Montclair Presbyterian Church

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!

During December I tried to stay out of the shopping frenzy that is often a part of the Christmas season.  Try as I might, though, I did go to Target one evening to look for toys for our “adopted” niece and nephew.  She is 3 and he is 5.  They are the children of some of our best friends who are in a bi-racial marriage.  Both are from Spain and he is of Congolese descent.  Their children are a beautiful blend of both of them.  If you were to look at them and try to categorize them you might think they were what we call “African American.”  While none of this information is important in regard to who they are, it is important to my description of what happened at Target.

In the first five minutes in the toy section, I immediately saw what I wanted to get 5 year old Gael.  He and I have spent many days playing baseball in our backyard during parties and barbecues.  When I saw the bat, the very soft, heavy ball and the “T” stand, I knew that was the gift for him!  Easy Peasy!  I put it in the cart and decided this whole thing would be a breeze.  Next I turned my sights toward finding a gift for 3 year old Naia.  What a rude awakening.  As I walked down aisle after aisle of “girl” toys, I was deeply dismayed by how many toys had pictures of blond hair, blue-eyed girls!  Some of them had pictures of brown haired girls, but always with very white skin.  Once I realized what was happening I began paying careful attention.  I stood in the toy aisle feeling broken hearted about the fact that this precious girl would look all around her and not see herself on any toys.

For years we have been hearing about how our culture, including television, ads, magazines,  movies, etc…is geared toward people with “white” or light skin.  For years work has been done by so many to educate, deepen awareness and change deeply formed habits.  Sometimes it even seems as if we are making progress.  But my experience before Christmas at a major retail store like Target made me feel as if we have taken 5 steps backwards.  All I could think about is how Naia could end up internalizing the images she is seeing on the various toys.  I know what you might be thinking.  You might be thinking, “Did she see the new dark skinned princess that Disney has created?”  The answer is, “Yes, I saw her, and she was one of several princesses so she didn’t stand out.”  While you may be thinking that is at least progress, I would both agree and disagree.  It’s progress, perhaps, but not enough and especially not enough given how much time has passed since we have become aware of the damage it does to children’s psyches to see blond hair and blue eyes held up as the “majority” or “preferable” or “sellable” image.  Disney isn’t alone in its transgressions.

Last night I went to a tribute for MLK, Jr.  In 1963 we heard about “The Dream.”  Why are we still seeing toys that worship and sell light skin and light hair?  Better yet, what we can do about it?  The only thing I could think of at the moment was to refuse to buy any toy that bought into the light skinned myth.  So, I bought her a toy computer instead.  There were no children pictured on the package.  Okay, my true confession is that it was pink and I try hard not to reinforce the color pink as a color for girls.  But, honestly, I think it was the best I could do under the circumstances.  I am still agitated about the whole experience even a month later so perhaps there is more I need to do.  Please join me in boycotting all toys that do not evenly represent children of color in their ads and on their packaging.  Naia and Gael are God’s precious creations, as are all children, and I want every child to see themselves as such without concern for skin color.

Yesterday in church I talked with our children about MLK Jr.’s idea of the Beloved Community and Jesus’ instruction that we love our enemies.  One of the kids volunteered to be my “example” and I asked all of the other kids to imagine he was as different from them as someone could be and then to describe those things to me.  They said things like, “He would be good at jokes because I am terrible at jokes; he would be good at sports because I am terrible at sports; he would like brussel sprouts because I hate brussel sprouts; he would be tall because I am not.”  Wanting to push them to some harder things, I pointed out that he would have spiked hair with each spike a different color.  We noticed that he would dress in very different clothes so they offered that he would wear all neon-colors and probably all leather and one of the kids added a plaid bow-tie.  We decided he would be very large since most of the kids there yesterday are on the small side.

After we created this very different person, I role played what would most likely happen when our kids saw him on the street.  All of the comments they might make to themselves or to a friend were voiced, including comments like, “What a weirdo or he looks like an alien or he looks scary or he looks like a total nerd or no wonder he doesn’t have many friends.”  I then told them that the way we can begin to create a different world is to approach people with curiosity instead of being afraid of someone or thinking someone is really weird because they are not like us.  Then I role played what I would say if I were to be curious rather than critical of the person that is so different.  I said things like, “I have never seen hair like that!  I wonder how he gets the spikes to stand up so high and I don’t shop in stores that have those clothes – I wonder where he buys his clothes and I wonder what his parents are like and if they are nice to him.”  By changing our criticism of someone who is different and becoming curious about them instead, we can literally change how we treat that person and so many others.

Imagine how much sooner Civil Rights might have come into being if the good Christian folk could have become curious about those whose skin color was different.  Imagine what might have happened in Nazi Germany if the good Christian folk could have become curious about those who were Jewish or gay or disabled.  Imagine what could happen right now in the US of A if we could all become curious about immigrants.  Instead of being curious we tend to have stories all made up in our heads about these who are “other.”  We tend to make up stories that include us being “right” or “better” or “more intelligent” or “harder working” or “more deserving” or “better than” in a variety of ways.  If we can let go of our need to be superior and instead cultivate our curiosity, there is no telling how much more effectively we will be able to build the Beloved Community – a place where all are given equal dignity, all are deemed equally worthy, all  are given equal respect and all are loved.  I hope you will join me this year in cultivating curiosity about all of those you meet throughout the year who are different from you.  When Jesus said we are to love our enemies he was referring to those who are “other.”  Loving enemies/the other sounds really difficult. Maybe it’s as simple as changing a habit!

Someone asked me recently how it is to have a whole congregation of people who I am responsible for caring for in a variety of ways, particularly when some of the people are experiencing deep pain.  My response was to say that one of the things I love about being a pastor is that I get to experience the whole gamut of life with people from births to baptisms, to birthdays, to illnesses, to accidents, to deaths, to retirements, to graduations, and to anniversaries.  Part of what I love about being a pastor is that at any given time and almost all of the time there is a beautiful mixture of joy and sorrow, growth and loss.  What a privilege it is to be walking with dear people through the various hills and valleys of life.

That was my answer on Thursday.  On Sunday when I stood up to preach, I found myself viscerally feeling the pain of so many whose faces I could see looking at me, waiting for some word of comfort or hope.  Most Sundays I am fairly articulate in my preaching and it comes from a deeply held place in me.  Yesterday was no different except that I found myself being acutely aware of how much I wanted my words to matter.  Everything in me wanted to be the comfort that I could see was needed by so many sitting in the pews.  Sometimes what I really want to do on a Sunday morning is circle everyone up, sing some songs, pray and have everyone look into someone else’s eyes and then exchange hugs.  Sometimes it seems like words are as inadequate as tennis shoes on ice.  Sometimes I want to fill the baptismal font with water and have people come up and gather around and remind people of their belovedness by sprinkling or splashing or dabbing water on them.  Sometimes I want there to be a full meal at the communion table and to have people just come up and sit down and stay awhile.  Sometimes I just want to light 1000 candles and sit in silence.

The best part about being a pastor is that the one thing I am sure I can count on each Sunday is that if I show up with an open heart and remember that I am not God, the Spirit shows up and takes us all where she will and it’s exactly where we needed to go.

While Facebook and blogs and online news outlets have been full of posts regarding the Sandy Hook Elementary School massacre last Friday, I was not ready to say or write anything.  The horror and overwhelming grief were too much to process while trying to figure out how to say something coherent.  Even though my daughters are both in college, this is the kind of nightmare every parent is afraid of and knows is possible while trying to believe it will never happen.  Is there a parent anywhere who doesn’t empathize to the point of imagining what it would be like if it were their child?  Is there a parent anywhere who has already experienced the death of a child who doesn’t go through a fresh wave of grief?

Because I am a pastor and because Sunday morning comes just after Friday, I knew when I woke up yesterday morning that I would need to say something when I stood before the 250 people gathered.  What made it more difficult was that yesterday we were celebrating the third Sunday of Advent and the word was Joy.  Oh my.  Not only was it the Sunday we celebrate Joy, but it was also the Sunday when our Adult Choir was singing Handel’s “Messiah.”  In the depths of my being all I could think about was wanting to be silent.  Sitting in silence and lighting candles sounded like a good idea to me as I continued to feel God’s broken heart and my broken heart.  Knowing that silence was not going to happen, I prayed and the word that came to me was “paradox.”  We were gathering to listen to one of the most glorious pieces of music ever written and to celebrate Joy and paradox is the only way to understand why we would do that in spite of the chaos.

Paradox is the word that describes how we can feel deep joy and deep grief all at once.  Paradox is how we can feel the chaos of the world and hold on to deep hope that this world is not all there is and that transformation is ongoing.  Paradox is how we can love someone so much that we give them permission to die in peace.  Paradox is how we can love our children so completely and allow them to make their own mistakes and eventually leave home to become adults.  Paradox is how we can believe Christ comes into the world, becomes incarnate, every time someone shares a coat or food or a home or helps the widows and children and those who are ill, while at the same time believing Christ is still coming.  Paradox is the season of Advent.  The days are short and chaos is all around us and yet we are hopeful because the Christ child is about to be born in a stable.  It’s a birth we celebrate over and over again.  Every time we celebrate it we proclaim again that with the birth comes hope.  Hope that peace and justice will replace chaos and injustice.

The recent events and the ongoing violence that continues to plague our cities (more than 120 people have died by gun violence in the city of Oakland in 2012, many of them young, black males), certainly challenge the hope we proclaim.

Paradox is realizing that the Christ is born anew in US.  We are the ones we have been waiting for and we are the ones in whom the Christ becomes incarnate in this world.  It is up to us to continue to work for peace and justice.  May we encourage one another on the long road toward peace.  May we continue to pray for the newly brokenhearted and for those whose hearts are breaking again.