Montclair Presbyterian Church

Well, given the events of the past week and the defeat of the Defense Of Marriage Act, there was no question about going to PRIDE this year as it was an historic event.  I guess the other 1.499 million people had the same idea!  As I walking down Market Street in San Francisco on my way to the parade after church yesterday, I thought about the first time I attended PRIDE in San Francisco.  The year was 2001.  At the time I was doing a summer intensive course for my doctor of ministry degree.  One of the other participants was a pastor from South Korea.  We both ended up having our first experience of PRIDE that weekend.  He went accidentally and I went intentionally.  He had attended a church service in San Francisco and found himself caught in the parade route.  He couldn’t move much so he watched instead.  When we were back in class on Monday morning, he was profoundly disturbed by all he had seen.  Ironically, I, too, had been quite shocked by what I had seen.  Not disturbed, mind you, but shocked.  Who knew people were brave enough to walk down Market Street naked, in drag, pantomiming S and M acts, blatantly sexual and erotic?  My goodness.  I really am a small town girl at heart!  When the pastor from South Korea expressed his dismay in class the next day, I surprised myself by speaking up and sharing my experience.  He was surprised to hear that I was shocked.  Because of that, I think he was able to listen to me differently.  I told him that PRIDE is like a day of freedom for LGBTQI people.  For so many who have been closeted and oppressed for so long, PRIDE is the day when it seems safe to let loose the chains and live freely.  For some, I explained, it means going to the opposite extreme.  For others, it means having fun and expressing one’s sexuality  in ways that are harmless.  To his credit, the pastor seemed to understand the idea of a day of freedom.

Last evening while driving home after a very long day, one of our daughters and my wife and I were talking about the things we had seen at PRIDE.  Once again the subject of people’s bodies came up because one see’s things at PRIDE that are not normally a part of everyday life.  One of the things we were talking about is how many straight young people go to PRIDE wearing very little in the way of clothing!  Our daughter summed it all up by saying, “All of it makes sense to me because PRIDE is a day to celebrate your body no matter what your body may look like.  PRIDE is the one day where it seems safe for people to be themselves or to be someone else and they will be celebrated.  Women can usually walk around and not be propositioned by men.  People who are less attractive can wear whatever they want and they are appreciated for joining in the festivities.  PRIDE is a day for judging to stop.”  Her description of it moved me.  Imagine a time when 1.5 million people can just accept each other!  A day of freedom, indeed.

My only regret from yesterday was that I was not marching to show the crowds, once again, how true it is that God loves each and every one.  Period.  For those who have been so abused by the church (not God), that show of love is transformative.  PRIDE is exactly the place for a pastor and a congregation to be!

Several years ago our normally quiet Suburban street was transformed into a street that was cordoned off, guarded by police vehicles at each end, and made into the staging area for a SWAT team.  Imagine our surprise when our house guest at the time told us what was happening in the early morning hours!  Initially we thought she must be in an extended dream state but then we went to look for ourselves.  Sure enough, the street was cordoned off, the SWAT team was gearing up and police officers were telling all of us to stay inside.

Being good, obedient, American citizens, we all opened our front doors, sat on our stoops and watched the action.  We heard the commands given to the SWAT team and then watched as they burst through the door with a battering ram.  In fewer than 5 minutes, the situation was under control and the SWAT team began to disperse.  We heard from one of the police officers that they were responding to a 911 call from the man in the home who told the 911 operator that he had just killed his wife and dog and was preparing to kill himself.  By the time the SWAT team broke down the door, the man had already killed himself.  We were shocked and horrified.  He seemed like such a gentle man!  They were both quiet and he frequently walked their beautiful dog.

As time went on that day, we learned the full story.  The woman had been suffering from terminal cancer for a couple of years.  We had no idea.  We had noticed that she wasn’t out in her front yard as much working, but we had no idea she had cancer.  The man was always nice enough when we saw him, but not much of a talker.  He never mentioned his wife was ill.  We never asked.  Apparently, they talked about it and made a pact that when the time got very close he would kill her and the dog and then himself.  He did it just like they had agreed.

Our neighbors on our block were stunned.  No one had any idea his grief and pain and no one knew she was suffering so horribly.  We all gathered in small circles and talked about how we wish we had known so we could have supported them differently.  We talked about being too busy to check in on each other and sometimes to even notice when someone hasn’t appeared in a while.  I stood in the circle with them and thought about how I care for so many people as a pastor but somehow wasn’t able to care for my down the street neighbor.

A similar, although far more tragic in many ways, scenario has been playing out in Cleveland, Ohio.  I understand the guilt and sorrow and regret the neighbors feel who were not aware of the 3 girls being held captive.  The rest of the world cannot imagine how it could be that 3 girls could be captive for 10 years without anyone noticing.  I understand how that could happen.  I also understand the desire to not get involved in other people’s business.  What I don’t understand is how any of us can go on from here without making changes.  We have heard countless times that human traffickers are hiding people in our neighborhoods, sometimes 20-30 in a house.  The time is over for us to give people their space.  The time is over for us to stay uninvolved in our neighbors‘ lives.  The time is over for being too busy to pay attention.  Maybe, just maybe, the redeeming aspect of all of this will be that we will all pay more attention to our neighbors.

People keep asking me how it feels to be fifty!  Aside from receiving my first piece of mail from AARP which terrified me, it feels great.  One cannot help but pause when turning 50 to take stock of mind, body and spirit.  Mind?  Seems to be churning along just fine and I can actually still retain information, dates and names.  Not bad!  Body?  A bit annoying now and then (all week I have had a twitch in my left eye and in one of my left fingers…a sign of being 50?), but mostly healthy, still active, and cooperative most of the time.  Spirit?  Solid.  What a long, windy and tumultuous journey it has been but the reward is feeling solid in spirit.  My deepest feeling this week (aside from a tiny bit of self-pity since I insisted on not doing anything big to celebrate my birthday) has been gratitude.  I honestly think I have a view of life that few people get to see.  Allow me to describe it.

From the time I was 28 years old, I have been a pastor in a variety of churches across the United States.  In my role as pastor, I have had the privilege of knowing everyone from infants to 98 (one of my current congregation members who was at church this morning is 98!) and even older.  They are not people I have observed from afar or seen on movies or at family gatherings.  These are people I have known.  For more than 2 decades I have watched up close how people age.  They have shared with me what they like about aging, what they don’t like about aging and all of the ways they are consciously denying their aging.  Can you imagine what that view has been like for me?  The people I have known cover a broad spectrum of those who have aged well and those who have not aged well.  Some of the most amazing people I have met and been close to have been people over the age of 70.  I did not have the privilege of knowing my own grandparents  very well so it has always been people in my congregations who have shown me how to be an older person who is engaged, growing, learning, and ready for the next adventure.  There have certainly been some who have had terrible afflictions that have impacted their abilities but never stopped them from aging with grace.  Others have had every privilege given to them in life and never mastered the art of living in a way that keeps one growing rather than shrinking in mind and spirit.

Honestly, sometimes I think I am the luckiest 50 year old around.  For 22 years I have had a steady stream of saints who have lived honestly in front of me and shown me how to live until one’s very last breath.  The view from here is spectacular.  Every time I think about being 50, I bring to my mind the picture of any number of these saints.  72.  76.  63.  88.  98.  92.  85.  83.  82.  74.  79.  89.  75.  I just hope those behind me are able to look at me in the same ways as they watch me get older year by year.  Thank you to every saint I have known who has shown me how to age with the grace of a gazelle and the fierceness of a tigress.

After waking up this morning in Chicago, flying across the country, and then having lunch in the San Francisco Bay Area, my wife and I were marveling at modern technology.  If one so desired, one could actually eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, in 3 different parts of the country all in one day!  Within 30 minutes of being back home, we began hearing of the news coming from Boston.  About the time we were landing on the West Coast, a couple of bombs were detonated at the finish line of the Boston Marathon in Copley Square.  It seemed there was more than one device and the news media outlets were reporting that it was a coordinated attack.  There are still no definitive answers about whether it was domestic or international terrorists at work.  By late this afternoon, CNN was reporting that of two people who died, one was an 8 year old boy.

Like most people, I could hear my breath intake sharpen and feel the twist in my gut when I read that a child had died.  For many people this event today will have the effect of being grabbed the ankles and thrown back through the atmosphere to 9/11.  Heads shake in disbelief.  Praying people get on their knees even if it is not habit.  Rosary people pull out their beads and get to work.  People find themselves muttering and talking to their computer screens or tv screens or handheld devices.  No one can believe it.  How could this have happened again on our soil?

If there is one thing we learned from 9/11, it is to not jump to conclusions before we know the facts.  This is not a time to assume Islamic fundamentalists are behind the attack.  It could just as well be one of the hundreds of home-grown terrorists we have who live on compounds with stockpiled ammunition and weapons and a hatred of the government.  What we need in the coming days are level heads and compassionate hearts.  What we do not need are knee jerk reactions and a desire to get revenge even if we can’t get to the people who did it.

As I contemplate how many people’s lives have been drastically changed today, I pray that each one impacted will use this experience to work for peace in the world and to try harder to see good in every person.  Today is a reminder to those of us living in the United States that 8 year olds are dying every day around the world.  Many are dying because of war and violence.  Many others are dying because of gun violence on our city streets that is out of control.  Many are dying because of extreme hunger and poverty.  We can’t save the life of the 8 year old boy who died today in Boston.  But we can save the lives of the countless other 8 year olds around the world and on our streets who are dying.

May we each pray for peace and healing and then live for peace and healing.

As I was driving home today I was listening to NPR.  The reporter said that hundreds of people are lined up on the steps of the Supreme Court, hoping to get seats for the opening arguments tomorrow in the Proposition 8 case regarding marriage.  Sunday night it snowed in Washington, D.C. and Monday night it was supposed to rain – freezing rain – and still the line goes down the steps and around the block.  The reporter interviewed some of those waiting in line to get seats to find out why they were there.  One of the young men interviewed told the story of how he had constructed tarps around him last night to protect him against the elements and that this morning he was awakened by the weight of the snow that had fallen on his face!  When asked why he was there and willing to brave the cold just for a seat, he said he is a conservative Christian and he was there to “witness” to those who believe in same gender marriage.

Oh my.  On the one hand, it is easy to admire a young person who feels so strongly about his or her own faith that he would travel across the miles to speak to that belief.  On the other hand, it is easy to cringe when imagining how that “witness” will sound.  Most faith communities have done a poor job of helping young people (or anyone for that matter) learn how to tell others about their faith.  As quickly as the world is changing, people of faith still tend to witness old style which means to “talk at” other people in order to “convince” (ie convert) them.  In other words, to witness has traditionally meant to win someone over to your position.  In my conservative church days, I, too, learned to witness in that way.  Now that I am much older, I can look back and recognize how arrogant it is to be so sure that one is right that every other person should believe the same.  In this day and age, why is it that we cannot teach a new and more genuine way of talking about faith?

I can only imagine what the young man interviewed will do on the steps of the Supreme Court in the next couple of days.  He will approach people who are there because they believe same gender marriage is good and right.  He will talk at them about his own faith and how becoming a Christian has changed his life.  Part of how his life has changed is that he is now obedient to the Bible and to God.  From there he might segue into how important obedience is and that it literally affects how we spend eternity – either in hell if we disobey and in heaven if we obey.  At some point he might ask the person if they would like to accept Jesus so they, too, can go to heaven.  What this young man cannot anticipate is how many of the people in support of same gender marriage are faith based people and how many of them are sick and tired of seemingly self-righteous people telling them what they need to do in order to be righteous.

Imagine how different the experience might be for everyone if instead of assuming he had all of the answers, the young man approached the conversations with curiosity and a simple desire to learn and understand and be in conversation with people who are different.  What is it about faith that leads people to hard lines and to be convinced that there is only one right way and that person knows the way?  Why is it that those who have faith and want to share it feel so threatened by those who believe differently?  Throughout history there have been bloody battles for the purpose of defending faith.  Why does faith need to be defended?  Those of us who are living as people of faith in the 21st century have a responsibility to find new ways to share and talk about that faith, regardless of the specific faith.  The time for arrogant certainty is over and the time for dialogue and curiousity is at hand.

During this season of Lent, our church is focusing on Lamenting.  We have explored a variety of forms and kinds of lament.  We have talked about and experienced the need for lament.  We have examined how when we don’t lament, we often create conflict instead.  Yesterday we participated in personal lament.  We spent time considering how we destroy ourselves and others.  We considered our regrets.  Ours is a church that does not have a weekly prayer of confession so I wasn’t sure how people would respond to focusing on personal lament and considering where we have gone wrong and how we continue to do so in some cases.  This is a congregation that is as progressive theologically as any I have ever served and at the same time is spiritually very deep (though you might not hear them describe themselves that way).  They responded with great care and serious reflection to the question of how we would destroy ourselves and others.  As I looked around the sanctuary, I saw more tears than usual and the usual tears were coming harder and faster.

What became clear to me during and after yesterday’s service is how many people have not been able to forgive themselves for things they have either done or they think they have done.  There is the case of the parent who blames herself for “ruining” her kids’ lives.  There is the son who blames himself for his father’s suicide even though the son was just a child.  There is the spouse who cannot live with what was said or not said in the final days and moments of the loved one’s life.  There is the teacher who still carries the guilt for the student who was kicked out of class and then dropped out of school.  There is the alcoholic who still drinks and carries the shame.  There is the friend who revealed a secret and lost a friendship because of it who has never been able to let go of the guilt.  There is the sister who blames herself for her brother’s death even though she could not have prevented it.  Add to the tragic situations all of the everday situations in which words are said that cannot be taken back, actions are committed that cannot be reversed and patterns are set that are nearly impossible to break, and you have a mass of people who carry tremendous burdens every day because they are unable to forgive themselves.

Why do we do that to ourselves?  Why do we insist on carrying guilt around as though it is a necessary part of daily living, almost like air in that we have such a need for it?  What are we getting out of carrying this kind of guilt around?  We must be getting something.  Is it like penance for us?  If we carry a heavy enough burden maybe we will satisfy the penalty for whatever we have done?  What would happen, pray tell, if we just set those burdens down and released ourselves from guilt?  Would life be too good, too enjoyable, too free?

Christ came to set us free – free from needing to oppress, free from being oppressed, free from the burdens of guilt and shame and humiliation.  Christ came to set us free from ourselves.  We can only be free if we will lay down the burdens we insist on carrying with us.

Two questions for you to consider this week:  How would you destroy yourself and those around you?  What burdens do you carry and what keeps you from setting them down?

On Saturday I was at a Women’s Retreat and we started talking about saying “grace” before meals.  Some of the women were remembering how their fathers used to say the prayer at every meal and the prayer was always the same.  Even 40 years later they can remember the rote prayer that was prayed at each meal.  While they are not exactly comfortable with spontaneous prayer, they talked about how they would be able to repeat that prayer if called upon to pray.

Listening to the conversation, I was struck by how little we teach prayer in our more progressive Christian churches.  We also do not encourage memorization of Bible passages.  When I was coming along in a very conservative context, we were taught many things that we were “required” to memorize.  Once I moved away from such conservative theology and practice, I deeply questioned how much I was made to memorize because of the disconnection from any meaning or understanding.  As I get older, though, I wonder if all of that memorizing was similar to being taught basic skills.

Over the years I have learned how to play various sports, learned how to play an instrument or two (if you count the recorder as one of those!), learned how to write essays, how to preach and how to engage in mediation.  In each of those areas, I was taught the basic form before I was taught anything else.  It might not surprise you to hear that in many of those areas, once I was able to do the basic form well, I then learned how to improvise and how to change and adapt my form and in today’s parlance, “I made it my own.”  Is there a corollary to spirituality?  Is there a basic form that can be taught or should be taught?  Are progressive churches like the one I am serving missing out on some important steps to faith development?

When our daughter, Emily, was in high school, she took art classes each year and was chagrined at one point when the art teacher was “forcing” the students to learn the basics of drawing.  Emily experienced it as a waste of time at first and then over the course of the year was able to articulate how much it ended up helping her broaden her abilities.  She did not enjoy the tediousness of it, but did enjoy the fruits of having to be so disciplined.  Our niece, Faith, had a similar experience with dance.  She experienced some of the basic moves and movements as tedious but later realized how much they helped her when it came to modern dance and other more free-form movements.  Is faith development like learning how to dance or draw?  Are there some basics to be taught?  If so, what are the basics?  Should progressive churches be teaching The Lord’s Prayer, the 23rd Psalm, the song “Jesus Loves Me This I Know,” or “Amazing Grace?”  Or should progressive churches be teaching the Serenity Prayer, the Prayer of St. Francis, the song “What if God Were One of Us” and various quotes from various famous prophets and saints?

As someone with a background in Christian Education and faith development, I am certain we need to be teaching something.  Is it time to write some new somethings or do they already exist?

Yesterday in church we focused on gun violence prevention.  The city of Oakland, CA, where Montclair Presbyterian Church is located, has seen escalating gun violence over the past few years.  Some blame it on fewer police officers, some blame it on fewer jobs, and others blame it on gangs.  Wherever the blame gets put, one thing is certain.  Every single person living in the city of Oakland is concerned.  Just in January alone, a grandmother and an 8 year old girl were both shot in drive-by shootings that were not targeting them.  They were the innocent bystanders in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Maybe it’s true in other cities as well, but most of the shooters and those shot are young men of color.

A few weeks ago I attended a joint meeting of the Oakland Community Organization and the Oakland Pastor’s group.  My invitation came from OCO.  I wasn’t even aware there was an Oakland Pastor’s group!  There are a number of clergy whose congregations are a part of OCO who meet once each month.  I have been meeting with them for close to 2 years.  I am not like most of the other OCO pastors.  My church is in “the hills” as they are referred to, which is a direct contrast with “the flatlands.”  Most of the OCO pastors are serving churches in the flatlands and most of them know violence in a very intimate way because it happens right outside their churches or in the neighborhoods in which they live or to the people in their congregations.  Those of us up in the hills are somewhat shielded from the worst of it, though crime has also been increasing in the hills.

The purpose of the meeting I attended a few weeks ago was to give all of us gathered new information and a new sense of purpose in some of the actions the City of Oakland has taken.  The City has called upon the clergy to encourage their congregations to join in the movement to prevent gun violence.  There were several speakers lined up, including the Chief of Police.  One of the first speakers explained the concept behind the Ceasefire movement.  Ceasefire was adopted by Oakland a few years ago, didn’t get anywhere and has now been re-adopted with great energy and resources being put into it to ensure its success.  The Rev. Billy Dixon, local pastor and board member of OCO, described it beautifully in an Op-Ed piece he wrote for Oakland North.  He said, “Ceasefire, a proven strategy that has been implemented throughout the country with great success, has three major components: call- ins, community policing and night walks. Call-ins are a collaboration of law enforcement, faith and community leaders, and service providers coming together to tell those involved in gun violence that the “shooting has to stop.” Community policing focuses on the local beat officer working with the community in the area of service to prevent and solve crimes. This takes the “cops vs. the community” mentality and makes it the “police and community vs. crime” approach. The night walks are a critical element in the Ceasefire strategy. Every Friday night, people of faith walk the most dangerous neighborhoods of our city—not to proselytize but to manifest a ministry of presence, hope and concern.”

So those of us who are more protected up in the hills have to decide how far we are willing to go to stop the epidemic plaguing our city.  Will we join with other faith communities on Friday evenings and do the Friday Night Walks even though they occur in neighborhoods in which most of us are uncomfortable and even afraid?  If our sons and daughters and grandmothers were dying, would we do anything we could to stop the violence?  Of course!  And the truth is that none one of us is free until we are all free, so in essence these are our sons and daughters and grandmothers who are dying.  Throughout history we have seen what small groups of committed people can do to change the world so it’s time to join those who are committed to change the city of Oakland.

For years I have watched our daughters’ friends make very different choices regarding food.  Emily, our older daughter, had a friend in middle school who organized a whole group of kids in a protest against eating chicken.  They stood on a very busy street corner in Napa, trading off on who got to wear the hilarious chicken costume and they shouted at passing cars and waved signs to let the world know that chickens were being mistreated and we should all stop eating them!  This same friend, as you might have guessed, became vegan at the same time.  It was our first experience of having to give careful thought to what we would eat for dinner when this particular friend was spending the night.  This small but mighty friend of Emily’s has not wavered from her choice for a second.  We laughed with her parents at the time and we all decided she was going to be a force to be reckoned with and she was and she still is in the best of ways.

One friend after another announced their food issues and choices.  One was vegetarian, one was lactose-free, one was gluten-free, another was vegan, another was gluten-free and on it went as they announced to their parents that wanted particular kinds of food in the house and not other kinds.  I have to admit I was always grateful that our daughters had not made those choices!  Eventually Emily decided she could no longer eat beef after watching Fast Food Nation, but other than that, they have been relatively easy in the food category.  We all love good ribs or a summer evening outside with bbq chicken!

Recently, however, I was given a blood test and discovered that I am gluten sensitive.  When the doctor called me to tell me, I heaved a big sigh of relief and said to myself, “Whew, at least you are not gluten-intolerant!”  And I proceeded to continue to eat gluten with abandon.  The long story shortened is that due to health concerns, I have now been gluten-free for a week.  Well, mostly gluten-free because I think I accidentally ingested some in the pizza I ate without the crust…What has happened to me in the past couple of weeks in the run up to actually giving up gluten and on into the first week, is that I have become aware of food in a way that I have not ever been in my life.  For two months I have been planning on preaching a sermon about food justice and I preached it last Sunday (no, it was not intentional on my part to give up gluten the same week I preached on food justice – pure coincidence!).  I cannot believe how ignorant I have been on the issue of food.  Would that I had become so interested before I was having digestive issues, but I think that’s what it took to get me to open my eyes.  Now I am in that virgin place of being afraid to eat anything and losing weight and feeling slightly overwhelmed.  Isn’t it amazing how quickly that happens when we come to new awarenesses?

My appreciation for Emily’s friend who organized the protest against eating chicken so many years ago has expanded and deepened.  She knew so much more than I did and then cared enough to take a stand in public.  As I begin to educate myself and open myself to new possibilities and new habits, I hope to be reminded constantly of her 13 year old passion and purpose.  I have to admit it was much easier eating with my head in the sand!