Chasms great and small...Do you see them?

Peter is as faithful a participant in the congregation I serve as anyone else...More faithful than many.

Peter is a non-medicated 50 year-old schizophrenic.

Oh...and he's Jewish.

 

I inherited Peter.

 

He found St. Luke's many years ago, as a guest in our Drop In Center (a ministry in which we open our doors one Saturday/month to the mentally ill in the area. They come and spend the day and eat and have bible study and get some take-home food from Loaves & Fishes and clothes from the clothes closet and play games and are - if only for a few hours - not defined by their diagnosis). It is a remarkable ministry and a huge reason why I accepted the call here.

 

Anyhow, Peter came to us through the Drop In Center...and he just stayed. He comes to use our phone, to worship, to bible study, and he even receives communion (I haven't told the bishop this yet...but I think he'd be okay with it. He's pretty cool. And besides, you will look in vain to find anyone in scripture with whom Jesus refused to eat!).

 

Over the past several weeks, Peter has been in a more agitated state than normal.

Because he is also a hoarder (and did not get his place cleaned up within the agreed upon time frame), Peter was going to be evicted from his second apartment in as many years (He lives independently...not enough group homes or mental health facilities - Thanks NC Legislature!!).

 

If he were able to "process" in any "normal" way, I would resort to "tough love" and just make him deal with it. (Also, thanks to the NC Legislature, our already desperately overworked social workers and case managers cannot care adequately for the most vulnerable in our community, who are literally unable to care for themselves)!

 

Eviction, with all of his personal belongings "raked up" and thrown in the trash, would kill Peter (probably literally).

 

I prayed and sought counsel and asked for guidance from wise people and faithful friends (breaking every confidentiality rule, I'm sure)...

What is my faithful response to Peter?

Do I let him store his things here at the church (meaning an apartment full of furniture and all of the "highly valuable" trash), so he can go to a shelter (A shelter would kill him, too. But that is not really a concern, as there are far too few shelters in Charlotte for homeless people, and a non-medicated schizophrenic would never be aloud to enter one)?

Do I just let him sleep on the sofa in my office?

Do I rent a storage unit for him from my discretionary fund?

If I do that for Peter, who else will ask me to do it for them. (Even though he is the only non-medicated mentally ill person in the congregation - to my knowledge - he is not the only person on the verge of eviction.).

 

A week ago tonight, Peter came to the church for dinner and worship.

Afterwards, he was waiting for me to give him a blessing (He will take buses and lite-rail trains just to get here, just so that I can give him a blessing...after which he will "cross" himself! which I find doubly endearing, since he's Jewish.). I got caught in the "gauntlet" of conversations that follows me and every pastor I know. By the time I got back to where Peter was, my husband (Cliff) had his arm around him saying, "I don't know...but we'll figure something out." I left again for a moment. When I returned the next time, Cliff was holding Peter in a big bear hug and Peter was crying.

 

He had gone back to his apartment earlier that day, and found his door padlocked...His time was up.

 

Peter slept on the couch in my office that night.

And my friend Mike (who is a police captain), and who had been part of this conversation from the beginning, rented him a storage unit for one month. The next day, Ethan (our youth & family minister - neither of which Peter is!) and Mike moved Peter out of his apartment. Put all of his furniture into the storage unit and moved Peter and his "traveling bags" (the half-dozen bags that Peter carries with him EVERYWHERE) into a "boarding house" that his case manager found for him.

 

The only reason I tell this long story, is because this coming Sunday's gospel lesson talks about a "Great Chasm" that separates people (Luke 16:19-31).

What it implies is that we never even see (truly see) the chasms in our lives until it is too late.

Peter (at least this past week) has helped me see chasms more clearly between people I notice and those I overlook...or by whom I am inconvenienced, and so choose not to notice.

The encounter has changed my life.

 

Chasms are everywhere...Chasms between rich and poor; educated and non-educated; staff and faculty; janitor and CEO; mentally ill and mentally healthy; grieving and rejoicing; black and white; gay and straight; mine and yours; what I project and how I really am.

 

The gospel lesson ends by referencing "someone rising from the dead," and suggests that if someone were to rise from the dead, then MAYBE we may notice the chasm(s) and bridge it (them) and maybe walk across it.

 

Well, as Christians, we claim to follow someone who has defeated death and been raised from the dead (which would be considered the ultimate chasm).

 

I am asking for your help this week (you who look with "resurrection-eyes")...

Share with me (either in comments at the bottom of this blog or on Facebook) where it is that you see chasms in your own life, in the community, in the congregation, in the world.

 

THEN, share with me when it is that you have seen someone "bridge" a chasm...Or when you have "bridged it" yourself. Make sense?

 

Thanks for your help!

 

Choosing Life

Sunday's assigned Old Testament reading was Deuteronomy 30:15-20. My daughter was the reader for the 8:30 service. How wonderful to hear her read: "I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live" (30:19). For some reason, it is one of my favorite verses of scripture. In large measure, I imagine that is because I am convinced that "choosing life" means much more than choosing to keep a heart beat going. Know what I mean? It means more than not dying.

 

After all, we all know lots of people (or at least a couple) who are among the "walking (or living) dead." People who, for any number of reasons, are not truly living - instead are simply surviving. People who are victims of violence or abuse or addiction. People controlled by fear or hate or prejudice. People who do not have joy or have never known love. People who spend time living with regret or shame. People who spend their lives holding a grudge and waiting for someone to apologize, rather than just giving forgiveness and getting on with living.

 

I have been among those people from time to time, and I suspect you have been, too.

 

When asked what surprises him most about humanity, the Dalai Lama replied “Man (sic) surprises me most about humanity. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived.”

 

It is important…I believe that it is vitally important to remember that this word that Moses speaks “choose life, so that you and your descendants may live,” is spoken not to an individual – but to the whole community of people who are gathered and are awaiting new life in the Promised Land.

 

What that means, is that life…real life (Promised Land life)…cannot be had in isolation. This is a harsh word for our consumeristic culture which functions with the mindset, “as long as I am happy eating milk and honey – I do not care whether or not you have enough.” That is not life.

 

Life…real life…cannot be had for one when there is suffering of another (as though I do not have responsibility for you…all that matters is my own satisfaction).

 

Life…real life…cannot be had for any when others live in fear, or know violence, or war. Life means relationship and concern and compassion and “plenty” for all.

Life…real life…means joy and peace and dancing and rough places plain and the end of hate, and it can only be had, when it is had by all.

 

“I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life.”

Confessions of a really confused high schooler who graduated a LONG time ago

The summer before I began high school, my family moved from the only home I'd known in South Florida to, what felt like, a very small town in Tennessee. As the youngest of three children, I'd always kind of been the "star of the show." My sister will concur that I was stereotypically spoiled and always believed to be "in the right" in any dispute with her (Those of you who know my sister, whom I now totally and sincerely adore, will believe me when I say that I actually was most often in the right! But, that is beside the point.).

 

The move to Tennessee, though, changed everything. My brother (the oldest of the three) had left for college several years earlier, and Leslie - who, unbeknownst to her, had always been my "cool" barometer had just begun college as soon as we moved. I was "on my own."

 

We moved at the beginning of the summer, which was actually quite helpful, because I was able to go to band camp with the rest of the band kids...That was really very important, because everyone in this town had grown up together and been best friends forever. It was a very hard community to "break into." Subsequently, I spent a whole lot of time and energy trying to fit in.

Trying to get invited to sit with the cool kids.

Praying to get invited to the party that the homecoming queen hosted.

 

I'm pretty sure that if you asked other kids, they'd probably tell you that I was one of the cool kids...but that was never really me.

I spent time laughing at jokes I should never have laughed at and walking by people I should have stopped to help and taking part in gossip when I never should have and being desperately jealous of the accomplishments of others...All because I felt threatened and would sell myself out just so I would feel accepted.

 

So, when I read Jesus' words in Luke 14 (vss. 12-14): "When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you"...When I read those words, I understand...and the part I understand best are the last words, "You will be blessed because they cannot repay you." I know what an odd part to so particularly understand, right?

 

But, here's the thing I've come to know - the blessing is in being yourself. Know what I mean?

 

I spent so much time and energy trying to be someone I wasn't (just so that I could be "repaid" by praise and appreciation and acceptance) that I missed the blessing of just being me.

I spent so much time trying to compete with you and feeling threatened by you that I never really got to know you and celebrate the blessing of you being you!

And I know I'm not alone in this!

 

It took me a long time (and more than a little time with some great pastoral counselors) to learn to celebrate who God created me to be. Truth be told, I still need to be reminded every now and then...

 

That's part of the reason we come together as the church - to remind each other that each one of us has been created in the uniquely "us" image of God...who has poured love and grace and life on us in such abundance that we simply cannot repay (i.e. we are all the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind who have been invited to the banquet and who cannot repay).

 

And at those moments when we bask in the blessing of being who we truly are, we find that we are no longer exhausted but are energized. It's really pretty amazing (although not so good news for the media who try to convince us that we are not now, nor ever will be, good enough - and who drive us to exhaustion to buy, buy, buy acceptability and acclaim and "cool-ness.").

 

My daughter Lucy...I worry about her a lot - because when I say that I spent a lot of time and energy trying to fit in, I mean I spent A LOT of time and energy trying to fit in...And I so much do not want her to waste her time in that way. She's already (and only) nine years old. And she is as free and loving a spirit as God ever created. I do everything I can to surround her with people who celebrate her (because, let's face it...she will listen to others more than she will ever listen to her parents...Or, at least I did.). And I think it's working! She truly celebrates who she is...every day and with just about every breath!

 

Can you imagine how much free-er, and more honest, and more lovely, and more "real," and less competitive, and more God-like the entire world would be if every child (and every adult) had people surrounding them to celebrate them?

 

It would change everything.

 

 

Transcript of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "I have a dream" Speech

Happy Dream Day!

I still have a dream...I still believe...I still have hope!

 

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I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check -- a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

My Favorite Word!

I just adore my husband! He tolerates me soooo well.

And God love him, when I came home last week and said - barely able to contain myself, "Did you know that the word δεῖ is used 18 times in Luke's gospel. And the only time anyone other than Jesus (or the risen Christ or a resurrection angel) uses it, he screws it all up!?!"...when I said that, my husband simply nodded and said something like, "you don't say." Now, some of you who are reading this are probably quite impressed that I stuck a Greek word in my blog (I even managed to get the Greek script to work!), and you may even imagine that I may have a fairly deep knowledge of the Greek language - sorry...I don't. Others of you know that I just have a "thing" for this particular word - δεῖ.

 

It is translated variously as: "it is necessary;" "it must happen;" "ought;" "had to."

 

It is an important word.

It is the word used to express divine necessity. For example: In Luke 2:49, the young boy Jesus says, when his parents are looking for him throughout Jerusalem, "Why is it that you were looking for me? Did you not know that I had to be (δεῖ) in my father's house?"

And in Luke 9:22 Jesus says, "The Son of Man must (δεῖ) suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed and be raised up on the third day."

And again in Luke 24:7, "The Son of Man must (δεῖ) be delivered into sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again."

It is a word that signals the activity of God.

 

So, basically, anytime I see "should" or "ought" or "it is necessary" when I'm reading scripture - especially if it's Jesus talking - I get excited and go grab a Greek New Testament and look it up. And sure enough, it was there this week!

 

Check it out...Luke 13:10-17. This woman in the synagogue is bent over and cannot stand up straight. Jesus sees her and (without her asking) heals her.

 

            Oh...And he does it on the sabbath. You know the sabbath...the day you're not supposed to do anything. Jesus is constantly healing on the sabbath.

 

Anyhow, church leader gets all upset, saying - to the crowd - he never actually speaks to Jesus (Big time "triangulation"), "What are you all doing coming for healing on the sabbath? You know better than that! You ought (δεῖ) to come on another day." That's the one time someone other than Jesus speaks the word (and he messes up, because he is trying to use a "good news" word, in a "bad news" way!).

 

Now, I like to imagine Jesus (because I feel confident that he had a "thing" for this word, too!) saying something to the church leader like, "Oh no you di-in't! That is my word, brother! Let me tell you what ought to happen!" Then he says (13:16), "What is necessary (δεῖ), is that this woman be set free from her bondage on the sabbath!"

 

Because this is what the sabbath is about, right?? It is about freeing, and releasing, and liberating, and delivering from captivity. It is never about what we are NOT to do - but always about what we are freed to do. And the holy thing we, who claim to be "sabbath people" are to do...the divinely necessary thing, is to see and notice and address the needs of those who are bent over and enslaved in any way, and then to work to free them from that bondage because that is the basis//the foundation of sabbath (NB Deut. 5:12ff - "Observe the sabbath day and keep it holy. Remember you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the LORD liberated you; therefore the LORD commanded you to keep the sabbath day." That is, "because you were slaves and know what it is to be liberated, you now liberate others...and the sabbath is the day to pay special attention to that.").

 

Now, some of us are bent over and enslaved by an over-developed sense of legalism (e.g. the synagogue/church leader) - and our inability to see beyond our own narrow scope of vision affects everything we do.

Some are bent over by our own insecurity (we don't think we deserve to stand up straight).

Some are bent over and quite unable to stand up straight because we are weighed down by past grudges or an inability to forgive.

Some are bent over by grief.

Some are bent over by fear or hatred.

 

Eighteen years. That's how long this woman, whom Jesus healed, was bound by her condition. I wonder if she was even aware of it anymore. Makes me wonder how many of us are aware that we are bent over and unable to stand up straight. I wonder how many of us would be surprised to have Jesus call us over and heal us of our narrow perspectives and insecurities and fears. I don't know...It's just a thought.

 

One thing I am sure of, though, is that it is necessary (δεῖ) that we be set free from those things (in fact, it is a divine necessity), so that we can stand up straight and see beyond our narrow scope of vision and free others to free others to free others...every single day - and in that way, live sabbath lives every day!

 

 

 

Today We Are Closer: Lutherans Elect First Female Bishop

I've included in my blog (set off by "+++" and written in bold) an article written by Nadia Bolz-Weber, a pastor serving in the same denomination I do (the ELCA). She, as well as anyone I know, captures what it means that the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA), in its churchwide assembly elected its first female bishop (Elizabeth Eaton) this past Wednesday - August 14, 2013 (An important note, I think, is that the churchwide assembly is made up of 2/3 non-clergy voting members and only 1/3 clergy - i.e. "pastors." Furthermore, this year 1 in 9 of the voting members in attendance was under the age of 30!). 

 

She (Nadia - the woman who wrote the article) was raised in a far more fundamentalist denomination than I was and so has insights that I do not. Perhaps, then, even more than I do, she "gets" the beautiful significance of the moment.

 

WARNING: Her language is even more "earthy" than mine.

 

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When I was 12 years old, and still wearing white sandals to church, all of the Sunday school teachers in our church suddenly were men, instead of women. Like a gendered, ecclesial, Invasion of the Body Snatchers. It's not that the women who were our Sunday school teacher became men, or anything as interesting as that -- it's that their positions were taken by men. It wasn't until years later that I realized this was because 12 was the age at which boys were considered to be men (a ludicrous idea), and women, according to 1 Timothy were not permitted to teach men. Therefore 12-year-old boys in the Church of Christ had more authority than grown-ass women. Now, at age 44, I have a 12-year- old-boy of my own and while he is an amazing creature with a body full of energy and a mind full of Doctor Who episodes, he is no man.

Teaching Sunday school to 12-year-old boys was far from the only thing forbidden to those with a particular set of plumbing. The women in my church, born female like myself, and yet old, wiser, stronger than me, and those to whom I looked to see an image of my future self as old, wise and strong, could not preach, or pray aloud in front of men, of even be an usher. Yes, Church of Christ women did not have the "authority" to hand a man a bulletin in church but did have the authority to hand him a plate of fried chicken and potato salad an hour later at the church potluck. Weird.

Today, 32 years after watching the women in my church faithfully do what they were allowed, I watched about 1,000 people in Pittsburg at the church-wide assembly of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America faithfully elect Elizabeth Eaton, a woman, to be the Presiding Bishop, the leader of the largest Lutheran denomination in America. She succeeds the faithful and fiercely gracious leadership of Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson. (I know that the big story is that a woman was elected but what is equally remarkable is that the excitement about the new bishop was only matched by the affection for the out-going bishop).

The Lutherans elected a woman Presiding Bishop. That, is huge.

Now, normally I cringe when asked to speak about being a "woman in ministry" wanting, as I do, to live in a post-gender world, a world where the election of Elizabeth Eaton is celebrated because she is an extraordinary leader (which she is) and not because her gender is, in anyway, interesting or worthy of comment. But we don't live in that world and here's why: while there are women pioneers in other male-dominated fields and careers that historically have been forbidden to women, like medicine and law, there are not hospitals all over the country when women are still forbidden to practice medicine. There are not courtrooms all over the country where you still cannot argue a legal case were you born female. But as we know, there are still countless churches across the country where women, like myself and Elizabeth Eaton, would not be allowed to preach. As much as I long to never again be asked to speak about being a woman in ministry, and as much as I want the day to come when the gender of clergy is not in any way interesting, we are not there yet. There are still little girls in white, Sunday school shoes who will never hear a voice that is like theirs speak the Gospel, who will never see curves like the ones they will have under the robes of the one raising bread and wine behind an altar and speaking ancient, holy words of promise and forgiveness, who will never know without reservation that she is made in the image of God in all her glorious girl-ness.

But today, today we are closer. And this makes me want to put on white sandals and dance in all my glorious girl-ness... in my clergy shirt.

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How interesting that this past Sunday's gospel lesson has Jesus saying things like: "Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!" (Luke 12:49-56). How interesting it is that Jesus calls those in the crowd who follow him Hypocrites. They can read the signs of the times, but they cannot see the presence of the Kingdom of God in their midst.

I'm not sure why it is that we pay closer attention to the presence of rainclouds (Luke 12:54) than we do to the presence of the Kingdom. Maybe it's because the Kingdom brings with it a toppling of the hierarchy we have worked so hard to maintain...and so many of "us" are on the top of that hierarchy (NB. Luke 2:46-55; 4:18-19). Maybe it's because, if everybody is welcomed into the kingdom, if everybody is welcomed to speak, and sing and share and dance and laugh and love and eat - then my position of privilege feels threatened, and the careful balance we have established, is sure to fall. That makes everyone uncomfortable. Better to leave things the way they are.

Someone smarter than me (that could be soooo many people, sorry I can't remember who it was) said that we - in the church?? in authority in the church?? in leadership in the church?? - we live as if Jesus came to keep the world from changing (which he did not come to do), rather than coming to change the world (which he did come to do!).

The first female Lutheran pastor (Elizabeth Platz) was ordained 43 years ago...a big change, indeed (thank you to Pr. Platz and all those other women on whose shoulder I have been borne).  Some day maybe we will not need to have "Women of the ELCA Sunday"...instead, we will just have "non-gender-specific-ministers-in-the-church//priesthood-of-all-believers-celebration" Sunday. Or maybe we'll just do that every Sunday. In the meantime, 43 years later, the status-quo has been challenged again. The way things have always been, are not the way things will continue to be. And this new manifestation of the presence of the Kingdom of God, where gifts and authority are recognized in all people regardless of gender, is sure to cause division...But the peace that is ultimate (the shalom of Christ where there is room for ALL) necessitates a little shake-up from time to time.

I am proud of my brothers and sisters for electing Bishop Eaton (by the way, the final ballot had 2 women and 1 man on it). She will need our prayers and our words of encouragement, as today (as evidenced by her calling to the office of bishop) we catch a clearer glimpse of the inclusive reality of the Kingdom of God. May we have eyes to see. 

Wanda, Trayvon, and the Lord's Prayer

I met Wanda about a year ago, when she and her family came to worship at St. Luke's (the congregation I serve in Charlotte, NC). St. Luke's has a reputation (and I have found it to be completely warranted) for being incredibly hospitable. In fact, I tell people "If you do not want to be immediately loved and embraced, then this may not be the place for you."

 

How Wanda and her family ended up here, is a story that I still get angry about. They had worshiped at other places and not only did they not feel welcomed, they felt un-welcomed (Not un-welcomed by pastors, necessarily - although sometimes by pastors; but by members of congregations). Talking about this with her is actually how our relationship began. You see, Wanda is black and her husband is white, and their children are a beautiful mixture of both. Now...to be clear, I do not believe that there was ever any open animosity directed toward her family (I may be wrong about this), but there was a "feel." Anyhow, while I would most likely have "written-off" church if I were them, they just kept looking...and now, here they are among our growing, colorful gathering at St. Luke's.

 

The first time she and I met outside of church  was at her work (you know, your typical "It's-been-wonderful-having-you-worship-with-us-let's-get-together-and-have-a-cup-of-coffee-and-chat" pastor thing). She is a professor at Johnson C. Smith University (one of the oldest Historically Black Colleges and Universities in the country. Anything I know about such things, she has taught me.). She - among other things - is professor of dance (which, if you know me, made me fall immediately in love with her! Don't tell my husband...hehehe.). So, we met on the campus and had coffee in a great coffee shop there. It was the first time I'd ever been on the campus of a black college. I was immediately aware of my "whiteness." I don't know whether or not she was.

 

We ordered coffee.

She told me the story of their feeling unwelcomed at other churches (actually, it was her girls who felt it most). And we just started talking.

I have no idea what possessed me (actually, I'm pretty sure that it was the Holy Spirit that possessed me), but I just asked all kinds of questions about what it's like to be black. And she let me ask them on that very first day. And she still does! It's not that we always talk about race, but it is so wonderful to have someone who encourages the conversation and cheers for me, as I gain strength to speak the truth to power. When those conversations get going, I spend a lot of time saying "Really?" "Really? People still act like that?" "You are kidding me!" "I don't get it...I just don't get it." And she just smiles her wonderful smile as if to say, "Oh, dear sweet, utopic Sara (Apparently - according to the online dictionary - I made up the word "utopic." What I mean, is seeing everything as if it is Utopia)." I always end up saying something like "You will tell me if I am being offensive, won't you?" She hasn't done it yet, but she promises that she will.

 

Anyhow, over the course of this year, we have become friends.

 

Our schedules have both been a little crazy this summer, so yesterday was the first time in a while that we could get together for lunch. And after catching up on family life in each of our households, I just blurted out in one continuous stream, "I'm so angry about the whole Trayvon Martin thing, and I don't know what to do! And here I am sitting with my white-privilege skin talking to you, and I cannot imagine how you must feel! Aren't you pissed (Sorry, that's the actual word that I used. If you are completely offended, you can just exit the blog)? I feel so helpless. I cannot believe this has happened!" She said something like, "Yes, I'm angry. More sad, really...but not surprised." I said, "Are you serious?!?! How can you not be surprised about this?!?!"

 

And we talked and talked and talked.

 

This past Sunday's gospel lesson (Luke 11.1-13) included Luke's version of the Lord's Prayer. In my sermon, I said something like "If the lesson stopped with the end of that prayer (11.1-4), I'd be perfectly happy. But it doesn't."

 

It's a really hard gospel lesson for me, because it says things like ask, seek, knock...and what you ask for will be given to you, and what you look for you will find, and the door that is closed will be open (11.9-13). But, I know too many people who ask for perfectly obvious and right things (things that I AM CERTAIN are in line with "thy will be done"), and they get no answer.

 

The face that always comes to mind when I hear this lesson is that of the young woman who shared her story of being beaten and sexually molested her entire childhood even as she prayed and prayed and prayed that it would end, and it never did. To tell her that God answered her prayer, and his answer was "no," is a lie! Maybe worse is to tell her the lie that her abuse is somehow part of God's great plan (which is another way to tell her that God somehow "willed" it for her). So, I struggle with this text. I struggle with the on-going reality of racism and abuse of power and hatred and manipulation - so that the least and the lost and the last continue to be voiceless (not only the Trayvons of the world, but all those who are "little and lost"...For example, those who will have difficulty finding "valid" identification and so will have difficulty voting in future elections.).  And I get angry.

 

But I continue to pray (perhaps out of habit, as much as anything else - thanks Mom and Dad)...I continue to say "Our Father, hallowed be your name" (Luke 1.2).

Sometimes, that's about as far as I can get in that prayer, before I too am angry or sad about the "state of affairs" in the world to pray any further.

My friend, Mark, used to complain about how antiquated the word "hallowed" is. And he is right...It is antiquated. Maybe I'll find a better way to say it. What it means is "let us live in such a way that your name - O, Creator God - is held in honor."

 

For brief meetings and lunches, and in the safety and seclusion of restaurants and college campuses and church sanctuaries, Wanda and I live in such a way that God's name is held in honor. And we actually discuss how to live "God-honoringly" in our world - where doing so may not be as "safe." 

 

But, if I am honest, that doesn't feel like much. And I still feel defeated and angry. But, I suppose, you are reading this too. And maybe you can string together such times in your place in the world. And for more and more moments and in more and more places we can dare to live in such a way that God's name is held in honor.