Your are Seen, You are Valued and You Can Do Hard Things Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church Virtual Worship On June 21st, 2020 Scripture: Matthew 10:29-39 What is it like to feel unseen? People glance your way and then their gaze swiftly changes direction, or perhaps they look over you or even through you as though you are invisible. Perhaps you are old, and your hair is white, your body is shrunk from the stature you once had. Perhaps you navigate the world in a wheelchair. Perhaps your role is invisible to many. You mop the floors, empty the trash, care for and clean the very old and the very young. You are not seen in the office building, the hospital, or the nursing home. Perhaps your skin is the wrong color. Perhaps your body is the wrong shape. Or your identified gender looks odd in the body you were born with. Or people think your mannerism don’t fit the gender you present: you’re not man enough, you’re not feminine enough. There are so many ways to be unseen, unnoticed, ignored. In our gospel passage for today, Jesus makes it very clear: God sees you, God notices you. Your importance to God has nothing to do with your importance in the world. God sees the sparrows, the smallest, most prolific, not necessarily pretty birds. God does not only see them as a collective, God sees each one as individual. God has a granular view of all that is created. It seems hard to believe we deserve it, and yet God pays particular attention to us humans. God pays so much attention that God knows every hair on our heads. The more downtrodden and disenfranchised we may feel, the more comforting and the more beautiful the text is. So let’s sit with it, and let it sink in for a moment. Because there’s something else. The second part of the reading, is a little less comforting. You might even say it is disturbing. Jesus tells the disciples not to think that he has come to bring peace to the world. No, he has not come to bring peace, but a sword. Wait … Is this really gentle Jesus meek and mild, Jesus the pacifist, Jesus the one who says love your enemy and turn the other cheek? Where is this coming from … this announcement that he has come to bring, not peace but a sword? There’s more. He goes on: “For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one's foes will be members of one's own household. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.” Right after the declaration that God values us to a level of detail down to every hair on our heads, we are presented with this image. Jesus says he has come to bring the sword. And, on this Father’s Day, of all days, he says he has come to set us against our families. All this is being preached to a group of people who are steeped in the laws of the God of Israel. The ten commandments are of supreme importance. “Honor your father and mother” is the fifth commandment from the book of Exodus. It is the first commandment that concerns human relationships. It follows right on from the commandments that concern a person’s relationship with God. The requirement of discipleship … spelled out in our text today … is to acknowledge Jesus before others, to put God first. Jesus is clear that this will not always make life peaceful and smooth for us. This is hard. And still, we are seen by God, we are valued by God and so, surely, we can do hard things. ------------------ Some years ago, I belonged to a group of young mothers at my church. We would meet each week to discuss and study books and texts that related to our experiences and challenges of raising children in the Christian faith. One week the chapter we read mentioned the family dynamics that come up during the holidays. The moms in the group must have spent the next 45 minutes talking about the conflicts around family gatherings at Christmas. The meeting took place in May! Even in May, these moms were already worrying about Christmas. Just this past week, I heard a discussion between a white radio presenter and a black woman minister, Rev. Irene Monroe. The presenter noted that white families avoid speaking about racism, especially during family events such as the holidays. The issue is just too divisive for most families to handle. Rev. Monroe pointed out that this is a perfect illustration of white privilege. Black families talk about racism all the time, because it is an ever-present issue in their lives. They simply cannot avoid it. Perhaps for those of us who belong to white families, the division Jesus brings could mean conversations about racism. Especially at this time when our country is experiencing disruptions around race. May Americans have also recently celebrated “Juneteenth.” Juneteenth is the holiday on June 19th, commemorating the end of slavery in the United States. I don’t know whether you will be heading off to a physically distanced back yard family barbecue this Father’s Day. Or perhaps you will be doing a family Zoom call. This may seem like the worst time to talk about racism in your family, if this has been a divisive topic in the past. No one wants to be told they are “a racist”, or that they are uninformed, or bigoted. It’s worth remembering that the fifth commandment still holds true. We are commanded to honor our father and mother. And we, naturally love our family members regardless of their opinions. Our intent must be loving, not intentionally hurtful. So how are we to follow Jesus’ example in standing up for the outcast and the downtrodden while honoring our family relationships? Perhaps this starts with curiosity, simply asking co-workers, family members, fellow students, why they say what they say, how they formed their beliefs. There are many guidelines that can be found online. For example the Teaching Tolerance website gives a six step process for speaking up. These steps include: Preparing questions and responses: When someone says something that sounds wrong to you, maybe ask “what do you mean?” Identifying the behavior: Sometimes, pointing out the behavior candidly helps someone hear what they're really saying: "Jess, what I hear you saying is that all Mexicans are lazy." Appealing to principles: If the speaker is someone you have a relationship with, call on their higher principles: "I've always thought of you as a fair-minded person, so it shocks me when I hear you say something that sounds so bigoted." The sixth step is “Be Vigilant.” The guidelines remind readers, change happens slowly. People make small steps, typically, not large ones. Stay prepared, and keep speaking up. Don't risk silence. Bob Carolla of the National Alliance for Mentally Ill puts it this way: "If you don't speak up, you're surrendering part of yourself. You're letting bigotry win." [1] Confronting racism with family and friends may sound like too much of a hard thing. And heaven knows, we have been asked to do many hard things over the past months. We’ve been required to separate from many of our friends and loved ones. We’ve been required to behave differently when we go out and about. We wear masks, distance from others, and are wary about every place we go and everything we touch. This is exhausting. We may wonder, why is our reading for this Sunday throwing one more hard thing into the mix? And, still, I’m convinced that the message for us today is “you can do this hard thing.” Leaning into divisiveness requires courage. It requires us knowing where our allegiance lies. Being in conflict does not mean that one person is right and the other is wrong. Being in conversation about the things that matter helps each party to come to a new and better understanding. In the coming months, in the fall, our church will have some hard decisions to make regarding our future and our building. That will mean talking through some things that may bring up conflict. If we do those conversations well, they will help us get at who God is really calling us to be and what God is really calling us to do. One thing I am sure of: we can do that hard thing. Remember the verses we reflected on in the beginning: God sees you, God values you? I’m going to add one more thing: God also has confidence in you. Remember: You are seen, you are valued and you can do hard things. And now, we’ll listen to a song, sung in community, by Carrie Newcomer … You Can Do this Hard Thing. May all God’s people say, Amen [1] https://www.tolerance.org/magazine/publications/speak-up/six-steps-to-speak-up
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We Are All In this Together Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church During Virtual Worship on June 14th, 2020 Scripture: Matthew 9:35-10:8 Whether or not we attend school or college, most of us think of breaking for the summer. This is typically a time when we pause to reflect on what we have accomplished over the “school year” and wonder what we will be doing in the fall. And so, this week I took the opportunity to stand back and take stock. Where are we now as a church? How are we all doing? Have we accomplished what we hoped to accomplish? What more do we have to do? These questions apply to our church, to our communities and also our individual lives. There is always work for us to do. And still, once in while we need to evaluate how we are doing right now. As I posed these questions, as you might imagine, I felt quite overwhelmed. Last fall we could not have imagined that we would end this program year in the midst of an ongoing global pandemic. In March we did not expect our worship to move to online for the remainder of the program year. The projects we hoped to do were put on hold while we tried to get a handle on what the future would look like. This year has not shaped up the way we expected at all. The pandemic has been a traumatic event in everyone’s lives. Some of us have been sick, some of us have had friends and family become sick and die. Many of us have been separated from loved ones, whether they live in residential care, or we simply cannot visit them in their homes because of quarantine restrictions. Many of us have been confined to our homes and are alone. Many have lost their employment, and no one knows what life will look like when “all this is over.” As a colleague said to me, this past week, there is no “us” and “them” in a community disaster. Those who provide care are in the midst of the same event as those who receive it. As Arun Rath’s daily program on WGBH radio reminds us, we are all “In It Together.” [1] Even as we, church people, seek to help those who need food, shelter, shopping, and social contact, we are experiencing the same shock waves as everyone else. Those who provide medical care, emotional and spiritual care in hospitals and other places, are experiencing the same distressing effects. Just these past couple of weeks we have also been challenged, yet again, to remain engaged in the struggle against systemic racism in our culture. We have been challenged by our black American siblings, to step up and act as allies in this struggle. We have been reminded that whenever our communities experience hard times, it is people of color who suffer most. We have been reminded that complacency is not acceptable, especially in the face of police brutality. And indeed there really seems to be a tide change in opinion and engagement with this issue. At best, white, and other allies with the black community can adopt an attitude of “we’re in this together.” When one member suffers, we all suffer. We can show our solidarity and support by confessing that systemic racism is our problem. Systemic racism is a white problem. There’s a lot going on. There’s a lot of work to be done. And there are enormous challenges to that work. This morning’s gospel reading, from gospel of Matthew, fits this situation perfectly. In the story we meet Jesus in the midst of ministry. He has gone about the countryside healing the sick, casting out demons, feeding the hungry, and teaching, always teaching about the Kingdom of God come near. Now he is ready to commission the disciples. They are going to receive a new job description. Instead of being “disciples”, that is students or followers, they are going to become apostles: those who are sent out. Jesus looks out over the crowds he sees that they look harassed and helpless. They look like lost sheep without a shepherd. He has compassion for them, and he realizes that the work of caring for them is enormous. We might expect Jesus to be overwhelmed. Instead he seems to see this as an opportunity. He says to the disciples “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Therefore, ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”And so he gives the disciples authority to cast our demons and heal every disease, every sickness. And then he tells them they are to do just that, proclaiming that the Kingdom of God has come near. He warns them that this is not going to be easy. It’s going to be hard. He says “see I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be as wise and serpents and as innocent as doves.” Not everyone is going to accept them. Their proclamation that the Kingdom is coming near is going to upset some people. They will be dragged before governors and kings because of their testimony to the way of Jesus. This work is not for the feint of heart. The work of caring for, healing and feeding the lost sheep, and speaking out about the coming kingdom, is going to be exhausting and overwhelming. And yet, the Jesus movement needs them to survive. Jesus needs them to remain healthy and rested, so that they can continue the work when he is gone. He has already demonstrated to them the need to observe the Sabbath, not out of a sense of duty, but for their own needs. He has shown them that they need to regularly withdraw from the crowds to pray. He has attended to their need for nourishment and social interaction, eating, drinking and laughing with them. When they no longer have Jesus to turn to, they will have one another. The are all in it together. Exhausting and overwhelming. These words may resonate with us all right now. A few days ago, this meme came up in my newsfeed: “If You’re Tired, Learn to Rest. Not to quit.” I thought this message for quite some time. It answered a question for me. I’ve often wondered why I have given up on certain things in the past. Why, when I was so committed to a project, did I decide to stop? What was going on? Sometimes a former passion has been re-ignited in me, and I’ve wondered, why ever did I let this go before? The answer is that I got tired. And then, instead of taking the advice of the meme, I quit. That can happen when we keep going too long on something without taking a break. It can happen, in general, if we don’t take a weekly Sabbath. Rest is especially essential when there is an emergency … or we live, as now, in an ongoing disaster mode. Remaining healthy, as best we are able, is also essential. Last week “A Memorial for George Floyd, A Call for Unity” was broadcast on Boston’s Channel 5 from the Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Jamaica Plain. This was a powerful service of memorial and a call to act, delivered by black clergy from the Christian, Jewish and Islamic faiths. The church was not filled with worshipers, as we might usually expect. Instead the representative clergy were very carefully distanced from one another. There were a few musicians, equally carefully distanced. All those present wore masks until it was their turn to speak. Then they came forward to a lectern and microphone, well distanced from everyone else. Another person, in mask and gloves cleaned the lectern and the microphone between speakers. All other worshipers watched the service on TV or online. Rev. Dr. Gloria White Hammond, co-pastor of Bethel AME, spoke to her congregation and others who had joined the service. She said “We, as a congregation, are committed to adhering to our public health colleague’s wisdom Because we need you to survive. We need your voice to speak truth to police power. We need your voice to speak truth to the political powers We need you to survive We follow these recommendations Because we need your body to act up in civil disobedience We need you to survive ... ” [2] Resting, physically distancing, refraining from in-person worship does not mean we have given up on doing the work of the kingdom of God, which according to Jesus in Matthew has come near. And so, I ask you … what are your passions in life? Where do you see lost sheep and feel compassion for them? Perhaps you -Care for the elderly -Or you seek justice for the poor and the outcasts -Maybe you support for our veterans and others who serve us -Perhaps you are the nearest relative or support person for someone whose health is vulnerable Friends, whether we are doing church work, community work, or caring from our friends and loved ones, there is no “us” and “them.” When one person hurts, we all hurt. When one person dies, we all die a little. When one person is weary, we are all weary. We are all in this together. And so, let’s commit ourselves to one another and the work we have to do. This summer let’s rest, let’s prayerfully consider our responsibilities in remaining distanced and refraining from in-person gatherings. Let’s remember, we have our family and friends, and we have our church family. We need you to survive, because we’re all in this together. May all God’s people say “Amen” [1] https://www.wgbh.org/news/inittogether [2] http://www.bethelame.org/ Keeping the Promise June 7th, 2020 Scripture: Matthew 28:16-20 The passage we read from the gospel of Matthew today is known as the “Great Commission.” For those who of us who know that, the title most likely frames our hearing of the passage. The Great Commission: so grand and empowering. The words resonate in our memories: Go, therefore and make disciples of all nations, Baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit! Behold I am with you, even to the end of the age. The disciples are being commission to make disciples of all the nations, all the world. Surely Matthew is anticipating the worldwide Church: a great sweep of conversions around the globe, Christ reigning over all. The traditional title of this passage tempts us to declare “mission accomplished!” This has been done. Christianity has reached every nation. And indeed the Church was a global force to be reckoned with for centuries. For some readers this passage may even evoke nostalgia for the era of Christendom. But, what about us? We, disciples of Christ, of little Wollaston Congregational Church. We who worship on Zoom. We who are unable to gather together in person, because of our concern for our most vulnerable members. Does this scripture have anything to say about us and our mission in these massively disruptive times? In these times of the COVID-19 pandemic and Black Lives Matter protests breaking out all over the world. If we look closely at the scene without preconceived ideas, things may look a different – the Great Commission title less appropriate. The passage begins with the eleven disciples going out to Galilee to the mountain to meet Jesus. There are not very many and they do not seem to be empowered. Jesus was recently crucified in Jerusalem, he has reappeared to them and only them. “The powers that be” in Jerusalem consider that he has been put to death, the Jesus movement is over and done with. And the disciples themselves have retreated, perhaps in fear. They are back in little Galilee, far north of the city. Notice there are only eleven disciples. The one who outwardly betrayed and deceived Jesus has already gone. Jesus appears to them on this mount. When they see him, some of them worship him, but others doubt. Even in this small group of most loyal followers, some are not buying it. Some are not fully committed to this resurrection story. Jesus does not seem fazed by this though. He announces “All authority in heaven and earth has been given to me …” and then he instructs them to go to all people, making disciples, teaching them to obey his commands, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Then he promises them “behold, I am with you always to the end of the age.” The bedraggled group of eleven disciples have trudged back from Jerusalem to Galilee. They have arrived back where the story began, where they – fishermen – were called to follow. There is no Christendom, no worldwide church, no church at all. Just them. And this appearance of Jesus to commission and to reassure. Go, baptize, teach. The work may seem enormous, but he promises he is with them. Even though they may tremble and quake at the thought of it, his presence will give them the strength. Perhaps now the passage seems a little more applicable to our situation. We are reduced in number, trembling and quaking at the responsibilities we are given. We are hindered by the restrictions and fears of our time. But … the command to baptize. We can do that. In fact we really like to baptize. One of my greatest joys is to baptize someone into the membership of Christ’s family. And I know, from the way those services feel, that our congregation loves baptisms too. I hold the fuzzy little head of an infant gently in my hand, lifting the water from the font. Or I stand with my hand on an adult’s shoulder leading them to the waters of baptism. It is always beautiful. One great sadness of this time is that hands-on baptism is not possible. One very important feature of baptism services is that we are reminded of our own baptismal promises. As we promise to support the candidates for baptism, we also renew the promises we made or were made for us. When someone is going to be baptized in our church, I have them, or their parents, come and meet with me. Mostly candidates for baptism are excited about the sacrament. Parents may be preparing for a celebration, lining up God-parents, and a cute little outfit or gown for the child. We discuss the logistics of the event. Will the baby be OK with water splashed on their forehead? Will the adult be wearing glasses or makeup? It is my responsibility to remind them that while the sacrament is joyful, it also comes with some weighty promises. We generally read over them together. These are the UCC baptismal promises, those of other denominations such as the United Methodist Church are quite similar … “Do you renounce the powers of evil and desire the freedom of new life in Christ?” The answer is “I do” “Do you profess Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior?” Again, the answer is “I do” “Do you promise, by the grace of God, to be Christ’s disciple, to follow in the way of our Savior, to resist oppression and evil, to show love and justice, and to witness to the work and word of Jesus Christ as best as you are able?” The answer to this one is “I promise with the help of God” These promises are entirely consistent with Jesus’ instructions in the commission we heard this morning. The new disciples are to be baptized and to be taught to obey everything he commanded them. In Matthew’s gospel this refers to the Sermon on the Mount- healing the sick, caring for the poor, loving enemies, lifting up the needs of those who have been forgotten. I haven’t done many baptisms, I must admit, but I am surprised that no one has ever questioned the promises. And to be honest, I’ve never dared to ask: are you not fazed by the promise to follow the way of Jesus by resisting oppression and evil, showing love and justice and witnessing to the work and word of Jesus Christ? Are you not concerned that this is going to be really difficult, even dangerous? I sometimes think that if I draw attention to this particular promise, the candidate or parent might decide not to go ahead with baptism after all. The given answer to this question is not a simple “I do.” It is the exception – the answer is “I promise with the help of God.” Who among us would be able to make this intimidating promise except with the help of God? We surely need the help of God and the promised presence of Jesus to keep this promise. When it comes to resisting oppression I’m late to the party, I know. I just learning about what it means to be an ally, that it is not always about taking a lead. Often it’s about standing at the back in witness, showing support and solidarity. One thing I witnessed this past week was the Black Live Matter vigil in Quincy. The organizer, Sue Doherty, is a founding member of Quincy Neighbors Mutual Aid Facebook group. The intention was to denounce police brutality and call for justice in the deaths of black Americans at the hands of law enforcement. Sue anticipated a relatively small gathering and called for participants to remain quiet and peaceful, lighting candles and sharing words of solidarity. Members of the Quincy Interfaith Network, of which I am a member, were invited to attend. Clergy from a number of faiths and denominations were glad to be there. Sue might have felt a little overwhelmed as protesters and demonstrators flooded into Quincy. There were estimated to be 5,000: many, many young people, adults and children. Almost everyone wore a mask. The speakers were powerful, and well distanced. The crowd was peaceful, although the chants were passionate. The righteous anger over the death of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor and many others, was palpable. We said their names out loud and took a knee together. We prayed. The police presence was appropriate. They wore regular uniforms with reflective vests and rode bicycles alongside the marchers. I stood back and watched the young people take the lead. Sadly, I left before the climax, but I saw it later on video. The demonstrators approached a roadblock of police, slowly and deliberately, and knelt. The chant changed to “Cops, take a knee … cops take a knee …” it went on for a while. Then as the kneeling protesters stood, one by one the cops knelt. The crowd cheered, shouted out “thank you” to the cops, exchanged fist bumps. I can still feel the chills. This was resisting oppression and evil, showing love and justice, as best I’ve seen it for a long time. Resisting oppression can be hard. Sometimes it’s scary. Often it’s not comfortable. And sometimes it’s not difficult at all. It can be simply a matter of doing one small thing and then another small thing, until you have done many small things, such as -connecting with someone new … a former stranger, someone who does not look like you -reading a challenging book by an author you wouldn’t usually read … -having a conversation that you didn’t want to have, and listening with openness and curiosity -examining yourself for your own privilege and racism, -being willing to sit with discomfort for a while. And so … what of us, Wollaston Congregational Church in this time of COVID-19? Are we still like the little ragtag group of eleven, standing at the foot of the mountain, Jesus standing in front of us, commissioning us? Some of us may doubt, others may fall down and worship. Our task remains the same: to be disciples, make disciples to teaching them all he has taught us. To baptize and to be true to our baptismal promises. These are difficult promises, and may seem impossible in these incredibly disruptive times. And yet we still have Jesus, true to his promise to us, that he is with us even to the end of the age. May all God’s people say… Amen God’s Breath, Our Breath If you are a parent, you understand this all too well. When your child hurts, you hurt. When your child is rejected, you are rejected. When your child cannot breathe, you cannot breathe either. Scriptures: Psalm 104, Acts 2:1-21 We all need to breathe, that we know only too well. We need to breathe air for life, we cannot do without it. These past weeks we have been weeping with those whose loved ones could no longer breathe, because their lungs were destroyed by coronavirus. This week, we weep yet again, over something equally insidious … in Minneapolis a young black man, George Floyd, was deprived of breath by a Police Officer and died. Rev. Adam R. Taylor, executive director of Sojourners, writes “George’s death feels like too much, adding insult to injury as the black community deals with the trauma of losing such a disproportionate number of loved ones due to COVID-19 and now has to see what feel like almost daily reminders of our dehumanization.” [1] It’s hard to imagine anything more frightening than having your breath taken away. Though I don’t mention it often, I have mild asthma. It usually goes away quickly. And still, when I am out on a walk and I feel that pressure in my chest, my first response is fear. Still I remember a much deeper sense of panic, when my children were little and suffered from bronchiolitis, their little chests expanding to take in what air they could. “I can’t breathe” is not a sentence we want to hear on our news. It is physically shocking to see someone having their life taken away in this way. Today we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, which came as a rush of violent wind. God’s Spirit shows up as breath or wind throughout our scriptures. In the beginning God’s Spirit sweeps over the chaotic waters like a wind, a creative wind bringing life to a lifeless void. In the second chapter of Genesis the Lord God appears as a kind of craftsperson, forming humanity from the dust and breathing life into their nostrils. The Psalm we read today, 104, celebrates God’s creation, telling the hearer that when God takes God’s breath away creatures die (Psalm 104:29). There is no survival without breath. In John’s gospel the day after the crucifixion Jesus comes to stand among the disciples in the upper room. He says "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit” (John 29:21-22). Jesus imparts the Holy Spirit with his breath. This is the very breath that was taken away from him on the cross as he died of suffocation. It is God’s breath. And then, in the passage we read in the book of Acts today, the disciples are together again, when the Spirit of God sweeps into the room like the rush of a violent wind. It is this event that enables the disciples to preach and witness to Jesus’ work and teachings. It is an event, that enables people of different tongues, different experiences, different cultures to understand one another. Human breath, air, open pathways, healthy lungs, are all necessary for life. But what about God’s breath: the Holy Spirit, how does this differ from human breath. Sitting with the scriptures and the stories from the news these past weeks, I have become convinced that these two kinds of breath are not separate. They are the same. The psalmist says that creatures die when God takes away God’s breath. But what of God, when a person’s breath is taken away, doesn’t God die a little too? The story of Jesus coming to the world is the story of God’s great empathy with humanity. What Jesus feels, the parent God feels. And there is no doubt that when Jesus was crucified, suffocating on the cross God’s breath was taken away. God died on the cross too. Any parent who has lost a child can attest to this experience. Throughout his life Jesus showed his own oneness with the people around him. He felt their hunger. He felt their thirst and he felt their pain when they were sick. We often think of Jesus’ wonderful kindness for those he met. We see it as an example for ourselves. But we sometimes forget that all the actions and teachings of the gospel come with the powerful message … each episode in the story reveals something already true about God. God is fully present to us in Jesus. And in the Pentecost story, God’s Spirit is breathed into the disciples’ lungs. God’s breath is in us. When we – or even any creature – have our breath taken away God dies a little. God feels that pain. If this sounds improbable, remember that we are talking about our parent God. If you are a parent, you understand this all too well. When your child hurts, you hurt. When your child is rejected, you are rejected. When your child cannot breathe, you cannot breathe either. A few years ago, I attended a workshop on ethics, given by the Martin Luther King, Jr. Professor of Ethical Leadership, Walter Earl Fluker. This workshop took place a few months after Michael Brown had been killed by police in Ferguson, Missouri. Professor Fluker presented a case study based on the story of Michael Brown and asked the attendees to break out into groups to discuss. There was one black woman and one black man in my group. The other group members were white, well meaning, sensitive women. Ministers and seminarians. As we went around the group sharing our emotions on first hearing the story of Michael Brown, the one black woman took her turn. She began to weep with grief and fury as she explained what it feels like to be the mother of black sons in these times. Then she stopped, “I can’t do this … I can’t stay here, I need to leave,” she said. One of the white women in the group tried to let her know she had been heard. But, she was right. She couldn’t stay. A part of her died in that shooting in Ferguson and every one before and since then. Each man taken could have been one of her sons. She was telling us white people we needed to do our work alone. She couldn’t be expected to be a part of it. I know institutional racism happens, I know it exists. I have friends and colleagues who told me about being stopped for driving while black. But I have never had a close friend lose a child to jogging, walking, singing, shopping, driving while black. That day, at the workshop, I learned why white people need to do their work alone. And we have a lot of work to do. When I hear stories like the one we heard this past week, I think about holding the police who committed the crime accountable. I think about the need for police training in de-escalation. I wonder who raises a man who can go ahead and suffocate someone who is already immobilized and crying out “I can’t breathe.” These are all externals: ways to pass out blame, ways to get myself off the hook for my complicity. This is not at all what God’s great empathy looks like. What if I felt the same connection to George Floyd as to my own children, when they were little, sick and struggling to breathe? Rev. Don Remick, Bridge Associate Conference Minister of the SNEUCC spoke of his reactions to the past week’s news in a conference video on Friday. He said he could feel emotions around him from those who are disheartened, those who grieve, those who fear, and those whose anger is rising to rage, that this just keeps happening. He confesses that his own reaction is tied to his whiteness. He wants to “calm down the rage,” to say “take it easy, don’t act out.” He wants to console the grieving and offer statements of hope for the disheartened. He says, “As white folks, we want to take away the pain. We don’t want to be exposed to uncomfortable emotions: they hold a mirror up to us of complicity, silence and neglect.” And so Rev. Remick invites us white folks “to pay attention to those emotions. Don’t fix them or dismiss them, respect them and honor them. Let them into you heart and to your soul, to the place where awareness and behavior can change.” [2] He invites us to act within our communities, starting with ourselves. To examine what we have inherited, what has been hardwired in us through our families and life experiences. At Wollaston Congregational Church we began some of this work when we read and studied the book “Waking Up White” by Debby Irving. [3] We still have a lot of work to do and so we need to stay on it. This isn’t the sermon I wanted to preach on Pentecost. I wanted to preach a sermon of celebration and joy, for the gift of the Holy Spirit and the birth of the Church. But it turned out that I couldn’t preach anything else. The Holy Spirit of God is our very life breath. To turn away from its pulling and prompting is to die a little ourselves. Here’s a prayer by Steve Garnaas Holmes. [4] May we pray: When you send forth your spirit, all beings are created; and you renew the face of the ground. His name was George Floyd. I will pour out my spirit on all flesh. He was God's beloved, breathing God's Spirit. In the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body. He was black. The Body of Christ. When you take away their breath, they die and return to their dust. He was slowly choked to death by a white cop. His life didn't matter. We do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. “Please, I can't breathe...” Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me. Amen [1] https://sojo.net/articles/george-floyd-deserved-breathe-free?fbclid=IwAR10X-CU0bJVletUeEotKgAhaoPputaltfyytE4kp-BGrzkYVqD4FWYAQ0A [2] https://www.facebook.com/sneucc/videos/291844538516332/ [3] Debby Irving, Waking Up White, and Finding Myself in the Story of Race, (Elephant Room Press, Cambridge MA, 2014) [4] https://www.unfoldinglight.net/reflections/6ncfxpw5k7swh2msrn2y9e7kfzkxc4 |
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April 2022
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