"I am not a racist . . ."

“I am not a racist.”

I cannot count how many times that statement was part of a conversation about this difficult topic.

Racism occurs because a person ignores the fundamental truth that, because all humans share a common origin, they are all brothers and sisters, all equally made in the image of God. When this truth is ignored, the consequence is prejudice and fear of the other, and—all too often—hatred. Where there is fear, racism is possible. Where there is ignorance, racism is possible. Where there is misunderstanding, racism is possible. Where there is in equality, racism is possible. The list can go on.

Racism comes in many forms. It can be seen in deliberate, sinful acts. In  recent times, we have seen bold expressions of racism by groups as well as individuals. The re-appearance of symbols of hatred, such as nooses and swastikas in public spaces, is a tragic indicator of rising racial and ethnic animosity.

Extreme nationalist ideologies insinuate themselves in American public conversation by xenophobic rhetoric that instigates fear against foreigners, immigrants, and refugees. Too often racism comes in the form of the sin of omission (“what “we have left undone,” BCP, 360), when individuals, communities, and even churches remain silent and fail to act against racial injustice when it is encountered.

Racism can often be found in our hearts—in many cases placed there unwillingly or unknowingly by our upbringing and culture. As such, it can lead to thoughts and actions that we do not even see as racist, but nonetheless flow from the same prejudicial root. Consciously or subconsciously, an attitude of superiority can be seen in how certain groups of people are vilified, called criminals, or are perceived as being unable to contribute to society, even unworthy of its benefits. Racism can also be institutional, when practices or traditions are upheld that treat certain groups of people unjustly. The cumulative effects of personal sins of racism have led to social structures of injustice and violence that makes us all accomplices in racism.

We continue to read headlines that report the killing of unarmed African Americans by law enforcement officials. In our prisons, the number of inmates of color, notably those who are brown and black, is grossly disproportionate. Despite the great blessings of liberty that this country offers, we must admit the plain truth that for many of our fellow citizens, who have done nothing wrong, interactions with the police are often fraught with fear and even danger. At the same time, we must reject harsh rhetoric that belittles and dehumanizes law enforcement personnel who labor to keep our communities safe. We must also condemn violent attacks against police.

With the positive changes that arose from the civil rights movement and related civil rights legislation, some may believe that racism is no longer a major affliction of our society— that it is only found in the hearts of individuals who can be dismissed as ignorant or unenlightened. But racism still profoundly affects our culture. In short, it, in any form, has no place in the Christian heart. What can we do now and in the future, to rid the beloved community of God of this sin?

The Divine Consigliere

 

I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate,

to be with you forever.

(John 14:16 - The Gospel Lesson for Pentecost)

In our culture, we call upon advocates to offer support to those who feel they are not being heard, to ensure they are taken seriously, and to assure that their rights are respected. We also understand that an advocate should help people to access and understand information and services available to them. I am afraid that this understanding is a bit too narrow to understand fully the role of “The Advocate” the Jesus promises us in the Father’s name.

Now, I hope that no one takes offense at what I am about to say, but a slightly different term may give us a more fulsome understanding of what was meant by the term advocate in Jesus’ day – and just what Jesus promises to his disciples then – and now.

I am a big fan of “The Godfather” films (I, II, and III!). Maybe because when I was growing up, we heard a lot about the “Gambino’s,” who had an active branch of their extended crime family in Western New York. Who knows?

Anyway, in the organization of these “families,” a pivotal figure is the consigliere (counselor). A consigliere is an advisor to the boss (usually an attorney), with the added responsibility of standing for the family’s interests in important meetings both within family and with others. The consigliere is a close, trusted friend and confidant, a sort of elder statesman, one of the few in “the family” who can argue with the boss. Consequently, this figure is often tasked with challenging the boss when needed, to ensure that proposed plans are foolproof. In most depictions, the consigliere is dispassionate and devoid of ambition as he dispenses advice.

The important part here is the responsibility the consigliere bears for the interests and internal integrity of “the family.” In this sense, Jesus might, in today’s culture, refer to the promised gift of the Spirit as a sort of consigliere. Think about it: “I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Consigliere, to be with you forever.” What better promise? Someone to watch over the family of the Church, whose only concern is its benefit, its well-being, its continuing existence. Someone who can “argue with the boss” and makes sure that plans are carried out well. Thus, the Spirit’s role is not merely to advise but to act decisively whenever the well-being of the Church and its members are at stake. The boss’s consigliere wields tremendous power and holds everyone trust. Isn’t that what the Holy Spirit does?

Maybe, I am stretching the metaphor too far, but I think there is merit here.

In Western Christianity, we often “over-emphasize” the role of Jesus in our faith life. There is no surprise there. Christmas and Easter are our favorite holydays. The beginning and the end of the mortal presence of Jesus among us. They are easy to understand and to imagine – something we can lay our hands on. But the Spirit – that’s another thing all together.

By contrast, Eastern Christians (e.g., the Orthodox Churches) focus on that more elusive divine person. Their chants and icons personify the mysterious quality of the Spirit that can be as elusive as the odor of the copious amounts of incense used in worship. In John’s gospel, Jesus says, “The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.” It is that ethereal nature that makes us uncomfortable. We want to pin God down, control when and where we meet God. But this is not possible once we realize that God’s presence is everywhere and that we “cannot tell where it comes from” or even where it will lead us.

What is comforting is that this ghostly reality has the power of a consigliere – that what surrounds us are not mere wisps of smoke but an energy with the power to enliven, to protect, to transform with a divine mandate to do all that is necessary to reconcile a broken world to its Creator – a task entrusted to us by Jesus. For this purpose, that Spirit showers us with gifts, each given for the sake of the larger work.

As we emerge from the pandemic, it is more important than ever that we exercise these gifts to support one another as the Spirit leads us to new endeavors. How can you employ your gifts to help us Begin Again! in the days ahead? As activities increase, St. Luke’s remain in need of many hands to make its work light: Altar Guild, acolytes, choir members, ushers, ministers of hospitality, outreach workers, Christian formation helpers, nursery attendants, only to name of the few that can help us recover the momentum we had before the pandemic struck.

Vestry is even now considering new ways that St. Luke’s can meet the challenges out new context presents. Stay tuned for more ways in which we will see our gifts manifest themselves in our community.

Mind the Gap

At the end of the First World War, we are told, Helen Turrell traveled to northern France to put flowers on the grave of her illegitimate son, Michael, one of the fallen. To those travelling with her, she described Michael as her “nephew.”

This is the touching background for a short story by Rudyard Kipling. The story ends:

“A man knelt behind a line of headstones — evidently a gardener, for he was firming a young plant in the soft earth. She went towards him, her paper in her hand.

He rose at her approach and without prelude or salutation asked: ‘Who are you looking for?’ ‘Lieutenant Michael Turrell — my nephew,’ said Helen slowly and word for word, as she had many thousands of times in her life. The man lifted his eyes and looked at her with infinite compassion before he turned from the fresh sown grass toward the naked black crosses.

‘Come with me,’ he said, ‘and I will show you where your son lies.’ When Helen left the Cemetery she turned for a last look. In the distance she saw the man bending over his young plants; and she went away, supposing him to be the gardener.

Subtly, Kipling intimates that Helen made the same mistake as Mary Magdalene as she went to visit the tomb of Jesus on that first Easter morning. “Jesus said to her, ‘Woman why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?’ Supposing him to be the gardener, Mary said to him, ‘Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.’” (John 20.15). As Kipling’s story ends, Helen’s “mistake” goes uncorrected. But in John’s Gospel, “the gardener” goes on to reveal his identity. Mary rushes back to the other disciples with that most extraordinary news: “I have seen the Lord” (John 20.18).

The evangelist Luke, we heard on Easter morning, tells us that her words “seemed to an idle tale, and they [the men] did not believe them” (Luke 24.11). How could she say such a foolish thing? Had she completely gone off? This was not what was supposed to happen. Storylines are meant to proceed according to a set order and structure. Plotlines should represent habits of thought, and for writers especially, they should follow traditional, time-honored conventions. Mary’s tale was not the established plotline.

What I love most about parish ministry is that it seldom follows such pre-established plotlines.

In a senior philosophy seminar, I was introduced to the thought of Thomas Kuhn. In his The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, he argues that science does not proceed or progress in an orderly, plotted fashion. Kuhn maintains that the assumptions of science are continually open to question and are periodically demolished as accepted theories are overturned. What results is what Kuhn calls a “paradigm shift.” Old models no longer work; new models emerge that make more sense of the world. Kuhn argues that it is our mistakes, our ignorance, which send us in a new direction seeking truth.

When Mary Magdalene realizes that she is standing in the presence of the risen Lord, all her assumptions about what the world was supposed to be like crumble. The story of Mary’s encounter with Jesus offers us is a perfect example of how to lose the plot, how to be blessedly mistaken, and how we can break through the old, hard-won habits of knowing, to confront our need for a new way of thinking, a new way of being.

We share so much with Mary these days. The pandemic has made distance, separation, and loss common and deep stresses on how we experience the world. We still yearn for connection. But what we realize is that it must not be superficial but real connection. Such connection seems all but impossible when we must keep our distance as the pandemic compelled us to do. According to the ancient philosopher Aristotle, we can lose our sense of sight, or hearing, smell, or taste, and still go on living. But if we can’t touch or be touched, he contends, we are less alive. During our long COVID winter, we developed ingenious ways to cope and even deny the negative power of this separation. Tele-communications, social media, ZOOM, and Facetime sought to bridge that separation. Instead, they only showed us how enforced social distance can be an obstacle to a fuller life.

And yet, another philosopher, Simone Weil, offers a parable that may teach us how we can transform how we perceive the world – how to undertake a paradigm shift: There are two prisoners whose cells adjoin. They communicate with each other by knocking on the wall. The wall is the thing that separates them but becomes their means of communication.

It is the same with us and God. Every separation we experience can become a link if we view it in a different way. What divides us, the gap between us, can become how we connect to one another … and to God. We think of gaps as dreadful things: gender pay gaps, funding gaps, gaps in knowledge – shortfalls and failings. But a life without gaps wouldn’t be a human life any more than a comb without gaps would be useful to a hairdresser. In fact, as Kuhn understood it, growth in knowledge depends on such gaps. Gaps thereby become life-giving, like our lungs, organs that provide necessary gaps in the middle of ourselves where life breathes in and out. If our lungs did not contain gaps, we could not breath.

So, as we continue to emerge from our COVID inspired separations, I hope that we have learned a new way to look at those gaps. Rather than bemoan how things are not “going according to plan,” I hope that we can see that such disruptions present real opportunities – opportunities to grow, to change, to transform. As Mary learned to see Jesus in a new way, so may we begin to see things anew and remain open to what yet lies ahead.

New Life – A New Generation

I recently completed a six-week intensive online seminar from the Barna Group, a think tank that has done a great deal of research on a topic of great interest to me: the religious inclinations and spiritual yearnings of what sociologists call Generation Z, young people born between 1996 and 2008. Many, we were told, in this age group did not receive a religious grounding from their family. Still, they express a curiosity about the sacred, a yearning for community, and a willingness to learn about religious traditions.

Generally, Gen Z young adults say they do not find what they are looking for in traditional places of worship. They feel passionately about many social issues such as race and gender equality, LGBTQ and immigration rights, gun reform, and reproductive rights. Yet some of these issues put them at odds with traditional religious teaching or at least with those who inhabit traditional religious spaces. Consequently, many Gen Zs say they lack a sense of belonging- the very element that is at the heart of religious community.

Research shows that it is not that these young adults are stepping away as much as it is not being raised in religious institutions in the first place, unlike Millennials or Generation X-ers. The question comes up from so many leaders: How can we get them back? The data reminds us that they have not been there in the first place.

Over 70% of young people researchers that they are religious. About the same number say they feel they are spiritual. There is a lot of overlap in those categories. One can be both things, or just one of the two. Young people continually move back and forth between these categories depending on their experiences. Many times, they are interested in rituals that connect them back across millennia and to communities of faith that they respect and find resonant today. Most importantly, they are not interested in accepting a whole faith system simply to access one or two important rituals.

Young people’s spiritualities tend to seek religious traditions that say less and do more. Young adults increasingly appear very skeptical of people who talk all the time. I think they might tell us that from their perspective, a lot of faith proclamations have not held up well, especially when it comes to issues that they really care about concerning justice, racial equity, and gender equity. They look ways of believing that encompass those elements. So, engaging with nature, being more contemplative, and enhancing meditation become practices that provide space for these values and concerns.

All this research shows that this generation is intensely values driven. Rather than prizing status, conformity, or achievement, Gen Z allow their values to drive their decisions. Those values deal principally with issues around justice and equity. Rightly or wrongly, they perceive that religious communities just don’t care about those issues at the same level they do, and that is where the disconnect develops.

In so many ways, this generation is the most diverse in terms of gender, race, and ethnicity that our society has known for quite some time. It is certainly the most diverse in terms of public policy. When organizations and religious institutions don’t engage in discussion about those matters, or even understand that they should be a part of the discussion, what young people hear is that these organizations do not care about them. For example, when we see interest in Black Lives Matter and racial justice, as well as in other issues mentioned, what we see is that diversity matters in ways it has not mattered to prior generations. For Gen Z, it matters because diversity is a fundamental part of what Gen Z is: it plays a critical part of their identity formation, religious exploration, and the process of defining their sense of self. In other words, diversity and inclusion are at the core who they are.

All this only skims the deep insights these studies present – and the profound challenges that face those who earnestly want to hand on what they received in faith. Over the months to follow, we will continue to explore this crucial element of our future. I hope to share these insights with Vestry as we explore the way forward with our vision for the future. Stay tuned!

Love so amazing, so divine

 

When I survey the wondrous cross

On which the Prince of Glory died,

My richest gain I count but loss

And pour contempt on all my pride.

These words from a familiar hymn are a reminder of the reason for the season of Lent: over a period of 40 days, we undertake a spiritual journey deep into ourselves with our eyes focused on the Cross, and hopefully rediscover – or discover for the first time – the glory and the victory which are ours because of what Jesus did for us. It is a time of renewal when we can commit to the work of laying our whole lives down for Christ. Hopefully, that is what Lent, 2022, will be for all of us.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,

Save in the death of Christ my God!

All the vain things that charm me most,

I sacrifice them to His blood.

Lent is the span of time in the church calendar that starts with Ash Wednesday on March 2nd and ends with the celebrations of The Great Vigil of Easter. Lent provides us a time to reflect, repent, and pray as a way of preparing our hearts to receive the gift of life, which is the promise of Easter. As Episcopalians, we observe Lent, though not every Christian denomination does, as an opportunity for us to focus our thoughts on Jesus Christ and our call to discipline ship in the power of the Spirit.

Some of us will begin Lent by marking our foreheads with ash as a symbol of sorrow and mourning over our sin. The first few verses of Job 42 show us an example of ashes used as a symbol of repentance. Some of us will choose to give up a habit or behavior during Lent as an exercise in prayerful self-denial (see the article later in this newsletter) involving something as simple as not drinking our favorite beverage during Lent to an all-out program of fasting.

We can also commit to a special devotional activity – daily Scripture reading, regular prayer for a specific person or topic throughout Lent, or volunteer work in their community. A full range of opportunities is available on our Christian Formation website at https://www.journeyinfaith-stlukeslebanon.org/lent-2022-walk-with-purpose.html.

The choice to observe Lent is a personal one—the whole point is to focus your heart and mind on Jesus during the journey to Easter. There’s no requirement to observe it, but it is always spiritually rewarding. Anglicans and other Christians around the globe observe Lent each year; if you’ve never done so, I’d invite you to try it in 2022. Whether you observe Lent in a small or major way, you’ll be amazed at what happens when you devote a part of each day to reflecting on Jesus Christ and God’s Word.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,

That were a present far too small;

Love so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all.

I pray that our Lenten season of 2022 will be one of wonder, meditation, and communal support as we remember and worship our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Namaste – the divine life in me greets the divine life in you.

Some time ago, I entered a classroom at Niagara University where I was teaching “froshies” the rudiments of the New Testament, focusing on the teachings of Jesus in the gospels. The classroom was located near the Campus Ministry office. In the corridor, I noticed a series of handmade posters promoting classical religious virtues. The one that really caught my eye highlighted the virtue of humility. It said something like this: humility is admiration for the gifts that God has given to others – reverence for God in others – recognizing and developing our own gifts for others. It seemed a bit prosaic for an inspirational poster, but it accomplished its purpose. So much so, that I pulled out the journal I always carry and recorded the sentiments expressed. It really accomplished its purpose when you realize that the year 1991 and I still refer to it. 

Too often when we hear the word humility, we think of how we ought to be self-effacing – diminish ourselves in the light of others. Here however, the word admiration opened for me a new way of thinking about humility. On seeing admiration in connection with humility, I began to recognize all the ways in which, being preoccupied with myself, I failed to stop and admire the gifts of others. I am happy to say the poster almost immediately made me admire the gifts of those around me, including my students!

I’ve recalled that poster many times since, especially when I witness pitched battles over social issues. It is so amazingly easy to get drawn into confrontations over policies, structures, and outcomes when we confront the problems that face our communities. Regardless of which side we may take on a particular issue, we are all thinking about doing what we deem “good.” The problem emerges when we see anyone who questions or opposes us as a barrier to accomplishing that good. We come close to falling into what is known as a “technocratic paradigm,” where we treat others not as persons but as thing - as unruly “parts” of a mechanical assembly. But society is not a machine. It is something that we do with other people. Thus, church teachings are not exclusively about policies and plans. As Christians our “positions” must reflect virtues – the positive habits we form as we learn how to interact with others. To overcome the growing divisions in our communities, we may need something like what we might call social humility – something like what is rooted in the convictions the poster expressed.

To develop a sense of social humility, we must acknowledge that none of us can see the whole picture. None of us has a “God’s-eye view” of something as vast and complicated as society. This may seem like common sense, but it is especially important for Christians.

From the beginning, wanting to “be like gods” has been part of the human condition. This temptation grows stronger when we try to better society motivated by religious faith. If we believe we are doing God’s work, we can too easily believe anyone who opposes us opposes God. “Social humility” reminds us that situations are never that simple. Social humility asks us to admire that piece of the picture that God has given to others to see and that may be hidden from our eyes.

Another important aspect is rooted in our traditional teaching about conscience—namely, it is nearly impossible to snuff out one’s conscience entirely. No matter how poorly an individual’s conscience may have been formed over time, we believe that there is still a fundamental inclination placed there by God: to do what is good. Problems emerge, however, when we are mistaken about what the good genuinely is and what means we can use to achieve it. Even so, if we believe that we search for the good with some degree of clarity, and our opponent does not, we must still believe that our opponent also seeks what is good – as they see it. Then, there is something in their view that is good and thus worth admiring.

Finally, we believe that God created humanity to be one family. Family metaphors dominate the language of human relationships in Christianity. We grow accustomed to being addressed as “brothers and sisters,” that God is “our father,” and that Mary was the “mother” of the “son” who is the “brother” to us all. Our first response to others, then, should a response we would hope for in family relationships: no matter the conflict, the option of total rejection or destruction is off the table. This is not to say that family relationships cannot break down. Parents reject children, children reject parents. People become alienated from their own families. Even Jesus recognized that possibility. But the pain of such situations alerts us that this is not God’s design for us. Instead, we should seek to find the good in our brothers and sisters—and not just our biological ones – but everyone in God’s human family.

This admiration-first approach is not easy. We need to be aware of the particular “structures of sin” that we face in trying to cultivate such humility. One of the biggest problems we face today are the ubiquitous online forums that prioritize getting attention and rousing followers. It is always easier to cultivate humility when we come face-to-face with real, not virtual, people. We know all too well that even real-life social relationships can be infected by pride, hostility, and arrogance. But we also recognize it is harder to hate someone to their face.

This isn’t about being “nice” to everyone. It isn’t about trying to get the other person to be “nice” to us. It is about living out the gospel values of respect and an acknowledgement of the dignity of every human being, even those we may not “like.” 

To follow the Way of Love, as Jesus proclaims it, we must stand up for dignity. We should especially minister to those who suffer at the hands of those who fail to respect others’ dignity. Even so, we never have permission to fail in respecting the dignity of those on the “other side.”

Is that a path of foolishness? If we think in terms of maximizing outcomes, it certainly is. But the poster in the hall at Niagara U. reminds us why it is not foolish. It is a way of experiencing conflict that says to an opponent: “you are a Child of God, and nothing you do or say is going to make me stop trying to connect with the Child within you.” It is about admiring their basic dignity and finding their gifts, no matter what. In doing that, we can never truly lose.

Where there is no vision . . .

Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy is he. [Proverbs 29:18 (KJV)]

Some have used this verse to emphasize the importance of vision in leadership: without a long-term plan—without a vision—people are doomed to wander aimlessly. I don’t think, however, that this is the essence of this verse. Another translation put it this way: “Where there is no revelation, people cast off restraint; but blessed is the one who heeds wisdom’s instruction.” (New International Version). In other words, when prophets fail to articulate the vision that God has for God’s people, the people will forget their purpose, who they are, and why God called them together into a community.

Vision in this verse refers to what a prophet sees in a dream, revelation, or prophetic utterance. Interestingly, the same word is used in another place where the writer bemoans the rarity of the word of the Lord and the scarcity of prophets to speak that word (I Samuel 3:1). A lack of vision, then, is a lack of God’s divine communication.

The Feast of the Epiphany begins a time when Scripture reveals “visions galore”: the dreams of the magi, the utterance of Simeon at the presentation in the temple, doves descending at the Lord’s baptism. And that’s only the beginning. The season goes on to manifest the identity of Jesus as the promised Messiah beginning with the wedding at Cana ends with the glorious vision of Jesus transfigured – a vision entrusted to Peter, James, and John – Jesus’ closest friends on Transfiguration Sunday.

These are all supernatural events. But the kind of vision we need is not miraculous. Rather, its key lies in the second part of the verse: he that keepeth the law, happy is he. Again, the NIV guides us: blessed is the one who heeds wisdom’s instruction.

In this sense, vision becomes the roadmap of what God wants us to do. It is God’s view of our future as those marked out as his own (BCP 308). Vision provides an answer to the question, “What should we do?” When what comes into view is from God, it is more than a dream – it is vision. Yet, if we fail to acquire clear vision then passion and confidence will be lacking and others might not see the value of faith in God. Even members of our own community may drift away – casting off restraint. We fail as a community of faith to bring Christ to all– the message of Epiphany.

Every good planner knows that vision isn’t everything. Every vision must result in a statement mission – and a mission must be reduced to its strategic goals. As we begin to emerge from our long COVID winter, we must recall the vision and the mission goals we established in VISION 20/20 – our Gran Sueno, our big dream. But even that is not enough. Just like the vision God had for ancient Israel, our mission is a living, developing thing. Grounded in unchangeable values, the strategies shift as we adapt to new circumstances.

Through the next year, we will lean into the vision God has given us and explore new ways to fulfill our mission to make it real in our world. Only with such a vision, and a dedicated effort to “heed wisdom’s instruction” will we confidently enter a new chapter in the life of St. Luke’s