July Witness

Last Sunday evening down at Lafayette Park, my friend Noah Budin sang what I’ve long considered a kind of hoary old folk song: Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream.

Last night I had the strangest dream

I'd ever dreamed before

I dreamed the world had all agreed

To put an end to war

As Noah sang, a crowd of tourists gathered to watch and listen to our small band of folks who had come together in front of the White House to pray for peace. I don’t know what the tourists thought. Some may have thought, “bunch of naïve fools,” others may have thought, “nice voice,” still others may have thought, “right on,” and some may have thought, “cool, protesters, now my DC tourist experience is complete.”

To a great extent, it does not matter what others think of the dream and visions that we give voice to as we witness for peace. God calls us to witness to a vision of a commonwealth of belovedness marked by compassion, justice and peace. God calls us to dream kingdom dreams.

So we will continue the witness. Placing one small stone at a time until we change the landscape. We gather again on August 17 at 6:00 p.m.

In the meantime, here’s a poem that Noah wrote inspired by our witness.

Stone In My Pocket

And if I feel you’ve left me bare and wasted

In the presence of the absence of your love

And the signs you send are hard, obscure and hidden

I may need to look no further than my hands

And when I heard him speak that day I realized

One can’t move a mountain using words alone

Nor can hearts be changed by might and power

But gestures small and subtle kindle flames

I closed my hand around

A piece of quartz no bigger than my thumb

It came 400 miles just to find me

But I dismissed it, put it in my pocket. Gone.

And the next day when I found it I just kept it

And the next day after that and then the next

And I thought of Lafayette Park and people praying

Where that stone was witness there to hymns of peace

It was laid upon the fence as a reminder

Of the shards of broken souls and wounded hearts

Of the shreds of fabric crashing through the windows

Of a shattered nation, tired, scorched, engulfed

Now it goes where I go

At times it jabs my thigh and leaves a mark

But I can live with that small and spare discomfort

For I wrestle with the damage every day

And here’s the thing about a piece of quartz

It just may be the oldest stone on earth

And it’s found in every land around the globe

And if you listen you can hear it softly weep

This one I keep to remind me of the present

Was here long before the planet knew our names

And it will remain long after earthly flesh has faded

And sometimes signs are hidden in plain sight

So when I feel you’ve left me bare and standing

In the presence of the absence of your love

I may need to look no further than my pocket

And hear the crying of that stone. Our job’s not done.

© Noah Budin 2008

Vacation Is Over

Do you usually need a vacation after your vacation?
One week is not enough, except to disrupt sleep patterns.
And the piles of messages and e-mails.
And the stuff left undone that looms even larger now.
And the note that you find when you dig to the bottom of the pile that reminds you of something you were supposed to do yesterday.
And it's 97 degrees with 200-percent humidity.
I can't even find the to-do list.
I need a vacation.

away message

I'm happily on vacation! I hope to not have a serious thought for at least a week, and if I pick up a church-related book, someone please slap me silly.

God & Country

I saw purple mountains once. I will never forget it. We were driving up Interstate 81 through the Shanandoah Valley at dusk on an early spring evening, and the fading sunlight hit the mountains just right and they were deep purple.
So I can truly say, I have seen purple mountains majesty. I’ve seen the amber waves of grain, too, on drives across the Illinois prairie. I have seen the prodigious spires of the Colorado Rockies, and I have looked into the vast depths and stark beauty of the Grand Canyon. I have hiked a mountain in Maine and stood on its bald peak and pondered the beauty of northern forests. I have dipped my toes in the waters to two oceans and strolled lonely beaches at sunset.
I have walked across the Golden Gate Bridge and marveled at the audacity of those who built it, and I have stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and marveled at the audacity of the timeless dream that Martin Luther King articulated on that spot. I have climbed the steps of the Statue of Liberty on the 4th of July, and marveled at the audacity of liberty itself, and of this country conceived in that liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all of us are created equal.
I have seen America, and I love her dearly.
I have also seen mountains in Eastern Kentucky stripped of their peaks, standing naked against the sky, opened like some sprawling tin can so mining companies in distant cities can take the coal and leave not much behind but mountains moved and wealth removed.
I have seen the people in the hollows in the shadows of those stripped mountains, with their satellite dishes pointed toward distant dreams, struggling to make ends meet in an economy that has left them behind without a second thought.
I have seen the children playing in open fire hydrants in the July heat of Chicago’s West Side, blissfully ignorant of the social and economic and political forces that have conspired to leave them with inadequate housing, “underperforming” schools and crime-ridden streets.
I have seen the homeless on the front porches of Manhattan churches – dirty, disheveled, dispirited seeking sanctuary at the doors to the sanctuary.
I have seen the highways crisscrossing the land, jammed with July vacationers and heard in my mind Jack Kerouac’s line: “all that road going, all the people dreaming.”
I have seen America. And I love her dearly.
I have seen faithful people trying to make a difference in all of these places: an orthopedic surgeon relocating his practice to an Appalachian clinic; successful business people working to create opportunities in the inner city of Cleveland; teenagers hammering in the hills and in the cities to help where they can with what they’ve got to give; I have stood with the demonstrators joining in the spiritual discipline of political action saying “no” to war, saying “no” to unjust economic practices, and saying “yes” to equal rights and equal access to the wealth of this nation. I have marched with the crowds protesting war, calling for justice and shouting “this is what democracy looks like.” I have walked with faithful people holding audacious hope for the future in spite of the evidence of the present time, and danced with joy with them as the evidence itself changed and we marveled that God might, indeed, be doing a new thing in this country.
I have seen America. And I love her dearly.
I have heard New Yorkers curse as Greg Maddux hurled a shutout in Yankee Stadium. I have heard the crowd explode as Michael Jordan amazed the old Chicago Stadium. I have heard Bob Dylan sing Blowin in the Wind, and I’ve heard the Cleveland Symphony under the baton of John Williams playing the theme from Star Wars as lightning cracked around us and the heavens themselves echoed applause – I kid you not. And I have heard homeless men singing in a church choir, and heard, too, the cry of forgotten children.
I have heard America. And I love her dearly.
Many times, I have played pickup basketball in the crowded parks along the shores of Lake Michigan in Chicago. I’ve played capture the flag with middle schoolers running around under a Kentucky moon. I’ve jumped off a cliff into a lake in West Virginia as my youth group looked on and said, “well, if David’s gonna jump, I’m gonna jump, too.” And they did – into cold, clear water that was like a joyous baptismal font. And no matter that I was run out of town by the leaders of the church whose young people jumped off a cliff after me – I see signs all around that our nation is moving, too slowly but moving still, to ever broader understandings of who is included when we say “all men are created equal”; and our church is moving as well, all too slowly, but still moving, to ever broader understanding of who is included when we say that God calls “women and men to all ministries of the church.” More and more, all means all – regardless of gender, race, sexual orientation or any other distinction all are created equal and all are called to serve. I see this, and I believe that God is doing a new thing.
I have worshipped across this country: sitting in silence in a Quaker meeting in Sante Fe; praying at a Temple service in Kentucky; receiving communion – against the Pope’s wishes – at a Roman Catholic wedding service in Chicago; I have sung praises to our God with teenagers on a mountain top in Colorado and on a rooftop in Manhattan; I have sung with my Jewish brothers and sisters; prayed with Imams; and worshipped with several thousand of my closest Presbyterian friends. I have barely tasted the rich religious diversity of this nation, but it makes me think that God might just be doing a new thing in this country.
I have seen and heard and felt and tasted and prayed with and for America. And I love her dearly.
It does not strike me as wrong, as inappropriate, as unfaithful to my calling to be a voice of progressive Christian faith to say, also, that I love my country.
If you drive past our house this week, you will see the American flag flying out front. I went right out and bought it after I heard that conservatives, in their voter registration and get out the vote drives target houses flying American flags because they have decided that only conservatives display the flag. I figure if nothing else, I’ll confuse them!
Since when, I want to know, do conservatives have a corner on patriotism, on love of country? Since when, I want to know, can only conservatives sing O Beautiful for Spacious Skies? Since when, I want to know, can only conservatives pause, this time of year, and speak of God and country?
I am not here to sing a naïve love song to this country. I will continue deep and profound criticism of her present leadership and its direction, of her militarism, her unjust economic practices at home and abroad, her willed-ignorance of international affairs and her abiding racism, sexism and homophobia. Indeed, true patriotism must always arise in the tension between the nation’s founding ideas and its present reality. True patriotism is a lover’s quarrel.
As William Sloan Coffin put it,
How do you love America? Don’t say, “My country, right or wrong.” That’s like saying, “My grandmother, drunk or sober”; it doesn’t get you anywhere. Don’t just salute the flag, and don’t burn it either. Wash it. Make it clean."
How do you love America? With the vision and compassion of Christ, with a transcendent ethic that alone can fulfill “the patriot’s dream that sees beyond the years, her alabaster cities gleam undimmed by human tears.”
You see, the signal theological insight that we progressive people of faith can give to the nation is both simple and profound – and it strikes me as quintessentially American, too. It’s captured in a passage from Isaiah: “God is about to do a new thing! Behold! Can you not see it?”
Sure, we sing the songs of this nation this week, because that’s what we do on her birthday. But we sing them knowing that the God we worship is not America’s God, but rather the God who spins the whirling planets and holds all of creation – all nations and all peoples – in loving hands.
So I’ll sing the old national songs with gusto this week – because I’ve heard Arlo Guthrie sing This Land is Your Land; I’ve heard Aaron Copland conduct the National Symphony on the steps of the Capitol; and I’ve heard the Beach Boys sing California Girls in the shadow of the Washington Monument on the 4th of July – and all of that incredible mix of music rises like of hymn and fills my heart.
Indeed, when we pause to give thanks for the incredible richness that we enjoy in this nation, how can we keep from singing?

Making Music

I've been spending a good deal of time over the past week and a half at the Virginia Theological Seminary at a program for pastors of small congregations. Much good fun and learning to be sure, but the highlight for me came this morning when I had the opportunity to join John Bell in accompanying the closing worship. He and I played one of his hymns for worship. As one who has long admired the worship from the Iona Community, it was quite a rush to play with John. If you do not know his music, you should check it out.

The Way from San Jose

It is with joy and humility that we receive the news, via streaming video, that the 218th General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) has just voted (54%-46%) to send to the Presbyteries an amendment to the Book of Order, the church's constitution, that will replace G-6.0106b with this language:
Those who are called to ordained service in the church, by their assent to the constitutional questions for ordination and installation (W-4.4003), pledge themselves to live lives obedient to Jesus Christ the Head of the Church, striving to follow where he leads through the witness of the Scriptures, and to understand the Scriptures through the instruction of the Confessions. In so doing, they declare their fidelity to the standards of the Church. Each governing body charged with examination for ordination and/or installation (G-14.0240 and G-14.0450) establishes the candidate's sincere efforts to adhere to these standards.
This language is essentially the same as that recommended by our session last fall. The proposed amendment now returns to the Presbyteries for voting. If it is approved by a majority of the Presbyteries, then G-6.0106b will no longer stand as a stumbling block to the ordination of faithful gay and lesbian brothers and sisters called to ordained ministry in our denomination.
As GA Moderator Bruce Reyes-Chow prayed at the close of the vote this morning in San Jose, "open our hearts and minds to each other that we might be drawn closer to You."

Not just for Geeks

I am either a total GA geek, weird church geek, or, perhaps, simple a "L" loser, but here it is 10:30 p.m., and I'm happily sitting at the kitchen table with cheese, crackers and a glass of white wine waiting for the 10:30 e.d.t. beginning of the evening plenary session of the 218th General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) to go live on streaming video! It's like I'm waiting for tip-off of a West Coast playoff basketball game or something.
I'll either wear the geek label proudly or suggest that this is not just for geeks. True, you have to sift -- and sit -- through a lot of long and boring stretches to find the nuggets of profound faithfulness, but they are there and there are many of them.
Last evening I tuned in long enough to hear greetings from His Eminence Avak Asadourian, Primate of the Armenian Apostolic Church in Iraq. He spoke of the profound difficulties facing the Christian community in Iraq, and pleaded, "whatever promises were made at the time of the invasion must be kept."
Peacemaking for Iraq at this point includes more than merely withdrawing American combat troops; it requires of us that we honor promises made to the Iraqi people and it requires that we be in relationship with them as we work to see that promises are kept.
This stuff comes up at GA. The Spirit moves. God acts. And sometimes, at its best, the church becomes the vessel for that movement and action.

Dobson and Obama

You can count on empire's defender to be lousy theologians. The spat between Pat Dobson and Barack Obama is a case in point. Whatever your politics, this is a classic case of imperial "Christianity" speaking in support of empire and, not surprisingly, getting its Biblical citations confused as well.

Don’t get me wrong here. I am not suggesting that Sen. Obama brings some profoundly anti-imperial perspective to the table, but rather that he was not only right from the perspective of the U.S. Constitution in suggesting that a government based solely on Christian scripture might be problematic in a multi-ethnic, multi-religious society of 300 million, but he was also right Biblically about issues such as slavery while Mr. Dobson missed the boat by a long shot in suggesting that Obama was attributing to Christian scripture passages from the Old Testament. Never mind that we Christians are supposed to wrestle with all of scripture, but, in point of fact, approval of slavery is not confined to the first Testament. Indeed, “slaves obey your masters” comes from the Apostle Paul’s letter to the young Ephesian church and is repeated in the letter to the Colossians, in the same Christian New Testament that instructs wives to be subject to their husbands and women to keep silent in the assembly.

So Mr. Dobson gets his scripture wrong – which is forgivable, even for one who claims as much familiarity and authority as he does – but what is more important is how wrong he gets his core theology.

What bothers me most in all of this is that nowhere have I seen a member of the mainstream media call Dobson to account. They merely serve as scribes for both sides.

Moreover, I don't see Obama offering to repeat what he said about the Sermon on the Mount, either. In the present context, "loving enemies" is probably not a good electoral strategy -- even if it is, well, pretty Biblical.

I would be well to remember, above all, that we are, in fact, electing a president, not a pastor-in-chief or resident theologian. Thanks be to God.

Hitched

I was asked to record a comment for NPR's Tell Me More on California's sanction of same-sex marriages. Check it out.

Liturgy

Monday is my day off, and I usually include a run as part of my Sabbath keeping. As I was pushing my way up the big hill that dominates my chosen route I was thinking about something my friend the Rev. Mary Ganz, who serves the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Arlington, said Sunday evening during the monthly witness in Lafayette Park. We were in the midst of a walking prayer that Mary, pictured to the right with our peace witness sign, was leading and she said “it might not seem like much when we lay a few stones at the gates of the White House, but if we continue then eventually we will lay enough stones to change the landscape.”

We were engaged in a walking prayer because, in this month’s twist on the rules that govern the space in front of the White House, the guards informed us that we could not stand still in the space between the two light posts between which the White House is centered. Of course, the entire time we were walking back and forth one group of young tourists stood anchored to the spot directly in the center of the space. But they were not gathered to exercise any Constitutionally protected rights, so they were not doing anything – the landscape was not disturbed by their loitering.

Nevertheless, the landscape is changing. While I would not presume to suggest that we’ve played any part in any such change, I can say that the powers that be notice our gathering each month (and hassle us accordingly).

This time around, only a handful of us gathered to share in prayer and song, to lift up the names of the dead and to remember the victims of torture and abuse. But the power of the witness itself far exceeds the numbers of those who stand quietly to worship in the spirit of truth and recite a liturgy of remembrance.

Liturgy – literally the work of the people – is a strange kind of work for it does not aim to accomplish anything. There are dozens of distinctive definitions and uses of the word “work” and they all include some notion of purpose or necessity, of outcome or effect, of shaping, forming or improving, of cultivating or influencing, provoking or fermenting, of moving or making.

In some sense, I suppose, our work of witnessing does aim to move and shape and influence, but on a deeper level our liturgy aims at nothing other than standing before God precisely as God’s own work, as those moved, shaped, and formed by God. Our liturgy is simply to be who we have been created to be: children of God, in other words, the ones Jesus called peacemakers. Our witness is simply to stand as peacemakers and trust that God is working in us and through us to change the landscape.

Sunday evening, as we gathered in a circle in Lafayette Park, we set a small pile of stones on top of a larger rock that I brought home from Montreat last Saturday. It had been used – blessed, I would say – during the closing worship of the partners of Christian Peace Witness for Iraq. Each of us brought a stone to that service and placed it in the center of our circle as a mark of the promises we were making to one another to continue participating in the work of the Spirit of peace.

We will continue that work in DC next month on Sunday, July 20, at 6:00 p.m. I hope that you can join us.

Is This What We're Afraid Of?

Now you, too, can find out what all the fuss is about: http://www.redlasso.com/ClipPlayer.aspx?id=965dd1b2-1769-49b9-b602-466cd34d1dbb.

Whose Table?

I came across another story today about conservative Roman Catholic priests using their control over communion to beat on Obama supporters. My first reaction to most such stories is pique, followed by "who does he think he is, anyway?" A more reasoned response comes later when I wonder, whose table does he think it is?
Whatever one thinks of the politics and positions of Obama or McCain on abortion, poverty, war, peace, taxes, global warming, women's rights or anything else on the laundry list, no election will bring about the coming of the kingdom. We're not voting for Messiah, after all.
I'm sure most of the folks in my congregation can guess which candidate I support, and I can likewise surmise their leanings as well. But I cannot imagine thinking that I had either the right or the responsibility to deny them what is not mine to give in the first place.
The table belongs to Jesus, who had a pretty well-established track record of breaking bread with all kinds of folks. He knew that relationships are built in the breaking of bread and that truth is revealed there, as well. Only through such relationships and by way of such truths can lives be transformed. Barriers never build relationships.
So, given my politics on this, I suppose I should be happy to see another conservative priest building up barriers. But not really.

A Kiss is Just a Kiss

Ran across a story from Seattle this morning about a lesbian couple being asked to stop kissing at a baseball game because their smooches were making someone uncomfortable. I thought back to an experience in Savannah about 15 years ago when I was in the hotel lobby gift shop of a Hyatt or Hilton with a colleague from the Council of State Governments. We were picking up gum or some such thing, and as we paid an inter-racial couple walked past the window holding hands. The clerk muttered under her breath, "just makes you want to go get a gun." I don't think she thought anyone could hear her, but my colleague did and said to me, "can you believe what she just said?"
We were appalled, but not terribly surprised. It was, after all, Savannah, circa 1990, and the remark was uttered by an older white woman who, considering where she worked, was probably not particularly worldly or well educated.
But Seattle? 2008? You'd think folks there might be a little less concerned about a kiss.
Apparently the "incident" has stirred up the blogosphere there (and here, obviously). I wonder if there were any random acts of senseless violence in Seattle that night. Probably so. They seem to happen. And we don't get too stirred up. But a random act of love? Well, that's something to boil the blood apparently.

Audacious Hope

No matter what partisan perspective you hold, Barack Obama's victory in the long slog of the Democratic Party's nominating process must be a sign of remarkable hope for this country. For those of us who are roughly contemporaries of Sen. Obama, we can look back at coming of age during the midst of the Civil Rights era and feel viscerally just how far this nation has traveled during our lifetimes as we collectively try to live out the creed that all of us are created equal. For those of us who are Southerners, who were born into the Jim Crow South in places where black folks registered to vote at risk to their lives, the nomination of Sen. Obama is part of the fulfillment of the truly audacious hope that the Civil Rights Movement embodied.
None of that is to say that he is anything like a perfect vessel for carrying forth such hope. Indeed, no one is. Nevertheless, the entire nominating process -- the long, long, long, slow march ... -- has been itself an imperfect vessel for carrying forth the audacious hope that all of us, black folks and white folks, men and women, are created equal. Given time, we might come closer to embodying that hope as a people. As we do, this particular season will be seen always as a milestone along the way.

Meanwhile in Oklahoma

Doors may be opening in California and New York, but some folks seem bound and determined to slam the door and bash those who might dare walk through them. Last month, Oklahoma Republican Rep. Sally Kern told a local GOP meeting about a looming threat to America:

"Studies show that no society that has totally embraced homosexuality has lasted more than, you know, a few decades. So it's the death knell of this country. I honestly think it's the biggest threat our nation has, even more than terrorism or Islam, which I think is a big threat. OK?

"'Cause what's happening now is they are going after, in schools, 2-year-olds, and this stuff is deadly, and it's spreading, and it will destroy our young people, and it will destroy this nation."

Kern claims that her comments, widely viewed on YouTube, have been taken out of context, but, with reference to the Bible, she offered no apologies. Her fellow Oklahoma Republicans seem to be standing behind her, and her supporters have staged rallies at the state Capitol.

"I told the people when I was running for this office that I was a Christian candidate and that I believed we were in a cultural war for the very existence of our Judeo-Christian values," Kern said.

We Are All Witnesses

As those who know me will attest, I am a hoops junky. I am never happier than when I'm in the midst of a heated basketball game, especially when my jump shot is falling! I've been playing for more than 40 years, and though my game no longer takes place at the rim – not even in the same zip code, alas – I love playing now perhaps even more than when I was a kid. Playing is one of my most important spiritual disciplines: sacred hoops, as it were.

When I can't play, I am happy to watch. We lived in Chicago during the Jordan years, and I recall each of the six championships the Bulls won in those days. But I'm no basketball snob. I'll watch the pros happily, but I'm just as content watching my son's high school rec league team. I simply love hoops.

So, you can imagine the way I felt Sunday afternoon when the time to head down to Lafayette Park for the interfaith peace witness came, and I had to leave in the middle of the seventh and deciding game of the NBA playoff series between the storied Celtics of Boston and Lebron James' Cleveland Cavs. Let's just say, I left feeling duty-bound and obliged to show up, but not filled with any joy or inspiration.

But, since I had the official permit from the park police and a trunk full of rocks, I pretty much had to go.

And, yet again, my own heart was filled and spirits lifted simply by being there with a dozen or so faithful witness determined to remember the dead, and witness to the truth that we are called to build a future in which such memorials will no longer be necessary. We gathered in the park, sang, prayed, read the names of those American service men and women who have been killed since our April witness and laid stones at the White House fence. It was, as it always is, simple and powerful.

In what at first struck me as an unrelated vein, a member of my congregation at Clarendon was wondering aloud on Sunday morning why it is that we continue to give money to the national More Light Presbyterians and the Covenant Network of Presbyterians when year after year they seem to move the church no closer to their stated goals of changing the denomination's constitutional barriers to ordination of partnered gay and lesbian people of faith thus to create a church as generous and just as God's grace.

My answer to that question is the same as my answer to why continue to show up month after month in front of a White House that has no intention of ending a senseless war and imperial occupation: because we are witnesses. It is vital that power be watched, and that there be witnesses to history. What is not witnessed will be forgotten. What is forgotten will be repeated. While that is true for the unfolding events of history, there is a related truth concerning the faith that sustains us through history: if we do not witness to that faith, it will be forgotten. If it is forgotten, it will not be repeated; it will be lost.

We are faithful, in this regard and in this historical moment, precisely to the extent to which we live into our calling to be peacemakers. In this, we are all witnesses.

Hm … we are all witnesses. I believe that is the tagline for a Lebron James' ad for Nike. I knew there had to be some deep connection between hoops and peace!

The next Lafayette Park witness will be Sunday, June 15, at 6:00 p.m. – probably just in time for a seventh game of the NBA Finals! One more reason for me to hate this war and occupation.

If you'd like to help plan the June witness, please send me a note. I'd like to get together on Friday, May 30, perhaps at Busboys & Poets in Shirlington.

Pentecost

We had a Pentecost worship yesterday that was so good I decided, on the fly, not to preach the sermon I'd prepared. The spirit moved me to keep my mouth shut, because sometimes what has come before needs no more words. If I had preached, I would like to have begun with this cartoon! Then I might have said something like this:

Gathered in an upper room, huddled in fear, not knowing what to do next – when suddenly like the rush of a mighty wind, the Spirit blows through their midst and the disciples get pulled and pushed through fear and grief into the world to testify to the truth they have experienced in Jesus. And, you know, when the Spirit says speak, you’ve gotta talk right out loud. And so they do.

It is, it seems to me, only a small miracle that the disciples received the gift of such speech. The much larger miracle on Pentecost is that the people – at least many of them – were given ears to hear, such that each one heard the truth as if it were spoken directly into his or her experience, in his or her own language.

We have Peter’s speech, but we don’t really know exactly what else was said and heard, what truth was proclaimed and why it was understood. We had our own little Pentecost moment just now, and I don’t know why our readers chose the passages they did to share this morning. Would any of you care to share that?

What strikes me as authentically “Pentecostal” in this is that the words that were shared this morning were all written down at least two thousand years ago. It would seem quite obvious that they were not written with any of us in mind, yet they have been received as particularly meaningful, important truths in our lives. That is a gift of the Spirit; and it is a gift sorely lacking these days.

It seems particularly absent in our public life, although certainly not exclusively there. Like most of you, I have been following this year’s presidential primary season with a mix of deep interest and mind-numbing exhaustion.

This quadrennial opportunity for the nation to step back, take stock and consider the immediate future has, in this historic year, provided an unprecedented opportunity for our daughters to prophesy and our young men to see visions and even our old men to dream dreams, what with Senators Clinton, Obama and McCain. It’s kind of a “Joel” election moment.

Not to be confused with a “Joel Osteen – our best nation now” election moment, but rather a moment that the prophet Joel might have recognized as full of potential.

Alas, we seem dead set on missing what might have been a Pentecost moment in this election year.

One need not be a partisan to recognize the opportunity presented to the nation in this election, and one need not be a partisan to recognize the distinct and ancient patterns by which we continue to miss the opportunity. I’m not talking about the victory or defeat of any particular candidate, but rather the jointly missed opportunity to talk about the continuing legacy of America’s original sin of racism, the continuing stain of patriarchy, and the deferred dreams of immigrants who still stream to our shores.

With a black candidate, a woman candidate and a border-state candidate who has historically avoided xenophobia, the moment seemed right either for a “bar joke,” or for Pentecost, for some deeply held truths to be spoken and understood. Instead, our fear-filled politics-as-usual undermines the moment and, sadly, seem to be giving rise to ancient and ugly bigotry that is spilling over in all kinds of unexpected ways. We’re not even getting good jokes!

For example, I was reading an on-line commentary on the police investigation of a football player, the Indianapolis Colts’ receiver Marvin Harrison. The writer was suggesting that perhaps Harrison had made an error in judgment in owning a particularly rare and deadly firearm. The comments to the article were filled with the kind of ugly racism – Harrison happens to be African-American – that one rarely encounters in public places any more. The number of references to Sen. Obama and Jeremiah Wright in the comments on a sports story that had made no reference to anything remotely related to politics just jumped out at me.

I find it incredibly sad that a moment in our history that could be Pentecostal and filled with the hope and promise of reaching across historic barriers to open new avenues of understanding, is becoming instead, just another chance to beat one another over the head with our differences.

Why think of our politics in such terms?

Well, let’s consider the Pentecost story. What happens when the Spirit descends upon the disciples? The story tells us that “there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, ‘Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language?”

Now, as often happens in public readings of this text, we left out the next couple of verses in our reading this morning because they include some tongue-twisters. But these place names, so foreign to our ears, are important.

“Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God's deeds of power.’”

First of all, it’s clear that the author of Acts is deeply concerned with the politics of his moment, for the list of localities reads like a who’s who or where’s where of the Roman empire in the Holy Land. All of the significant players whose actions would determine the political fate of Israel are named. The story’s original audience could not have missed the implication: the first disciples were determined to speak the truth to power in all of its guises.

But here’s where the story gets interesting, and where our present moment so sadly misses the mark. The people were empowered to hear the truth, to hear the good news of the gospel, in their own language. The truth was not the private possession of a privileged few, but rather the gift of a generous spirit of compassion and love.

Sadly, in our particular moment, the public discourse is so degraded that no one is willing to give ear to the truth should anyone be brave enough to utter it in public. It’s gotten so that one might mistake this recent report in The Onion for something other than satire:

Dateline: NEW YORK—After Sen. Barack Obama's comments last week about what he typically eats for dinner were criticized by Sen. Hillary Clinton as being offensive to both herself and the American voters, the number of acceptable phrases presidential candidates can now say are officially down to four. "At the beginning of 2007 there were 38 things candidates could mention in public that wouldn't be considered damaging to their campaigns, but now they are mostly limited to 'Thank you all for coming,' and 'God bless America,'" ABC News chief Washington correspondent George Stephanopoulos said on Sunday's episode of This Week. "There would still be five phrases available to the candidates if the Obama camp hadn't accused Clinton of saying 'Glad to be here' with a little tinge of sarcasm during a stump speech in North Carolina." As of press time, the two additional phrases still considered appropriate for candidates are the often-quoted "These pancakes are great," and "Death to the infidels."[1]

Imagine, instead, that it was possible to speak the truth that we have just heard proclaimed, for example, “hear, O Israel …” and the subsequent reminders to that people that they had been delivered from captivity in Egypt by the mighty hand of God, and that, as a people themselves once foreigners in a foreign land that they should deal justly and generously with foreigners in their midst. Would not such a word, spoken in our context, be perhaps, at the very least, be suggestive with respect to the burning question of immigration?

Imagine that it was possible to encourage people, for example, “to consider the lilies of the field,” instead of urging folks to shop at Fields or Macys or Target or Wall Mart. Imagine that we might participate in some deeper economy than the consumer economy by which we have come to measure our worth.

Imagine that it was possible to say, “I lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my strength,” instead of promising a “strong America,” by which we must understand an empire which remains, as Martin Luther King said 40 years ago, the largest purveyor of violence in the world.

Instead, our would-be leaders say, “these pancakes are great!” and then their spin-meisters try to convince the rest of us that their candidate prefers all-American pancakes while the opposition probably dines on Belgian waffles or, worse yet, those un-American French crepes.

The miracle of Pentecost was not that the disciples were suddenly endowed with the gift of tongues with which to speak in many languages, but rather that the people were suddenly endowed with the capacity to hear the truth in their own language. Pentecost, thus, is about listening. About being still, and being open to the Spirit that we might hear the truth.

It is a moment that invites us to let go of the false distinctions between public and private truth, between political and personal, and to listen for truth in whatever context we find ourselves – especially, as was the case at Pentecost, when it is being spoken from unexpected quarters.

No powerfully placed member of the imperial establishment in Jerusalem would have expected to hear truth from poor Galileans. But the Spirit opened some of their hearts to hear just as it inspired the disciples to speak.

The same possibility must exist for us, now, if we will but let go of our rigid grip on the way things are in order to hear a word from God about the way things might be. This word, this truth, will come only from outside of the gates of power, for the powerful have deeply vested interest in maintaining the status quo.

Of course, if we are honest with ourselves, we realize that we are the powerful ones; we are the ones in need of transformation; we are the ones to whom the transformative good news comes first with the command, “repent.”

This is true whether we are talking about matters we think of as “political” or issues we think of as “personal.” This truth often requires of us that we listen with great care to those with whom we disagree.

One of the great pieces of wisdom I have learned over the years in community organizing circles is this: “opposition is information.”

Opposition is information. It does not mean that you are wrong, but it does mean you are not in possession of the whole truth.

In the church we miss this all the time over issues great and small. Opposition to simple changes of scenery or schedule mask much deeper fears of losing the past, of being forgotten, of dying. Opposition to larger changes – for example, ordination issues – often masks some of the same deep fears, and we do ourselves, our causes, our communities, and ourselves deep disservice when we continue to fight onward in the same old terms rather than listen for and tend to the deep personal fear and pain that are often at the root of opposition. Opposition is information, but we are too often so busy engaging the fight that we lose sight of the humanity of those who are opposing us – whether we’re talking about the sexual orientation of a candidate for ministry or the orientation of the pews in the sanctuary.

The miracle of Pentecost is that some folks were open to the gift of a generous Spirit offering them the opportunity to listen, to hear and to understand simple truth even when it was coming from the mouths of those who would have been perceived as opponents. May we open our hearts to receive that same gift today, and listen with generous spirits to those with whom we may disagree – whether our negotiations are with loved ones, with colleagues, with neighbors, or in the public square on the issues of the day. May the generous Spirit of Pentecost find a home in our hearts that we, too, might be generous with its love and justice.

---

[1] “Number Of Acceptable Things Candidates Can Say Now Down To Four,” The Onion, May 8, 2008, Issue 44•19

Chinatown in the Rain

Here's a poem for today ...
Unseeing eyes look out from a death mask
as an ancient Chinese woman
holds out her empty hand expectantly
... when I was hungry you fed me.
Smelling of subway, drink and filth
his hand -- 22 going on 90 --
thrusts storefront trinkets into a tattered coat
stealing a living
... when I was in prison you came to me.
Sirens scream past
hollow eyes follow the path
from boarding room windows
each pair to its own pane
... when I was alone you comforted me.
And arm in arm we walk to our car,
and check first to see
if the stereo is still there.

More Wright than Wrong

It’s nothing new to suggest that the coverage of the Rev. Jeremiah Wright is more than a bit colored by race, but the reflections bottomed out when Gary MacDougal’s essay in the Saturday Post brought victim blaming and racial stereotyping to new lows. Ignoring the long history of community development by Trinity United Church of Christ in the Southside of Chicago, MacDougal essentially blames the poverty and institutional racism that plague such communities on Wright and others who would dare to name them as such.

MacDougal asks where a “20-something black man, or other relatively uneducated young people” would get the idea that the American justice system might somehow be stacked against them. Where? Perhaps by looking around with eyes wide open. It doesn’t take Mr. MacDougal’s Harvard graduate degree to ask why almost 40 percent of the inmates in U.S. prisons are black, or why blacks are five times more likely to be in jail than whites, or why more than one in 10 young black men are in prison.

Perhaps the young inmate Mr. MacDougal spoke with displayed a lack of rhetorical subtlety and sophistication when he looked at all the black faces surrounding him and said, “this is white man’s genocide.” But when more than 80 percent of defendants in crack cocaine cases are black while two-thirds of crack users are white or Latino, is it any wonder that such charges might emerge from young black men? Moreover, when the black users of crack cocaine receive much harsher penalties than the white users of powder cocaine, a young black prisoner might be forgiven for rashly speculating that white folks “put us in here to keep us down.”

Do these facts of contemporary urban American life point to “perceived victimization” or to real patterns of institutional racism?

Mr. MacDougal is quick to let institutions off the hook, which is not surprising given his long-standing conservative credentials. Still, it is surprising that he should troll so easily in the turgid waters of racial stereotypes. Immediately after speculating that the “vitriol spewed by the Rev. Wrights of this world” teaches young people that the job market is stacked against them, he notes that the federal government spends “more than $10,000 per poor person for welfare.” The clear but unstated implication, given his context, is that “government welfare spending equals spending on poor black people.” Yet there are three times as many poor whites in the United States as there are poor blacks.

Why even bring this up if not to blame the poor for their poverty? Of course, Mr. MacDougal does not actually blame the poor for being poor. It is far easier to blame Jeremiah Wright and other religious leaders who have the temerity to name the present time for what it is.

One wonders, do all of the religious leaders in Appalachia, to take the white example most often counter posed to black urban poverty, preach that “God helps those who help themselves”? If so, it should be noted, they are not preaching from the Judeo-Christian Bible, where that oft-repeated line never appears. That sentiment emerges from the bible of the American Right which worships the god of the free market.

That god has tumbled just a bit of late, what with poverty rates growing not just in Rev. Wright’s neighborhood but across the country. Of course, when poverty increases in the United States, historically speaking, racial minorities take the hardest hit. During the most recent recession, black unemployment reached 10.8 percent; white unemployment peaked at 5.2 percent. Goldman Sachs estimates that national unemployment in the present recession will peak at 6.4 percent sometime in 2009. They predict that black unemployment will top out at 11 percent. Along with unemployment, we can expect that income disparities will increase, especially among the poorest black families. At the same time, we should expect to see social indicators associated with economic hardship, including rising crime rates.

Are these cold statistics and the realities they underscore the fault of Rev. Wright? Well, not even Mr. MacDougal suggests that, but he does point the finger of blame at Wright and his like for discouraging progress and individual responsibility.

One wonders: are the young people in Trinity’s job training seminars on interviewing techniques, job search strategies and dressing for success being discouraged more by what religious leaders teach or by the realities in the streets all around them? Of course, investigating that reality with genuine care is far more difficult than casting blame on an angry black man. It also makes for much less interesting media, which, perhaps more than anything else, explains why the Post wasted so many column inches on the ravings of a calm white man.

Milepost

Here's a poem for today, that I found while looking for something else:
She half smiled.
Leaning across the counter, she said,
"What, are you some kinda goddamned poet?"
And it meant, "move it, Jack"
as well as, "I wish I could move it, too."
And I moved ...
leaving her life behind
not moved, not touched
in the cold Nevada night.
I moved; she remained.
And we both dreamed.
And in our dreams we went our separate ways.

Allergies ... to War

I've been under the weather all week -- allergies, cold, who knows? The only good thing to come of such days is that about all I have energy for is watching movies, so I've caught up on a few good ones that came into the house months ago. This afternoon I watched the story of William Wilberforce, Amazing Grace. It struck me as I watched all the good and proper, and even faithful Englishmen of the time confidently defending the slave trade, that a movement to abolish war in our time probably seems every bit as unlikely and indefensible as the effort to abolish slavery did in Wilberforce's day. Yet I wonder if 200 years ... 300 years ... 500 years from now people will look back on us and say, "how did they have such moral blinders to that fundamental question?"

Christian Homeschoolers for Obama

I googled the phrase “Christian homeschoolers for Obama” today. No hits. There are “homeschoolers for Obam” and there are “Christians for Obama.” Indeed, there are “families for Obama,” and “Republicans for Obama,” even “Swedes for Obam,” but no “Christian homeschoolers for Obama.”

As a Christian family who homeschools one of our children (and who have cast occasional votes for Republicans and, perhaps, even for Swedes) and who now feel quite drawn to Obama’s vision, I’m struck by the disconnect. Oh, for sure, it’s not the lack of any organized group that strikes me, although when there are “Irish Americans for Obama” and Presbyterians for Obama,” and most any other group you can imagine, it does seem that perhaps some self-identifying Christians who homeschool kids might put out the idea. (On the other hand, there are not, as yet, any “Christian homeschoolers for McCain … or Clinton” either at this point.)

So, what’s the point of this silly exercise? Just that the slicing and dicing that we do to one another in the attempt to pin people down or put them in the correct box almost always fails to grasp the entirety of anyone’s faith or politics or life choices and decisions. It does violence to the wholeness and integrity of one's life.

To reduce all homeschoolers to the image of them as conservative Christians trying to protect their children from a debased culture suggests misses all the other families who may be trying to protect their children from the culture for decidedly nonconservative, non-Christian reasons, or who may simply be better suited to educate particular kids. To reduce all Christians to the media image of conservative evangelical similarly misses folks whose faith is just as dynamic and important but is expressed quite differently and may arise from different human responses to the experience of God. To reduce all Obama supporters to elite, latte liberals misses folks like the trucker I heard on the radio this morning. To reduce McCain and Clinton supporters to the caricatures the media broadcasts does the same violence to them, and, in the end we are all the poorer for it.

So, Christian homeschoolers for Obama take heart; it’s a big country with a big politics and there’s space for all of us!

In a much more erudite and fluent manner, Ched Myers addressed this same basic question years ago in Who Will Roll Away the Stone, when he wrote:

"The highly polarized public struggle over multiculturalism -- trivialized by the ideological right and by the popular press as 'political correctness' -- has ironically made it both easier and more difficult to be self-conscious about social location. It is easier because class, racial/ethnic, and gender identification is rightly expected as it becomes more widely accepted that such matters necessarily shape one's perspective. The presumption, for example, that a professional discursive community made up of predominantly white male theologians could speak for everyone in the church has, gratefully, been thoroughly discredited. It is more difficult, however, because identifying social location necessarily entails certain cultural, economic, and political generalizations that can easily degenerate into one-dimensional stereotypes of, worse, caricatures of one's own group or others. Nevertheless the task is a necessary one; theology, like other forms of public discourse, must come to terms with multicultural realities and the promise and problems of genuine social pluralism."

Obama's "bitter" remarks fell prey to the tendency to caricature groups; unfortunately, his critics on this score have tended also to fall prey to the tendency to caricature, as well. Thus, what might have been an opening to an important conversation has been erased.

April Witness

Sunday was the April witness at Lafayette Park. In the downpour a handful of hearty souls gathered to lift prayers for peace. The rain fell like a river of tears that cannot wash away the names of all those who have died. These Americans have fallen since our March gathering, and for each of them it is likely that 10 Iraqis died as well.

Michael D. Elledge, 41, Army Staff Sergeant, Mar 17, 2008 Brownsburg, Indiana

Christopher C. Simpson, 23, Army Specialist, Mar 17, 2008 Hampton, Virginia

Gregory D. Unruh, 28, Army Sergeant, Mar 19, 2008 Dickinson, Texas

Keith M. Maupin, 20, Army Sergeant, Mar 21, 2008 Batavia, Ohio

Tyler J. Smith, 22, Army Private 1st Class, Mar 21, 2008 Bethel, Maine

Thomas C. Ray, 40, Army National Guard Sergeant, Mar 22, 2008 Weaverville, North Carolina

David S. Stelmat, 27, Army National Guard Specialist, Mar 22, 2008 Littleton, New Hampshire

David B. Williams, 26, Army National Guard Sergeant, Mar 22, 2008 Tarboro, North Carolina

George Delgado, 21, Army Private, Mar 23, 2008 Palmdale, California

Andrew J. Habsieger, 22, Army Private 1st Class, Mar 23, 2008 Festus, Missouri

Christopher M. Hake, 26, Army Staff Sergeant, Mar 23, 2008 Enid, Oklahoma

Jose A. Rubio Hernandez, 24, Army Specialist, Mar 23, 2008 Mission, Texas

Joseph D. Gamboa, 34, Army Staff Sergeant, Mar 25, 2008 Yigo, Guam

Steven I. Candelo, 26, Army Corporal, Mar 26, 2008 Houston, Texas

Gregory B. Rundell, 21, Army Specialist, Mar 26, 2008 St. Paul, Not reported yet

Joshua A. Molina, 20, Army Specialist, Mar 27, 2008 Houston, Texas

Charles A. Jankowski, 24, Army Not reported yet, Mar 28, 2008 Panama City, Florida

Durrell L. Bennett, 22, Army Specialist, Mar 29, 2008 Spanaway, Washington

Jevon K. Jordan, 32, Army Sergeant, Mar 29, 2008 Norfolk, Virginia

Patrick J. Miller, 23, Army Private 1st Class, Mar 29, 2008 New Port Richey, Florida

Terrell W. Gilmore, 38, Army National Guard Sergeant, Mar 30, 2008 Baton Rouge, Louisiana

William G. Hall, 38, Marine Major, Mar 30, 2008 Seattle, Washington

Dayne D. Dhanoolal, 26, Army Sergeant, Mar 31, 2008 Brooklyn, New York

Travis L. Griffin, 27, Air Force Staff Sergeant, Apr 03, 2008 Dover, Delaware

Jeremiah E. McNeal, 23, Air National Guard Staff Sergeant, Apr 06, 2008 Norfolk, Virginia

Ulises Burgos-Cruz, 29, Army Captain, Apr 06, 2008 Not reported yet, Puerto Rico

Matthew T. Morris, 23, Army Specialist, Apr 06, 2008 Cedar Park, Texas

Shane D. Penley, 19, Army Private 1st Class, Apr 06, 2008 Sauk Village, Illinois

Stephen K. Scott, 54, Army Colonel, Apr 06, 2008 New Market, Alabama

Stuart A. Wolfer, 36, Army Major, Apr 06, 2008 Coral Springs, Florida

Emanuel Pickett, 34, Army National Guard Staff Sergeant, Apr 06, 2008 Teachey, North Carolina

Jason C. Kazarick, 30, Army Specialist, Apr 07, 2008 Oakmont, Pennsylvania

Michael T. Lilly, 23, Army Sergeant, Apr 07, 2008 Boise, Idaho

Timothy M. Smith, 25, Army Sergeant, Apr 07, 2008 South Lake Tahoe, California

Richard A. Vaughn, 22, Army Sergeant, Apr 07, 2008 San Diego, California

Jeffery L. Hartley, 25, Army Staff Sergeant, Apr 08, 2008 Hempstead, Texas

Mark E. Rosenberg, 32, Army Major, Apr 08, 2008 Miami Lakes, Florida

Anthony L. Capra, 31, Air Force Technical Sergeant, Apr 09, 2008 Hanford, California

Jesse A. Ault, 28, Army Sergeant, Apr 09, 2008 Dublin, Virginia

Jacob J. Fairbanks, 22, Army Specialist, Apr 09, 2008 Saint Paul, Minnesota

Jeremiah C. Hughes, 26, Army Specialist, Apr 09, 2008 Jacksonville, Florida

Shaun P. Tousha, 30, Army Sergeant, Apr 09, 2008 Hull, Texas

William E. Allmon, 25, Army Specialist, Apr 12, 2008 Ardmore, Oklahoma

Arturo Huerta-Cruz, 23, Army Specialist, Apr 14, 2008 Clearwater, Florida

Joseph A. Richard III, 27, Army Sergeant, Apr 14, 2008 Lafayette, Louisiana

Richard J. Nelson, 23, Marine Reserve Corporal, Apr 14, 2008 Racine, Wisconsin

Dean D. Opicka, 29, Marine Reserve Lance Corporal, Apr 14, 2008 Waukesha, Wisconsin

Jason L. Brown, 29, Army Staff Sergeant, Apr 17, 2008 Magnolia, Texas

Benjamin K. Brosh, 22, Army Specialist, Apr 18, 2008 Colorado Springs, Colorado

Lance O. Eakes, 25, Army Specialist, Apr 18, 2008 Apex, North Carolina

Cherie L. Morton, 40, Navy Petty Officer 1st Class, Apr 20, 2008 Bakersfield, California

Adrian M. Campos, 22, Navy Airman Apprentice, Apr 21, 2008 El Paso, Texas

Bitter?

So now Obama is in trouble for suggesting that a lot of folks in America are bitter about their lot in life. I’m not much concerned with the political fallout of his comments one way or the other, but I am amazed that so many folks would express so much surprise at the notion that folks might be bitter. After all, almost 90 percent of Americans rate the current economy no better than “fair,” and more than half rate it “poor,” according to recent polls. At the same time, according to another poll, more than half of the country thinks the decision to go to war in Iraq was wrong, and about half the country believes that troops should be withdrawn from Iraq as soon as possible. The results of the 2006 Congressional elections clearly underscored the public’s desire for an end to the war, but almost two years further on we seem no closer to an end than we were at the beginning. All of which is to say, when people feel economically at risk and politically powerless on issues as significant as war and peace, it would come as a surprise to find that folks were not “bitter.”

Whether or not that bitterness explains other political perspectives, as Obama suggested, is, of course, a far more complicated question. And whether or not it has anything to do with faith perspectives is even more complex. But bitter? I’d guess that’s the most polite term that could be used to describe the mood of lots of folks these days.

Cross ... Dressing

Well, if they attack Halloween then I suppose it's no surprise that some folks with too much time on their hands and too little humor in their hearts would find this troubling. It only bothers me that they should do so under the banner of Christianity. I mean, what would all those robe-wearing men of Jesus' time have done? But then, they put the cross in cross dressing.

Jeremiah Right ...

"God's wrath will go forth like fire, and burn with no one to quench it, because of the evil of your doings" ... hm, just wondering what would have happened if Jeremiah had been videotaped saying such things about the beloved mother country back in the day. Wonder if that sounded pretty much like "God damn Israel" to the folks who heard it? Just asking. Oh, I know, context is everything, but I bet old Jeremiah was a pretty wild looking guy, and a clip of him preaching about unquenchable fire would have played well on cable.

Happy Easter!

Just that -- more than enough for the day.

Neck Deep in the Big Muddy ...

We gathered again in Lafayette Park on Sunday to witness once more for peace. About 50 of us stood in a chill wind in the fading light and prayed and sang and recited the names of those Americans who have died in the weeks since our most recent witness in February.

It was Palm Sunday, and we recalled Jesus' response to the powers when they told him to shut up and keep his followers quiet, too. He said, "fine, but if we're quiet, the rocks will cry out loud." So we placed rocks at the gates of the White House to bear witness there in our absence and in the silence of so much of the broader church in the face of a war which condemns us all.

Five years in, and we remain up to our necks in the big sandbox, and the damn fool says push on.

Five years ago it was clear that the risks of attacking and occupying a country at the heart of the Arab world outweighed the risks of isolating and containing that country. Today that instability threatens to spill over in Iran and Turkey, oil prices top $100 per barrel and Osama remains out there somewhere releasing hate-filled videos and encouraging the desperate and fanatical. The war to bring peace, as President Bush called it five years ago, has turned into an occupation without end.

Five years ago it was clear that the war would divide this nation, and now we are more deeply divided than at any time since the end of Vietnam. On top of that, we are more isolated now from the rest of the world than at any point in my lifetime, and probably that of my parents as well going back 80 years.

Five years ago it was clear that the world’s desire for peace ought to balance the American empire’s desire for domination.

Five years ago it was clear that the greatness of a nation is not measured solely by its accomplishments. The moral greatness of a nation is measured by the means it employs to accomplish its purposes. History will judge us according to the death and destruction that we have rained down on Iraq.

The saddest part of it all is that none of this comes as any surprise. Indeed, I wrote most of this in the future tense five years ago. Sigh.

Obama and the Preacher

All I can say is, "I'm glad no one in my congregation is running for president!"

Everyday Theology

The District of Columbia’s 31-year-old gun restriction law is going to be tested before the Supreme Court soon, and I heard opposing sides on the radio offering perspectives yesterday. There was really nothing new under the sun on this argument, which has been going on in one form or another my entire life, but I was struck by a theological error voiced by a Cato Institute representative arguing against the restriction.

He was making the case that gun laws only strike at “good people who obey the laws.” I’ve heard this argument many times, and I’m enough of a Calvinist to ask, “who are these good people?”

Are they the ones who never break any laws? Not even traffic laws? Which leads me to wonder about the number of speed-related traffic fatalities compared to the number of gun-related deaths. A lot of good people break laws, and sometimes they kill other people when they do so. I don't know what the Framers would have thought about traffic laws as not even those most imaginative of them would have foreseen the Beltway. Of course, they probably also did not imagine AK-47s.

I’m not suggesting that the DC gun law is necessarily a good one, I’m simply pointing to a theologically flawed argument. I do think the Framers would have understood that.

Frustrations, to be sure

Well I thought I might experience a few frustrations encountering the police as crime victim and I was not disappointed after spending almost three hours waiting for someone to show up and take my statement so a formal report could be filed (and thus open the way to making an insurance claim). I finally had to give up and head home to pick up my daughter after school. I suppose I'll be back at it tomorrow.
At least I spent most of the waiting time today in the Lincoln Parlor at New York Avenue Presbyterian Church. The parlor includes Lincoln's handwritten original draft of a legislative proposal that eventually become the Emancipation Proclamation. Pondering the long wait for justice faced by the slaves did not make me any happier, but it did put me in my place with respect to my own little problems.
Moreover, considering Lincoln's actions and the long road to justice did and always will renew my own hopefulness. Frustrations, to be sure, will always arise along the way, but the arc of the moral universe bends toward justice (with or without a laptop).

Agitations and Response

Anonymous has been posting comments here for quite some time, and I have not responded. Perhaps that is a breach of hospitality.

On the other hand, perhaps it is a question of call. It is not so much that I disagree with him – and the aggressive tone of the posts leads me to this assumption about gender – on the question of abortion rights as it is that I do not feel centrally called to work there. I admire the clarity of calling that anonymous feels on the issue, and the persistence of his agitations, even though I disagree theologically and in terms of U.S. Constitutional law on the issue itself. I just do not share his passion, nor do I feel any great call to engage beyond a link to an interfaith statement on abortion rights that more or less aligns with my own perspective, and some statements of the Presbyterian Church General Assemblies over the years which also more or less align.

That does not mean that I do not support those doing work on the issue from the perspective with which I agree, it is rather an acknowledgment that I only have so much time. Beyond parish ministry and all that entails, the core callings of my life for a long time have been peacemaking and equal rights, particularly as pertains to my gay and lesbian brothers and sisters both in the church and broader civil society. These three – parish ministry, peacemaking, equality concerns – have been and will continue to be what I reflect on here. It seems enough to keep me busy and mostly out of trouble. Guests are welcome to comment on anything, of course. Anything less would be inhospitable. But if an argument about abortion is what you're looking for, I suggest looking elsewhere -- they're not hard to find.

Peacemaking in the Empire

So my laptop got stolen over the weekend, and I got arrested. Perhaps this is what happens when you try to be a peacemaker in the heart of the empire.

To be sure, the events were not related. The laptop walked away from the temporary offices of Christian Peace Witness for Iraq at New York Avenue Presbyterian Church sometime Saturday afternoon. By then I had already been, like a sport fish in a school of 42, caught and released by the U.S. Capitol police.

We were arrested Friday evening in the Hart Senate Office building where we had gathered to pray for peace in what the police deemed an illegal demonstration. Following a permitted interfaith witness in Upper Senate Park attended by 750 folks in a driving rain and led by a remarkable collection of folks including Rev. James Forbes, Rev. Michael Kinnamon, Rabbi Arthur Waskow and Dr. Sayyid Syeed, we processed up the sidewalk along Constitution Avenue to the Hart building.

Those of us risking arrest walked down the stairs into a small patio outside the glass doors. Police watched, photographed and filmed us, but made no move to arrest. Most of them were warm and dry inside the building and seemed to be thinking, “well, if those fools want to sing and pray in the rain, they can stay out there all night for all we care.”

After a half hour, we decided to move inside and join them.

We made our way through security, and 42 of us sat in a circle beneath the gigantic Calder sculpture that dominates the atrium. We prayed and sang, and sang, and sang some more – This Little Light of Mine, O Freedom, We Shall Overcome, Peace, Salaam, Shalom. Perhaps had we rehearsed more and sounded better the police would not have arrested us, but as we sang We Shall Not Be Moved, they moved in.

The Capitol police are an interesting institution. We worked for weeks prior to the event to arrange a permit for Upper Senate Park. They dragged their heels and dragged us through a tortuous bureaucratic maze before finally releasing the permit on Thursday afternoon, less than 24 hours before we were to begin the program. The permit included a stage and sound system, and the information that we included with the permit application detailed it all. Then, in the midst of the program, in the driving rain, the police informed us that the small tents over the stage and sound equipment would have to be removed. It was harassment, pure and simple. They had the power, and they were going to use it. We negotiated and stalled and speeded up the program and brought it to a conclusion before they pulled the plug on the electricity.

Then, the same police, as they arrested us, were incredibly humane and thoroughly professional.

I was among the last to be arrested, so I had the opportunity to watch the process unfold slowly. It was almost liturgical. As each of us was arrested, the arresting officer asked if we had any injuries. (In my case, a rotator cuff that causes serious pain when my right hand goes behind my back, led to being handcuffed in front of my body which allowed me to get to my cell phone while in the paddy wagon and take a couple of seruptitious pictures.) We have all been through nonviolence training, and in keeping with that spirit, each of us tried to connect with the human being on the other side of the line.

In a remarkable testimony to the power of nonviolence, such connections were made in many cases with the same police force that an hour earlier was threatening us. I was wearing a new, bright blue clerical shirt, and several of the officers were admiring the color as they stood with us waiting to load us into the wagons. When I recounted this later, my wife asked if we’d been arrested by the fashion police! Another young officer told me that he lives down in Fredericksburg, a long commute to DC, and uses his morning drive as prayer time. The woman in charge of the station where we were processed shared with us that when she retires in 18 months she fully expects to be joining us in pressing for peace and for an end to this war.

Small connections, to be sure. Nothing earth shattering or system changing, but small human connections that break down walls and barriers and begin to build common ground and community where mistrust and hostility reign.

Today I will engage the system again. This time as a crime victim, as I follow up on the theft of my laptop. I anticipate frustration, but I will look for connection. That is the way, these days, of peacemaking in the heart of the empire.

Being a Mocha Liberal Today

The peace witness is this week. Months of praying and planning, and now final frantic moments of last-minute details and waiting and wondering.
But the details are not dragging me down, nor are concerns about "numbers." First, because we are called to witness not to "success" -- whatever that might mean. But, more to the point, because it is an absolutely beautiful early spring day in the DC area. Sunny, mid-60s. Perfect weather for my first good bike ride in a long while, and, now, perfect weather for sitting in my favorite coffee shop, sipping iced mocha, and catching up on all the e-mail.
I will probably be quiet on the blog again for most of the week, but trust that the crush of this particular season of faith will lighten after these days of witness pass. Peace.

Latte Liberals?

At the Youngstown, Ohio rally following the recent Wisconsin primary, International Association of Machinists President Tom Buffenbarger called Obama supporters “latte-drinking, Prius-driving, Birkenstock-wearing, trust fund babies.” That reminded me of one of my favorite Ohio moments. A few years back I was stopped for gas at a Ravenna, Ohio gas station. Ravenna is one of those small rust-belt towns that the economy forgot. It’s been down-at-the-heel since I was a student at nearby Kent State in the late 70s and early 80s, and it shows no signs of recovering.
Anyway, I was pumping gas when a pick-up truck that had obviously been out “mudding” pulled into the pump right in front of me. One guy, in battered jeans and sweatshirt, got out to pump gas. His friend, similarly attired, hopped out and headed into the store. As he walked away, he shouted back over his shoulder, “hey, Bubba, want a cappuccino?”
So, I wonder today, if this cappuccino-sipping, work-boot wearing, pick-up truck driving guy and his friend are pondering the up-coming Ohio vote from the trucking view or the latte view?
Name calling, reductionist politics, will never move us beyond the mess we’re in. I think I’ll go have a mocha.

Witness for Peace

Last night, the interfaith peace witness in Lafayette Park gathered again in the twilight to remember the dead and to pray for an end to the killing. Rev. Madeleine Beard recited the names of all those American soldiers who have died since the last witness in January. It is a sobering reminder that the violence continues to take a terrible toll:

• Richard B. Burress, 25
• Jon M. Schoolcraft III, 26
• Justin R. Whiting, 27
• James M. Gluff, 20
• Michael R. Sturdivant, 20
• Tracy Renee Birkman, 41
• Duncan Charles Crookston, 19
• Robert J. Miller, 28
• Matthew Ryan Kahler, 29
• Mikeal W. Miller, 22
• Alan G. Rogers, 40
• James E. Craig, 26
• Gary W. Jeffries, 37
• Evan A. Marshall, 21
• Brandon A. Meyer, 20
• Joshua A.R. Young, 21
• Michael A. Norman, 36
• David E. Schultz, 25
• Matthew F. Straughter, 27
• Chad A. Barrett, 35
• Christopher J. West, 26
• Nathan H. Hardy, 29
• Michael E. Koch, 29
• Rafael Alicearivera, 30
• Miguel A. Baez, 32
• John C. Osmolski, 23
• Timothy R. Van Orman, 24
• Donald T. Tabb, 29
• Bradley J. Skelton, 40
• Luis A. Souffront, 25
• Michael T. Manibog, 31
• Timothy P. Martin, 27
• Jack T. Sweet, 19
• Jerald A. Whisenhunt, 32
• Corey E. Spates, 21
• Javares J. Washington, 27

These 37 now number among the more than 4,000 Americans killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. One more will be one more too many.
Here are three immediate opportunities to deepen your own involvement in the long struggle to build a culture of peace during an era of endless war. Please share them with anyone in your own networks who may be interested.

• Eleven months ago, 4,000 people of faith joined their voices in prayer and worship at the Washington National Cathedral for a Christian Peace Witness for Iraq that marked the fifth anniversary of the war in Iraq. We walked together three miles from the Cathedral to the White House to encircle it in the light of peace. More than 200 people were arrested that night as they knelt in prayer at the gates to the White House. Next month we mark the sixth anniversary of war in Iraq. More than 29,000 Americans have been wounded in combat, and we will likely mourn the 4,000th American death in March. More than 80,000 Iraqi civilians have died – more than one hundred already this week alone – and we are no closer to the peace that we long for than we were one year ago.

In the face of this human catastrophe, we must lift up an alternative vision for the future and press to make it a present reality. Responding to this call, people of faith from across the nation will come again to Washington March 6-8 to witness for peace and to call upon the people's representatives in Congress to act to end the occupation. As of this week, free registration for worship and for workshops is open at http://olivebranchinterfaith.org/

• If you live in the Metro area and would like to participate in a more intimate witness for peace, join the local interfaith witness as we mark our seventh month of vigils in Lafayette Park in front of the White House on Easter Sunday at 5:00 p.m. Join us in prayers for peace, and, at 4:15 p.m., for good conversation at the Cosi Coffee at 17th St. and Pennsylvania Avenue.

• Finally, wherever you live, if you are a leader in a Christian faith community, I invite you to visit the Pledge for Peace web site (http://pledgeforpeace.org/) and prayerfully consider signing this powerful document.

The time has come for people of faith to make our voices heard with renewed passion, commitment and clarity. The time for peace is at hand. Please join me to pray and act for peace.