I am floored. I'm an extrovert, and have had decades of experience in public speaking...so
I seldom am at a loss for words. However...

However, when U.S. Representative Steve King (from Iowa) said the following, I confess
that, for a while at least, I was left pretty much speechless, mouth agape:

"I'd ask you to go back through history and figure out, where are these contributions that have been made by these other categories of people that you're talking about, where did any other subgroup of people contribute more to civilization?... It's rooted (all) in Western Europe, Eastern Europe and the United States of America and every place where the footprint of Christianity settled the world. That's all of Western civilization."  (Quoted in a July 18, 2016 online article from The Washington Post.)

Really, Mr. King? You really are going to go on television and proclaim that white, European
civilization is the only group that's made any lasting contribution to "civilization?"

Well, let me think...

• George Washington Carver, an African-American, developed 300 derivative products from peanuts among them cheese, milk, coffee, flour, ink, dyes, plastics, wood stains, soap, linoleum, medicinal oils and cosmetics.
• Lewis Howard Latimer, an African-American, invented and patented an incandescent light bulb with a carbon filament in 1881. An engineer for the Edison Company, Latimer invented the carbon filament, thus making the light bulb practical.
• Among his many other inventions, African-American Garrett Augustus Morgan invented an early traffic signal, that greatly improved safety on America's streets and roadways.
• Islamic scholars, especially in what Europeans know as the Middle Ages, kept alive such scientific fields as geometry and medicine. They gave us our current system of numbers, including the then-new concept of the number zero. They also invented the mathematical field of algebra and contributed immensely to the field of astronomy.
• Many believe that part of our American idea of representative democracy originated not so much with Presbyterian polity (although that certainly played an influence), but with our own regional influence of the Iroquois Confederacy.
• Gun powder (for weapons, as well as for fireworks) was invented during the Tang Dynasty of the 9th century in China.
• Dr. Carlos Juan Finlay, a modest Cuban physician, was the one who originated the theory that yellow fever originated with mosquitos.
• Jean-Baptiste Pointe DuSable, a black man living in the 1700s, is considered by historians to be the first permanent resident of Chicago.
• Thomas L. Jennings, the inventor credited for inventing the dry cleaning process, was the first African American to hold a U.S. patent, issued in 1821.
• African-American Frederick Jones invented the ticket dispensing machine in 1943. This invention revolutionized the transportation and entertainment industries. This Ohio inventor is credited for 61 patents, including the portable X-ray machine, the portable refrigeration unit, and the two-cycle gasoline engine.
• Dr. Charles Drew discovered a method for the preservation of blood that was used extensively during World War II by the British military to save the lives of wounded soldiers. After the war, Drew was appointed the first director of the American Red Cross Blood Bank. He was only one of many outstanding African-American scientists.
• Dr. Daniel Hale Williams performed the first successful open heart surgery in 1893 and founded Provident Hospital and Training School for Nurses (the first black-owned hospital in America) in 1891.
• The formal invention of paper can be dated exactly in the year A.D. 105, and was the work of one who should surely be honored among the great contributors to human civilization. He was Ts'ai Lun, a man attached to the Chinese imperial court.

I confess I'm just tired. I'm tired of ignorance being lauded over knowledge. I'm tired of
people who believe that their personal beliefs are "facts," just because they say so...the
preponderance of other information notwithstanding. I'm tired of racism and bigotry being
paraded as patriotism. I'm just tired.

St. Paul wrote it best, I think:

Christ is just like the human body - a body is a unit and has many parts; and all the parts of the body are one body, even though there are many.... If the foot says, "I'm not part of the body because I'm not a hand," does that mean it's not part of the body? If the ear says, "I'm not part of the body because I'm not an eye," does that mean it's not part of the body? If the whole body were an eye, what would happen to the hearing? And if the whole body were an ear, what would happen to the sense of smell? But as it is, God has placed each one of the parts in the body just like he wanted. If all were one and the same body part, what would happen to the body? But as it is, there are many parts but one body. (1 Corinthians 12:12, 15-19; CEB)

Surely we need to live out this reality in the Church. But if we also could model this,
proclaim this, insist on this in the broader society... well, wouldn't that make our lives richer
and allow us to continue to build on that beautiful, intricate mosaic that is what makes
American society strong?

Responding to violence and despondancy

A week ago this past Wednesday, 16 people - pastoral leaders, Leadership Team members, and retired teaching elders - gathered for lunch at Pebble Hill Presbyterian Church to talk about
ways to address the horrific acts of violence that took place in Baton Rouge, St. Paul, and Dallas. We all continue to reel at the seemingly relentless onslaught of these kinds of stories happening in our nation, let alone around the world. It seemed imperative that our Presbytery offer a venue to at least begin some discussions and reflections on possible ways to respond as a people of faith.

What occurred during this two-hour conversation was prayer, reflection, and sharing. We
talked about our hopes and dreams. We acknowledged our own complicity in instances of
racism. Many of the pastors present shared ways in which last Sunday's lectionary texts
fit so incredibly well - providentially even, one might say - in helping them address the
current situation. The passage from Amos 7 (including reference to God's plumb line in the
midst of the people), coupled with the Gospel passage from Luke 10 (about the Good
Samaritan...that "social outcast" who fulfilled God's law of compassion for beyond the
indifference of the religious leaders of the community) provided rich opportunities for
reflection.

To me, an interesting way in which the lunch conversation developed was that it quickly
went beyond possible responses to specific acts of violence and racism, to a discussion
about the whole tenor of our society, of social dialogue, of dividing walls in our nation that
seem to be increasingly unbreachable, of the climate of fear that so pervades almost
everything today...including fear in the Church (we're losing members, we don't have
money, we can't afford a full-time pastoral leader, where are all the youth, etc., etc.).
Out of the conversations together on Wednesday, a few things became clear to all of us
who were present.

First, one of the preeminent theological themes in our Reformed tradition is that of grace.
God's grace is extended to us. That's symbolized most powerfully when we baptize
infants; God's grace comes to us even before we are able to understand or respond or
even accept it. And if God's grace is extended to us, it is extended to everyone,
everywhere.

Second, we acknowledged that some fear is good, even essential. Fear is a basic human
response to danger, and its purpose is to keep us safe. Fear of the Lord is essential in
helping us remember that we are accountable to God for the decisions we make, the words
we use, the actions we perform (or fail to perform). At the same time, the phrase "do not be
afraid" occurs again and again throughout Scripture. We must never let fear control us,
rule us, shape how we live our lives. One of the other great Reformed themes is an
emphasis on the providence of God. Through the worst of times and events, we can trust
that God's love and compassion and justice will prevail. Always! That doesn't excuse any
inaction on our part. In fact, that should spur us on to faithful participation in the work of
God in our world and in our lives. However, trusting in the Lord allows us not to be
paralyzed or overcome by events.

Finally, as we went around the room with different ones telling some of our own stories and
experiences, we realized that telling our stories is incredibly powerful. Telling our stories
opens us to the need for confession and repentance. Telling our stories helps others
understand a bit more about us, and listening to others' stories helps us understand them.
It is in the telling of stories that we see each other as fellow human travelers in this world,
we see each other as children of God, we see each other as individuals, not as a
representative token of any one group (racial minority, privileged individual, police, rich,
poor, immigrant, educated, uneducated, etc.).

It's easy to become overwhelmed by the magnitude of the tragedies that we hear about
again and again, all too frequently. And it can feel disempowering when we think the whole
society's problems are ours to fix and make right. What we can do, perhaps what we must
do, is simply begin by telling our stories, and by listening to others' stories. It is the silence
that kills and condemns us. It is speaking and acting together, with those right around us,
that can begin to shine light in a world of frightening shadows. And perhaps one of the
things our worshiping communities can offer is to provide a safe place for such
conversations to take place.

Let's begin. Together.

Opening Worship at #GA222

It’s the hymns that always get to me.  The opening worship of this year’s General Assembly was no exception.  Imagine joining with hundreds of voices in worship and praise and prayer… accompanied by local musicians who made up the vocal choir, the handbell and chime choir, all accompanied by piano and organ.  Imagine standing in line, reverently waiting to be nourished by bread and cup as we remembered the presence of the Risen Christ in our midst.

As the worship began, water, cup, bread, and candle were processed in.  During the call to worship all present prayed: “We praise you, the three-in-one God. Without you we will not make it through the week.  You are ‘The Hope in Our Calling’ in the cascading waters of baptism.”  In other parts of the liturgy, we were called to remember our baptism in the words, “Be people of the water! Travel wet!”

Orlando and Charleston were mentioned at the very beginning of Moderator Heath Rada’s sermon as he reflected upon the biblical stories of Joseph and brothers and of the Prodigal Son.  So many of his words resonated deeply in me and in the hearts of those around me, as evidenced by moist eyes, quiet “amens,” heads nodding in agreement and affirmation.  Some of his words that so touched me:

·      “The Father in the story of the Prodigal Son was not open to negotiation.  Unconditional love and welcome were his choices.”

·      “The question for us all is, ‘Do we want to be found?’”

·      “We’re called to be a renewed family. That takes courage. Will you embrace it?”

·      “Go into the world as a work in progress… The world will be better because you are in it!”

The person sitting next to me, teaching elder commissioner Nancy Young from Newton Presbytery, reflected on the why this opening worship service was so important to her.  “The Presbyterian Church is a small church.  We come here from big churches and small.  But here we are in a worship service that is over-the-top expansive…. This is my family.  And we get to worship God together, as the Body of Christ.”

We were reminded that people from around the world – literally – were joining us in worship.  I know people in my own Presbytery in Central New York were gathered around computer screens, live-streaming the worship, able to participate through the online worship bulletin that was available from GA.  I was so aware of that as we celebrated Communion, remembering the words, “People will come from north and south, from east and west, and sit at Table in the realm of God.”

Working in the Church can sometimes be a lonely venture.  Today, once again, I was powerfully reminded that I am not alone.  Not ever.  Around me was my church family – most of whom I had not met – but they were family nonetheless.  And God embraced us all.  As Heath reminded us: “You are loved so much.  It’s as if God has nothing else to do!”

"How long, O Lord?"

The Psalms of our Hebrew Scriptures always have constituted the Prayer Book of the
people of God. In the Christian tradition, psalms have been read and prayed during
services of Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer for centuries. Monks and nuns read and
pray the psalms several times each day, working through all 150 Psalms every two weeks.
Billy Graham once suggested that everyone read through the Psalms every month,
reading five each day.

As I have read and prayed the psalms for years, sometimes I find that it almost seems to
be a non-thinking routine. Other times, each psalm seems to be alive and filled with power
and wonder and meaning. Other times, a psalm seems to be just utterly detestable... take,
for example, the last verse of Psalm 137!

Author, pastor, and theologian, Eugene Peterson, reminds us that the psalms are there to
help us pray in ways we otherwise might not, to give voice to negative emotions we might
be tempted to deny, to give us words to pray when we have no words of our own.
Ever since the events in Orlando of last Sunday morning, when so many innocent people
were systematically gunned down, I have tried to find words to pray. When the horror of
such a blatant attack on members and allies of the LGBTQ community - especially during
Pride Month - began to force its way past my initial disbelief that something like this could
happen, I have tried to find words to pray. As I have reached out to friends far and wide
who are a part of the LGBTQ community, and as I have heard their pain, their grief, their
fear, I have tried to find words to pray.

At times, my prayers seemed to just tumble out of my mouth and heart in a torrent of
compassion and love and pain and heartache and anger. At times, I simply sat in silence,
trying to hold those in pain within the embrace of God's love and light. At times, words
completely failed me.

Consistently, though, these words from Psalm 13, have echoed within me:

"How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all day long?"

Usually, these words have been abbreviated to this two-word, piercing question and
prayer: "How long?"

I want God to DO something! I want God to take away pain and fear from those who are
suffering! I want God to beat some sense into our lawmakers! I want God to stop people
from perpetrating this mind-boggling violence! I just want God to STOP IT ALL!

"How long, O Lord," I cry! How long until justice is realized? How long until love reigns
supreme? How long until "the kingdoms of this world become the kingdom of our Lord, who
shall reign forever and ever?" "How long, O Lord?"

And then I realize that God has not abandoned us. God has not left us solely to our own
devices. God has not ceased to love and care and stand with us. God carries our pain,
and shares in it. God holds our tears, and sheds divine tears right with us. God wraps us
in grace and compassion, even when/if we're not aware of that.

And then I realize something else. "How long" is not just a question that I am asking of God.
"How long" also is a question that I must ask of myself...that we all must ask of ourselves.
"How long" will WE put up with conditions that lead to this kind of horror and tragedy?

I don't know the answers to much of this. But I do know that I have to continue to ask this
question to the Lord: "How long?" And I know that we have to ask ourselves that very same
question.

Praying for you to experience anew love, grace, comfort... and even hope.

Thoughts on disagreement...as Christians, as Presbyterians

I am angered, and hurt, and sad...but mostly sad, I suppose.

A colleague Stated Clerk, whom I have known for decades, and who I respect and value as
a colleague and friend, shared some comments about a committee of the General
Assembly, of which I am a member, not only questioning our written statements about
some of the issues coming to this year's Assembly, but using terms that were dismissive at
best, derisive at worst, of the careful, deliberative work of the committee. I have responded
to this individual in writing, and asked that we make some time soon to talk together
directly, either in person (perhaps even at the Assembly in Portland) or at least by phone.
Our relationship is such that I trust such a conversation will be able to take place.

All of this got me wondering, however. If a close and valued colleague in the Church of
Jesus Christ can write things that sting like that...well, I suppose this is indicative of the kinds
of things we see more and more frequently in our broader society.

Disagreeing with someone's opinion about an issue rarely can seem to take place without
viewing that other person as "stupid," "uninformed," "ignorant." One can scarcely express
a different viewpoint from someone without being attacked, shamed, or ridiculed. We see it
in national political discourse. We see it in our communities. Sadly - and shamefully, I
believe - we sometimes see it within the Body of Christ, the Church.

In the powerful and helpful document of our Church from the 204th General Assembly
(1992) of the Presbyterian Church, "Seeking to be Faithful Together: Guidelines for
Presbyterians During Times of Disagreement," the Church calls us to:

• "Treat each other respectfully so as to build trust, believing that we all desire to be faithful to Jesus the Christ;" and
• "Focus on ideas and suggestions instead of questioning people's motives, intelligence or integrity."

The entire document is well worth your read. I've posted it on our Presbytery's website, and you can read it here.

How might our congregations, our Presbytery, the Church, even our society, be different if
we adopted simply the above two bullet points? I sometimes confess to being naive about
human nature - even though I am a confirmed Calvinist! - yet I don't believe that many
people get out of bed in the morning, thinking, "Who can I vilify today? Who can I make look
really stupid today?" We can do better. We are called to be better. We simply must act
better!

Christ calls us to disagree more compassionately and more faithfully with each other. And
the Church extends that invitation to each of us... to all of us.

What makes for a "viable" congregation?

So I've been down at Stony Point Center this week attending an event known as UNCO. Some of you have heard of this annual event. A few of you have attended in the past. A quick explanation of what UNCO is... UNCO stands for "Un-conference." Basically, it is a group-defined sharing and discussion and study of different topics, the ideas of which are generated by the people who show up. In other words, it is a conference-type event, but it's focus and content is not pre-defined

 One of the things I've appreciated about UNCO is the desire of folks to ask the big questions and explore a bit about what those questions mean, what implications they entail, and what some ways might be to discern possible answers.

A question that really grabbed my attention and energy this time is this... What does it mean to describe a congregation as being "viable?" For decades - for the scope of all of our memories and experiences - a "viable" church meant a congregation that had its own building, offered its programs, and was served by a full-time, installed pastoral leader. A "viable" church meant a specific place with a definite address, where everyone in the community could say, "Oh, 'X' Presbyterian Church...That's the building at the corner of Oak and 2nd." That model of being the Church was workable, and even successful, for a long time.

But then there's today... Membership in most of our churches has shrunk dramatically in the past 20, 30, 40 years. Many of our churches have sanctuaries that were built to hold 400 people, and today maybe 45 people are regularly at worship services. Upkeep and maintenance of our church buildings are draining our resources. Being able to afford to have a full-time, ordained, installed pastor already is not possible, or folks are aware that that day is rapidly drawing to a close. Combine all of this with the reality that the Church - particularly denominations like ours - are no longer the highly-respected focal point of the community, nor are we the influential institution that we once were. Thus, many, many of our congregations don't feel as if they are "viable." What would it mean to rethink what it means to be "viable" as a community of faith?

What would it mean to lift up the ministry and calling of people within our congregation, and encourage and enable them to live out their own ministries and exercise their own gifts instead of expecting "the pastor" to do it all? What would it look like if we intentionally let our stately buildings go, and found ways to take the Church - literally - into the community and world, rather than waiting for people to come to where we are? These are questions that are uncomfortable at best, terrifying at worst. But these are the very questions that I believe God is calling the Church to wrestle with in our day and time. It's hard. In some ways, this is at least as hard for seminary-trained pastors, since what this might well mean is that the days of expecting that you will work full-time as a pastor for your whole "career" no longer will be able to be assumed! In other words, many of us might well be out of a "job" in the Church. As I said, uncomfortable...terrifying to consider.

As someone here at UNCO put it: "The mission of the Church is not to have a good choir and a beautiful building. The mission of the Church is to share the Message." What are we willing to let go of in order to put our energies, our resources, our passion, our commitment to share the Message which we have been entrusted by God to share? And what gets in the way of this mission?

Let's continue to ask the big questions and to dare to dream and discern what the Spirit might be doing in our midst, in our day!

Holy Week questions

The Liturgical Year of the Church is meant to take us on an annual pilgrimage. We begin with Advent, celebrate the Incarnation at Christmas, remember the gifts of the Magi to the Holy Family, reflect upon the implications of Christ's (and our own) baptism, participate in Lenten disciplines in preparation for Holy Week, sing for joy at the news of the Resurrection of Jesus our Lord, renew our lives with the knowledge that the Holy Spirit has been given to us, and strive to live faithfully during the "ordinary times" of our lives, culminating with our acknowledgement that Jesus is the Ruler of all. It is an annual cycle, and I've found that observing this cycle has brought a sense of balance to my spiritual life over the years.

Each year, of course, this journey intensifies during the week of events that we long have called "holy." Holy Week begins this Sunday. We traditionally have called this Palm Sunday, remembering Jesus' entry into Jerusalem for the final time. Some churches call this Passion Sunday, mainly, I think, to remind folks who don't or can't attend special services during Holy Week that you can't just skip from the pomp of Palm Sunday to the joy of Easter; the story of the Passion must be a part of our journey - one way or another - during this week.

Holy Week reminds me of questions I need to ask myself...

• Where have I seen the suffering of Christ in the lives of others?
• How do I respond to instances of suffering? Do I pass people by? Do I stop and offer to help carry their cross? Do I weep with others, sharing their pain? Do I judge? Do I ridicule?
• In what ways do I participate in "crucifying" Christ by things I say and do?
• What do I fear about my own suffering?
• How do I approach my own death?
• What do I believe about hope and resurrection?

I find that attending to spiritual disciplines each day, especially during Holy Week, is vitally important to my approach to Easter morning. In fact, I think that how seriously I reflect upon the Passion of Jesus is directly proportionate to how much joy I experience on Easter.

What are your experiences of Holy Week? I invite you to dive into this intense spiritual pilgrimage with your whole being. I don't believe you'll regret it one bit.

Openness to loving...and to being loved

As I write this, it is Maundy Thursday in the Christian calendar. It is a day pregnant with meaning...with somberness...with mystery and awe and wonder. The scene of the Last Supper is vividly etched in the minds of most of us.

In my devotions this morning, part of what I did was read today's entry from The Daily Feast. Here is what the author, Christine Chakoian wrote:

"So it is for us, in the meal that Jesus offered on the night of Passover, on the night before he was to die. We are invited to remember - especially on Holy Thursday - not as if we were present at the Last Supper with our Lord and his disciples but that we were at Table with them. Every time we are at Table, and especially this night, the act of Communion triggers and forms the memory that we were once bound and now are freed, and that we belong to the God who saves us. 

"As we say 'on the night that he was betrayed Jesus took the Passover bread and gave it to us,' we are invited to remember that Jesus offered his life for us, not when we were particularly worthy, charming, faithful, or successful, but when we betrayed him."

The word "Maundy" comes from the Latin word that means "command," from which our word "mandate" derives. It refers to Jesus' commands to wash the feet of others and to love each other as He loved (and loves) us. Perhaps it also implies that we need to open ourselves up to be loved - by God and others - even at those times when we feel most unlovable. 

You've got 15 seconds to sum up the Christian Faith. Go!

I came across a blog post the other day. It was written by Dr. Gary Hansen, Associate Professor of Church History at the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary. UDTS is one of our Presbyterian-related seminaries. The particular post that Gary wrote was entitled, "What Christians Believe in 15 Seconds." This is how he begins this piece:

You are talking with your co-worker from the next cubicle over coffee. She knows you are active in a church. She is in a season of searching. 

"What is Christianity actually all about?" she asks. "I mean, what do you believe?" 

She really wants to know. You really want to tell her. Three problems:

• You have about fifteen seconds before your break is over - the big stuff always happens at the door, right? 

• She does not want an in depth dissertation - she'll listen for about fifteen seconds. 

• You have been a Christian surrounded by Christians your whole life - if you've never been asked, maybe you don't know what to say.

What would you say? How would you respond in this kind of situation? In other words, what would be your "elevator speech" to this woman? 

Interestingly, Gary takes us to the Heidelberg Catechism, one of the documents in the Presbyterian Church's Book of Confessions, which is Part I of our Church Constitution. (Part II is the Book of Order.) This particular document is one of three catechisms in our confessional tradition. A catechism is simply a statement of faith, like a creed or confession, but that is structured in question and answer form. Gary points to the second Q&A as a way to answer this query:

"Q. 2. How many things must you know that you may live and die in the blessedness of this comfort? 

A. Three. First, the greatness of my sin and wretchedness. Second, how I am freed from all my sins and their wretched consequences. Third, what gratitude I owe to God for such redemption." 

As he sums it up, "guilt, grace, and gratitude."

1. We live in brokenness in our lives, our relationships, and our world.
2. God's grace is freely and generously extended to us in the midst of our human condition.
3. Our response is to live lives that demonstrate our gratitude to God for such love and forgiveness.

Years ago I challenged the members of the Committee on Preparation for Ministry that I chaired in the Presbytery I was in then. "We require each of the seminary students under our care to write a Statement of Faith, expressing their own beliefs, and to do that in one page. If we ask them to do that, I'd invite each of us to do that as well." No one took me up on the challenge. However, I wrote my own page. The challenge of distilling this radically into an "elevator speech," when you literally have only a few seconds to share with someone what you believe... well, what would you say? 

Keeping silent...Speaking up

So I find myself striving to find balance today. That's probably true most of the time, but this is my current dilemma. As I've written before in this space, I place a high value on the spiritual discipline of silence: being silent before God in prayer and meditation, being silent in times of reflection and journaling, being silent at times in a group so that I make time to truly listen to what others are saying and what, perhaps, is behind what they're saying.

Yet I also know the importance of words. There are times when situations call for words to be used, for a voice to be heard, for some Word from God to be proclaimed. In those times, silence can not only be inappropriate, but it also can be complicit. I've been wondering if there wasn't a time in the 1930's in Germany when one voice, or a chorus of voices, could have been raised in a way and a time that might literally have changed history. When fear-mongering and nationalism gone amuck were being touted by Hitler and the National Socialist German Workers' Party, what might have happened if the churches had united and spoken with one voice against what was developing? And might that voice have stopped Hitler before his movement got traction?

I've read of those who equate some of the current political rhetoric in our nation with the kinds of things spouted by Hitler. I don't go that far... at least not yet. However, don't we have a responsibility as people of faith to speak a word to our society in response to those who advocate violence, or hate, or xenophobia, or racial, ethnic, and gender discrimination? For me, the answer is "yes." I believe that we DO have a responsibility to proclaim the values of our faith and our tradition as a necessary alternative to too many things being spoken today. The question for me then becomes "how." How do we raise our voice? What venue might we best use? How can we speak from a place of love and compassion rather than just adding to the angry discourses of a fractured society?

• Psalm 46:10 - "Be still, and know that I am God."
• Luke 12:12 - "...the Holy Spirit will teach you at that very hour what you ought to say."

The ancient Desert Saints perhaps found the balance which I seek at this moment. They strongly advocated for the importance of silence, and they practiced that discipline daily. However, they knew that the strongest, most loving, most wise, most powerful words one might utter in any situation are words that come out of those times of silence, those times of reflection, those times of prayer, those times with God. Perhaps, then, as we learn more and more to practice the disciplines of prayer and silence, we also might, paradoxically, find the strength and wisdom we need to speak out.

Needed voices

Does it seem to you like the world has just gone mad?  Many - too many - people in the world see violent extremism as the only option open to them to try to make a difference, to try to escape from the bondage of poverty and oppression that is all they have known in life.  Many - too many - people in our own country seem to respond to voices that cry out against the "others" in our lives, in our world, in our society, in our own communities.  We see people acting out of our baser instincts rather than striving to live to be our best selves, and so they react out of fear and hatred and self-interest rather than living in love, compassion, and service.

One of the biblical paradigms for this kind of living situation is seen in Israel during the time of their Exile in Babylon.  They found themselves living in a culture that was, in so many ways, antithetical to who they knew they were called to be and Whom they were called to serve.  Babylon's voice called to them, luring and enticing them to give up the ways they knew to be true, and wallow in cultural norms that should have been repugnant to them.  Many people gave in, listening more to those dissonant and disruptive voices rather than to the Voice that continued to beckon to them to hold true, to stand tall, to be faithful in the midst of what must have seemed like easier ways to live.  Thankfully, many ignored those tempting siren calls, and bound themselves in covenant communities of love and prayer, of service and witness in order to stay on the right path.

The French monk, Prosper Gueranger, in his book, "The Liturgical Year," wrote about this:

"We are sojourners upon this earth; we are exiles and captives in Babylon, that city which plots our ruin.  If we love our country, if we long to return to it, we ourselves must be proof against the lying allurements of this strange land and refuse the cup she proffers us, and with which she maddens so many of our fellow captives.  She invites us to join in her feasts and her songs; but we must unstring our harps and hang them on the willows that grow on her river's bank, till the signal be given for our return (home) to Jerusalem.  She will ask us to sing to her the melodies of our dear Zion: But how shall we, who are so far from home, have heart to 'sing the songs of the Lord in a strange land?' No, there must be no sign that we are content to be in bondage, or we shall deserve to be slaves for ever."

Voices of love, of compassion, of peace, of understanding, of service to others, of faith, of grace, of empathy, and of giving need to be heard now more than ever...and it seems to be increasingly hard to raise those voices when other, angrier, judgmental, vindictive, hate-filled voices cry louder and louder.  But don't let them silence our own voices!  More and more, as we join with others in communities of faith and worship, of mission and evangelism, of compassion and service, we will find islands of sanity and hope and love, from which we will be encouraged each day to speak words we know to be true, to live lives of compassion and love, to show that there are different values, instilled in us by God, demonstrated for us in Jesus our Lord, which the Spirit empowers us to live out.