Day, a day to honor veterans of all wars. This is not to be confused with Memorial Day, which honors those who have given the ultimate sacrifice—their lives—in service to our country.

It is appropriate that St. Martin’s Feast Day coincides with Veteran’s Day. As a veteran himself, dedicated to peace and mercy, Martin is emblematic of the original intent of Armistice Day: to focus on world peace.

Martin served his country faithfully and then devoted his life to faithfully serving Christ and the Church. May we be inspired by his example to be dedicated to the cause of Christ and the way of peace, where the focus is on different battles (and I’m not talking about the "war" on Christmas): rather, the war on poverty, war on discrimination and racism, war on mass incarceration. These are the battles of Christ. It is for these causes that we fight.

Today we honor those who answered the call of country. May we, in the same way, be moved to answer the call of Christ. Amen.

  

My grandmother, a cradle Episcopalian and veteran who served in WWII, 

on her 90th birthday (2012). In her service to both God and country,

she has had and continues to have a profound impact on my faith life. 

(photo credit: Jim Shine)

Here's a picture of my grandma when she served in the psych department during WWII.

Collect and Information on St. Martin: James Kiefer http://satucket.com/lectionary/Martin_Tours.htm

Information on Armistice/Veteran’s Day: U.S. Dept. of Veterans Affairs http://www.va.gov/opa/vetsday/vetdayhistory.asp

the desire for greatness

St. Thomas’ Church, Whitemarsh

Proper 24, Year B, 2015

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

Sometimes I just have to laugh at the disciples. They are so thick-skulled at times that Jesus has to repeat himself in order for them to understand the lesson he’s trying to teach. 

Just before this passage, Jesus has predicted his death and resurrection for the third and final time. After the first time, Peter refuses to believe him and is reprimanded (Mark 8:31). After the second time, the disciples argue among themselves over who is the greatest (9:33-37). And this time, James and John have once again proven they’ve missed the mark when they tell Jesus they want to be seated right next to him in all his glory (10:37).

You see, the disciples believe, rightly, that the Messiah will come to usher in a new kingdom. But they interpret this to mean that Jesus is going to overthrow the Roman empire, or at the very least kick the Romans out of Jerusalem. And so when James and John ask to be on Jesus’ right and left side, they envision him as being a powerful, earthly king. They are trying to be great by association. 

Can you believe such arrogance? No wonder the other disciples were incensed! But the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., in one of his sermons, cautions us that “…before we condemn [James and John] too quickly, let us look calmly and honestly at ourselves, and we will discover that we too have those same basic desires for recognition, for importance. That same desire for attention, that same desire to be first…It’s a kind of drum major instinct—a desire to be out front, a desire to lead the parade, a desire to be first. And it is something that runs the whole gamut of life.”

Each and every one of us has the desire to be first or best; it’s what Dr. King calls our “basic impulse.” It’s an instinct that has led to war and division, slavery and discrimination. It’s an instinct we have to keep fighting against all of our lives. 

Or perhaps, it’s an instinct that just needs to be re-framed. 

In his sermon, Dr. King continues, “ ‘[Jesus] reordered priorities. And he said, ‘Yes, don't give up this instinct. It's a good instinct if you use it right…It’s a good instinct if you don't distort it and pervert it. Don't give it up. Keep feeling the need for being important. Keep feeling the need for being first. But I want you to be first in love…I want you to be first in moral excellence. I want you to be first in generosity. That is what I want you to do.’ …and he transformed the situation by giving a new definition of greatness.”

In our world, greatness is measured in power, wealth, and prestige. But in the kingdom of God, greatness is turned upside-down; “whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all” (Mark 10:43-44). In his sermon, Dr. King proclaimed that “Nineteen centuries have come and gone and today [Jesus] stands as the most influential figure that ever entered human history. All of the armies that ever marched, all the navies that ever sailed, all the parliaments that ever sat, and all the kings that ever reigned put together…have not affected the life of man on this earth…as much as that one solitary life” ("The Drum Major Instinct" by Dr. King). 

Unlike the disciples, you and I have the benefit of hindsight. We know what happens when Jesus goes to Jerusalem. At first, it appears the disciples are correct, and Jesus is paraded through cloak-and-palm-lined streets on a donkey to cheers of “Hosannah!…Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!” (Mark 11:9-10). But in less than a week the crowds change their tune and Jesus is betrayed, tried, convicted, and put to death on a cross.

James and John are probably surprised when they realize that the two people actually on Jesus’ left and right when the kingdom of God is ushered in are the two “bandits” crucified with him (Mark 15:27). The last will be first, indeed. 

To truly follow Jesus is to live a life of service to others, “translating love from easy and possibly empty words into meaningful deeds” (William J. Byron, SJ, The Word Explained, Year B, p. 232). Jesus redefines greatness, and “by giving that definition of greatness, it means that everybody can be great…because everybody can serve” ("The Drum Major Instinct" by Dr. King).

My youngest sister once told me, “Lara, you may have set the bar, but I’m gonna raise it.” Before us today lies a challenge, to raise the bar with a new definition of greatness. May we follow Jesus’ example and help usher in the kingdom by serving one another, so that we can “take over the world not with the love of power but with the power of love” (N.T. Wright, How God Became King: The Forgotten Story of the Gospels). 

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.