Mary Did You Know?

There is a beautiful Christmas song that captures the wonder of holding an infant and looking into the eyes of infinite possibilities. It’s called “Mary, Did You Know?” In that song, the bold expectations that we have in Advent are sung because we know that this is not just a season of expectancy for an infant but for a savior. We have the vantage point of history whereby we can beg the question, “Mary, did you know that your Baby Boy would one day walk on water?” But what does Advent offer us who cannot feel such hope or are trapped in oppression such that hope is a luxury we cannot afford? 

No one would listen to a song that cried out, “Mary, did you know that your child would languish in depression such that death was hoped for?” A song that proclaimed, “Mary, did you know that your baby boy would be shot by police because he was too afraid to ask for help and too proud to act vulnerable?” would never receive any attention. So what does Advent have for those of us who are so pained by life that it’s hard to believe that a savior will be born? 

I’m not writing this so that you will engage me on the fine points of theology. I have answers to that question that satisfy both my faith and my longing on the dark nights of my soul. But I’m asking that question because I know that joy does not come easily for many and hope feels too dangerous for some. I’m asking that question because we should pause to hear the cries of those for whom expectant hope is too much to ask. Please don’t tell me how your Savior has walked you through the darkness. Instead, look around for those who need your love to hold them through the pain. Please be hope in the darkness for others. That’s the Christmas miracle I'm praying for tonight. 

Building The Kingdom

Ordinary 27A – Sermon based upon Psalm 19 and Matthew 21:33-46

Good morning.  It’s good to be with you on this World Communion Sunday.  It’s a special day when we pause to recognize in gratitude all the different peoples and cultures in which Christianity and the fellowship of the table thrive.  So you might be wondering what today’s scripture message does to uphold that notion because on the surface, it just doesn’t seem to fit.

I mean here we have this story of gang like violence where the workers of a vineyard scheme against the owner, selfishly claim their own superiority, and even brutally kill the owner’s servants and son.  So what is up with this passage that it shows up in the lectionary on World Communion Sunday? 

This passage is one of those parables that stands out from Jesus’ usual teaching parables.  This parable does not use story telling to reveal something of the nature of God, as do so many others parables. One of the reasons is that rather than being aimed at the every day folks of faith, this one is aimed at the religious leaders.  So this parable that seems to have been misnamed “the parable of the wicked tenants" really should be something else. The tenants, of course, play a major role, because Jesus is pointing to the way the Pharisees have mistaken their leadership over Israel for outright ownership of Israel.  But the real focus of the parable is to clarify who Jesus is.

Now when I started writing this sermon, I thought I’d spend a lot of time talking about the history of what all the symbols mean and what it’s getting at but I’m going to do something else instead.  So, I’m going to give as quick an overview of the historical and symbolic significance and meaning as I can.  And then I’m going to move forward to something more practical.  But if you feel like you missed out on some of the nitty gritty of deciphering this passage, just ask me later and we can discuss it for hours.

So we have this cast of characters.  The tenants represent the religious leaders who are more concerned with their own wealth and status.  They want to “inherit” is rightfully Jesus’.  They are responsible for pointing Israel to God, yet they have instead pointed her to themselves. The indictment, then, is not against the people Israel per se, or even against the temple "institution," but rather against God's appointed leaders.  The slaves symbolize prophets sent by God to call the leaders back to God’s purposes.  The son represents Jesus, the son of God.  And the owner represents God. 

Well, the tenants kill the slaves and the son in an attempt to claim the inheritance from the owner.  But then the owner comes and restores the son that was previously cast off… killed.  And all of this points to how amazing the works of God are.

Who is Jesus according to this parable? He is the Son who has come to reclaim what rightfully belongs to his Father. He is the Son whose mission is violently rejected by the Father's own tenants. He is the Son whose rejection is vindicated by the Father. And he is the Son whose vindication prompts the final judgment of the unfaithful tenants.

In coming to reclaim what rightly belongs to his Father, the Son sets out to restore the world to its divinely created order. One need only look at Jesus' ministry to see what this looks like: the sick are made well, sinners are restored, and God is praised.  In short, Jesus brings wholeness to a broken world, providing glimpses into what he elsewhere calls "the kingdom of heaven."

So that is the somewhat quick overview of this passage.  But there’s a part I want to zero in on.  Verse 40 reads, “Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?"

That’s really the million-dollar question, isn’t it? What will he do to them? What will the one in charge do to those who have blatantly, flagrantly disobeyed and violated their roles?  They’ve even committed murder.

Well, listeners said the owner should kill them all and start fresh.  But let’s go back to what all this symbolizes.  Is that what God did to the Jewish leaders?  Is that what God does to religious leaders today that go awry?  Is that how God deals with any of us in our failings? 

No it is not.  Jesus may have been pointing to himself as the savior but he was also pointing to a God that never gives up on God’s people.  This parable tells us that the son who has been killed… you know, Jesus will be restored and become the cornerstone, holding all of this together. 

God’s work is not that of smiting and smacking us down when we fail.  God’s work is that of restoring and reconciling us.  God raised up his son and restored him for the goodness and healing of creation. 

This stands in stark contrast to persons of faith in that time and still today who act with self serving intentions.  They call for judgment of those around them.  They use the failings of others to feel superior while ignoring the log in their own eye. They see control and conquest rather than reconciliation and healing.

But before we get too carried away with all these “they” do this and “they” do that’s, we need to be humble enough to see that sometimes we all fall into that kind of judgmental thinking.  We get focused on our particular ways of doing things and turn those into our standards instead of using God’s measuring stick of love and mercy.

And I think that is the real point of this parable today.  Jesus was talking to the Pharisees but if Jesus told us this parable today, and we replied with “kill the tenants,” I hope we would be able to see that the message of Jesus being a conduit for restoring the kingdom through peaceful means instead of vengeful ones would sink into our hearts and minds.  I hope we could see God’s interest in making creation whole rather than clear cutting the land.  And I hope we can receive the healing of that part in us that calls for retaliation so that we can be co-creators with God in building the Kingdom.

So here we are.  It’s World Communion Sunday where we celebrate the way God has reached out with wide arms to the world.  We collect the Peacemaking offering that goes to programs both near and far that work to be beacons of God’s peace, love, and mercy.  And even if those things weren’t going on, we ourselves need a good bit of God’s love and mercy rather than the judgment and shame we so often heap upon ourselves and one another. 

Sisters and brothers, we’ve gone all the way from a bizarre parable of gang like violence to God’s message that healing comes through the peaceful and loving reconciliation through Christ.  That’s one wild journey.  But I think it mirrors our own experience.  We have no trouble imaging the violence but we have trouble making the leap to peaceful healing.  But that is the point. We don’t have to make the jump.  Christ made the leap for us.  And thanks be to God for that. 

Our charge is to be humble and open to God’s work of healing and reconciliation. May we be every willing to be part of the Kingdom God is building with us.  Amen.

The True Miracle

I am blessed to know a lot of chaplains and religious leaders from many faiths and backgrounds. While we share and grow through the diversity of our experiences, the true gift is the camaraderie we have in a particular shared experience. We each want so deeply for the people we encounter to grow more deeply in their faith.

To grow in faith sounds simple enough on the surface but in reality most of us feel like Paul in his cry from Romans 7, “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” The truth is that all of us struggle to grow in faith in some way. It might be the adhering to spiritual practices or it could be the living out justice filled beliefs. Regardless of the particulars, faith is always marked by some sort of strife.

Next come the behaviors we use to cover our pain and sorrow. That too is varied in its expression. For some, they hide the pain by delving into false piety and “holier than thou” behaviors. Others of us take on the experience as a personal failing resulting in self-loathing. Still others work very hard to desensitize themselves and live in the proverbial bliss of ignorance.

We religious leaders bump up against these behaviors that are symptomatic of faith struggles both personally and professionally. Whether it’s congregational life, hospitals, or park benches the sore spots of our faith struggles are out there to be rubbed and made even more raw.

This is where that shared experience of clergy comes back. Our desire for people to grow either becomes a healing balm or an irritating liniment to those sore spots that reveal the faith struggle. When we are blessed to witness healing, it is a deeply meaningful experience as a person of faith. However, when that healing doesn’t occur it can be painful, frustrating, and even consuming when our own faith struggles take this experience personally.

I feel such deep sorrow when I watch other clergy become so wounded and discouraged with the strife they experience and the perceived lack of growth in their flock that it becomes a barrier to their own faith and participation in creation. All this leads me to what I see as the true miracle. To me, the true miracle is that in spite of humanity’s bent toward violence, destruction, and fearfulness healing continues to occur and the lives are transformed.

When we look throughout history, it’s remarkable that faith persists at all. The perception of “end days” violence today holds nothing against the atrocities against people, races, and nations throughout history. I personally might have lost faith in God if I had been part of the one million plus Armenians slaughtered in the early 1900’s or witnessed the inquisitions of the 12th and 13th century. Moreover, these are not isolated incidents. The pain and suffering of humanity when we look at the lives of everyday people has been and continues to be on a scale that most privileged people in the United States cannot begin to imagine. And yet, faith persists. The violence we wrought on one another cannot seem to squash the meaningful ways faith keeps us going despite all that we face.

We, as clergy, keep looking for people of faith to become something wholly different and completely transformed. I personally even preach about transformation in a way that unfortunately misleads people into thinking that they are chasing after a destination rather than an ongoing process that will be ever challenged and ever changing. But the reality of history and our daily lives is that of a process. We take steps forward that are met with a new challenge that could push us back.

Therefore, when we see people that work to stay bind to the injustice of the world or persons in the hospital who act “tougher than cancer,” we are seeing defense mechanisms that have been heaped on after experiencing so much disappointment and pain. Deep down they want to live a life of faithfulness that matches an unrealistic ideal. Deep down, that ideal crushes. But again, instead of completely running away, humanity finds a way to maintain some level of faith in spite of the struggles.

Truly I can’t tell you how many people I know that are completely unable to forgive themselves for their struggles in faith yet act content in their faith on the outside. Sadly, the notion of a loving and forgiving God is not near as difficult to grasp as the concept of forgiving ourselves. And still, we persist in faith.

The call of faith is tough and the notion of celebrating the journey is rarely upheld or practiced. We place too much emphasis on the destination or expect people to be at a point on their journey that is unrealistic given their experiences and level of faith. Yet, I suspect that reorienting ourselves to celebrating even the little milestones is what we need if we are to heal the sore spots that become barriers to healing. That healing likely won’t bring about a radical transformation in the church, but it is part of the ongoing work that counteracts the sorrow, fear, and destruction of the world. May we all be instruments of healing and peace that represent the true miracle of creation.

I, You, and We

I, You, and We <-- audio file of sermon based upon Jeremiah 29:1,4-7

Good morning. Last week we studied a pastoral letter from Paul to Timothy and his church. It was a letter of encouragement and a calling to stay connected with their core gifts and faith. This week we have a letter from Jeremiah which is also a pastoral letter but one that is prophetic. Paul’s letter was telling people how to cultivate faith here and now. Jeremiah’s letter is looking toward the future and setting out the vision of how to still be a thriving people in the future.

Even though we only read a small piece of this letter, it’s part of a larger letter that to the Jewish people while they were in exile. See, to really get the most out of this passage, we need to understand what was going on that Jeremiah was sending this letter. It’s a very painful time for the Jewish people. The Kingdom of Judah fell to the Babylonians and now the Jewish people have literally been deported to live in exile. Their homes have been taken, their religious center in Jerusalem has been destroyed, and everything they ever knew and trusted was turned upside down.

So here they are, living in Babylon amongst people and customs unknown to them but things aren’t safe and secure here either. This was a period of deep unrest throughout the fertile crescent. Empires had and would continue to rise and fall, taking lots of innocent people with them. The Jewish people were probably living amongst lots of people away from their homelands and the Babylonians could fall at any time uprooting them all once again.

This is a time of unrest, fear, and deep concern for their future. And it’s in this moment that Jeremiah writes to them saying,

Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.

You see Jeremiah was telling them to continue to do the everyday things that it not only takes to survive but to thrive. Continue to have children. Continue to cultivate relationships. Multiply.

Now, we need to be clear that this was a very different time and place than where we live now. Relationships were usually not about love. Marriages in that time were more like contract law, trade agreements, and alliance building for the safety of people. Few people in the bible or any ancient texts are said to have married for love or even come to love their spouses because this is a very different time of desperation. But what is clear is that in land full of danger and a time when babies and mothers died 50% of the time, having children was absolutely essential for people to survive so Jeremiah was clear that they needed to increase, not decrease.

Which all this leads us to what I think is the most important verse in the passage where Jeremiah tells them, “seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” “For in its welfare you will find your welfare”… That must have been pretty hard to hear as a Jew in exile. I imagine it was hard for Jeremiah to say. I mean, here’s this prophet who is usually offering messages of revolution and thundering power who is telling people to pray for and work for the betterment of the community they find themselves in. This must have seemed offensive to people who had been deported and robbed of the homes they once knew. But it is God’s message to them through the prophet Jeremiah nevertheless.

Just like Jeremiah knew their survival was wrapped up in continuing to have children he also knew that their future was now intertwined in the safety of the Babylonians. To work for peace in Babylon was to work for peace in their own homes and vice versa.

Now this is a pretty hefty message in just a few short verses. A good summary of this passage might be, to truly prosper, we need to take care of our own house as well as the house of others by working for peace and safety. But what does this mean to us? In this country, babies and mothers survive nearly all of the time. Instead of dying at a rate of better than 50%, they survive over 99.5% of the time. And we have the privilege of entering into relationships for reasons of love, not just survival. So what does Jeremiah’s message of I take care of my house, you take care of yours, and we take care of each other’s houses mean here and now?

Well, I think it means quite a bit actually. It is true that we are a far more privileged people than what the Jewish exiles were. But we still experience our own sense of exile and if we don’t personally, I guarantee you that others around us do. Look around… there are people out of work and living in economic exile. Sometimes that exile even means moving to a new place that take away all that is familiar just to find work. There are others of us that make moves to accommodate family needs like caring for an aging parent or being near schools that are good for our children. But while these moves are the right thing to do, they uproot us from home and force distance between us and what is familiar. Still others experience emotional and literal exile of being marginalized because of race, class, relationships, age, violent neighborhoods, and so much more. We need only read the headlines of bullying and the sorrow of isolation to know that many are living in exile among us.

This passage offers us a key piece of wisdom in the face of all our life circumstances. Safety and peace are the pathway to the future. Our own homes are at their best when we make a place of peace and safety in which to grow, love, and live. Our neighbor’s homes are at their best when they are safe to be who they were created to be. Our communities are at their best when we know we’ve got each other’s backs.

On this day, it’s Domestic Violence awareness Sunday in the Presbyterian Church and I believe this passage most definitely has a message to us on that subject too. If safety and peace are the pathway to the future, then they are the pathway to the future for us all. It can’t be that only some of us are safe while others are not. That’s the whole thrust of this passage. “For in its welfare you will find your welfare.”

Domestic violence has staggering statistics.

• A woman is beaten every 15 seconds in this country.
• Domestic violence occurs at least once in two-thirds of all marriages.
• 600 people are victims of sexual violence each day in the US. Only 53% are reported to the police. Few are ever prosecuted.
• 40% of teenage girls age know someone their age who has been hit or beaten by a boyfriend.
• More than three million children witness acts of domestic violence each year.

It doesn’t take long to become depressed when we take all this in. And statistically we all know people who are abused or are abusers… maybe even ourselves.

The statistics and the reality are so staggering that it’s hard to get our footing and figure out what to do about it. But this passage offers the key… safety and peace. Our own homes should be safe havens. If our homes currently have violence or relationships that aren’t loving and life filled, there is hope in redemptive love. Reach out for help. Reach to your neighbors. There is help and support. We can journey together and find strength as a community we didn’t know was there before.

If our homes are safe and loving places, make them available to others. Be the listening ear to our friends. Make it safe for our children to come talk with us as well as our children’s friends. We know that the first outcry for help usually comes to friends or to the parents of friends.

And don’t be afraid to do something. The effect of early and loving intervention in people’s lives cannot fully be accounted for. We are called to be in community… their welfare is ours. It is our job to offer support and be a safe haven. It is also our job to report crimes and seek professional intervention. But we are not called to be the saviors of others. We are not the police and therapist to our loved ones. We are their loved ones. But our community is large enough that we have professional organizations to offer help such as domestic violence shelters. If you are ever unsure of what resources are available, reach out to the police department, a pastor, a therapist, or someone else well connected with resources to help.

Sisters and brothers, Jeremiah tells us to “seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” In making our own homes and relationships safe places for thriving, we find our own welfare. In reaching out to others to help them have a home of safety, they find their welfare. I, you, we… we’re all wrapped up in this together. Whether it’s the emotional exile of depression or the exile of a violent home, we are in this together.

Seek peace. Be a safe harbor for others. And pray and work for the betterment and peace of the community. It was God’s will for the exiles and it’s still God’s will for our lives today. Amen.

Grieving in a War Zone

I frequently have interactions that leave me with looming questions.  This is my recolection and the remaining questions from one such incident:

I was rounding floors and was on 5W where I was told a 14yr old male was inpatient from surgery to set a compound fracture tibia. The nurse relayed that he was speaking in belligerent ways to all staff and that he had no family with him. It was almost 1am and the patient was still up watching TV.

I knocked and entered the room when he acknowledged me. There I met KM who is African American and appears older than his age. He said in a gruff tone, “what do you want?” I said, “My name is Lavender and I’m a chaplain here. I saw you were up and thought I’d say hi since I don’t get to see too many folks awake at this time of night.” He replied, “yeah, I don’t sleep much and I don’t trust these b******. Anyway, what do you want?” I said, “I don’t really want anything. But like I said, I saw you were up and thought I’d check in. Wanna play a game or watch a movie?”

From that point, KM and I had a conversation about card games. He told me he was great at poker and that I’d never be able to read if he was bluffing. He started sharing stories of beating other people. I got a deck of cards and we played dealer’s choice. For the first 20 min, he continued with grandiose stories of things he had won playing poker and said he wanted to play professionally. At some point I asked how he learned to play.

At this point his manner changed into something quieter but he quickly rebounded and told me about his older brother who had been shot and killed. Though not said directly, the context clues told me it was gang related. His stories of his brother were full of the same profanity, grandiosity, and bravado he had been exhibiting. I gathered that his brother was 3 years older and was killed last year. I dropped the subject for a while sensing that he didn’t want to go further than surface details.

After a while I noticed him staring at my badge. He asked, “What’s a chaplain?” I went into my normal explanation of a chaplain being kind of like a minister in a church but instead of working at a church, I only work here. And I added that I like to spend time with all kinds of people no matter what they believe because it’s important to not be alone when you’re sick.

At this he sat up straighter in bed and apologized for his profanity. I told him I didn’t care but then asked him why he would apologize to me but not the nurses who were trying to take care of him. He said, “those b****** don’t care about me. They just want to get my black a** outta here so I can be killed like everyone else.”

I said, “what makes you think that?” He replied, “Are you stupid? That’s how everybody is. Cops, teachers, everybody. My brother didn’t die because he was in a gang. He died because none of you care!”

I sat silently looking into his angry eyes and noticing his heavy breathing for what felt like an eternity though it was only about 10 seconds. I said, “KM, would it be okay if I don’t believe everyone feels that way? I don’t want to sound like I’m arguing with you because it sounds like you feel that way for a reason.”

He said, “of course you don’t think that.” I said, “what do you mean?” He replied, “because of God and s***. You aren’t supposed to.” I said, “no one is supposed to feel that way. No one should want someone else dead.” When I said this, I had a fearful feeling I overstepped. He looked at me angrily and said, “I want those f****** that killed DM dead!” I said, “If it were me, I would too but wanting something because I’m upset and actually doing it aren’t the same.”

At this point he starts telling me about all the people that have his back. There’s something about him that tells me he really doesn’t like violence but I can’t figure out what to say about it. He shared the story of how he broke his leg jumping from something to chase someone away. He said, “my brother would have done the same thing” as he concluded the story. I said, “It’s real important to me to remember people that are dead that are still part of me. Sounds like you work hard to remember your brother. How would he want you to carry him on?”

He showed me his tattoo honoring his brother. He then told me about how his brother never wanted him be in the gang. He said, “DM used to say I just needed to play basketball and take care of momma.”

He continued to talk a while about how he doesn’t have a choice to be in the gang now and how he likes having friends, especially ones that knew his brother. I found myself thinking that I really had nothing to offer the kid. Personally, I don’t think he stands a chance of getting out of the gang alive and I know exactly why he thinks most white people want him dead. Yet, he’s got a really sensitive inside that I catch glimpses of when he gets close to his pain about DM.

Finally I said, “I know there are lots of things you can’t change and I’m not going to pretend like you can. But what is one simple thing that would make your life better?” Without any hesitation, he said, “not hate so much.” I unintentionally chuckled and said, “I said a ‘simple thing’” and he laughed too.

This was a turning point in our conversation. KM spoke with insight into how much he misses DM and how doing what his brother did is a way of keeping DM with him. He said he never felt angry and hateful prior to the murder.

I reminded him of what I said earlier about carrying dead people with me as a way of honoring them and loving them. I asked him what ways he wanted to show his brother honor. We talked about it for a while. The things he wanted to do include continuing to play basketball, staying in the gang, getting another tattoo, and writing DM’s name on some wall. I also asked him if there were parts in addition to the hate he wanted to let go of. He was less clear about this but he was clear that he wanted to smoke pot but never wanted to use drugs like his momma does. I think the unspoken dynamic is that she uses to mask feelings of sorrow. So this was his way of saying he wanted to let go of the sorrow too.

Our conversation started to wind down and I could tell it was time to go. I told him I was really glad to meet him and even more honored that he and I had such a great talk. We had a mildly awkward goodbye with the unspoken piece being that we would never see each other again.

This 2+ hour conversation happened as we played poker. Though many themes exist including racism, I focused on and have continued to reflect upon how to help someone grieve when they don’t have the space or safety to do that in a textbook manner.
• I place a lot of trust in my intuition in such moments. What are some dangers I might miss if I focus too much on his underlying gentleness?
• Is it ethical for me to move him toward grief work when he may need the anger/pain as a mode of survival?
• What other resources could I have offered?
• I wish I had helped him name sorrow. How else could I have helped him continue healthy grieving?