For all the politicians' talk about "Main Street"...

In this morning's New York Times there is an article that strikes me as summing up all that is wrong in our priorities...when people ask (usually rhetorically) how we got where we are as a country, what happened to the way things used to be, why there are so many people protesting in the streets or using welfare or homeless or or or...this is the answer to why. The headline and first two sentences pretty well sum it up, followed by this paragraph buried in the middle.

Five Big Banks Expected to Plead Guilty to Felony Charges, but Punishments May Be Tempered
"For most people, pleading guilty to a felony means they will very likely land in prison, lose their job and forfeit their right to vote. But when five of the world’s biggest banks plead guilty to an array of antitrust and fraud charges as soon as next week, life will go on, probably without much of a hiccup."

(yes, this is true. In fact, it is so true that we have the largest prison population in the world, both per capita and in real numbers. In the last 35 years, we have built 22 prisons for every university. Families are torn apart and lives ruined by massive sentences for even small infractions that have been deemed felonies, and this happens at a much higher rate among ethnic minorities than among whites. It creates a cycle of poverty and prison that is difficult to escape from, especially as the stigma of having a family member in prison generally means that families get little or no support. It is not a stretch to suggest that the continued systemic racism in this country, the poverty rates that lead to crime, and the current protests and "riots" are all related to this reality.)

"Behind the scenes in Washington, the banks’ lawyers are also seeking assurances from federal regulators — including the Securities and Exchange Commission and the Labor Department — that the banks will not be barred from certain business practices after the guilty pleas, the people said. While the S.E.C.’s five commissioners have not yet voted on the requests for waivers, which would allow the banks to conduct business as usual despite being felons, the people briefed on the matter expected a majority of commissioners to grant them."

Umm...okay. So let's get this straight. Corporations are people, but they will be allowed to continue doing the very things of which they have been convicted. These companies are, according to the article, too important to be punished.

Meanwhile, black men fill our prisons. Not important, apparently. Never mind their importance to their families, to their communities, to the future of this diverse country. Never mind that small things that are counted as felonies get people put into prisons where, upon their release, all they have learned is anger and resentment and skills for bigger crimes, should they want to put that resentment into action. Never mind that we simultaneously perpetuate the myth of the absentee father in the black community, even while putting millions of people in jail. They are not important enough, not central to their community, not crucial for the economy.

The article calls this prosecution and conviction "an exercise in stagecraft." How many families, and communities, wish that their loved ones and breadwinners--often stopped on spurious reasons--could experience the courts as an exercise in stagecraft? (I can hear the protests now: "but how will we deter others from committing crimes????")

Of course, they'd have to make it to court, which is a fairly unlikely outcome. But still.

Imagine if we treated our people like our corporations.

Or imagine if we actually treated corporations--made up of people--the way we treat other people. Without regard for their importance to the community, without regard for their past or potential, without regard for their context or humanity, we will criminalize their very existence, create minimum sentencing laws that ensure the cycle of poverty for another generation, and then demonize them for being in debt, uneducated, and prone to violence. We would insist we're not corporationist, some of our best friends are corporations, it's just that they should have known better, shouldn't have closed the door, shouldn't have opened the door, shouldn't have let the light in one letter of their sign go out, shouldn't have been in that neighborhood. Since they didn't manage that, they deserve what they get, both them and their family/community be damned. After all, we need to deter people from doing what they did.

Next time someone asks what happened to the America they remember, this is what we should show them. We chose corporations over people. We decided to use the adjective "our" to mean banks, not children. We bought into the lie that big businesses are the core of our country's success, rather than that our people are at the center of American identity and prosperity.

We chose this. And, as every parent is constantly trying to teach their children: choices have consequences.
Unfortunately, the consequences fall primarily on them, meaning we will go on choosing it until the day someone wakes up and realizes that they are US.

repeating myself

I'm sure I've blogged about this before, but it bears repeating again and again and again and again:

PLEASE, for the love of God and all that is holy, can we stop using second person pronouns to talk about our own experiences?

Latest offender was an article I shouldn't even have been clicking on during a Saturday night sermon-tweaking session anyway. (because, well, I shouldn't have been on the interwebz to begin with, but also because of the content.) It was titled something like "what I learned the year my mom died" or some such. It was a young woman reflecting on her experience at the one-year anniversary mark.

There was nothing wrong with her content. Except that she presented it in points worded basically like this: "I learned that you _____."

no, honey, you didn't. YOU learned that YOU ____....you didn't learn anything about me.

Some of her points were similar to things I learned after my mom died. Others were things that didn't resonate with me much. Which made the use of second person pronouns all the more irritating.

Why can't we just talk about our own experiences, using "I" language, and let others extrapolate if they wish, rather than using this figure of speech that basically implies we should be having the same experience? It drives me crazy.

In the year or two since I've been noticing this more, I have learned that I'm likely the only one this bothers. And that people get really crabby if I correct them. And that *I* get really crabby if someone goes on and on about what "you" (meaning me) should/do/learned/see/know/whatever. It makes me almost tune out whatever their point is, it's so distracting.

Please: speak for yourself, and let me hear your story and determine how I might find myself in it (or not). Saying "I" isn't going to kill us, and it will make things a lot more clear.

politics, or theology?

There's lots of chatter this week about Menlo Park Presbyterian Church, which just voted to leave the PCUSA and go to ECO. The vote was overwhelming (93% in favor of leaving). Paired with last week's news that First Presbyterian in Houston's vote to leave failed by 36 votes, it's an interesting study in denominational politics.

Of course, the way MPPC is spinning it is as about theology, not polity. And they are entitled to believe that. Especially with quotes like this one:

...citing a 2011 PCUSA survey that suggested 41 percent agreed with the statement, “Only followers of Jesus Christ can be saved."

I took that survey. And I am one of the 45 percent that marked that I disagree with that statement. Here's why:

It's un-Reformed.

Because the primary theological principle of the Reformed tradition is the Sovereignty of God. There is no way I was going to mark "strongly agree" on something that said "only followers of Jesus can be saved." Because to say that is to limit God's sovereignty. What if God decides to save someone who is not a follower of Jesus during their earthly life? Or is not a follower of Jesus in the way I think they should be? Can God save them? Absolutely yes. It is not my place as a fallible human being to limit God's power.

Jesus said "I have other sheep not of this fold" (John 10). The confessions say that we are to have "good hope for all" (Second Helvetic Confession, chapter 10). How then could we presume to answer an unequivocal yes to any question that states what God can or cannot do?

So yes, Menlo Park is right that this is a theological break. Because they have decided what God can and cannot do, and that is a break from the historic Reformed tradition. I wish them well as they seek another path. May all of us, whatever path the Spirit places us on, find ourselves daily in the presence of God.


**there are of course a variety of factors involved in this decision, ranging from property ownership to LGBT issues to a desire not to be burdened by other mission foci than their own. But this theological issue is the one they have cited as the heart of the problem, so I have taken them at their word.**

weekend interesting

Okay, so between being sick, getting ready to go to Europe, and Ideas Week and I've been too busy rushing about doing fun things to actually post all the cool stuff I've seen on the interwebz in the past couple of weeks. Consider this your opportunity to waste all of Saturday sitting in front of the computer, because none of this is particularly time-bound, but it's all awesome....

First, before you do anything else, go over here and support Carrie Newcomer's latest adventure--it'll be worth every penny and every moment!

You need to see this. So much more to the world than we can see or even imagine.

There's also more to us, our potential, our community, our creativity, than we can normally see or imagine. 

And then we break for TEH CUTE:


Ever wondered how it's possible that every single apple looks exactly the same at the store, but they don't ever look like that on a tree? Turns out that's not good, actually. (I know this is not a news flash to those of us who are avid farmers market shoppers...but then why on earth is it still true at the store???)

Want to be happy? If you've ever paused to read the cover (or worse, the articles) of a magazine in the checkout aisle, you've probably accidentally internalized a whole bunch of messages about happiness. Ditto on ever watching TV, seeing an advertisement, or being on the internet. Or, you know, living in western culture. But this is the only article you need about being happy. Seriously.

And then you need another break of adorable and happy.

Now for some church related stuff...

The internet angst about millennials (and everyone else) not being in church continues. This week I've seen articles about why churches don't grow, how to ensure your church dies or doesn't, young people old people in between people and church, men and women and teenagers and church.... And thankfully some research. (in the research, regular churchgoing = 1x a month!! Think about that for a moment...)

Those who stay were twice as likely to have a close personal friendship with an adult inside the church. Millennials need guidance on engaging culture meaningfully, and from a distinctly Christian perspective. 

This idea of finding a way to bring their faith in Jesus to the problems they encounter in the world seems to be one of the most powerful motivations of today’s practicing Christian Millennials. They don’t want their faith to be relegated to Sunday worship, and this desire for holistic faith is something the Church can speak to in a meaningful way. 

Young people want to be taken seriously today—not for some distant future leadership position. In their eyes, institutional church life is too hierarchical. And they’re not interested in earning their way to the top so much as they’re want to put their gifts and skills to work for the local church in the present—not future—tense. 

 Related...

How we think about Jesus matters. a lot. Otherwise how can we be more like him?

Speaking of being like Jesus....I was once a kid on food stamps and free lunch. Let's make sure that a) help is available for those in need, and b) no one grows up shamed for that need.

Ensuring that kids don't go hungry in our own neighborhoods doesn't preclude us from making sure kids elsewhere don't go hungry either:



And while we're thinking about other parts of the world, ponder this for a moment. Just a few years--within the lifetime of many who read this blog--makes a world of difference. Perhaps we should spend our time and energy ensuring that the world of difference is for the better, not for the worse. One way to do that is to be aware that things like this have happened, and it is fascinating and distressing all at the same time. Seriously, be sure to click through this one.

And then to end on a high note: SO MUCH FLOOFY HAPPY ADORABLE!

words matter, part 1

That's right, I have so much to say I'm being merciful to my four readers and splitting into two posts.

Words matter. A lot. The words we use contribute to the reality we experience. In some instances, our words even create that reality.

We have become a people who are sloppy with words. We speak and write with unclarity, walking in circles until we've said nearly everything and nothing at the same time.

But sometimes we use words with perfect clarity, and that can be even more disturbing.

Case in point: here are two quotes from news stories from the past week.

1. "While we're not ruling anything out, we do not suspect terrorism."
2. "Dozens killed in a terror attack at Kenyan mall."

The first quote is what was said repeatedly about the shooting at the Navy Yard in Washington DC. The second, obviously, is the characterization of the tragedy at the big "new" mall in Nairobi. Both are mass shootings involving more than one gunman. Both were planned and carried out by people who intended to create fear even as they killed as many people as possible.

In other words: they are both terrorism. They were actions meant to create terror.

But we have relegated the word "terrorism" to mean "something foreigners do (to us)" and generally those foreigners are of darker skin tone--only rarely do we classify a light skinned person as a terrorist, and then only if they use a bomb. We have forgotten that the meaning of terrorism is "an act designed to instill fear."

And worse: somewhere along the way, we Americans decided that a mass shooting does not qualify for terrorism. (at least not when it happens here)
Maybe this is because they are so common and we don't want to believe we live in a place plagued with terrorism.
Maybe this is because there are powerful people and many dollars behind the gun lobby, and we don't want to create the impression that gun violence is on par with "real terrorism."

Whatever the case, the two news stories this week--news stories of shocking similarity in other respects--highlight that words matter, and we use them on purpose to create a particular reality. In this case, one shooting is essentially just another in a long line of regrettable but unstoppable tragedies, while another is the target of a multi-trillion-dollar war. Guess which one involved brown people?

I wish I believed that this was evidence of poor use of language, but I think it is evidence of the opposite: very intentional use of language designed to ensure that we remain in our bubble of exceptionalism, where we don't have to deal with the shortcomings of our society as it currently exists.

The people at the Navy Yard, and their families, were terrorized. The people in the Back of the Yards neighborhood, where 13 people (including a 3 year old) were shot during a basketball game at the neighborhood park this week, were terrorized. The people of Newtown were terrorized. The people of Aurora CO were terrorized. I could go on (sadly).

The people of our nation are being terrorized every day. Perhaps if we called it what it is, there'd be some action to change?

the word of the lord?? -- a sermon for September 15 (Narrative Lectionary year 4 week 2)

Rev. Teri Peterson

PCOP

the word of the lord???

Genesis 21.1-14, 22.1-14

15 September 2013, NL4-2

The Lord dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as he had promised. Sarah conceived and bore Abraham a son in his old age, at the time of which God had spoken to him. Abraham gave the name Isaac to his son whom Sarah bore him. And Abraham circumcised his son Isaac when he was eight days old, as God had commanded him. Abraham was a hundred years old when his son Isaac was born to him. Now Sarah said, ‘God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me.’ And she said, ‘Who would ever have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age.’

 The child grew, and was weaned; and Abraham made a great feast on the day that Isaac was weaned. But Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, playing with her son Isaac. So she said to Abraham, ‘Cast out this slave woman with her son; for the son of this slave woman shall not inherit along with my son Isaac.’ The matter was very distressing to Abraham on account of his son. But God said to Abraham, ‘Do not be distressed because of the boy and because of your slave woman; whatever Sarah says to you, do as she tells you, for it is through Isaac that offspring shall be named after you. As for the son of the slave woman, I will make a nation of him also, because he is your offspring.’ So Abraham rose early in the morning, and took bread and a skin of water, and gave it to Hagar, putting it on her shoulder, along with the child, and sent her away. And she departed, and wandered about in the wilderness of Beer-sheba.

After these things God tested Abraham. He said to him, ‘Abraham!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ He said, ‘Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt-offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.’ So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt-offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him. On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. Then Abraham said to his young men, ‘Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you.’ Abraham took the wood of the burnt-offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. So the two of them walked on together. Isaac said to his father Abraham, ‘Father!’ And he said, ‘Here I am, my son.’ He said, ‘The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt-offering?’ Abraham said, ‘God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt-offering, my son.’ So the two of them walked on together.

 When they came to the place that God had shown him, Abraham built an altar there and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac, and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son. But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven, and said, ‘Abraham, Abraham!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ He said, ‘Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.’ And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt-offering instead of his son. So Abraham called that place ‘The Lord will provide’; as it is said to this day, ‘On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided.’

This past Thursday on the patio, we talked about why we call the Bible the word of the Lord, while other books that seem to tell stories of love and redemption are just novels. After all, the Spirit can and does speak through literature and movies and other media. The stories of Harry or Aslan or Frodo or Buffy or any number of other characters offer us windows into the relationship between humans and God. But none of them are scripture. None of those stories are the ones we gather around each week, base our lives on, and insist are the unique and authoritative witness to God’s love and power. There is something about scripture that causes us to proclaim that it is the Word of the Lord.

That something is actually several somethings. Among them: that these stories of God and God’s people have been held for millennia as the Most True—capital T—words about who God is and what God does, and who we are and who we are called to be. The cloud of witnesses gathered around these texts highlights the sacredness of the stories. In these pages we encounter God. And every word is filled with the Spirit—as is our understanding. The purpose of the stories, laws, poetry, songs, letters, prayers, and speeches we find in this book is to point us toward God’s most perfect revelation: Jesus the Christ. Anything we read that does not point us to the love and justice of God as revealed in Jesus, we are reading wrong. So yes, this book is the word of the Lord—not the words of God, written by lightning bolt or divine finger, but the word of God as it is known and lived and heard and told and practiced by a community of people, a means of revealing God’s power and love.

And then we get stories like this one. That, frankly, make me want to toss the whole thing out all over again. Who on earth thinks that putting not one, but TWO consecutive stories of child sacrifice into a holy text is a good idea? After all, church is supposed to be family friendly. We love children. Jesus said “let the little children come to me.” And here we are, reading about one kid sent into the desert with just a flask of water, and the other dragged up a mountain and very nearly burned as a sacrifice. It’s really hard for me to affirm that this is the word of the Lord.

And it should be. Because we know that every word in these pages should point us to the love of God made visible in Christ, and there’s not a lot that’s very loving or Christ-like about this story. After all the promises God made to Abraham and Sarah, after all the effort Abraham and Sarah made to follow those promises, or even to fulfill them on their own, now we have this: one child cast aside as unworthy, and one demanded as proof of faithfulness. Whatever happened to the unconditional covenant, where God simply promised and that was it? Nowhere before has God insisted on proof or payment or anything in return. Now, all of a sudden, Abraham—who argued and bargained with God several times before this—is perfectly willing to trudge three days away to tie Isaac up on a pyre. Thankfully, at literally last moment, Abraham and God come to their senses, and there’s a ram ready for the slaughter instead.

 THIS is the word of the Lord?

It’s important to remember that Abraham lived in a culture where the gods asked for sacrifices all the time. It would not be unusual for him to watch his neighbors offer a child at the high place. In fact, there are other places in scripture where God has to remind the Israelites that they are not to sacrifice their children—so the practice was definitely around.

It’s also important to remember that often God’s voice comes through the voices of others. Abraham had heard God speak directly, and in the voices of strangers.

The text says this was a test. It’s hard to see how a test that plays with someone’s life is a signpost pointing toward the love of God revealed in Jesus Christ. Unless perhaps it’s a test of just which god we follow? When Abraham knew he was talking directly to God, he often talked back, bargained, asked questions. This time, he obeys the voice silently—most uncharacteristic of his relationship with God up to this point.

Could it be that this is a story of Abraham hearing the voice of another god, through the voices of his neighbors, and then the One True God stepping in and calling off this horror? We know that God is a God of abundant life, of love and justice and grace and freedom. Any interpretation of this story that insists that God demanded this sacrifice as proof of Abraham’s faithfulness is an interpretation that does not point to Jesus—to the God who sacrificed himself on the altar of our stubbornness, not the other way around. So perhaps here we are reading of a human being testing the boundaries—how different is this new God anyway? How meaningful is this promise? And in response, God puts a definitive end to the practice of human sacrifice, grabbing Abraham’s hand—and by extension, our hands too—and taking the knife away. It is not okay for us to sacrifice one another on any altar.

Even when the voices of our many gods call out, it is not okay for us to sacrifice one another on any altar. Make no mistake—there are plenty of voices we, like Abraham, think are perfectly reasonable. They ask us to sacrifice our children on the altar of prosperity, of national security, of morality. They ask us to sacrifice our children for the sake of our military reputation, our economy, our global power. They ask us to sacrifice our children for profit, for safety, for our understanding of what is right. They tell us it’s okay to sacrifice some children, or some poor people, or some elderly people. These false gods surround us, asking us to forget that fifty years ago today four little girls were killed in Sunday School when their church was bombed because their skin was the wrong color—sacrificed to self-righteousness. They ask us to forget that poverty fuels violence that has claimed the lives of thousands of children in our county alone—sacrificed to apathy. They ask us to forget that the things we buy often perpetuate a cycle of violence and despair that destroys the lives of children—sacrificed to convenience. These false gods shield our eyes from the reality that more people are enslaved today than at any time in history, that sporting events are also sex-trafficking events, and that the vast majority of people affected are children—sacrificed to instant gratification.

The voices are all around us, suggesting that the ways we sacrifice our children are perfectly normal. What’s one more time? It’s good for us, it’ll prove something, it’s cost effective, and it’ll all be okay.

And so the test: will we listen to the voice of the God who says: Give me the knife. It is not okay to sacrifice one another on any altar. period. No more. No more. I am a God of life, abundant life. I am Love. I am hope and justice and peace. My faithfulness is not contingent on your faithfulness—and good thing! Those other gods may have compelling voices, but their call always leads to destruction, and my call leads to life. This I promise.

That is the word of the Lord.

Amen. 

bad religion

Tonight's TOP-ic (Thursday On the Patio) was "Bad Religion." People were wondering just what that was going to mean, which was awesome because I turned it back and asked "what is bad religion"...or what is it that makes for a toxic faith that does not promote the abundant life we know that Jesus came to give us?

I was trying to keep it away from particular religions, because the reality is that every religious tradition has bad and good, just like every person. And the further reality is that in the USA, our media covers the extremes of religion, not the majority. I recognize almost nothing of the Christianity that is represented in the media. I suspect the same is true for my Muslim friends--what they see on TV and hear on the news bears little resemblance to their faith tradition. I know it's true for my Jewish friends. And when you leave Abrahamic religions and get into the more "exotic" traditions, well, if they are portrayed in the media somehow, it's almost always poorly.

So the group tonight decided that the hallmarks of "bad religion" are attempts to control, excessive certainty, using fear, manipulating or isolating people, allowing one person to have too much power, promising material rewards. The usual suspects that you can find in the vast majority of people's perceptions of religion, in other words.

The question I wanted to ask but didn't was: when have we participated in bad religion? When have we, as individuals around that table or as a church community, perpetuated this pop-christianity or used religious words and ideas in such a way that they hurt people rather than lead to the flourishing of God's kingdom?

When we are unkind to one another, when there are cliques in the church, when our love is only for those who look like us, when we insist on our own way or bolster our own power, that's bad religion. When we use the words of scripture to wound rather than heal, that's bad religion. When we allow one person to hold the church hostage to their way of doing things, for fear they might leave, that's bad religion. (no, it's not the same as following a cult leader...except it kind of is, in a way.) When we focus on the building or a program or a historical moment at the expense of loving our neighbors who currently exist right outside our doors, that's bad religion.

I'm guessing very few people disagree with that.

But what about this:
is it bad religion when we hear someone claiming that Christians/Muslims/Hindus/Sikhs are (or do, or believe) _______ and we don't speak up about the stereotyping?
is it bad religion when we see someone in need and pass by on the other side?
is it bad religion when we have an opportunity to be a little bit of good news in someone else's life, and we don't take it?
it is bad religion when we hear someone using scripture to hurt and we don't chime in with another interpretation?
is it bad religion when we reinforce unrealistic expectations for our kids/coworkers/family?
is it bad religion when we talk about another church member, or a coworker, or a friend, when they're not around?

If bad religion is primarily about things that work against Abundant Life, aren't we all participating in it in some way?

And then the question I did ask: how can we be people of good religion instead? How can we be people of life-giving faith, of good news, of hope and love for neighbor? How can we show our love for God, and more importantly God's love for us, all the time? It's hard work to counteract this culture of toxicity. But the only way to counter it is to be like a shot of good news. Can we do it?

Wednesday Interesting

yeah, last week I got distracted and didn't post all the cool stuff I came across. It happens.

Therefore, this week is a REALLY LONG post. But seriously, everything's awesome. Save it for your day off or when you need a brain break or something.

Obviously, this week's news is heavy on Trayvon Martin/George Zimmerman/race/guns/etc. The whole situation is so horrifying I don't even really know where to begin. So instead I'll point you to just three things. One is a reflection on the sad reality of life for too many people. One is a reflection by a friend and fellow clergy woman, on the ways that white women (like both of us) play into this story. Otis Moss III is my secret (not anymore) preacher crush. That man can bring a word to just about any situation.


Meanwhile, there might be hope--if we can figure out how to let our kids grow up before we either kill them or ruin them:


While we're on the subject of race and class and opportunity and whatnot, you need tissues for this one. Read it AND watch the video. Seriously--it's worth your time. There aren't a lot of good news stories these days, so you need this.

"'Things like this don't happen to kids like us,' he cried on that unimaginable night, his face beaming bronze, his tears soaking into my shoulder. And he is right. Blind and legless kids from the ghettos don't get college educations and shiny accolades, but they should. And that is why I stayed. Because hope and love and rejoicing and redemption can happen to kids like them."

And in case you were thinking "well, at least we got the women thing sorted out"...watch this. The title "what every woman already knows" is exactly right. There's more to the world than what those in power experience.

There's also more to our experience than we may have thought before. Turns out that some of the external factors of our lives influence our genes in ways that can be passed on to the next generation. So interesting to think about! (and gives new meaning to the business about our sins being visited on our children.)

While we're thinking about things that shape and form who we are, this is a beautiful reflection on church--one of the last places for multi-generational experience. How do we ensure that we are able to speak to multiple generations, formed by such different experiences, with the same gospel?

How do we minister with and to people whose lives and faith are shaped by this emerging new world, who need a form of faith that answers the questions that arise in this new world? How do we at the same time and within the same congregation minister with and to people shaped by a fading world, who respond to a form of faith that was shaped by that world? How do we do both without tearing ourselves or each other apart?

One start would be to not be dismissive of either younger or older generations. While this is pretty snarky, it's also right on when it comes to the experience many of us are having. (says this member of the X-Millennial bridge) Please stop putting "young people" down. For starters: it doesn't make "us" want to listen or engage. Shaming never works, it just shuts people down.

And while we're at it, maybe we could contemplate ways to be an actual community full of kind compassionate people? Yes, we're human. That doesn't mean we have license to be mean to one another. If the church's purpose is to "exhibit the kingdom of heaven to the world" (as per the PCUSA Book of Order) then shouldn't we be trying harder to be that?

I firmly believe that by finally dragging our differences and petty arguments into the light of day, it will be a massive first step in breaking our mean habits. For far too long, while we have been waging a war within our own foxholes, the real enemy has had the run of the place. He has been unchallenged because Christ's army is too wounded from friendly fire to even crawl to the battlefield for the real fight. And an enemy who is unopposed is no longer your enemy. He has actually becomes your ruler.

One of the things I spend a lot of time thinking about is language: how do we use it, what's correct and what's emerging and where do those trajectories meet, what are we saying when we use particular words or phrases? This is one of the reasons I am a proponent of inclusive and expansive language. But the pesky English pronouns....


There's some really cool stuff going on in the world, in addition to all the drama and horror of life. Check this out--there could one day be streets that eat pollution! I just think that's worth more exclamation points. !!! Of course, the ideal is a world in which we're not producing pollution, because we've moved beyond fossil fuels. But one thing at a time, right?

Also, gorillas were observed learning and applying their knowledge in the wild.  So cool. And I confess there's a part of me that wants to say something like "take that, evolution-deniers." But that's neither kind nor helpful, nor exactly accurate. But still. Cool.

For everyone who's forgotten, Egypt is still happening. While some days are promising and other days terrifying, this article (admittedly 10 days old now--what happens when I skip a week) is a pretty good meta-analysis. Thought-provoking too, about the consequences of approaching things this way. (As an aside: please remember that our own revolution took over a decade to solidify into a constitutional government, and we weren't even being watched every second on the internet. Why do we expect others to happen overnight?)

"The price Egypt has paid and will pay for the consequences of this decision are too high. It has created a generation of Islamists who genuinely believe that democracy does not include them. The post-June 30 fallout reaffirms this belief, especially with Islamist channels and newspapers closed down, as well as leaders detained and held incommunicado, apparently pursuant to an executive decision. For 30 years, Mubarak told them that due process is not for them, and a popular revolution is confirming that. It is Egyptian society that will pay the price of the grievances this causes, and the fact that, with a silenced media and no coverage from independent outlets, they have been left with virtually no channels to get their voice heard."

This column beautifully weaves together a typical day at the beach and a reflection on our calling and responsibility as people of God. Love it.

And, last but never least, a treat for those who made it to the end. Today is the anniversary of the opening of Disneyland! I heart Disneyland, and while I never see anyone dressed this way there anymore (how would you go on rides in those skirts???), it's fun to see how much is the same and how much has changed in nearly 60 years. Not to mention the celebrities. :-)
 

the R's...or, "everyone needs therapy."

One of the things we (theoretically) learn in the process of growing up is the difference between reacting and responding. Many of us don't learn it until we spend time in therapy or serving in some sort of intentional leadership experience. But no matter how we learn it, it's a key part of being a mature adult human being: recognizing our reactions and then choosing how to respond.

Reactivity is a huge problem, though. Either we're not self-aware or other-aware, or we're clouded by something (fear, anger, pain), and when we see things, we act on our reactive assumptions.

For instance:
We see a black male teenager and lock the doors, assuming he's up to no good.
We see a woman in a short skirt and assume she has no self-respect and is "asking for it."
We see a person wearing a clerical collar and launch into a tirade against the evils of the church.
We see someone asking for money and assume they're just going to buy booze, then loudly tell our companion how much money homeless panhandlers "really" make.

In instances when we feel threatened, our reactivity heightens even more. We don't just lock the doors, we follow and then get out of the car. We don't just rant about the church, we throw things through the windows. We don't "just" catcall, we launch legislative efforts to control.

Threats take many forms--the threat of physical harm, the threat of loss-of-power, the threat of having to change our perspective. Whatever the form, our reactions are usually in the same vein: do everything we can to maintain our position, the status quo, the safety of our bodies, minds, neighborhoods, values, histories, worldviews. It doesn't matter if those reactions are irrational, or how they affect others, or even what they say about us. When we are in reactive mode, all that matters is that our status quo is returned.

Add in firearms and there's a recipe for disaster.

But if you are a person with brown skin,  we'll take away your right to life instead. Or if you are a woman, we'll take away your right to health care, insisting you need to be protected from yourself by politicians, health insurance companies, and family members.

So what happens if we respond instead of reacting?

This is where real change happens. Not through following a kid through the neighborhood, picking a fight, then claiming self defense. Not in a court room. Not in a church meeting. Not even in the halls of Congress. Every single one of us needs to figure out what it would mean to respond instead of react--every time. To think before we open our mouths or our car doors or the floodgates of an internet comment.

Only if we figure out how to let the grown-up part of our brain respond will we be able to make any kind of difference. That means that when we see someone who looks different, we don't jump to assumptions but wait a beat, look for the image of God, and open a conversation. When we observe someone making a choice we would not make (but is not harmful to us or others), we recall that our task is not to ensure everyone is the same as I am, but that everyone has the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. When we are threatened, we look for ways to respond creatively rather than reacting violently.

please note: this post is not about what we do when we see someone obviously engaging in dangerous illegal activity, hurting themselves or another person, etc. Watching someone commit a violent crime, jump off a bridge, break into a store, start a fire, litter, etc, while doing nothing is obviously not okay. Don't try to read this post that way. But also don't assume that what you see isn't colored by your lenses. Remember that video where a white girl was stealing a bike and people offered to help her, while when a black teen did the same people were calling the cops within seconds?

And always, always, we remember that we cannot control other people's reactions or responses. All we can control is how we respond. In other words, we cannot insist that other people behave the way we do if we are to respond to them as human beings. We cannot insist that other people's reactions to us or responses to our actions/words be what we think they should be. We cannot say "I didn't mean it like that" and assume that's going to make it okay.
Can those of us in positions of privilege (whether by virtue of our skin color, our economic status, our social status, our religious tradition, our citizenship...) choose to respond in healthy ways? Can we choose to stand up when others are using their privilege inappropriately? Can we choose to defend the people who do not enjoy the same privileges we do? Can we choose to insist on the full personhood of everyone, regardless of their status, color, or even behavior? Can we choose to take responsibility for ourselves, our words and actions, our reactions and responses, and then choose to act differently when we are called out on bad behavior, perpetuating stereotypes, perpetrating injustice, participating in devaluing of people or creation?

No one deserves to be treated the way many are being treated every day. No one deserves to die because of the neighborhood they live in, the snack they carry, the clothes they wear, the gait of their walk. No one deserves to grow up being taught never to run and always to defer to the person with the lighter skin. No one deserves to be thrown away because they are inconvenient for the rest of us.

Everyone deserves to be seen in all their humanity. Everyone deserves to have the image of God recognized in them. Everyone deserves to be treated with respect. The only way to get there is for all of us to learn to respond rather than react, and to remember that the only person we can control is ourselves--and a little self-control would go a long way.

To the many people insisting that race has nothing to do with Trayvon Martin's death, or that Paula Deen just used a word "they" use about "themselves," or that gender discrimination at work and in legislation is all in our pretty little heads, or that your LGBT friends should be happy with what they've got and stop having "parades of promiscuity," or that cutting food stamps will motivate people to get jobs (and yes, these are all related issues, filed under "privilege") : that's reacting. Reactivity always means either unreflective behavior or some perceived threat. I choose not to believe that any of my (few) readers are unreflective. I believe you are all able and willing to consider history, culture, worldview, politics, etc, when thinking about a situation or issue. SO: What is threatening about the perspective being shared by people of color, by women, by LGBT people, by the poor? What is threatening about the idea that all our fellow human beings deserve exactly the same privileges we enjoy?

Once we can name the real issue, can we respond instead of react, and thereby change the world?

Or, as Jesus says: love your neighbor as yourself.

beyond Boston

I've been trying to figure out how to express what I've been thinking about the aftermath of Monday's bombing in Boston. So this post may not make any sense, because I'm essentially thinking out loud.

First and most obvious: this is a tragedy, it's horrific, and I can hardly believe that people do this kind of thing. Even though it happens all over the world regularly, and even though more people die on the streets of Chicago every day, I still cannot get my head around the fact that people commit heinous acts of violence. Add in the marathon and it just seems like such a cruel joke: hey, you're such an awesome runner, you qualified for the most famous marathon! And then after 26 miles, just yards from the finish, you lost a leg. Almost as good as a medal, right? UGH. so much ridiculous and horrifying.

But then the news coverage and the conversation that comes after...

And it comes this way after every tragedy. But this time it just seems more blatant.

talking to people in London: "are you seeing runners pulling out of this weekend's marathon? How are you going to secure the course?"
talking to runners: "does this make you think twice about running another race?"
callers to a local radio show: "I won't want my family coming out to cheer, but I'll run again."

over and over, this sense of using this event to determine our future behavior...

This is the DEFINITION of terrorism. Using a tactic that makes us afraid to do things we would normally do, or that we love to do.

I want to know things like: was the marathon the purpose or convenient? (i.e.: it's hard to imagine that someone was all "hey, I know, I'll make a point by blowing up runners." marathons are popular, but it's not THAT popular. and the bombs were set at a time that the "regular" runners (ie not the famous winners) would be affected, near the end of the race) Could it be that the bomber wasn't working out aggression against distance running, but simply used the famous event to get attention for something else? It's also Patriot Day, and tax day, and who knows what other issue might have been affecting him/her/them...let's not jump to conclusions.

But most of all, I want us to think about the questions we're asking, and the ways we're modifying our lives. Especially in light of the fact that 20 dead school children can't even sustain a national conversation about gun violence for a quarter. We are already incredibly reactionary about any number of things, from airport security to water bottles. If we're going to start calling off sporting events, or insisting people not congregate, or whatever...haven't we in fact just ceded all the power to the terrorist?

And once we're considering that language we use, let's include in the consideration the fact that in other parts of the world these things happen every day and people continue to run, work, play, travel, eat, have families, and generally go about life. I'm not minimizing the trauma or seriousness of this event *or of those that happen every day around the world.* I am trying to suggest that our questions reveal a privileged existence: that we think we could get away from the dark side of life, that we believe ourselves protected from the brokenness of the world.

These are the questions of a privileged few. Elsewhere, and in the majority-underbelly of our cities, people are asking "how do we live life to the fullest, follow our passions, feed our families, and care for each other, even in the midst of the suffering?" because suffering is a fact of life. sin and brokenness are a fact of life. Safety is an illusion and the more we cling to it, the more shocked we will be when these things happen.

I'm not suggesting that we ignore security precautions. I am suggesting that we have trusted in them far too much, and it has made us even less secure. Our privilege has made us blind, and ultimately we are far more easily terrorized.

(see, I told you it was thinking out loud and rambling incoherently.)

Prophet

This afternoon I watched the PBS special on the women's movement, "The Makers." It was pretty amazing. And to follow up on my post about being a feminist earlier this week, it makes sense to me for this image to illustrate today's word. Prophets are those who can see the world as God sees--a world of justice and hope for all people. The women who came before, and the people who continue to work for justice, are indeed prophets.

one of the last frames of the 3 hour special...awesome

Day 15 of the Lent photo-a-day challenge

Day 

I *AM* a feminist

There seems to be an epidemic of women, especially women with a platform, declining to be feminists. They use their platforms--whether it's a stage or a blog with an audience or a position in a major corporation or a turn on the floor of the legislature--to insist that they are not feminists and do not want to be feminists.

Which has a certain irony to it, since feminism is what makes it possible for them to go to school, wear pants in public, have jobs other than secretary-kindergarten teacher-nurse, and enjoy their platform that speaks to people across gender lines.

Last night's Oscar experience brought this all to the fore, again, because...again...the junior-high-humor focused primarily on degrading women. Which, for the record, is not funny. It is not funny to identify incredible actresses by their breasts. In fact, it's shameful that we still think women have to get naked to sell movies, and they'd better be tall slender (mostly white) women if they want to get the job. It is not funny to call on tired stereotypes of women as grudge holders in an attempt to get a laugh. It is not funny to make jokes about eating disorders and the "fashion" that so often requires women to "get the flu" before a big event in order to fit into the dress. It is DECIDEDLY not funny to make jokes that cast a talented young girl as victim of statutory rape, nor to refer to her with disgusting epithets.

see? not funny.

Until these things are seen as the horrific commentary on the joke-maker that they really are, we still need feminism.

Not to mention that until women make as much money as men for the same jobs, we still need feminism. Until women can wear what they choose without being blamed for men's infidelity or for their own rapes, we still need feminism. Until our legislative body is representative of our population, we need feminism. Until our advertising finds way to sell products other than putting a scantily clad person (woman or man) in the picture, we need feminism. Until we have healthcare and childcare that take care of the whole population, not only well-off men, we need feminism. Until the predominant image of a successful person is not always a white man in a business suit, we need feminism. Until it's okay to talk about God with words other than "He" and all of humanity beyond "man," we need feminism.

In other words, until women and men are treated equally, and until the underpinnings of our cultural narrative recognize equality, we need feminism.

To be clear, feminism is not man-hating. Feminazis and bra-burning are propaganda of people who are holding desperately to their power, fictions created by men who insist that "allowing" women equal rights somehow diminishes men.

This is, frankly, not true. In fact, the opposite is true. As long as anyone, in and of themselves--of any gender or ethnicity or sexual orientation or socio-economic status or religion--is seen as less-than, is an easy and obvious target for jokes, is blamed for society's (or the church's) ills, is perceived as a threat to the status-quo, we are all diminished.

And yet women fall into the trap--we have allowed the rhetoric to become truth inside us, believing that the fight is over, the victory won, or that only bitchy power-mongers are feminists, or that if we stand up for ourselves then we deserve whatever we get. We have become accustomed to politicians and pundits making decisions about our bodies, our marriages, our healthcare, and our labels/nicknames. We have allowed ourselves to believe that if only we are nice and pretty (and thin, and white but tanned) then we will be loved...but not before. We have bought into the idea that if we want to choose to stay home and raise a family, we're letting down women everywhere and so have to be defensive all the time. We have believed that everything in life is a zero-sum game and we are somehow taking things away from others.

These are the lies feminism tries to counter. (interestingly, they are also the lies Jesus tries to counter. a coincidence? unlikely.)

I appreciate the work that was done by first wave feminists who labored so that I can vote. And believe me, I vote.
I appreciate the work that was done by second wave feminists who labored so that I can wear what I want, including trousers in a public place; so that I can get an education in any field I choose (a right not afforded even to people in my mother's generation); so that I can work in a job that I am interested in and fulfilled by; so that I can speak out in public places; so that I can choose whether and when to have a family; so that I can travel, and have a credit card and a bank account and a mortgage, all without my father's permission.
And I appreciate the legacy and responsibility left to those of us in the third wave: we may not be fighting exactly the same battles, and we may not be doing it in the same way, but we are still needed. Feminism is not a quaint movement of the past.

And I am not willing to benefit from the movement without also taking it up so that others might do the same. To set aside the word "feminist" I would also need to set aside my education, my jeans, my job, my blog, and my passport. I doubt any of the women who have so publicly derided 21st century feminism want to do any of that...so why are they so quick to lay down the word?