Elections, competition, meanness

            When I was a student at UC Berkeley, I had the great joy and privilege and playing piccolo for the Cal Marching Band.  The Cal Band was (is), almost completely, a student run organization.  It had a complex system that made the orgnization work, and every year we would have elections for the top leadership positions: Student drum major, student music director, secretary, etc.  These were run as almost all elections are: the students would campaign, in a sense, and this would end with each of them giving a speech at an election dinner after which we would all vote by ballot. The reality is that the Cal Band typically has about 170 members, so most of us knew each other pretty well, we witnessed first hand the other members' strengths and weaknesses, and by the time that dinner and vote came along, I assume I was not the only one who pretty much knew who they were going to vote for even before the speeches were made.  Still, there is one election that remains prominent in my mind, 30 years later.
          Two young women were running against each other for one of the positions.  What was unusual about this was that the two young women were known to be best friends.  They were always together, very close, never out of each other's sights.  But they were also very different in terms of temperament.  One, whom I will call Jill, was very confident, strong, an achiever, well-organized, pretty much good at everything she did, and generally very well liked.  The other, whom I will call Sally, was an emotional mess.  I think today we might have more compassion and understanding about the mental illness or life struggles that had led her to where she was.  But at the time, most of us chose to stay out of her way as much as possible.  She threw herself, sexually, at most of the young men, she flitted in and out of very dramatic and emotionally charged friendships with the other young women (perhaps in part because she would not hesitate to fling herself at their boyfriends, too), she was often seen having emotional break-downs or throwing loud temper tantrums.  She was dramatic and emotional and constantly in crisis.  So when we all saw that these two women were running against each other for this position, all of us, I'm certain, planned on voting for Jill.  We did not see how Sally could handle a leadership position in the face of all the other crises that seemed to run her life, frankly.  We had our ballots in front of us as the speeches were made and I know that even before the speeches came, most of us had already marked our vote for Jill.
          Sally stood up and she gave the speech most of us expected her to give.  It was emotional but also passionate about her desire to serve in this way.  I don't remember it much, except that she was clearly very nervous, and she made her earnest desire to hold this position very clear.  Then Jill came to the podium.  And Jill's speech I will never forget.
             Jill stood before all of us, and instead of telling us why she wanted the position or why she would do a good job, she took the opportunity to slam her best friend, Sally.  She called her "unstable" and was sarcastic and mean in her comments.  It was a cruel speech.  And this close community of the Cal Band had no tolerance for this.  At her first comment, her audience collectively gasped with shock and concern.  As her comments went on, groans and "oh!"s resounded.  This shook Jill.  Her stance as she began her speech was extremely confident, as she had every right to be.  But as the rest of us responded negatively to each of her nasty comments, I saw her falter in her speech.  What began with loud assertion, ended with a quiet, unsure, shaky speech.  She read the speech she had written through to the end, and did not alter it, despite our reaction.  But I am certain that as she finished, she could not help but see that none of us were looking anymore at her.  We were all looking at Sally, with concern, and with compassion.
       As Jill sat down, the next thing I saw was everyone's erasers on their ballots.  Sally won that vote by a landslide.  And Jill's popularity from that moment on was never anywhere near what it had been before.  We all voted against meanness, against cruelty, and against that kind of attack.  We expected our leaders to be community builders, community players.  We voted in people who would care about the well being of even their opponents because we knew that that would reflect how they would treat each of us, how they would respond to our wishes for the Band.  Or, to be more accurate in this case, we voted against someone who was so self-focused and self-aggrandizing that they were willing to be cruel even to their best friend to try to get what they wanted.
       Unfortunately, this election does not seem to mirror the choices of our country.  Instead, studies show that the mudslinging campaigns of attack on one another WORK.  Usually, the person who does the most cruel (and often libelous) attacking of his/her competition wins in our bigger elections.  These candidates avoid saying how they really feel about anything, and so people assume these folk are on the same page in terms of values.  We hear from these candidates what is wrong with everyone else and that works to sway votes away those they are slamming, even when the things they say are lies, even when there is not a hint of truth in them.  We vote in those who are best at cruelty, lying, and vicious attacks.  Is that really what we want for the leadership or our country?  
       I recently was in a conversation with someone who is my political opposite.  I heard him say in light of the terrible way our politicians are treating everyone, are speaking about everyone, are attacking those they are running against, even on the same general "side," that he would choose to vote in this upcoming election for anyone who did not behave in this horrible way.  He would vote for the first person who chose, in their campaign, to speak about what they valued, what they wanted, and what they believed, rather than speaking only to attack everyone else.  And for the first time in our history together, I found myself on the same page as him.
      I am deeply dismayed by what has been happening in our country, the policies that are so cruel, the hatred of anyone who is different from us, the constant villainization of the "other".  I think that all of that is both a reflection of the very way in which people talk about and to one another these days, and it is condoning, and affirming this horrible way of treating each other on a day to day basis.       There is a Sweet Honey in the Rock song based on a Chinese proverb that basically says that what you are at heart is reflected in your small actions that reflect into the larger attitudes and actions of the family, then the nation, then the world.  We have forgotten this wisdom, this truth.
    The bottom line:
         If we want our world to be better, it has to begin with the ways we treat one another now, here, today.  If we want our world to be better, we have to be kind to one another.  But more, we must affirm kindness and expect kindness from our leaders.  When we not only tolerate but condone and affirm cruelty from our leaders by our votes in reaction to their campaigns, what kind of naivete is it that expects that their intolerably vicious behavior will not then be aimed towards all of us in their policies, in their practices?  Personally, I've had enough.  I won't support that in any way.  I can't.  I'm voting for compassion this year.  I'm voting for kindness.  I'm voting for Love.

Transfiguration: of US

Mark 8:27-9:8

Who are you?  Who are you REALLY?  If you describe yourself to someone else, who would you say you were?  Would it change depending on the person you were speaking to?  How do you describe yourself to yourself? 

Now a deeper question, perhaps - How would GOD describe you?

Are you always the same person?  Yes and no, right?  At our core, probably.  But on the edges, in our behavior, we have good days and bad days; days of light and days of dark; days that we could have/should have/would have done better and days when we were able to live out and act out our lives beyond our own expectations, when we rose beyond others expectations as well.

Sometimes we think we know people, we have relationships with other people and we believe we know and understand them, but then they do something that catches us off-guard.  They surprise us, for good or for bad, and we have to look at them again, and re-evaluate who we thought they were.  We have to reevaluate our relationships with them, we have to reevaluate our understanding of them, we have to reassess who they are in our minds and hearts.  We all know stories like this, right?  Some of us have lived through stories like this, where a person we thought we knew intimately shows us that they are someone else altogether, that they have parts of themselves we never knew about, or whole areas of their lives that we knew nothing about, or activities that completely blind-sided us.  Other times we hear about heroic behaviors from people we just saw as regular folk, people, just like us, just living each day as it comes.  We can be surprised by people.  

Sometimes we surprise ourselves as well.  We are put in situations that call from us more than we thought we had, more than we thought we could be, and we rise to the occasion. … or we don’t, and maybe that surprises us too.  And the thing is that it’s not usually that people suddenly become something they are not.  It’s more true that people are complex, multi-faceted, and we didn’t see parts of ourselves or parts of other people.  We didn’t and don’t, ever, I would say, know someone else, or even ourselves, completely.  Other people are always more than we believe them to be.  We, ourselves, are always more – more complex, more multifaceted, than we think we are.  We don’t always know what we would do in a specific situation until we find ourselves in that situation.  For example, will we have the courage to stand up against wrong, even if that means losing our friends?  Will we have the courage to stand up against wrong even if it means losing our jobs?  Will we have the courage to stand up against wrong even if it means losing our lives?  We don’t always know, we don’t really know, until we are in that situation.  It is easy, for example, for people to say they would not have been part of the crowd asking for Jesus’ crucifixion.  But some of those same people found themselves in Nazi Germany supporting the Nazis not because they believed them to be right, but because they did not have the courage to stand up to them.  We have the same situations again and again.  And we don’t know how we will respond until we are put in a situation in which we have the opportunity to stand up to what is wrong and we see what we will do.

In the story of the Transfiguration, Jesus was seen in a new light.  He was seen in a way that he had not been seen before.  It’s not that he changed.  Jesus was always Jesus.  But, while he was clearly a leader and a strong man of integrity, faith, power, at the same time he looked like a normal, every day person, which was ALSO who he was.  Christian theology says that Jesus is both fully human and fully divine.  That doesn’t mean he was part human and part Divine.  Fully both.  The disciples for the most part tended to see, I believe, the humanity of Jesus.  But in this moment of the transfiguration, they saw the Divinity of Jesus as he stood with Moses and Elijah with face shining and a voice declaring who he is.  They saw him for a moment in this other aspect, and it terrified them.  My guess is that it would terrify us, too.  We like to see people the way we like to see them.  And no matter how much we want someone to be better, bigger, more wonderful, more able to save us than we think they are, when it comes down to it, seeing Jesus appear in such a way before us would probably terrify us.  

And yet, stories such as this one call us to see.  We are called to see the transfiguration – to see more than we saw before – to go deeper than we knew with each person.  Yes, with Jesus, but also with one another, and to see God in those around us.  We are also called to allow ourselves, too, to be transfigured and transformed, to see God within ourselves as well, and to invite God to live in and through us, to shine in us and to live in us.  

In the story of Don Quixote (in the musical, Man of La Mancha), we hear about his love for the barmaid Aldonza.  She is not a lady, she is poor, she is unrefined.  But Don Quixote sees in her the lovely lady Dulcinea.  At first she argues with him about that designation, saying that she is not who Don Quixote sees.  She declares herself to be a simple barmaid and says to him, “take the cloud from your eyes and see me as I really am!” But when Don Quixote is on his deathbed, Aldonza realizes that because of Don Quixote’s love and vision into who she is, she has, indeed, become the Lady Dulcinea.  Her vision and understanding of herself was altered because of what Don Quixote saw.  And then who she was itself changed because one man’s insight into who she was in her heart, in the depth of her being.  

There is a Hans Christian Andersen story about a teapot that I would like to share with you:  https://fairytalez.com/the-teapot/

Again, the vision and understanding of those around the teapot greatly influenced not only what the teapot saw of itself, but the very essence of who the teapot really was.  

Kintsukuroi is a Japanese practice in which broken pots are glued and mended together with gold to form new amazing works of art.  It is said they are much more beautiful for having been broken.  But I think it is also the case that the artist sees in their brokenness possibility: the artist sees what has not yet been made manifest and creates something even more beautiful.

An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which she carried across her neck.  One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walks from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.  For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water.  Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the stream. 'I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house.' 

The old woman smiled, 'Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side?  That's because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house.”

What helps us to be the best we can be?  Often times it is as simple as other people’s love and care.  Other people’s reflection back to us that they see something beautiful in us.  Sometimes that love and care includes gentle correction.  Not comfortable, right?  And sometimes that can help us to be the best we can be.  But I think that just as positive reinforcement is much better with our pets and our children than any kind of punishment in terms of changing behavior, the love we receive and the reflection of good that others show us help us to be the best versions of ourselves that we can be.

There is a scene in the movie Two Weeks Notice in which Sandra Bullocks character is being asked to fight for and stand up for people who have no voice.  She says she isn’t going to the planned event where this is supposed to take place.  Her father says to her, “Hey, we didn’t raise you to sit on the side lines! Ever since you were a little girl, you fought for what you believed in!” 

She responds, “What’s the point?  They aren’t going to listen to me!” 

 “Then you change your tactic, you change your argument.  You don’t give up.  We didn’t give up on civil rights, or equality for women, or fair housing.  As long as people can change, the world can change.”

“Well what if people can’t change?”

Her father, who is struggling with high cholesterol and who has been told not to eat whole milk or cream sweets anymore, takes a bite of his Tofutti- cheesecake and says, “Well, let me put it this way.  I’m sitting here eating a piece of cheesecake made entirely of soy.  And I hate it.  But I’m eating it.”

One of the greatest gifts of God in our lives is that God sees us for all of who we are, and that includes who we can be at our very best, our most whole selves, our full-potential.  God can and does envision the God-spark in you oxygenated to become the bright flame that you are meant to be.  We all have moments when that God spark hides, and we all have moments when it shines brighter.  It is not easy to live into the vision of who we can be, but we are called to try.  As many of you know, I strive to meet evil with goodness, cruelty with kindness, rage with patience and compassion.  But I can’t always do this.  Just this week I had to deal with a service center about my Fast Trak and the person on the phone was rude, snippy, crabby.  And rather than responding with compassion and kindness, I became snippy in return.  That is not who or what I choose to be.  But I know that this is a growing edge: one worth every ounce of energy I can summon.

So then, In all of this I think we are called to two things – first, to strive to see the best in the other.  This does two things – it helps others reach their potential and be the best they can be, simply by seeing in one another the person that they could be: the best that they could be.  The other thing it is is a gift to us.  We get to see God in those around us and that is an amazing gift to us: to see God working, moving, loving in and through others.  Peter, James and John were given that gift – a moment of sight in which they were able to see Jesus more fully, see more deeply into who Jesus was.  That vision, beyond their understanding and beyond their experience, scared them, but it was a gift, too.  We can have those gifts as well, of really being able to see other people, and ourselves.  We just have to keep our eyes open.  

The other thing we are called to do is to try to see that God-spark in ourselves and to strive to live into God’s vision of the best of ourselves that we can be.  I know this is not always easy.  

We are given the vision of the transfiguration: an image of Jesus seen for the best and most whole version of himself.  That image calls us to see those possibilities in ourselves and in others: of being the best and most whole we can be and are.  It’s all that easy, and all that hard.  Amen.

Becoming Christian

James 1:17-27

Mark 7:1-23

A High-School English teacher was well known for being a fair, but hard, grader.

One day Tim received a B minus on a theme paper. In hopes of bettering his grade and in the spirit of the valentine season, he sent her an extravagant heart-shaped box of chocolates with the pre-printed inscription: "Be Mine."  The following day, he received in return a valentine from the teacher. It read: "Thank you, but it's still Be Mine-Us."

Today I want to spend some time talking about education, and in particular Christian Education.  It is something we value for our kids, we value having for the kids at church, and we  value it being offered for the adults as well.  We value Christian Education as a way of growing closer to God in our faith, as a way of learning more deeply about our faith, why we believe what we do, where God has been in history and where God continues to be in our daily lives and in the lives of the community.  We value this kind of education, but I also think that we may see challenges that arise with it.  We may have questions or concerns: will our faith become more theoretical than spiritual if we study it?  Will our faith become more intellectual than emotional if we find ourselves arguing over points in Bible study or in other classes?  Will it lose its mystery, will it corrupt our unconditional faith?

Because Jesus calls us to love God with our whole beings, including our minds, we are called to study, to learn, to engage God with all of our being, including our intellect.  Additionally, James Fowler talks about stages of spiritual growth or spiritual development, and notes the importance of Education as a part of that spiritual development, part of growing and changing and moving in our faith.  Beth Liebert, who also studied spiritual development emphasizes that no matter where you are in your faith development, no matter what stage you are in, the goal is to be as close to God as you can be at that stage.  No matter what your outlook or educational level, the goal is to find new and deeper ways to relate and understand God and to be more fully and completely present with God.  But all of it, whether you are progressing through stages of spiritual development or trying to get closer to God in your present stage – both involve conscious time spent with God in activities such as prayer, Bible study, worship and Christian Education.

But Christian Education is more than just a way to engage God with your mind, it is more than an opportunity to grow deeper in faith and deeper in our understanding of God.  Christian Education is also a service opportunity for you.  What I mean is that the presence of each one of you in Christian Education classes is not just a gift to yourself of learning, and time with God.  It is also a chance to add to the learning of others, to help them deepen in their faith commitments and understandings of God.  We learn in this place not only from our “leaders” of various classes, but from each other.  We learn and grow by sharing with each other our perspectives, our differences, our thoughts and feelings and the depth of our faith. 

In a meeting with pastor colleagues, we found ourselves talking about different CE classes that we had been part of, usually in a leadership role, and universally the story of each pastor was that we, too, had grown through the classes that we taught because of the comments, the contributions and especially the questions that arose in those classes.  One pastor in particular told the story of being pushed on the question of repentance and what that really meant.  My pastor friend gave the usual pastoral answer that repentance means a changing of direction, a turning.  But he was pressed on this by class members and one in particular who said, “Well, what about when a person tries to change, genuinely wants to change, but finds themselves slipping, as we always do, back into old habits and routines, continuing to make mistakes, continuing to err, and to hurt others?”  My friend had to think about this, and he found that while he gave one answer at the time, that he believed that what God really cared most about was intention and effort, none the less, the question stuck with him.  And he found that this pushed him to spend time, more time during the week praying on this, meditating on this and yes, studying it.  And for the other members of my friends’ class as well, they found that the question itself led them, too, to reflect, but also to pray, more on the nature of sin, of repentance, of forgiveness.  This was so much the case that the following week the class ended up dumping the topic that was supposed to be covered to instead spend the time talking about what they had discovered through prayer, thought and study during the week on the topic of confession, repentance and forgiveness. 

For me personally, the lectionary group that I had in Cleveland – a group of 12 pastors that met every week to study scripture together, was an incredible time of profound learning for me.  I also found that it was a way of truly deepening my personal relationship with God (as well as with other people of faith!).  And what I learned did not ever just come from the person leading that week, but from all of us who were there each week.  When even one of us was absent, the conversation just simply was not as rich.  I miss that so very much, but found I could not replicate it in this place where schedules are so busy and tight. And that is really a sad commentary about what we value.  Our value as pastors, as “teaching elders,” should be on learning and teaching.  When we can no longer make time for the learning part… what does that say about our call and what we believe it to be, what it should be? 

Being in a class, we also can learn from ourselves.  This is more, I think, a surprise to all of us.  I want to read something to you that I wrote about my lectionary group in May of 2013.  It is very personal, it is very dear to me, but I want to share it with you because it talks about the power of being in an educational group and its ability to help us grow, even from our own thoughts, as we are given the opportunities to reflect on our lives and God’s presence and actions within them.

Gratitude for the struggles

I am part of a wonderful and amazing lectionary group - a group of 10 pastors who meet together weekly to study scripture, pray together, eat together, sometimes sing together and sometimes play together.  We are brother and sister Christians on the journey towards a deeper understanding of Christ, of God, of the Spirit and of love.  But we are also friends - people I know I can call on and count on in crisis, people I do call on and count on in crisis. We are a "house church" in the truest sense of the word, a community offering care that is not just theoretical but practical as well.  I am so deeply grateful for every single person in this group, deeply thankful for their care, their contributions to the community, their deep and abiding friendships, the gifts they give simply through their weekly presence.  Therefore, it is with a little trepidation that I say that I hope that I am not betraying confidences by reflecting a little in this public way on our group conversation this last Tuesday, which was one of those that has stuck to me, stuck with me, and continues to push on me to think, to pray, and to grow.

Our leader for the week (we all take turns leading the Bible study) as well as the other participants had much wisdom to offer on many different topics ranging from the Spirit (and our failure as Presbyterians to often give as much space and attention to this part of the trinity as we do to the other two persons), to the passage from Paul in Romans 5:1-5.  At one point in the conversation we were particularly discussing verses 3-5, "And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us."

I admit I had been very quiet that morning. This is a week of anniversaries - difficult, painful anniversaries and I am not unaffected by these.  I was even, I found, a little concerned that I might be bringing the group down with my sad energy.  But I found it more than a little interesting that the group was discussing how unhelpful it is when people tell each other that they are supposed to be grateful for their sufferings.  Comments like "everything happens for a reason" and "God never gives you more than you can handle" are not helpful. They minimize the pain we suffer, they discount our experiences in the moment.  Telling people they should be grateful for their suffering because it will produce endurance which produces character which produces hope is not, cannot be helpful.  I agree with all of this.  But then somehow it was either said or implied (or I heard it wrong, which is also possible) that people can't really be grateful for the deep traumas they endure.  And there I was, sitting in pain, sitting in grief, sitting in memories of a year ago when my children lost their father to prison, and my life radically changed as I became a single parent and sole provider for my family, for my household, a leader of a congregation without a partner to support me, sitting in memories of hurtful comments aimed my way by people who were themselves hurt by what my partner at the time had done, sitting in regrets for things that should have been or could have been done differently, sitting in loss - and from that place, from that place of pain I heard myself saying, "I am grateful for the suffering that I have endured."  Huh?  Did I just say that?  "I have deepened - in my person, in my faith, in my compassion and empathy, in my ability to understand and forgive, in my commitment to see what really is and what is not, mostly in my connection to God.  I have deepened and become more the person I want to be, the person God calls me to be, because of my struggles."  Silence.

"Okay," came the response, "but would you have said that two years ago?"

"No", I laughed.  And then, again to the surprise of myself more than anyone I added, "and yes."  Two years ago, or even two and a half years ago, there came a time when I thought I might actually crack, when I felt that maybe I was falling apart.  The world was nothing like I thought it was.  My marriage, my partner, my life, my ministry - nothing was what I thought it was.  And the things I prayed for were answered by "no" and "no" again.  Every morning I found myself just repeating the mantra, "Please, God.  Please, God!"  over and over and yet things were not getting better.  Every day brought more pain and new levels of hurt.  And yet...and yet, it was in the midst of that, in the midst of all of that, that I felt God's presence so incredibly strongly.  I felt God's arms holding me, carrying me, speaking to me of presence and love and care.  I connected with people whom I never would have connected with at such deep levels, I made friends (some for a reason, some for a season, and many for a life-time, including folk from that very group) quickly and deeply who were amazing and supportive and wonderful and who continue to shine God's light for me.  I learned who was real and true and caring (most of the people I knew and connected with, actually!) and who could not walk with me through the crisis, and I came to understand that those who could not walk with me - that too was not out of meanness, but out of their own situations and needs.  People shared with me their own sufferings at a much deeper level because they knew I would get it, and so it deepened my ministry as well.  And I developed a much, much deeper appreciation for the beauty around me in the midst of darkness.  I am much more grateful for the birds singing, the sun shining, the breeze blowing, for little gifts and kind words, open smiles and strong hugs, the presence of children in my life, play, dance, music.  I see blessings and feel blessed where I did not see them or know them or love them before.

Did I want any of this to happen?  Of course not.  In my wildest, deepest, most awful nightmares I never saw this coming and never could have imagined the pain and suffering that I would have experienced over the last two and a half years.  But it would be inaccurate to say that I am ungrateful for it.  Because God did bring gifts, God did bring life, God brought presence in a way I had never experienced before.  And while I am still a person who makes mistakes, big and little, who "sins", who hurts others,  I still see that I am becoming more fully the person God calls me to be because I have deepened through the suffering.  How could I not be grateful?

I would not say that I "boast" in my suffering.  I would not say that I "take pride" (different translation) in my problems.  But I would say that God was present through it all, that I am different because of it, that I am grateful for the struggles.  I pray the same for all of you.  I don't wish pain on you, but pain will come.  And so my prayer is that when it does, that you, too, would thrive through adversity, grow through the struggles, deepen and find gratitude in the midst of it all.

The point?  Putting ourselves in situations where learning is the goal not only teaches us through the words of others, but teaches us through our own reflections.  When we attend Christian education classes and Bible studies, we not only affect our own learning, but we add to the learning of others.  In addition, we have a greater opportunity of asking for what we need and want our Christian Education to be.  Still, very few adults in Churches do attend adult education opportunities.  And again, I find myself asking what that says about us as people of faith.

The passage that we read today from James told us, “you must be doers of the word and not only hearers who mislead themselves.  Those who hear but don’t do the word are like those who look at their faces in a mirror.  They look at themselves, walk away, and immediately forget what they were like….(others) don’t listen and then forget, but they put it into practice in their lives.  They will be blessed in whatever they do.”  Part of being Christian is growing in our faith.  We say we do that, but we are called not to just say it, but do it as well through worship, prayer and also through study.  We say that we love God with our whole hearts, souls and minds, but we are called not just to say it but to actually faithfully engage our faith with our minds as well as our hearts and souls.  What we are most in danger of forgetting when we look in the mirror is that we are beloved children of God.  That’s often what we forget.  That’s what we fail to see.  But again, study reminds us of this.  Time with God reminds us of this.  Engaging God weekly but more, daily, reminds us of this.

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life. One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education. He argued, "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?" To stress his point he said to another guest; "You're a teacher, Bonnie. Be honest. What do you make?"

Bonnie, who had a reputation for honesty and frankness replied, "You want to know what I make? (She paused for a second, then began...)

"Well, I make students work harder than they ever thought they could. I make a C+ feel like the Congressional Medal of Honor winner.  I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class time when their parents can't make them sit for 5 without an I Pod, Game Cube or movie rental.

You want to know what I make? (She paused again and looked at each and every person at the table). I make kids wonder. I make them question. I make them apologize and mean it. I make them have respect and take responsibility for their actions.  I make them care about serving other people.  They use their God given brain, and they learn that their brain was made to love and grow in understanding of God and God’s creation. I make my classroom a place where all my students feel safe and respected. Finally, I make them understand that if they use the gifts God gave them, work hard, and follow their hearts, they can succeed in life…

(Bonnie paused one last time and then continued.)

Then, when people try to judge me by what I make, with me knowing money isn’t everything, I can hold my head up high and pay no attention because. …. You want to know what I make?  I MAKE A DIFFERENCE.”

We do this for each other every time we attend a Christian Education class.  We teach each other, we learn together, we make a difference for our own faith, but also for the faith of others.  We have an opportunity to be part of making a difference for each other each time we meet together in a Bible study or an adult education class. 

Charity Vs. Empowerment OR Privilege and the Things We Take for Granted.

         I was in a situation a number of years ago where I was setting up for a church function.  I was busy running around getting things ready with a couple other people.  I had a friend with me who was visiting the church for the first time, a friend who grew up in a different socio-economic group, a friend who had been extremely poor most of their life.  This friend was sitting on the side-lines while I flitted about taking care of things, trying to get ready.
        As I worked hard to get ready for the upcoming event, I found myself really irritated by my friend's inactivity. Why were they just sitting on the sidelines rather than helping? I thought.  Is my friend just that kind of person who expects to be waited on and served by others but won't lift a finger to help? What kind of entitlement thinking and lack of caring are being demonstrated here?  This went on for some time before, in exasperagation, I finally snapped at my friend, "You know, I could really use your help here."
       My friend looked surprised.  No, it was more than surprise.  I think it might even have been a bit of shock.  They got up and did help, though the whole time my friend sort of floundered around, looking uneasy, and more, unsure of how to help or what to do.
       Later, we had an opportunity to talk about what had happened.  My friend shared with me that, until I had snapped at them, they had not felt it was their right to help.  My friend was surprised at my snapping because they had thought they were being respectful by allowing me to do what needed to be done without my friend's interference or clumsy attempts at aid.  They had felt they needed to be invited to help in this way and that until they were invited, they had better just stay out of the way.
       Then, I was in a situation in which our congregation (at my last church) was serving a meal for those staying at our church through our Family Promise program (this is a program where 3-4 families are temporarily housed in churches for a week at a time per church until they can get back on their feet).  After the meal was served, the children are organized into an activity and while the parents are present in the space, the children are really engaged in the activity with the helpers from the congregation where the families are staying.  These families are all suffering from chronic homelessness, deep poverty and lack of resources.  One of the people serving with us told me that they were baffled and concerned by the fact that the parents of these children never offered to help - either with serving their kids or helping with the kid's activities.  The parents hung back, looking uneasy, and just watched as their kids were fed and cared for in this place.  It bothered the person to whom I was speaking, who is a person used to jumping in and offering their services and help in any situation, especially when their kids are being given something for free.  But I recognized the looks on these parents' faces.  It was the same look I had seen on my friend's face when they didn't feel invited to help.
       I believe these are both examples of something we rarely acknowledge.  It is a privilege to be able to serve others.  It is a privilege to be able to help in a situation and to be seen and acknowledged as a person who gives their time and energy to help others.  
      I think at some level we know this.  When I am over at someone's house for a meal, I always offer to help clean up.  Most of the time, that help is refused.  But when it is accepted, I feel that I have been "let in" to a closer place in that person's heart, that person's home, that person's life.  We don't let guests help us.  But we do let family help us.  So at the point at which someone allows us to help them clean up, we have moved from a place of distant guest to friend, at the very least.  Our older or infirm friends also recognize this at some level.  When one of my parishioners is hurt or in the hospital, the thing they always have the most trouble accepting is help from others, especially if there is no chance of returning that help.  Those who are on the serving side of the equation feel a sense of honor, privilege and purpose in their efforts to care for the one down.  But it is hard to accept that help.  We forget that we give people a gift by allowing them to serve us: we give them the gift of feeling useful, of having activities that are meaningful, of giving something really needed to us.
       We see the truth in these things, but still, it can be hard to remember that service is a privilege.  It can be even harder to understand that those who have very little, the underprivileged, the marginalized, the ostracized, the disempowered - that many of these people do not know they have the right to help, to serve others, to give back.  They have been told by our society in so many ways that they have nothing to contribute, that their very existence is suspect.  They are treated as an "under-class" - as lesser than.  And one of the surest signs that they have internalized that is that they do not know they have the right to give, to serve, or to help, even when those receiving aid are their own children.
      We believe that when we are giving something to another person, whether it be goods or services, that their response should be one of gratitude.  But the reality is that it can be really disempowering to serve people without letting them give something back in return.  When I was volunteering with a homeless chaplaincy in Berkeley during my college years, one of the local soup kitchens understood this so fully that they charged those coming to the soup kitchen a quarter per meal.  A quarter was not hard to come by (and the reality was that if someone really couldn't come up with a quarter, they would still be fed!), but the difference in how it made people feel was extraordinary.  The guests went from feeling that they were "charity cases" (that very term and the way we use it says a great deal about how people experience both sides of our one-sided acts of charity!!!) to feeling that they were people contributing to their own well-being.  They were purchasing their meals.  They KNEW that they were purchasing their own meals.  They were not helpless, hopeless charity cases.  They were empowered people who were buying their own food.  And as a result of that, they also felt empowered to act on their own behalves in other ways.  Many began to volunteer themselves serving food at the soup kitchen.  It became a community of people working and serving one another.
       I believe we would do well to offer more invitations to people to be able to work with us in serving one another.  We should invite those being served to be on the boards of the programs that serve them.  We should invite those being served to stand with us and help us to serve.  We should invite their thoughts, their opinions, but also their hands and their abilities in our joint missions of service to one another.
      But perhaps more to the point in this blog, I hope that we can strive, all of us, to remember when someone is NOT helping or not serving alongside us that this may say more about their lack of a sense of being worthy to serve.  They may not be helping because they don't realize they are worth enough to be able to help.  Sometimes charity, and especially the charity that leaves no room for those receiving it to give back, leaves those receiving feeling worse about themselves than they already did. This may be a different approach, a different understanding for us to try to remember.  But it is one more time when we are summoned to put ourselves in another person's shoes.  We who have been born into privileged places in society, where we have enough, where we can be what and who we want to be - we sometimes forget that we are privileged in more ways than we often know, recognize, or remember.  Being able to serve and give to others is a gift of privilege.  We would do well to remember that.  So I say it once more:
      It is a privilege to serve.  It is a gift to be able to give.  We honor the other by inviting their service and their giving as well.  

Saving Face

Mark 6:1-29

               In the book and movie, “The Help” we meet a young woman, Elizabeth, who is really a child trying to be an adult.  She has a young daughter whom she doesn’t actually like and to whom she is truly unkind.  Her “help”, Aibileen, cares for her daughter instead, so much so that the young, two-year-old daughter even says to Aibileen at one point, “you’re my real mama.”  But the young mother has other problems as well, and one of those is that she desperately wants to be loved and valued by her friend, Hilly, who is bossy, pushy, demanding and the clear leader of her group.  So when Hilly insists that Elizabeth fire Aibileen (or rather when Hilly herself fires Aibileen), even though Elizabeth knows it is wrong, knows that it will only hurt both her daughter and herself, knows that she cannot possibly care for her daughter on her own, she allows Hilly to act, she allows Hilly to fire the only person who ever cared for her daughter at all. 

               This is mirrored in the book by another situation.  The mother of the main character has had a helper the entire life of her adult daughter.  Constantine raised the main character, loved her, made her the person that she is.  But when the mother has a racist but highly respected member of her community at the house for lunch, and the community member is aghast at the place Constantine has in the family, she too is fired.  The main character’s mother “saved face” by allowing the unthinkable, unacceptable, and unjust result of losing a valued member of her own family because she could not bare the judgement of another person, a person she respected.

               This is similar to the story we heard in Mark today.  Herod had made a promise, a really stupid, impulse promise or oath.    And so when it comes down to a choice between honoring a promise in order to save face in front of his guests, or sparing a man’s life – and not just any man, but a man he actually valued and respected,  Herod chose to save face. 

               We get confused about what is truly important.  We think that the promises we make are sacred, and they are.  But the relationships we have with people are MORE sacred.  The choice to love and to have compassion and to care for ALL people, that is much, much MORE sacred.

I’m reminded of a story in which a holy man was meditating beneath a tree at the crossing of two roads. His meditation was interrupted by a young man running frantically down the road toward him. “Help me,” the young man pleaded. “A man has wrongly accused me of stealing. He is pursuing me with a great crowd of people. If they catch me, they will chop off my hands.” The young man climbed the tree beneath which the sage had been meditating and hid himself in the branches. “Please don’t tell them where I am hiding,” he begged. The holy man saw with the clear vision of a saint that the young man was telling him the truth. The lad was not a thief. A few moments later, the crowd of villagers approached, and the leader asked, “Have you seen a young man run by here?” Many years earlier, the holy man had taken a vow to always speak the truth, so he said that he had. “Where did he go?” the leader asked. The holy man did not want to betray the innocent young man, but his vow was sacred to him. He pointed up into the tree. The villagers dragged the young man out of the tree and chopped off his hands. When the holy man died and stood before Judgment, he was condemned for his behavior in regard to the unfortunate young man. “But,” he protested, “I had made a holy vow to speak only the truth. I was bound to act as I did.” “On that day,” came the reply, “you loved vanity more than virtue. It was not for virtue’s sake that you delivered the innocent man over to his persecutors, but to preserve a vain image of yourself as a virtuous person.”

Again, we see this with Herod.  He, too, had an innocent man killed because he’d made a stupid, stupid promise.  He did not expect it to be taken to such an extreme.  But he followed through on his promise because saving face, keeping his oath, was more important to him than another human’s life.  He could justify this to himself by declaring that the law required that he fulfill his oaths.  And it did.  Lev 19:12 reads: You must not swear falsely by my name, desecrating your God’s name in doing so; I am the Lord.” Num 30:2 says, “When a man makes a solemn promise to the Lord or swears a solemn pledge of binding obligation for himself, he cannot break his word. He must do everything he said.” And Deut 23:21 says “When you make a promise to the Lord your God, don’t put off making good on it, because the Lord your God will certainly be expecting it from you; delaying would make you guilty.”  But Herod used the law, he used the law as an excuse and as a justification to do evil. 

Jesus behaves in great contrast to Herod, to the monk in my story, to the examples I gave from the Help.  Jesus, in contrast, breaks laws, and even the ten commandments, when to follow those laws would be to act unjustly. For example, one of the ten commandments was about not breaking the Sabbath but Jesus broke it, again and again when a relationship, when a human being’s well-being was at stake.  He picked grain on the sabbath, he healed on the Sabbath.  He made it so clear, again and again, where the priorities had to be.  And he commanded us not to do the stupid things that would put us in that bind between fulfilling the law and caring for one another because he knew we were not strong, that we get confused and that it is easier for us to follow laws than to obey the ultimate law of love.  He knew that we would twist the rules and use them to harm others.  As Jesus himself said, “The Sabbath was made for humans, not humans for the Sabbath.”  The Law was made as a guide to help us live lives of love.  But we twist is, as we see done again and again. 

               People call Christians Hypocrites.  They do this because they see, clearer than we do in the midst of our bad choices, that we fail to follow the ultimate law of love.  Jesus calls us to love.  But Christians often get so caught up in following the letter of the law that they use it to bully, harm, hurt, kill and destroy other humans. 

               So Jesus tried to explain, again and again, “You have heard it said,” he said and then he would quote a law.  (all in Matthew 5).  Jesus understood our inability to discern when faced with conflicting values and conflicting needs in a situation.  He tried to prevent some of those by increasing the call, the need, for a disciplined observance in these situations. 

“You have heard that it was said, An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.  But I say to you that you must not oppose those who want to hurt you. If people slap you on your right cheek, you must turn the left cheek to them as well.  When they wish to haul you to court and take your shirt, let them have your coat too.  When they force you to go one mile, go with them two.  Give to those who ask, and don’t refuse those who wish to borrow from you.”  This is an attempt to stop our revenge actions, our justifications of harm towards others with the excuse that “they started it first”.

 “You have heard that it was said, You must love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who harass you so that you will be acting as children of your Father who is in heaven. He makes the sun rise on both the evil and the good and sends rain on both the righteous and the unrighteous.  If you love only those who love you, what reward do you have? Don’t even the tax collectors do the same?  And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing? Don’t even the Gentiles do the same?  Therefore, just as your heavenly Father is complete in showing love to everyone, so also you must be complete.”  Here, too, Jesus takes a law that was just but has been used to harm and expands it so we will NOT be confused about who we are supposed to care for: ALL people.

And then the one that applies most to today: “Again - you have heard that it was said to those who lived long ago: Don’t make a false solemn pledge, but you should follow through on what you have pledged to the Lord.  But I say to you that you must not pledge at all. You must not pledge by heaven, because it’s God’s throne.  You must not pledge by the earth, because it’s God’s footstool. You must not pledge by Jerusalem, because it’s the city of the great king.  And you must not pledge by your head, because you can’t turn one hair white or black.  Let your yes mean yes, and your no mean no. Anything more than this comes from the evil one.” 

He challenged the laws written in this book to say that we are called to LOVE, to go beyond the letter of these laws and move into love. 

I think about the musical Les Miserables.  The police officer in the musical was technically right in having no compassion for the man Jean Valjean who had stolen a loaf of bread to feed his starving sister and her son.  He was technically right in following the law when he pursued Jean Valjean after other minor infractions of his parole.  He was technically right, legally right.  But he was  wrong in every way when we come to understand the laws of God.  The LAW, the one and only LAW is the law of love.  And his actions were anything BUT loving.

None of this is easy.  And it is especially hard when it means that we might lose face as Herod would have done in today’s story if he had gone back on his promise.

There is another story: A long ago time ago in the hills of Quong Zu province, there once lived a revered old monk who was a master of Zen Buddhism. One day he decided that he would make a pilgrimage to a neighboring monastery, and not wishing to make the journey alone, he decided to take along one of his young disciples. They started their journey early the next morning and in the true spirit of Zen each walked along engrossed in his own thoughts, and so they journeyed for many hours without speaking. By mid-day they had come to a small stream and it was here that they noticed a young girl dressed in fine silk, obviously contemplating how best to cross the stream without getting her precious clothes wet. Immediately the old monk walked over to the young girl and in one smooth motion, he picked her up in his arms and walked out into the stream, then after carrying her safely to the other side, he gently put her down and walked on without having said a single word.

His disciple having watched this whole incident was in a state of complete shock, for he knew it was strictly forbidden for a monk to come into physical contact with another person. Quickly, he too crossed the stream, and then ran to catch up with his master, and together they once again walked on in silence. Finally at sunset they made camp and settled down for the night.

The next morning after prayers and meditation the old monk and his disciple once again continued their journey, once again in silence. After many miles, and no longer able to contain his curiosity, the disciple called to his master and said,

"Master may I ask you a question" ?

 "Of course, you may" his master replied, "knowledge comes to those who seek it".

 Respectfully his disciple said, "Yesterday I saw you break one of our most sacred vows when you picked up that young girl and carried her across the stream. How could you do such a thing"?

 His master replied, "That is true, and you are right it is something I should not have done, but you are as guilty as I am" .

 "How so" asked his disciple, "for it was you who carried her across the stream not I" ?

 "I know" replied his master, "but at least on the other side I put her down. You, however, are obviously still carrying her".

But again, for me the decision is bigger than this.  It is not just about breaking an oath.  It is about recognizing that the over-arching law is the one of love.  When we see a situation in which we are called to offer care, that care and the law to do whatever it takes to offer that care, must supersede any other law.  That’s the bottom line, always.  We are called to love.  It’s all that easy.  And it’s all that hard.

Be Quick to Love and Make Haste to be Kind

Psalm 131
Mark 5:21-43

               “Your daughter has died.  Why bother the teacher any longer” they said to Jairus.  Over and over, people were told not to bother Jesus.  The children were told to go away, others who were “less desirable” were told to go away.  Jesus was important, you see.  And the disciples didn’t want him bothered with those who were “beneath” him.  

               We rank people.  All of us do.  I went to visit a parishioner, years ago, who was in an extended care facility and when I walked into the room, I saw an older person in a wheelchair sitting next to the parishioner.  I went in and joined the conversation because I assumed that she was either a family member, or maybe another patient who had wandered in to talk.  I felt okay entering their group for a few minutes as long as I could “rank” them in this way.  But when it turned out that she was actually the physical therapist, then I felt that I had imposed on her time.  And I excused myself.  She “ranked higher” as one of the staff at the hospital, and my time with the patient took a back seat.  But as I left, it caused me to think for a few minutes about how I rank people.  I experienced this from the other side when, at my last church, we worked in a program similar to Winter Nights in which we housed four families at our church for a period of time each year.  I would never tell our guests that I was the pastor there because when they found out, they treated me differently.  And while that different treatment tended to be greater respect, I still didn’t want that.  Life sometimes separates us into the haves and have-nots, but the reality is that we are all children of God.  My being the pastor of that church, and someone with a home and income did not make me “better” or more worthy of respect, attention, or care than any of the guests or helpers who were there.  And that singling out, that difference in treatment made me uneasy.  Again, we are all children of God.  I am not more deserving of respect because of my status.  They are not less deserving of respect simply because they are in need of help.  Another pastor friend of mine told me of a time when he was mopping the floor in the church kitchen when several of the church deacons came in.  “Oh no, pastor!  That is not for YOU to do!” they exclaimed, again with the same “You are too good for this work!” attitude, one he worked actively to eradicate, but one that was extremely hard to stamp out.  I was part of an Ecumenical pastor’s group in Ohio which worked extremely well together: we did many mission activities and started new food programs and children and youth programs together.  We supported each other and worked well together, but at one of our meetings, one of the other pastors commented that in another ministerial group of which he had been a part, there had often been a lot of “posturing” between the pastors.  We should all have the humility to see that we are all children of God.  That posturing is an arrogance that is unbefitting to those who would serve God. 

               To quote JK Rowling, “If you want to know what a person is like, take a good look at how they treat their inferiors, not their equals.”

Connie Schultz echoes that in her article, “The Real Gift of Doing Unto Others” (Life Happens, New York: Random House, 2006).  She wrote, “My mother didn’t have a lot of advice for her three daughters when it came to men, but her one cautionary note rang with the clarity of church bells: Don’t marry him until you see how he treats the waitress….  How they wore… advantages, she said, would reveal their character.  Anyone who mistreated subordinates was a bully and a bore…. We were expected to use our best manners with every waitress, housekeeper, bellhop, parking lot attendant, mechanic, salesclerk – anybody who waited on us or someone else for a living…. Her rules were simple and intractable: Make eye contact.  Smile at them and call them ‘ma’am’ or ‘sir’.  Thank them for their help.  If they’re gumpy, don’t yell at them.  Instead, tilt your head just so and say, ‘You must be having a bad day.’  And never, ever rob them of their dignity….Do we know the names of the servers in our company cafeteria, the person who keeps the washrooms clean, the security guard who nods hello to us day in and day out?  When is the last time we asked the clerk at the dry cleaners how her family is doing?  Have we ever?  How often do we greet a weary cashier with a loud, disgusted sigh?  … We won’t change the world by smiling and asking how they’re holding up, but if you doubt for a moment your kindness makes a difference, let me tell you one more story about my mom.  She never held elected office, was never a company president or in charge of anyone other than her own four kids.  But when she died, more than eight hundred people showed up for her calling hours.  I heard tender stories about my mom from almost all of them.  I met the hairdresser…, the clerk.. at the corner market, the man who rotated her tires, the seamstress who hemmed her pants.”

At another church where I served, the members were intimately involved with a program that served the homeless.  Through our work and through our time with the homeless people in our community, we developed a very close relationship with one homeless man in particular.  This man was very loving, very giving, very caring.  He began attending our church and when he did so, he offered to run our sound system, he helped with the gardening, and he was always on hand to help us in any way.  He was not unintelligent, but he was a severe alcoholic who could not seem to get through the disease to a place where he could give up drinking.  He would give it up for a week or two and then something would happen and he would be drinking again.  We saw him fight for his life against this disease and we saw him losing the battle.  At one point in our relationship with “George”, his drinking led him to fall and to hit his head very seriously on the street.  The police found him hours later and took him to the local hospital.  His injuries, especially to his brain, were very serious and he was admitted for long term hospitalization and rehabilitation.  However, when the nurses and doctors at the hospital came to understand that he was a homeless, jobless, resource-less man, they gave up caring for him.  He remained at the hospital for quite a while, because he was unable to walk a straight line, he could not speak clearly and had very little control over his movements.  But in large part he was at the hospital for so long because they would not provide the care to get him to a place where they could discharge him.  The only time that “George” received any attention – the only time he would be brought his meals even – was when one of us was there to insist on it.  This was a “Christian” hospital, and the doctors and nurses who were hired to work there were people of faith.  But they did not see the contradiction in their faith when they ranked people and served them according to their resources, rather than according to their needs. 

This is NOT how Jesus acted.  And it is not what Jesus calls us to do.  Despite the reaction of those around him, including his disciples, Jesus found time to be present with “the least of these” every time.  He gave of his healing, of his energy, of his attention, even to those who didn’t somehow “rank” or “deserve” it. 

As you know, I often end with the “Life is short.  And we have little time with which to grace the lives of those with whom we travel.  So be quick to love. And make haste to be kind.”  To me these are not just words to be said.  They are words to live by.  Micah 6:8 says, “What does the Lord require of you?  To do justice, to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God.”  And Jesus shows us this again and again.  He was kind to people, no matter who they were, no matter what their education or resources or position, or abilities or gifts or personalities even.  He was kind and loving. 

So, what does that look like, then, practically?  First, I think, like Jesus, we are called to offer the gifts we have even to those who are “undeserving”.  Jairus and his daughter and the women with the hemorrhage may not have deserved Jesus’ healing.  We don’t know if they were “deserving” or not.  Scripture doesn’t spend any time telling us about their rank or their position except to point out that Jesus served even those others rejected.  We never hear of Jesus asking people about their backgrounds or their positions.  He offered the gifts he had, of healing, of attention, of wisdom, of guidance, of teaching, to all of them despite what he knew or didn’t know about whether or not they deserved it.  We are called to do the same.  What are your gifts?  What are your resources?  To whom do you offer them?  If you have the gift of music, do you play for those who can’t afford the cost of a ticket to come see you perform?  If you have the gift of resources, do you share them with those who have less?  If you have the gift of healing, do you offer to heal even those who can’t pay the usual doctor’s fee? 

Another way that we can strive to be kind is with our words.  I love the acronym THINK when it comes to speaking. 

Is it True

Is it Helpful

Is it Inspiring

Is it Necessary

AND Is it Kind.

Sometimes we can get stuck at the “it is true” and forget to consider these other things when we speak.  But there is another helpful saying too, “Given the choice between being right and being kind, choose to be kind.”  Of course we don’t want to lie, but there are other important reasons to filter what we say, to phrase what we have to say with grace and compassion, and even to refrain from speaking at all.  Is what we have to say helpful?  Is it necessary?  And again, is it kind?  It is not necessary to say every thought that goes through our heads.  But sometimes I think we get so stuck on the “is it true” that we forget that we don’t have to say things that aren’t kind, helpful, and necessary.  (And inspiring?  How much of what we say is actually INSPIRING?). 

               We act with kindness when we truly look at people, all people.  We are kind by listening to people, all people.  We are kind by offering our gifts to people, despite who they are and how they rank.  We are kind with our words, and we are kind with our caring.  And my experience is that when we are kind, we often find that the love follows when it wasn’t there to begin with.  Our kindness leads us to care more deeply.  And our caring leads us to be more truly kind. 

               In case you are unsure about this, kindness deeply matters.  A friend of mine shared a story with me this last week that his great grandfather had been very poor for a time and had had to move very often.  He often was reduced to having very few possessions at all, just what he could fit in a wagon or, as an adult, in a small car.  None the less, when he died, they found within his possessions a box of letters written to him by his Sunday school teacher – words of kindness, words of care, words of compassion that he had carried with him through all the downsizing, through all the moves, through all the poverty.  He carried these letters because they were so valuable to him.  Those words of kindness and care were that important.

               I think about the story, Wonder, (R.J. Palacio. New York: Alfred A Knopf, 2012) which is at heart really a story all about kindness.  In the last chapter, the principal of the school where the story takes place says this, “Shall we make a new rule of life… always to try to be a little kinder than is necessary?...  What a marvelous line, isn’t it?  Kinder than is necessary.  Because it’s not enough to be kind.  One should be kinder than needed.  Why I love that line, that concept, is that it reminds me that we carry with us, as human beings, not just the capacity to be kind, but the very choice of kindness.  And what does that mean? … How do we know we’ve been kind?  What is being kind, anyway?... In Under the Eye of the Clock, by Christopher Nolan, the main character is a young man who is facing some extraordinary challenges.  There’s this one part where someone helps him: a kid in his class.  On the surface, it’s a small gesture.  But to this young man, whose name is Joseph, it’s… well, if you’ll permit me… ‘It was at moments such as these that Joseph recognized the face of God in human form.  It glimmered in their kindness to him, it glowed in their keenness, it hinted in their caring, indeed it caressed in their gaze.’  … Such a simple thing, kindness.  Such a simple thing.  A nice word of encouragement given when needed.  An act of friendship.  A passing smile…  If every single person in this room made it a rule that wherever you are, whenever you can, you will try to act a little kinder than is necessary – the world really would be a better pace.  And if you do this, if you act just a little kinder than is necessary, someone else, somewhere,, someday, may recognize in you, in every single one of you, the face of God.” (p 300).

               You are a wonderfully kind community.  But we are always called to deepen, to grow, and to be more fully and deeply kind and loving, to all we encounter.  Amen.