All this flag waving
and baby saving
has got me asking a question:
How can you love an embryo
But not a 3-year-old
That got torn from his mother?
How can a mass of cells
Be more urgent to protect
Than children in massive cells;
Suffering, dying from neglect?
Oh, I know; when the heart beats-
That’s where life begins
But, I’m confused.
Those children sleeping in aluminum sheets;
They have beating hearts too.
No cause can be higher:
We read Psalm 139.
Protect them in the womb!
But they are all God’s knitting.
Don’t we also rescue them from their chain-link tomb
Happy St. Stephen’s Day! Today is the feast day of St. Stephen, the first Christian martyr who was stoned to death by devout religious people for disagreeing with them and speaking truth to power. Yay!
Stephen was a deacon in the very early church, charged with caring for the widows in the church and community in Jerusalem. You can read about him in Acts 6 and 7. He was described as “a man filled with faith and the Holy Spirit” and “full of God’s grace and power.” And so, of course, the religious power-brokers were determined to destroy him.
They stirred up the people against him and dragged him before the Sanhedrin with a lot of false accusations and lies (does this sound familiar? Jesus went through this about 35 years before Stephen.) Stephen’s answer to their charges was to tell them The Story because apparently, they had lost the plot. Stephen told them the story of God’s grace and pursuit of God’s people, starting with Abraham and ending with their killing of Jesus, the Righteous One.
Continue reading “St. Stephen’s Day”
While preparing for Christmas Eve worship, I happened upon a service of Las Posadas in our United Methodist Book of Worship. I was somewhat familiar with Las Posadas, an Hispanic tradition which re-enacts the search for lodging by Joseph and Mary to bring Jesus into the world.
But I didn’t realize that there is a Christmas Eve Service that has the following liturgy sung by the travelers (outside the church sanctuary) and responses sung by the congregation (inside):
Travelers: In the name of God, we beg; will you let us enter?
We are tired and we are cold. May we please have shelter:
Congregation: You look dirty and you smell. Will you please keep moving. For your kind there is no place, for our inn is decent.
Travelers: It is not by our own choice that today we travel. But the emperor has sad that we must be counted.
Congregation: For your reasons we care not, every room is taken. Can’t you see the place is full? You are bad for business.
The travelers respond by quoting John 1:10 “He was in the world, and the world came into being through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God.”
Maybe it’s just me, but I was stunned. Stunned that the images and cries of the refugees from the very countries where this tradition originated (along with others from the land where Jesus himself traveled) are standing and knocking and hearing these responses.
I put this video together with pictures that speak for themselves.
May we be both stunned and awakened to the fact that Christ has instructed us on how to welcome Him. We have only to obey.
The Las Posadas song in English was from a website with resources for Las Posadas www.VenAdelante.org/posadas
Thanks for joining me on this journey. Pastorsoup is a blend of sacred and secular, with the occasional spice.
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton
March 26, 2018
I’m thinking about cheerleaders today. On this Palm Sunday I’m thinking about the cheerleaders that lined the dusty streets as Jesus came through the gates into Jerusalem. The crowd, always ready for something to take their mind off the day-to-day. Willing, for the moment, to back this raggedy, back-woods, itinerant rabbi.
They waved their branches. “Hosanna!” they cried. “Save us!”
But when this Savior didn’t give them the military muscle they craved, their cheers turned to jeers. The crowd became a mob. The violence they needed was now turned toward the innocent, donkey-riding peacemaker.
No more “Hosanna!” By Friday they were screaming, “Crucify him!” They were mocking and spitting and taunting. And they had blood in their eyes.
I thought of some other cheerleaders today. These were the white, working-class mothers (pictured above) that John Steinbeck wrote about in his book “Travels with Charley.” These so-called “cheerleaders” lined the streets outside William Frantz Elementary School in New Orleans in November of 1960, as first grader Ruby Bridges was escorted into that recently desegregated school by U. S. Marshals. Norman Rockwell immortalized the moment in his painting “The Problem We All Live With.” (Click to view it here) https://goo.gl/images/tHDR8h
Ruby was the first African American to attend an all-white school there. She was six years old. And those “very fine people,” those southern, white ladies screamed vitriol and filthy obscenities that Steinbeck called “bestial and filthy and degenerate” at that beautiful child. Steinbeck wrote “In a long and unprotected life I have seen and heard the vomitings of demoniac humans before. Why then did these screams fill me with a shocked and sickened sorrow?”
I’m thinking about the cheerleaders now.
On Saturday, March 24th, 2018, when the wave of March For Our Lives crested across the United States, the cheerleaders washed up on the shore, like so much trash. Mocking and jeering and taunting. They are saying vile things to and about children who were terrorized and escaped a massacre. Like Steinbeck we are filled “with a shocked and sickened sorrow.”
But we shouldn’t be surprised, because this has been going on for a very long time. Screaming hate at innocents. People filled with violence. Can you imagine that the Lord of Life wanted to be part of this mess that we are?
He did! And on Easter Sunday, once again, we will be able to stake a claim on the new life Jesus offers to all! Not just in the by-and-by; but right now. Changed hearts! Swords (AR15s) beaten into plowshares! Love winning over hate! War hawks turned into doves! Life out of death!
Arise, my Love!
Trump has chosen to mock those who disagee with him. He says we are resisting change and what is good for the country No. No, we are resisting fascism and an end to the noble idea of democracy. We are resisting you, Mr. Trump. We are resisting big business (big pharma, big oil, big sugar, big insurance) that rape the Earth and Her citizens. We are resisting ignorance that masquerades as patriotism and Christianity that wants to have all the power. Because true patriots want freedom and justice for ALL and true Christians know that bending to help the lowly is what God sees as greatness.
You may continue to trumpet away, but we have seen your like before. Those who call lies truth and who try to divide and conquer. The Herods who would do anything to hold onto their power and who hid behind a religious sect that they neither believed in nor cared about. Small children who threatened his power were annihilated. Not even his own children were safe in the end.
The Caesars who tried to maintain order with swords and crosses (or nuclear weapons and fighter jets.) They could maintain a peace, by force. But it was not true peace.
We have seen this before in Hitler who masqueraded as a unifier of Germany but proved to be a monster whose megalomania and narcissism caused the deaths of millions of innocent people.
History has seen you before. And God has dealt with your kind before. God is not mocked. Righteousness and peace will kiss, (Psalm 85) and the whole world will see it. The wilderness will be a highway for people to find the God of grace, mercy and love. No walls, just a level ground for ALL to be welcomed. And the world will see you for what you are.
We are in the middle of some turbulent times. You might say, “The Times, They are A’Changing!” Click to hear Bob Dylan sing. And in the middle of change, everything looks like failure and chaos. Until God speaks again over the chaos and helps us to find our way to peace, justice, love, and freedom; we have some work to do! So right, left, and everyone in the middle, just some thoughts.
To my people on the right; I love you! You may be sick of hearing it, but “white privilege” is a thing. As white people, we have things better, we have an advantage, even here in America the “land of opportunity!” We have got to notice and understand, and realize that people that don’t look like us are not getting the same rights that we take for granted. And no one is being a whiny snowflake for calling it out!
As a woman, I face things that men will never understand. We’re not even talking about waxing, here! It just a fact. As a woman alone, I have to be concerned when I go to an unfamiliar place where there are men that I don’t know. I need look like I take no s**t but to not be too bold or too friendly, because that may send the wrong message and I may find myself in a compromising situation. When I have been alone and stopped by a police officer on a dark road somewhere, I have experienced a flutter in my heart that a man never would. A twinge of fear that a male officer of questionable character, may take advantage of my vulnerability.
African Americans face things every day that I will never understand because I am white. I see and recognize that there is a real threat to the black community from police in some communities. Does acknowledging that automatically say that police officers are bad? No of course not: I love and respect police officers for the amazing, terrifying, and thankless jobs they do. But are there officers that are racist, prejudiced, sexist, and just not good people? Yes! Because they are people, for God’s sake!
Black Lives Matter IN NO WAY says that other lives don’t matter! Please, please, please, hear me say that! It isn’t “either/or” but “both/and.” Seriously, if you look at our history at all, you can see that we still need to come a long way. So when a black football player protests a system that seems to devalue the lives of young black men, he has a right to do that in this country. We might all consider taking a knee.
Which brings me to another topic: patriotism. Patriotism comes in many colors, shapes, and types. But there is a difference between patriotism and nationalism. I heard it defined this way: “A patriot is proud of their country for what it does. A nationalist is proud of their country no matter what it does.”
Let’s not be nationalists. When our country begins to act in ways contrary to every ideal on which we were founded, we the people have a right (a duty!) to protest, resist, and reclaim. Look at how this country was formed!
Defending immoral and unjust leaders regardless of what they do, does not make us “patriots.” It makes us “nationalists.” It’s the difference between the way a 1st grader loves their dad and a grown adult loves their dad. When we are young, our dads are “heroes” who can “beat up anyone else’s dad.” To our young eyes and hearts our dads are flawless. When we become adults, we understand that our dads are human, they made mistakes, they have flaws. As adults, we still love our dads—sometimes much more deeply for knowing the things they overcame! But we don’t fool ourselves.
To my people on the left; I love you! You are awesome; fighting for rights and standing for the marginalized! Fighting for animals and for Mother Earth. What I’ve noticed is that sometimes people want to make their point so badly, they will alienate the very people that are starting to come over to their side. It happened to me. I was starting to get “woke” about a lot of stuff, and yet, I was lambasted by some people from the far left who wouldn’t accept any movement I made, unless it was the “full monty.” And that just does not make sense. Because I am not the enemy. I am coming over to your side, at least trying to, and what you do pushes me away. Maybe dial it back a little. I understand that “political correctness” is actually just being kind to one another, but we can go overboard on being offended when no offense was meant.
I remember a conversation in seminary with a male African American classmate. He was talking about a church not wanting him because they “weren’t ready” for a black pastor. I heard him and shared that it sucked that we were still there. I said that as a woman pastor, churches “weren’t ready” for me either. Afterward he called me aside and made it clear that I really shouldn’t have entered that conversation because I didn’t understand his story. I was hurt and confused. I wasn’t saying it was the same thing, I was trying to make a step toward compassion and I got shot down. I realized that this is a lot of what goes on with dialog about our hurtful past. Please be careful not to shoot the people coming to the table, no matter how slow their steps.
We are stuck in the middle with one another. Let’s keep our hearts open to compassion and understanding. And, for God’s sake; let’s keep our sense of humor!
Sue Corley September 4, 2017