Caravans and Cairns

If you know me, you know I don’t usually shy away from speaking what’s on my heart. I have been heart broken these past couple of weeks, and this past week in particular. Our country is on fire, people are rising up to protest centuries of violence against black and brown bodies. These past couple of months have shown once again, when pandemic hits our country it is black and brown people who suffer more than white people do. My heart is breaking that some people seem to be more upset about buildings being destroyed and looted then black and brown bodies being looted. Is a bank really worth more than a human life? Does it even matter that it seems to be a small number of white people who are instigating and carrying out the worst acts of violence at these peaceful protests, despite the black and brown leaders pleading for them not to?

Our country is on fire and today is Pentecost, the day that the Holy Spirit came rushing through a crowded market place with wind and fire. I do not imagine that this was a gentle breeze with a few flickering, beautiful candles, no, this was a mighty wind with big flames. It had such an impact, that we say that was the day the church was born. We say that was the day that transformed all the people present. We say that was the day that changed everything. Fire and wind are two powerful forces, and together, they can destroy everything in their path. Those of us who have lived in Colorado for a while have seen this every summer as fires burn through our forests and we watch California burn every dry season too. Last year the world watched as Australia burned.

What is hard to remember while things are burning,  is that after the fire, when the ashes have settled, new life begins to emerge. Some seeds need the heat of the fire to open. These plants grow back stronger. The heat of the flames that swept through them gave them what they needed to open and to flourish. There is a swath of green in our country that is visible from an airplane. It’s the path of Sherman’s march. Sherman burned his way through the south. Now,  the trees and plants have grown back stronger and greener.

This country was founded by a revolution and a protest against the British Monarchy. We have seen people go to war in the name of something good and honorable. We have seen cities destroyed in the name of freedom and justice. These actions are often seen as the last resort of desperate people, the thing that people do when they feel as if they have exhausted all the other options. Four hundred years of oppression and violence seems like a long time.

So what do we do, people gathered together in a church born from a rush of wind and flames? What do we do as people who follow Jesus? The Jesus who invites us into a way of love?  We are called to respond in love. And When we ask “why are they burning things and breaking things?” we also need to ask “Why, when fully armed white men stormed into government buildings to protest being asked to stay home to help flatten the curve and to wear masks in public, law enforcement stood by quietly, but when black and brown people go out in the street, unarmed, to protest yet another public unnecessary death, police bring tear gas and plastic bullets to break them up” We need to ask what is this system that values property over the lives of so many of us? What is this system that tells us over and over again that black and brown lives don’t matter as much as white lives?

Those of us gathered in the name of Jesus and the Holy-Spirit-who-will-disturb-us are called to learn our history. We must listen to the voices crying out “I can’t breathe” and dig into the issues that are impacting us now and to stand in solidarity to witness the lives and the truth of those lives of our black and brown brothers and sisters. We must learn our history, listen to the voices crying for justice and mercy and respond in love.

The systems that we have in place are killing us, all of us, and we are called to change them. When we ask how do we do this, we don’t know the way! We do know the way. We know the way of love. We have promised to respect the dignity of every human being and to seek and serve Christ in all people. We are called to breath new life into the ashes. We are called to listen across the borders that have been designed to separate us, and to learn the sorrows and the joys of people we have been taught to fear. We are called to love one another truly, madly and deeply. We are the seeds that need the fire to bring forth new life. If we are willing to brave the fire and the wind, I believe that we are in the process of transformation. Something new and powerful and love filled can emerge if we are willing to be there to help birth it.

Palm Sunday is usually a day that begins with a parade- we start in our church parking lots, or somewhere else grand and everyone processes into the church singing a rag tag version of “All Glory Laud and Honor”. It’s festive and triumphant, we all wave our palms and sing loudly. By the end of the service, we have heard the passion and the mood is more somber, we are entering into Holy Week together. We begin the week prepared for what is to come.

Last week on one of my walks I thought about how the original Holy Week must have been a giant emotional swerve for Jesus’ friends. Imagine their week, beginning with the parade into Jerusalem. Yes, it was rather unusual and in contrast to the other triumphal entrance into Jerusalem, but it was still in front of a cheering, rowdy crowd. The disciples didn’t have the benefit of a passion reading to prepare them and get them into the mood for what was coming at the end of the week. There were signs if they were paying attention. Jesus kept trying to tell them what was going to happen but they were not prepared.

Their week went from the triumphant entry into Jerusalem to hiding from the authorities in the blink of an eye. Their Passover dinner took a turn when Jesus washed their feet and asked them to “do this in remembrance of me”. The next day Jesus was betrayed to the authorities by one of their inner circle and killed. Then they went into the upper room and hid.

We’ve all had our own individual swerves, times when our lives are turned upside down; the death of loved ones, the loss of a job, a devastating diagnosis. But this year for Holy Week we are all living this swerve. We are living in a global pandemic and the whole world has been turned upside down.

It’s true that since January there were signs for us of what might come. We have heard of Coronavirus since the end of last year. By the end of February we knew that we needed to be more careful about washing our hands. Then, in one quick week in the middle of March, everything turned upside down and we had a global pandemic on our hands. People were dying not just in China, but in Italy, and now Washington State and New York. Governors around the country declared states of emergency and began asking people to stay at home to save lives. Is this how it was for Jesus’ friends? In one week it all turned upside down for them?

Holy Week has been so ritualized for so long. We practice the same liturgies and rituals which have great meaning for us. They are meant to draw us into the mystery of the last supper and the crucifixion, and they do. They are deeply meaningful. It will be strange for us to not gather in church with one another like we always do. These intimate rituals involving touch and closeness with one another are simply not allowed for us this year.

What if the invitation for us this year instead, is to lean into the swerve, to lean into our lives being turned upside down? We know that death isn’t the end of the story for Jesus and it isn’t for us as Christians. This week is an invitation into transformation. Transformation is never easy, almost always painful and never when we want it.

The original Holy Week changed the world forever, this one will too. It will be better for us if we lean into our transformations and lean into the profound depths of God’s love for us. God is ALWAYS in the suffering- that’s the message of the crucifixion. If we lean into transformation and love and remember that we are all suffering, the whole world is suffering, and have compassion and love for each other wherever we are on the swerve, we will get through this.

This year we will live Holy Week in a new way together. We may get a richer glimpse of what it was like for the original followers of Jesus. May it be a time of transformation for us. May we learn to lean into our fear and sorrow as we journey through it to the other side.

Today is the 16^th anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood. Sixteen years ago I never could have imagined today. I was supposed to be on sabbatical with my husband, we were supposed to be in Bath, England, enjoying a soak at the new spa there. That seems a long ago dream now. I can’t even imagine wanting to do that today. We were in Iceland when the WHO declared Coronavirus/Covid-19 a global pandemic and Trump issued his first travel ban. We were able to get on the last flight to Denver from Iceland. The last 10 days have been a mixture of grief and joy. We have spent the week cancelling the plans we took the last year to prepare. We also spent the week talking to our friends and family online a lot. We have walked around our neighborhood and met more neighbors this last week than we have in the 3 years we have lived in the neighborhood.

We had a grant that funded our travels and the foundation is encouraging us to try again for our sabbatical when things have been figured out. In the meantime we, like the rest of the world, are figuring out what daily life looks like. For a few more days we are still under quarantine from our travel time and when the quarantine is over, we will continue to stay at home with the rest of Colorado. The small difference is we will be able to venture out for our own groceries. We have been overwhelmed by the offers of help and support that we have received, and the sympathy people have for our grief, in the face of so much change and grief for so many people. We have laughed with family and friends in our video chats, and have talked with neighbors and strangers on the street.

Today, we are finally unpacked from the trip that we planned for a year to take. Our home offices are reassembled. We are leaning into this new way of life. We are learning how to “love-stream” church and friendship along with the rest of the world.

There are so many people responding with daily online prayer, beautifully crafted church from empty sanctuaries or cozy firesides. For every streamed service, I have asked myself, “am I doing enough?” or told myself “ I need to do that too”. I have struggled with the illusion that I have to be the “best-priest-for-these-times”. While texting with a friend over the weekend a lightbulb went off; all I am required to do, all any of us are required to do is: “Love the people I have been given to love the best way I know how.” That’s it. Love. Love each other. We all do that differently, and we all know how to love. When we let the fear and anxiety subside for a moment, love will shimmer through. Signs of love are everywhere we just need to look for them.

Love the people you are given to love in the best way you know how.

I was struck yesterday listening to and reflecting on the Gospel of Jesus healing the blind man how intimate and physical so many of Jesus’ miraculous acts are. Touch heals. I am reminded how when I was a first year seminary student I attended my first healing service. I was a little bit skeptical, but something compelled me forward for a healing prayer. I burst into tears when the priest put his hands on my head, because I realized I had not been touched by another human being in months, and in that moment something in me was healed that I didn’t even know needed to be healed. I am praying for the people I know who get their only physical contact when they come to church. In these times we have to practice social distancing to flatten the curve and it is the only way to perhaps save the lives of the very people who come to church for human interaction. So, how do we love one another and “touch” one another in a time of social distancing? Above are the questions I am living by these days. I invite you to pay attention to the second question. Who are you checking in on? Who are you connecting with?

If you are thinking about someone, call them, send them a text or email. Check on a neighbor you haven’t seen in a while. When the flowers begin to bloom, pick some on your walk and leave them on a friend’s doorstep. How are you connecting? How are you being a healing presence in the world?

Advent One B sermon 2014              R. Crummey, St. Peter and St. Mary, Denver

I have never really thought about this before, but when I was preparing for this Sunday I read somewhere how Advent always starts with Jesus describing the end of the world. Each first Sunday of Advent we have a mini Apocalypse. I have always been focused on the yearning part of this time of year, looking for still small voices in the cacophony of consumerism that ramps up during November. This year Starbucks didn’t even wait until this weekend to bring out the red cups, they appeared just after Halloween. I have always sought comfort in the gradual growing of the light, the simplicity of an Advent wreath, and the gradual build up to the arrival of a baby on Christmas. I have never really thought about or spent much time with the end times that kick off this season before. But here it is, indisputable, right out of Mark.

“But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.”(Mark NRSV 13:24-25)

Jesus goes on the describe how it will happen like a thief in the night, when we least expect it, that we need to keep alert for the signs, if we are paying attention we will see them. Just like a tree tells us the seasons. I can’t help wondering some days if wee are facing some kind of apocalypse, with the world falling apart. Maybe that’s why the holiday season is so ramped up this year. We are wanting to soothe our anxiety with retail therapy, but then we create more debt and stress for ourselves with the wanton spending and consuming, not to mention the weight most of us will gain…

I have to say what has been so heavy on my heart all week has been the events unfolding in Ferguson. It feels like our country is experiencing some kind of Apocalypse around race these days. Maybe it’s because we were in Missouri when the news broke, or because some of the major action occurs in my sister’s neighborhood of St. Louis. I don’t feel ok sitting in my comfortable white world pretending that nothing is happening in our country, pretending that racism doesn’t exist anymore, and that everyone really is treated with dignity and respect by those in power.

What ever all the facts really are, and they are a mess, there is no doubt that the death of Michael Brown and the recent grand jury decision have set off a fire storm of emotions. We have had the scab ripped off a deep and festering wound in our country. Not even white America can continue to hide from the broken and painful history of this country that was built on the backs of slaves whose descendants still fight for equality and justice in so many communities.

I feel really sad that some violent people have given the media something other than the uncomfortable topic of race in America to feature. It is much simpler to point the finger at the people burning down pharmacies and restaurants, people’s livelihoods, than to take a hard look at the real disparities that continue to exist and oppress so many people in our country. No-one is happy about the violence but we also have to acknowledge that it comes from a place of deep frustration. We also have to acknowledge that those of us who are white, are at a huge advantage in this country just because of the color of our skin.

White privilege doesn’t mean that we are bad people for being born white, white privilege means that we don’t have to worry about the color of our skin all day everyday.

There is a lot of thoughtful conversation happening online about this, among the hyperbole there are some real people, black and white writing thoughtfully about how we can move through what seems an impossible impasse in our country right now. I think as followers of Jesus it is incumbent on us to be informed, to look deep and to acknowledge and use our privilege to make a difference.

As Christians, we are called into the uncomfortable places, we are called to follow Christ into the mess and into the hurt. We can start with listening, deeply listening to our brothers and sisters of color when they talk about the pain they experience on a daily basis just trying to get by. As Christians we are called to look deep into our hearts and confront what might be lurking there, hurting us and keeping us from being able to fully be open to someone else’s pain.

I don’t have any answers, but perhaps the events in Ferguson and around the country can be an opportunity to move forward. In the middle of the hurt, and anger and pain and violence and analysis and media speculation, there are voices of courage and hope. People reaching across the chasms that have opened up to make contact with ” the other”.

There is a one man, Lt. Jerry Lohr, a white police officer in Ferguson, who is on the streets on the edge of the protests, he has been hit by things thrown by the crowd, but he does not wear armor. He goes into the crowds and listens to the protestors, he knows them as human beings, many of them know that he sees them and they ask for him by name. Lt. Jerry was able to keep one part of Ferguson peaceful while another part burned on Monday night. If there were more Lt. Jerrys there would be more peace.

What is taking place in Ferguson and across the country is a loud resounding echo of the freedom movement from the 60s. People might not be turned away from lunch counters and from the front of the bus, but they continue to be discriminated against in very real and systematic ways. Things changed when people stood together to say no more, and things can continue to change if we have the courage to stand with our brothers and sisters of color.

The time has come for us to do more than ring our hands and wonder what has happened. The time has come for us to prepare and pay attention. Not all of us are called to the front lines in Ferguson or St. Louis, but we are all called to recognize Jesus in the face of the other. Jesus who we wait for this Advent, Jesus who will be born in the stable behind the inn with the animals and the shepherds to keep him company. Jesus who is always bringing people together who would rather not be together, Jesus who ate with outcasts and politicians. When we are confronted with the difficult conversations that we must have, “The key is recognizing that we are walking on holy ground — not so much the literal earth beneath our feet, but the holy ground of each other’s lives. That is where Christ enters in.” – Mike Kinman, dean of Christ Church Cathedral, St. Louis, MO. As we enter the holy time of Advent, let us remember the holy ground of each other’s lives, and the lives of all of God’s children.