Life Isn't Fair

       A few weeks ago my sermon focused on why bad things happen to good people.  This is the age old question in theology.  If there is a good God, why do these terrible things happen? Personally, I believe God chooses genuine relationship with us which requires that we are given free will.  I believe that, as a result, people have the ability to make bad choices and do things which really harm others.  But in reality that is only a partially satisfying answer.  I believe that the place God is when bad things are happening is with those who are suffering.  But this, too, is an only partially satisfying answer.
       I find myself looking at people's lives a great deal and noticing themes.  There are some people who truly have what I would call a "charmed" life.  Their lives seem incredibly blessed.  They have an abundance of gifts, resources and opportunities, and when they share their stories I'm always amazed at what doors open to them and at what they are able to accomplish just by wishing things into existence.  And then there are others who seem to never be able to catch a break.  Everything they touch seems to crumble, to fall apart, to create chaos and devastation.
       Most of us are somewhere in between.  I tease my kids that I have two special "karmas".  I have an amazing parking karma.  It doesn't matter how crowded a parking area is, I always find a parking spot and usually it is in a prime location.  It's something we can count on, to the point that other people ask to ride with me places because they know if I'm driving, a parking spot will be found.  I also recognize that I seem to attract free gifts.  Wherever I go and whatever the circumstances, gifts seem to come my way.  Well over half of what I have has been a gift (and usually a very unexpected gift) from someone else.  I am deeply and truly blessed by the generosity of folk around me, often and in abundance.  On the other hand, I have one big negative "karma" - anything electronic that I touch breaks down.  What's more than all of this, though, is that the hard stuff that has come my way is always big and painful.  Hard and intense childhood. Difficult and painful situations as an adult. Big things. Catastrophes. Humiliations and losses and traumas and victimization.  The threat of financial devastation, homelessness (always having a place to stay with friends and family, but without a home base of any kind for several months at a time); an extremely public, humiliating, scandalous and horrible situation that led to a painful divorce.  So constant is this kind of stuff in our lives that when my daughter and I were on a small trip together and we had someone trying to break into our hotel room, pounding on the door, rattling the handle and looking under the door in the middle of the night, my daughter just took it in stride.  The next day when I asked her how it was possible for her to immediately go back to sleep once the guy had left, "Well, it's just one more thing and in the scheme of what we've been through, not so bad."  At some level that broke my heart: that her life has been so full of trauma that when someone is trying to break into our room in the middle of the night, it seems minor to her.
      In the face of this, my "whys" sometimes deepen.  Why are the lives of some people so very charmed and the lives of others so hard?
      This need for life to somehow be "fair" is so ingrained in humanity that throughout history we have tried to create explanations for life's great inequities.  The Bible talks about the "sins of the fathers" being carried down seven generations.  So, if something was wrong with someone, and the community couldn't see an obvious reason for their suffering, it was assumed that someone in their history misbehaved, causing their pain and struggles.  For many, karma described how a person's past deeds in past lives dictated how this life would be experienced: if you were born poor it was because of mistakes in your past life.  If you were born rich and powerful, it must be because you did it right in your past life.  We want life to be fair.  And it so obviously isn't.  So we've created ways to make it fair so that we can bear the injustices.
       But more and more I am letting go of the searching for a way to make life fair, and I'm coming to just accept that life is what it is.  It is unjust.  It is unfair.  Some people suffer deeply.  Others don't.  We can always find someone whose life is better and we can always find someone who has suffered more.  But no one can say that life is fair.  And the work we go through attempting to explain or justify the struggles in life for individuals have a greater potential to add damage to another person's suffering than they do of helping us to understand.  If we assume that each person's suffering is somehow their fault, we add to their pain when we should be easing it with compassion and care.
       But at another level, I do believe there is responsibility here.  I believe that we have been given enough, as a world, for all.  I believe that we have the resources, talents and abilities to ease suffering and to minimize it.  But we don't do this as a people and all of us suffer as a result.  That is not about God or about Karma.  That is about us as flawed people who forget that we are all connected and that all are our brothers and sisters.  We forget to love the other as much as we love ourselves and we act, therefore, in selfish ways that injure other people, damage our world and create immense suffering.  We are greedy and want what we want for ourselves and our loved ones.  We forget that others' needs are also our responsibility and that we have the ability, as the human race, to help one another.  But this is where we are right now.
       So what do we do with this?
       First, I believe we all need to keep working for a world that is more just.  We need to honor and lift up sharing and caring so that others are inspired and moved to do the same.  We need to see one another with eyes of compassion and grace, to forgive often, to give more, and to love without ceasing.
       Second, as I have said many times before, I do believe in a God who is there, always, to bring resurrection out of death, to bring the highest good out of the lowest low, to help us to use our experiences and even our struggles for the good of ourselves and others.  It isn't an easy path to choose to bring good out of suffering.  It is an uphill climb.  But the views are amazing, both during the climb and on those occasional peeks.
        I look at my life, the things that we have gone through.  I would not have chosen any of the really hard stuff.  But I am also so very aware that without those experiences I would not be who I am today, I would not have what I have today in terms of friends, community, family, work; I would not be able to address things in the way I can now address them.  I am so deeply grateful for the experiences that have challenged me to see with eyes of greater compassion and less judgment.  I am thankful that I am becoming more the person I want to be, with greater ability to self-reflect and to choose how I want to act when faced with difficulties.
       Finally, we have to hold on to the knowledge that all things pass, everything is temporary and whatever we are experiencing now is just another step in our journeys.
       Life is not fair.  But we can make it more fair by bringing good out of bad, by working for justice for everyone, by appreciating and loving all that life has to offer.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Psalm 89:1-4

Mark 5:1-20

            In today’s gospel reading I am struck with the reality that one person’s hopes, dreams, and wishes are sometimes in conflict with what others wish for, hope and dream.  In today’s story, Jesus listens and responds to four different parties’ wishes:  the man with the demons, the demons themselves, those who tended the swine, and the people of the region who then begged Jesus to leave.  And Jesus attended to each of those (again, even the demons – a point that is well worth thinking about) at each step of the way.  For example, he responds to the man with the demons by sending them out, but the demons request being sent into the pigs.  So, he sends the demons into the pigs, but this obviously upsets the people whose job it is to tend the pigs, so then a further request is made for him to leave town, which he also does.  The man is cured, but the pigs are harmed.  The pigs go into the water, which then threatens the livelihoods of those who tend the pigs.  And eventually, Jesus is sent away out of fear because of his power.  Each request leads to a consequence, which leads to another request, and Jesus attends to them all.  Still, in the end, the man is cured, healing has happened, a miracle has occurred, and that which was really needed has come about.

            This story makes it very clear, though: sometimes the things we want may seem to be best for us, but aren’t best for others, or even for ourselves necessarily. 

            In the movie Bruce Almighty, Bruce is given the opportunity to play God or be God for awhile.  And when he hears the huge or “ginormous” (as my kids would say) numbers of prayers coming his way constantly, he feels completely overwhelmed at first.  But one of the complaints that led to God giving Bruce a try at being God was that Bruce felt God didn’t respond well to prayers, didn’t respond to people’s needs and wants.  So Bruce felt it was important to do things differently than God had, and he decided that the easiest way and best way to attend to everyone’s prayers and wishes was just to say “yes” to them all.  Can you imagine the results that followed?  The chaos that ensued was outrageous, though my guess is that the destruction depicted was not nearly as much as it would have been in real life.  For example, many, many people prayed to win the lottery.  They all did, which meant that each person only won a few cents.  This was followed by riots and rebellion.  Bruce had also pulled the moon closer to the earth and this caused all sorts of weather problems, which caused power failures and other issues.  Some people praying for one thing contradicted others praying for opposing wishes and the result was a complete mess.  Confusion, destruction, outrage –chaos.

            I am also reminded of Mark Twain’s story “The War Prayer”.  The story takes place in a church during a time of war.  And the pastor is praying for their side to win the war.  Mark Twain says it like this:  “The burden of (the prayer’s) supplication was, that an ever-merciful and benignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers, and aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory…” He then ends the prayer with “Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord and God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!”  But as he is saying this prayer, an old and disheveled stranger walks to the front of the room, nudges the pastor aside and Mark Twain continues the story in this way: The stranger said: “I come from the Throne — bearing a message from Almighty God!” The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no attention. “He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd, and will grant it if such be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to you its import — that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of — except he pause and think.  God’s servant and yours has prayed his prayer.  Has he paused and taken thought?  Is it one prayer?  No, it is two — one uttered, and the other not.  Both have reached the ear of Him who heareth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken.  Ponder this — keep it in mind.  If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon your neighbor at the same time.  If you pray for the blessing of rain on your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse on some neighbor’s crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.”  The stranger goes on to describe the reality that when we pray for victory for our own, we are praying for destruction of the other.  When we pray that our soldiers might fight and win with strength and might, we are praying that others might die and be destroyed in horrible ways.  When we pray to win, we are praying for others to lose.  When we pray to come out on top, we are praying that others might fail.  It is a short story and it is well worth reflecting on.  But the point is not about war prayers.  The point is much bigger than that. 

            Do we think about all the ramifications of our prayers?  Do we think about our neighbors when we pray – ALL of our neighbors when we pray?  I shared with you before the story of the televangelist who, during a hurricane about 20 years ago, took a group of folk down to the coast to prove the power of prayer.  These few people stood on the beach and prayed that the storm would not hit them.  The storm did, in fact, avoid them, but instead it hit a town full of people who were injured or killed.  Those who travelled to the coast proved that their prayers were answered.  At what cost did they pray them?  The people who stood on the shore to pray did not live there.  They flew there to show the power of prayer.  If, in fact, those prayers were the reason the storm went north and hit the town instead, was their proving that prayer worked worth the cost to all of those injured people, families who lost loved ones and people who incurred great property damage? 

            I need to say here that I don’t really believe that God cares so little for the consequences of our prayers that God only pays attention to what we say and not what others need or what is best for everyone.  Even in today’s story, the man with the demons was not asking Jesus to help him but Jesus chose to do it anyway.  I think God is wiser and more loving than to simply answer prayers regardless of consequences.  None the less, none the less, I think that we are called to think through our prayers, to think through the consequences of those requests, to have a bigger vision for the needs of the community, of the world, of our neighbors, and indeed for our enemies as well.  We are called to do that as part of our loving our neighbors as ourselves.  We are called to do that to help us to have a bigger vision of what others needs.  We are called to do that so that we may grow in compassion and love and deepen in our relationships with God.  And we are called to consider our prayers seriously, since unforeseen and negative consequences to others impact us as well.  We are also called to think through our requests in prayers because sometimes we, too, reap negative consequences of the things we wish for, hence the saying, “be careful what you wish for.”  We know from personal experience that sometimes the very things we want turn out not to be best for us.  Can you think of a time when you got what you wanted, only to discover it came with a great cost? 

            In the movie  Grumpy Old Men, the Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau characters have been at each other ever since they were young men because they had both fallen in love with the same woman.  Jack Lemmon’s character won that particular battle, but ended up with a wife who was unfaithful and whom he eventually divorced.  Walter Matthau’s character could never forgive him, though in losing his wish for Meg, he ended up with a wonderful and very faithful wife instead.  And this story, while shown in the movie as a story, is too real.  It is real in the sense that many people have shared with me stories of heartbreaks in which they prayed fervently for a loved one to continue to stay with them, only to find someone who was so much better a partner for them, someone they never would have found if their original prayers had been answered.

            So where does this leave us?  Does it leave us afraid to pray for what we want?  Does it leave us trapped in the saying “be careful what you wish for” and therefore afraid to wish for anything?  No.  We are still called to be open and honest with God, to talk to God about our feelings and hopes, our fears and our heartbreaks.  But I do think we are encouraged to stay aware, even as we share our deepest desires, that God knows better than we do what is best for us, what is best for others, what is best for the world.  I think we are encouraged to listen for God’s guidance and leading in our prayers and strive to pray for those things God calls us to pray for.  And I always believe that ending our prayers with “yet not my will but yours be done” after we have had open and honest conversation is a good practice.  After all, Jesus modeled this for us in the garden of Gethsemane, as he first shared his hope that he might not have to die – honestly sharing feelings, and then ended his prayer with “yet not my will but yours be done.” 

            In today’s story, each request had consequences that led to further requests.  But the good news is that God listens every time to those further requests.  God does care about what we want, what we ask for, and what we need, even when those are different things.  God listens to us, God responds to us, and God strives always to give us that which will bring the most healing and the most wholeness for everyone.  Amen.

Seasons of Loss

        This last year seems to have focused an inordinate amount on loss for us.
        As a congregation we read the book Being Mortal by Atul Gawande (New York: Metropolitan Books, 2014) which discusses end of life decisions and questions that are important for us to name and explore with our family members BEFORE the time comes for those decisions to be made.  It is an amazing book full of relevant stories and one I would recommend to everyone, regardless of your life situation, your age, your circumstances, or even your beliefs.  Death is a part of life and the sooner we recognize and plan for what we really want at the end, the better prepared we, and our loved ones who will walk us through the endings, will all be.
        This was followed by our Faith and Film night movie being If I Stay, which tells the story of a young girl caught between life and death and needing to make a decision about whether to live or not since her nuclear family has all been lost to the same accident that placed her in this limbo state.  This was a very thoughtful movie, bringing up questions of agency in our own endings but also family roles, what ultimately matters to each of us, and what decisions we make that either mirror our true values or act against them.
        In the midst of all of this my brother in law died, at the age of 52, from a stroke.  There was no warning, and no way to prepare. It just happened, leaving my husband and his family reeling, grieving, confused, and lost. 
        A few months later, the priest at the local Catholic Church died, at the age of 61, in a car accident.  He was a man I worked with and served with (I am one of the church's pianists) and who left behind a deeply grieving congregation.
       Then at the end of November my uncle, age 69, died of a heart attack.  Also an unexpected, unanticipated, very sudden, and very big loss for us.  That was the third unexpected, tragic death in the course of six months.
        Finally a friend I care about very much is dying of cancer.  This is now imminent.  She is a solo parent, and she leaves behind two teens.  And while cancer at some level leaves more time for loved ones to prepare, it is still devastating.  She is young, her children need her, and the loss around this feels huge. 
       All of these losses are in addition to those I usually face as the pastor of an older, aging congregation.  The deaths of older persons are still not easy, even though they may be more expected. 
       As I said, it has been a year of loss.
        I have found myself saying repeatedly to my family as they have walked through this year of loss, "Well, people aren't meant to live forever."  And that's true.  Reality is that we are all walking towards death.  None of us get out of the this life alive.  Our own deaths may seem more distant, but we walk towards them just the same, and as most of our losses this year show, "distant" could mean just around the corner.  Things happen, life happens, suddenly at times.  
        As I said above, death is a part of life: a natural, expected-at-any-moment, other side of the coin that is living.  While I will be the first to admit that I don't have a clue what death really means for those who leave this life, while I find that scripture really doesn't have a lot to say about after-life (though there have been many misinterpretations that say otherwise), still I have a sense of some kind of continuance. I believe strongly that whatever death looks like, we are loved through it just as we are loved through life. Additionally, I have never felt that my relationship with someone is over once they've died.  I still talk to those who've died.  I still imagine, and sometimes feel, I might actually hear their responses.  I still feel their presence or spirit as something that continues within my memories of our times together, in the retelling of their stories and in the ways I have learned, grown, and changed because of them.  I still meet them in the ways that those around me also have been changed and the ways their lives reflect the values and lives that those who passed have led.
        But still, with all of this, grief is real.  Our relationships with those who have died are different now.  We can no longer call them, or check in with them, or see what they are doing in the same way.  Sharing a meal or going for a walk together, having a good laugh, hugging and connecting with a touch or smile - these things are no longer possibilities.  It's no longer possible to make new memories with them, to have experiences together in the same way, to physically be in the same space, sharing, working, playing, being together.  And that changes everything in a day to day way.
       So I'm left with the same questions I always have - what do we do with this?  What are the lessons for us in times like this, and where do we take our grief when it can be overwhelming?
        First, grief is different for every person.  Even within those differences though, it isn't something we can avoid or put off or ignore.  It has to be walked through in order to move us to a new place.  This is never comfortable, but it must be done.  Trying to not feel our grief means it will erupt in other, potentially harmful ways.  We are given these feelings as a pathway to healing and feeling them is the only way through.
       Second, we don't walk this alone.  God is there with us experiencing this as well.  We have a companion in this who sees beyond us and is there to love us through it all.  But also, all of us experience loss.  All of us experience grief.  We've been given community to walk with us and to care for us.  Finding people to share your grief and feelings of loss is so important during these times.  Standing with one another, supporting one another - these are essential.
      Finally, I believe our grief, our sense of loss, our devastation sometimes, is a sign of just how deeply we care.  It is a reminder of something absolutely beautiful and that is the love we have for one another.  Grief can also remind us not to take for granted what we have this day, this moment, in this place.  It can be a gentle push to honor those with whom we travel THIS day knowing that tomorrow is not a guarantee.
        Be good to one another, because we do not know when is the last time we will see someone.  We do not know when will be the last chance we have to tell a person we love them, value them, see them as a beautiful person.  Apologies, expressions of gratitude, kindnesses, words of love and grace - all of these cannot be offered too often, or too soon.  

God's Forgiveness

Mark 4:1-34

As you listened to the gospel lesson for today, what is the hardest part of all of this for you to understand? 

“He told them, “The secret of the kingdom of God has been given to you. But to those on the outside everything is said in parables so that, ‘they may be ever seeing but never perceiving, and ever hearing but never understanding; otherwise they might turn and be forgiven!’”

               This is very confusing.  How does this passage fit in with the God whom we see throughout scripture who is all about forgiveness and reconciliation?  The one who speaks even from the cross to say, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do?” 

               Additionally, as we read in the rest of the gospels, and even here in this particular chapter of Mark, even as he is saying that the disciples have been given the secret, it is actually clear that the disciples don’t understand at all.  They need him to explain everything, but even then, they keep missing the point.  So, if the disciples don’t get it, how are those on the “outside” who never perceive supposed to understand?  And why does it sound for everything here like Jesus doesn’t want them to therefore turn and be forgiven?

               I think this is, once more, a case of how we hear these words, rather than how they were intended.  I’d like to read to you the Message translation of this part of the scripture for today. 

“When they were off by themselves, those who were close to him, along with the Twelve, asked about the stories. He told them, “You’ve been given insight into God’s kingdom—you know how it works. But to those who can’t see it yet, everything comes in stories, creating readiness, nudging them toward receptive insight. These are people—

Whose eyes are open but don’t see a thing,

Whose ears are open but don’t understand a word,

Who avoid making an about-face and getting forgiven.”

Does that help?  I think it does, but there is still an implication here that somehow we have to do something in order to be forgiven.  And what I want to suggest is that this isn’t because God withholds God’s forgiveness, but because accepting that forgiveness into our hearts, that requires something more. 

               For those of you who have read my blog, you know that I write often about forgiveness.  I think it is one of the most important things we are called to do, and I think that at times, it is one of the hardest things we are called to do, especially when the person we are struggling to forgive is still hurting us.  But I’ve been looking more closely, lately, at instances when forgiveness is withheld.  I remember a colleague of mine who was run out of her church by, well, really by two members of the congregation who basically believed that her sermons were targeted at them.  They weren’t.  I’ve read the sermons and they were not focused on these two individuals at all, but instead were self- condemning, self-revealing, apologetic: open, caring, and loving.  But what is interesting is that while my colleague forgave these women who ran her out long ago, the two women continue to be incredibly angry and unforgiving about something that never actually happened.  When we had a Presbytery meeting at their church I ended up in a conversation with both of them and the bitterness they still harbor, decades later, towards my pastor friend is astonishing.  The fact that they would bring up this story, and would try to describe to me what happened in increasingly hyperbolic terms… I left the conversation feeling deep pity and sadness for these two who simply were unable to let go – and of what?  Of something that never happened.

Another friend of mine who is a teacher of children with special needs shared with me that one of the children in her class was always acting out, hitting, smashing things, damaging those around him.  When my friend tried to discuss it with the parents, the parents became irate at the teacher.  They sought revenge and began a smear campaign of hate and anger towards this teacher.  A year later when the child had a different teacher, evidence was found and later it was confirmed that the parents had been abusing the child: that the anger the child was expressing in my friends’ classroom came from being taught that hitting was the way one dealt with one’s rage.  It was not my friend who discovered the abuse, and it was not my friend, therefore, who ended up calling CPS about the child (since she was unaware at the time that this was going on).  But the parents have never forgiven my friend.  And again, for what?  For being there, for advocating for and being kind to their child, for attempting to bring change to a difficult situation, when the parents were unable to do so themselves.

I look at these situations, the ones I’ve named, and I wonder what they have in common.  And what I see, again and again, is that when we fail to forgive, it is often because we are blocked in our ability to have compassion for the other by a dis-ease, a discomfort, often a sense of guilt in the situation which we are not comfortable looking at, admitting to ourselves, or working through.  Sometimes that guilty feeling is because we have done something wrong.  Sometimes we feel that guilt and there really is no fault on our part.  But either way, if we are unable or unwilling to really look at our own feelings and our own part in a situation, it often comes out as rage at another, as inability to forgive the other.

That realization has called me to look at myself in those times that I am struggling to forgive another and to really ask the deeper questions.  Why can’t I forgive in this situation?  What about my own behavior or myself is so hard to look at, that I have to retain my anger at this other person in order to avoid looking at, and dealing with myself?  As I’ve mentioned before, this is a great deal of what 12-step programs are based on: looking in, working through our mistakes, in order to heal.

               We can only begin to forgive others when we have forgiveness for ourselves.  And so, when we fail to forgive ourselves, that pain often comes out in anger at others.  But it is more than this.  When we cannot forgive ourselves and then cannot forgive ourselves, we do not have the door open to accept God’s forgiveness.  Again, God’s forgiveness is always there.  But our own anger, our own rage and judgment and condemnation – all of that is a block to hearing, seeing, experiencing and accepting the forgiveness that God offers.

Our lack of forgiveness of others is, in a sense, a parable.  It is a story that calls us to look deep into our own behaviors and our own psyches for the things we have done with which we are uneasy.  We “see but don’t perceive” when we project our guilt outward onto others and fail to forgive them.  We “hear but never understand” when we fail to name our part in a situation and therefore fail to ASK for forgiveness but instead insist on the shame, humiliation, and damnation of others. 

I want to say again, forgiveness is not easy.  Choosing to be self-reflective is not easy.  I also think that our culture does not encourage it.  The justice system that we use in our country is actually an elaborate revenge system.  Why do we do this?  Again, a failure to want to look at ourselves.  But also perhaps in part because it is profitable for us to do things this way.  We are a country heavy with suits: we sue everyone over everything.  Suing is not forgiveness, but the numerous suits do keep our attorneys, our judges, our court workers in the money.  Our criminal system, too, uses a retributive “justice” model, not a restorative justice model.  I remember being at a convention that was centered around justice and we had several lawyer speakers.  To a tee all of them said that “justice” was a theological concept and had nothing to do with our legal system.  That our system is strictly a mercenary system, not a just one.  The people with the most money win, again and again and again.  But a mercenary system of revenge-punishment is one of avoiding self-reflection, avoiding compassion, failing to bring healing for victims as well as for perpetrators.  It leaves no room for healing, for forgiveness, for reconciliation, of any involved.  We are quick to judge, slow to really understand and have compassion, slow to forgive.  In contrast we are told that God is slow to judge, but quick to find compassion and grace.  The model we use is not one that follows God or Christ’s teachings.

A restorative justice model, in contrast, is much more in line with what our faith teaches and it is one that brings healing for everyone.  One of the classes I took for my doctorate focused on restorative justice.  In New Zealand, the Maori tribe traditionally used a restorative justice model and we watched a video about one episode in which restorative justice was used.  A boy had stolen a camera from an older couple.  The practice of restorative justice meant that everyone affected by this episode was to gather in a circle.  A talking stick was passed, which meant that each person was invited to speak and share how the episode affected them, and no one else could respond or talk during that time.  Only the person holding the stick could respond.  The boy who stole the camera began, and at first, he was just sullen and said he did it because his friends were all encouraging him to do it: so at first, he was not taking responsibility for the incident.  The stick passed to the couple who’d had their camera stolen.  They shared that it was not just the camera that they’d lost but all the pictures from their 50^th wedding anniversary, memories that they could never retrieve, mementos that meant a great deal to them.  The boy’s grandfather went next and he said he felt humiliated and stunned by what his grandson had done.  At his words, the boy began to cry.  He finally began to understand what he had done and the damage he had caused.  He admitted then that they’d sold the camera to have pocket change and he claimed his own responsibility, apologizing not only with words, but with tears.  The group together decided that since he could not return the camera and was unable to replace at that point in time, the best “consequence” of his actions would be that the boy went to work for the couple until the debt of the camera was paid off.  All those involved in the incident were interviewed a year later.  There were several things that stood out for me.  The couple stated that in the process of having the young man work for them, while they were sad that they had lost their photos, at the same time they felt they had gained a grandson in this boy: that he had become a part of their family.  The boy himself, in coming to know this couple, had a much deeper appreciation for the damage he had caused.  The recidivism rate in the United States, according to a 2018 study is 83%.  The recidivism rate when restorative justice programs are used drops to about 25%.  Additionally, when a retributive justice system is used, the victims of whatever has happened often report that they feel revictimized by the court system.  In contrast, the victims when restorative justice is used tend to report that they leave feeling heard and that real healing has begun. 

I have a very close friend who lives in New Mexico who runs a sheep and goat sanctuary.  He called me this week and told me that a few weeks ago a dog had broken into the sanctuary, killing one sheep and injuring two others.  The owner of the dog paid for the sheep that was killed and also paid for the vet appointments for the two who were damaged.  But she was also brought up on criminal charges and it appeared that the punishment was going to be imprisonment, a fine, and the destroying of her dog.  My friend said that because of my constant barrage of comments to him about restorative vs retributive justice he asked to speak in court.  He said to the judge, “It will not help me heal the loss of my sheep for her to suffer or for her dog to die.  It will not change things in the future because she has gone to prison in response to her dog breaking lose and doing this damage.  I am asking you to drop the criminal charges.  She has paid enough.”  The judge agreed.  As a result, the woman now has started volunteering at his animal sanctuary and they have begun a friendship.

That is what the kingdom of God looks like.  That is what forgiveness looks like.  And that is the way that God treats US.  God does not seek to punish, God seeks to understand.  God does not seek revenge, God seeks healing.  God does not work from a place of ignorant judging, God works from a place of compassion and grace.   Jesus did not choose for those people who did not understand to fail to understand.  He recognized a stance on their part that led to hearing without understanding, and seeing without perception.  It is more than stubbornness that leads to this.  I think about Harry Potter and what Dumbledore said about the possibility for Voldemort’s healing.  He said that even this evil man could heal, he could heal all the horrible, awful things he had done.  There was hope for him, but it was only to be found in a decision on his part to look, to see what he had done and to feel remorse.  Dumbledore  also admitted that the pain of that remorse would be worse than he could imagine.  And, unfortunately,  it was a pain Voldemort was simply unwilling to experience.  Our salvation, or to use a less “churchy” word – our healing, our wholeness,  comes when we are willing to look, honestly, at what we have done – not project it outward as the scribes, Pharisees and others did with Jesus.  They projected onto him all their anger, fear, hatred – all of their mistakes and they then therefore killed him.  He had done nothing to harm them,  but they projected their own pain onto him.  They were not willing to see because it would hurt too much.  They were not willing to understand.  And because of that, all the forgiveness in the world that God offers, and God does offer it, they could not accept into their beings in any way.  They just couldn’t.  When we cannot look at ourselves, face ourselves, forgive ourselves, we cannot forgive others.  And when we cannot forgive others, we cannot find healing.  I think about what Corrie Ten Boom said about the people she worked with after WWII who healed were those who forgave.  Those unable to heal were those who were also unable to forgive.  This is the theory, again, behind 12-step programs as well: when we cannot face ourselves, we get stuck in our addictions.  It is only when we do the inner work that we are able to heal from them.

               Does God want to keep forgiveness from us?  Never.  Jesus came to announce that forgiveness, to heal us, to make us whole.  He declared from the cross, “Father, forgive them for they know now what they do.”  No.  But our ability to accept God’s forgiveness is in measure to our ability to forgive others.  And our ability to forgive others is in measure to our ability to forgive ourselves.  Our ability to forgive ourselves has to start with a facing, an understanding, an owning of what we have done.  So we 1. Self-reflect

2.  Find compassion for ourselves.

3.  Find compassion for others

4.  Accept forgiveness in.

And that is the cycle of healing, for ourselves, for our neighbors, and for the world.

Amen. 

Reconciliation

           About thirteen years ago, through a series of misunderstandings, my uncle became very angry with me and cut me out of his life.  The reasons don’t matter, the fault in the situation doesn’t matter either.  What is important here is that before this incident I felt we were very close, and after this incidence there was a hole in my life that was very painful for me.  I tried early on to repair the relationship, but my attempts did not go well. And so, for many years, I grieved the relationship.  I prayed about it regularly, asked for wisdom, for guidance, for help.  I prayed that he would forgive me, that there would be hope and room for healing, for contact; that reconciliation would come. I prayed for wisdom to know how to try to cross the schism, how to make it better, how to make amends.  I prayed for him good things: for his own healing and happiness.  But thirteen years of joys and pain, of changes and moves, did not seem to create or open any doors to healing in our relationship.  Eventually, I made peace with it within myself.  I finally forgave my own part in what had happened, forgave him for ending the relationship with me, and felt that, whatever happened from here on out, I was at least reconciled within myself to what had happened.  It wasn't what I wanted, but it was enough for a time.

Then this summer, much to my amazement and to my great joy, my uncle and his wife came to church on one of their visits down to the Bay Area.  Our whole extended family went out to lunch together afterwards.  I thanked him for coming, we reconnected, reconciliation began, healing began.  I cannot tell you what this meant to me.  We did not talk about the past, but in our looks, in our words, in our hugs, we let the past go, and chose to start again from here.  I felt that God had stepped in, that prayers had been answered, and that a great gift had been given to me.  God’s timing was not my timing, but God was here in this, love had won again, forgiveness and healing and reconciliation had been offered and I was grateful. 
         A couple months after that reconciliation, at the end of November, he died of a heart attack.

             I am terribly sad at his death.  But I am also deeply grateful: grateful that we were able to reconcile before he died; grateful that the last words between us were words of thanksgiving, peace, joy and love; grateful that we were given this time, as little as it was, to see one another again.  I feel that God was in this reconciliation, as God is in all things that are healing and compassionate and loving. 
           I am also left with the message and the strong reminder that life is, truly, short.  And we have little time with which to grace the lives of those with whom we travel… 
           Make peace with those you love today because we are not guaranteed tomorrow.  Forgive fully and often.  Reach out to those with whom there are schisms and disagreements and strive to step into a new day with each of them.  Today is all we have.  Use it for good in all you do. 

Reversals

Psalm 103:6-14

Mark 2:1-22

               In today’s gospel lesson we see a Jesus whom, I think, we might find very confusing if we had not heard these stories before.  He forgives sins and then heals, confronting those who think he’s arrogant, or worse, then he tells these three little parables, all of which would be odd to us if they weren’t so familiar and if we didn’t add to them an understanding and interpretation in light of where Jesus’ life is heading.  The parables about the clothing and the wine skins may still seem very odd, very strange to us.

               But I’d like to invite us into a deeper reflection on those parables in particular and on Jesus’ behavior here specifically.  And I’d like to start by asking you a question.  I imagine that almost all of us have experienced the ending of a relationship at some point or another.  Perhaps it was a divorce.  Perhaps it was just a breakup.  Perhaps it was permanent, perhaps it was just for a time.  But my question for you, as you think about this schism, this ending, this rift is this: did you find that after the divorce or separation or fight or disagreement that at least some of your friends or family, some of the people around you, felt like they had to choose sides?  And that some of those who did not choose you or choose your side surprised you?  How did that feel?  I’ve listened to many people share with me the pain of losing friends or family, at least for a time, to a divorce or a split.  And the deep pain that this has caused.

In contrast, have you ever been in a situation where the friends DIDN’T choose sides?  But instead spent time with each of you?  And did you find that in some cases, in some situations, that hurt, too?  That it hurt to find that your friends or family would choose to still be friends with someone who had hurt you?  I think about a woman I counseled for some time sharing with me the pain she felt at the connection her children had with her ex-husband.  And while she was adult enough to know that it was important for her kids to have that relationship with their father, she still found it hurt: that they still shared a deep love that her ex-husband (who had been the one to leave the relationship) no longer offered to her.  Do these feelings resonate with any of you?

               I understand this. When one of my close friends chooses to be close to someone who has deeply hurt me, I can feel hurt by the friend as well.  On the other side of the coin, I can also be loyal to a fault. For example, my best friend dated someone for a while who was a fellow student at the seminary I attended.  When my friend’s boyfriend ended the relationship, perhaps it shouldn’t have affected my connection to the fellow seminarian, but honestly, I found it harder to forgive him than if he had broken up with me.  This went on for years, long after my friend had gotten over it.

               Jesus tells parables about how hard it is to combine the new and the old: new wine needs to be put in new wineskins, old clothing should be repaired with old material.  The mixing of things: the mixing of the old and new, the mixing of objects and materials and ideas that are old and new is difficult, if not impossible.   And then he shows us that this struggle is a challenge with people as well.  Jesus didn’t choose some people over others.  He hung out with the poor, the oppressed, with sinners.  But he also talked with and ate with the pharisees and others in authority.  And no one was happy with it.  I would say that this includes us.  We love Jesus because he stood by the poor and oppressed, because he loved all people – even those who made mistakes, were judged by the larger community, were rejected, had made mistakes like we know we do.  When we can identify ourselves in any way with the underdog with whom Jesus stood, we understand Jesus, choose Jesus, want to be like Jesus, inviting in everyone. 

               But Jesus ate with everyone.  And while much of the time we read these stories and might feel some self-righteousness towards those judgmental people who were upset that Jesus ate with the people they rejected, I wonder if we then fail to see that Jesus also ate with those judgmental people.  He talked with them, he confronted them, but he also ate with them, inviting them into relationship as well.  When we think about those we would rather not eat with, who do we think of?  I think we usually think about those people society rejects – homeless folk, mentally ill people, dirty folk, etc.  And we feel good that we are able to cross those lines and accept the people that society might reject, housing them through winter’s nights, feeding them meals and providing laundry help in various places, offering tutoring and care.  But, when we think about those Jesus ate with, do we think about those of differing political or theological opinions?  Do we think about those who we think are too snobby or rich or greedy or powerful as well?  Do we think of those who look down on us, who would reject us, not give us the time of day, would see us as inferiors?  How would you feel seeing Jesus eat with a person who had been unkind to you, cruel to you, rejected you, make you feel bad about yourself and treated you like you were an inferior?  Well, Jesus ate with them, too!  Jesus was the friend who refused to pick sides and loved even those who have hurt us, even those who look down on us.  And that is harder to take.

               When I was reading the commentaries on today’s scriptures, one of them pointed out that some preachers have used this passage to say that the old should be thrown out so that room can be made for the new.  And that it must be completely new: new wine in new wineskins.  But this fails to recognize that Jesus didn’t say anything about throwing out the old wineskins.  And he said nothing about throwing out the old clothing.  He talks about repairing the old with material that had already been shrunk: repairing the old with old material.  He is saying that mixing old and new is painful, is difficult, and sometimes is not healthy for either the old or the new.  But he does not reject either the old or the new. 

               Jesus acknowledged that there were things that would not, could not, go well together.  We know this at some level.  We know that some people would never make a good couple, for example.  You may have heard the joke, “intelligence is knowing that tomatoes are fruits.  Wisdom is choosing not to put said tomato in your fruit salad.” 

               There is a wonderful children’s story, Grasshopper on the Road by Arnold Lobel. In it there is a story about a group of beetles that grasshopper meets who love morning.  And Grasshopper is completely onboard with this until it becomes obvious that it isn’t just that the beetles love morning.  They also hate any other time of day.  Well we know that morning people and night people can have a hard time getting along.  And that it can cause problems for both when they try to share living space: one cranky in the morning, the other cranky at night…  Maybe they can’t always go together.  But that doesn’t mean one is bad.

               In Mitch Albom’s book, Have a Little Faith, Mitch talks about the Rabbi’s thinking about different faiths.  The Rabbi said, “It’s the blending of the different notes that makes the music.”  The music of what?

 “Of believing in something greater than yourself.”  But what if someone from another faith won’t recognize yours?  Or wants you dead for it?  “That is not faith.  That is hate.”  He sighed.  “And if you ask me, God sits up there and cries when that happens.”   

But this is hard for us.  We are a people who pick sides.  We are a people divided.  We are a people who struggle when we feel unchosen, or less chosen; unvalued or less valued.  And yet here it is.  Jesus loved us all, as hard as that is for us to take.    

I am reminded of the movie, The Whale Rider.  The girl, Paikea, is part of a Maori tribe in search of it’s new chief, a new whale rider who will lead the people.  Her grandfather has very set ideas about who this person must be.  He cannot see.  And despite all the signs that say that his granddaughter, Pai is the new whale rider, he rejects this again and again until finally, from that stubborn place, his actions lead to the breaching of all the whales on the land, and there being no one to help him find the male tribal chief whom he wants.  It is only after Pai rides the whale, leading all of them back into the sea, that her Koro is able to see the truth that it is HE who has been blind and unbending and in being so, has missed the chief intended – his granddaughter.  We may not like what Jesus points out to us, we may not like what we see.  But we are called to see anyway, to risk growing and changing, to strive to be better.

These Biblical passages challenge us.  Yet, they also bring us comfort.  When we are the people who mess up, Jesus still loves us.  When we are the people in need of healing, Jesus is still there.  But we are also the people Jesus confronts, and usually not in the way that is most comfortable for us, but in the way that shows us who we really are – who we don’t always choose to see.  Jesus shows us our immaturity, our “cliquishness”, our growing edges, and Jesus calls us to be better.  We can’t be better unless we really see the areas that need our work and care.  And so, while it is really hard sometimes to see, we are still called to allow God to point out our growing edges, to tell us we are loved despite them, and that it is because of that love that we are encouraged to grow and change.

I’m reminded of the following poem:

I asked God for strength that I might achieve.

I was made weak that I might learn humbly to obey.

I asked for health that I might do greater things.

I was given infirmity that I might do better things.

I asked for riches that I might be happy.

I was given poverty that I might be wise.

I asked for power that I might have the praise of men.

I was given weakness that I might feel the need of God.

I asked for all things that I might enjoy life.

I was given life that I might enjoy all things.

I got nothing that I asked for, but everything I hoped for.

Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.

I am, among all men, most richly blessed.

– Prayer by an unknown confederate soldier

                It is simply uncomfortable to be confronted with truths we would rather not see about ourselves.  But God loves us.  And because of that love, God will not leave us where we are.  God will show us who we are if we keep our eyes open.  And will encourage us to grow and change.  Jesus loved all of them – the overly self-righteous Pharisees as well as the sinners and tax collectors.  He loved them all.  He also left none of them where they were.  God will do the same for us as well.  Amen.

When Times are Dark

Isaiah 63:7-9,

Matthew 2:13-23

12/29/19

               The story we heard from Matthew today is the other side of Christmas, the dark side of Christmas. 

“A voice is heard in Ramah,

    weeping and great mourning,

Rachel weeping for her children

    and refusing to be comforted,

    because they are no more.”

               This is the part we don’t want to look at, don’t want to talk about, and at some level deeply deny.  In many ways we, as a people, as a faith, as a country even, still believe in a Santa Claus God.  We hold on to the belief that if we are good, good things will come to us.  And if we experience bad things, it is “karma” or rather, it is God getting even with us, punishing us for the wrongs we have done.  The signs that we still believe in this are many, but I think the biggest indicator that we do is that one simple word, “Why”.  When things go wrong we cry out to God and demand a reason.  “Why?” we demand.  “Why are you doing this to me?”  This is often followed by “What have I done to deserve this?” A lesser form is the “why won’t you help me?”  but it still comes down to the same thing.  We want life to be fair, and we want to be rewarded for good behavior.  We also tend to want our enemies to be punished, to suffer for their misdeeds.  But both of these ideas come from a vision of God which just doesn’t hold with either scripture or with our experience.  Today’s scriptures are just one of the times when we see this reality.  Every male child in and around Bethlehem slaughtered.  Did any of these children deserve to die?  Of course not!  But it happened.  Like the Holocaust, like genocide, like all the evil things that happen in this world. 

Our wishes for a Santa Claus God who gives good to the good and bad to the bad just doesn’t play out in real life.  So my answer to you about the “whys” and the “how comes”, my answer in the face of this reality is the uncomfortable reality of free will.  The uncomfortable reality is that everyone has been given that same free will.  My answer to you is the uncomfortable reality that God does not micro-manage us because God wants genuine relationship with us and that means we are not puppets, none of us are controlled by God, made to behave properly, made to avoid hurting you or hurting one another.  If we are allowed to be ourselves, allowed to be who we are, allowed to pick and choose our behaviors, then sometimes, and unfortunately many times within humanity, people will make bad choices, choices that hurt others, choices that deny others’ humanity and deny the truth that we are all brothers and sisters to one another.  My answer to you is the uncomfortable reality that, as Jesus tells us, “the rain falls on the just and unjust alike.”  The bottom line here?

God is not doing this to you. 

Whatever it is that you are suffering, whatever it is, it is not something that God is doing to you.  It is not punishment for something that you did.  We have choices in this life, all of us.  And that means other people make choices that hurt us, hurt all of us, damage life, damage connection, injure hundred and thousands of people, take the lives of children, box them up, treat them like dirt.  God is not doing this.  God is the God of love and life.  If it is not loving and is not full of life, it is not God.  But still these things happen.  Life is unfair.  And we cannot control the choices of other people.

“A voice is heard in Ramah,
    weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children
    and refusing to be comforted,
    because they are no more.”

               So, the innocents were slaughtered, then, as they are today.  Children were killed then, as they are today.  And the reaction and the result was weeping, then, as it is today.  And just as then, when God did not stop Herod from the slaughter of all the babies, it still was not God’s will that those babies be killed.  It was not God’s wish, it was not God’s choice, it STILL is not God’s will or God’s choice when babies are slaughtered, when killings and destruction of God’s people is happening.  It is never God’s will when the children are slaughtered. 

               I will tell you the truth: I often lay awake at night and grieve our world: I grieve the children at the border.  The most obvious, most memorable refugees we know are in this story today: they are Jesus, Mary and Joseph.  I do not understand how you can fail to see them every time we are looking at the refugees at the border, I do not fail to remember that every time we hurt or kill or separate a child at the border, we are separating, killing and hurting Jesus himself.  And it fills me with inconsolable grief.   I also lay awake at night grieving my own children who will surely be destroyed by the climate change we are bringing about.  I know some of you do not believe this.  And you can have your opinions.  But I will also say to you that I cannot understand anyone who would refuse to act based on even the possibility that this is a reality, the possibility that we are reaching a point of no-return from which we cannot save our planet and ALL of our children will be destroyed because of it.  I grieve.  I lay awake sobbing with grief for my own children and potential grandchildren.  And I, too, demand to know why God will not stop the greed that I see as the only reason for not acting to save our beautiful world.  And I weep for the children that will be no more if we do not take action now.

               But just as in the slaughter of the innocents, God does not stop the evil from coming.  God does not stop those who have their own motives.  God does not make people see, or make people choose life, or make people care for one another or the planet.  God tells us to love, but God does not make us love.  And so, many of us now are weeping for our children, for, whether they are the children at the border or our own children affected by a dying planet, they are and will be no more.

So, where do we go with this?  Where on earth is the Good News in this?

There are two: first, God is still there with us in all this mess: “In all their distress he too was distressed.” As the passage from Isaiah told us.  God is with us in our pain, helping us to bear it, carrying us, loving us through the darkness.

But the second is that just as free will leads some to buy their heads in the sand, and others to act with greed and selfish inclinations, for some to act out violence and hatred and rage against their own brothers and sisters, and to inflict cruelty and yes, evil, onto the world, freewill also opens doors for good to come in, for light to shine, for hope and grace and compassion to shine forth.  Free will allows some people to choose love, no matter what is happening, and to love with a ferocity that is greater than their own lives, with a willingness to live out their love even to death.  Free will allows us to choose God, goodness, and love no matter what we are facing.  And that is a gift indeed.  Because as Mark 8:36 tells us, “what does it profit a person to gain the whole world only to lose their soul?”  the opposite is also true, some people lose their lives and are willing to sacrifice themselves for the good of all and in doing so, they gain their very souls.

I found myself reflecting on this as we were lighting the candles for the last Taize service of the season Monday evening.  The candles we use have a very short lifespan.  They burn for maybe an hour, maybe an hour and a half, and then they are done.  So, as we were lighting the candles, many of which had begun their burning the previous week, I felt in some ways that we were fighting an uphill battle.  We’d light two candles and one would snuff itself out, running out of wax or drowning in the little wax that was still there.  We’d replace the candle and by the time it was replaced, another would have gone out.  David and I together were standing at the communion table lighting candles as people were coming in, and even with both of us working, we’d get a few done and another would burn out, needing to be replaced.  But despite the darkness that kept engulfing each little place where a candle stood, even though candles burnt out quickly and our ability to keep the light going needed constant attention, when we finally said, “well, we need to start the service, the candles that go out will just have to be out for the rest of our time today,” even as we said this and let them be, the light from those that were strong was enough.  It was bigger and brighter than the ones that had burnt out.  There remained more candles that were lit and burning than were out, even ‘til the end of the service.  And the ones that burned shown strong.  They pushed the darkness away for that time.  The light would not be put out, nor the darkness overcome it.  And in that is my hope.

There is a story written by Robert Fulghum in his book, It was on Fire when I Lay Down on it (New York: Ivy Books, 1989), p 171, that I would like to share with you this morning: click for story

God is the light.  God is the light.  We are mere reflections of that light.  But our job is to be strong and vigilant and to keep spreading the light: love, compassion, grace, the memory that we are ALL God’s children, all brothers and sisters to one another, all in need of love and healing, all called to be the ones to bring that love and healing.  We are called to spread that word and spread that light to all who will hear.  Once we have spoken, once we have shone our lights, it is not our job what happens then.  It is not up to us whether or not it makes a difference, whether or not it changes anyone.  That part is up to God.  Our part is just to keep shining the light.  Today.  Everyday.

I end this with a poem that was sent to me from Jan Richardson:

Blessed Are You Who Bear the Light

Blessed are you

who bear the light

in unbearable times,

who testify

to its endurance

amid the unendurable,

who bear witness

to its persistence

when everything seems

in shadow

and grief.

Blessed are you

in whom

the light lives,

in whom

the brightness blazes --

your heart

a chapel,

an altar where

in the deepest night

can be seen

the fire that

shines forth in you

in unaccountable faith,

in stubborn hope,

in love that illumines

every broken thing

it finds.

- Jan Richardson

from Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings