How We Communicate... or Lessons in Vulnerability

    I've been thinking about what we communicate without intending to do so... what we say with our words, our tones, our facial expressions that leave people with impressions other than what we'd hoped or planned.  

    I see the difficulty in communicating that happens between other people all the time.  Most of the time when people are offended or upset, it is usually a misunderstanding of what the other has said: there has been a miscommunication.  To say it another way, what was intended to be communicated was not what was actually communicated.  This is why one of the counseling tools I've often used when couples come into my office is just to ask each person to tell the other what they have heard the other say.  Most of the time, it is not what the first person was trying to communicate.  This is more true when people are having conflict.  What you hear when you are already upset tends to be skewed in the direction of your upset.  We give each other more grace when we are happy in a relationship of any kind and therefore if we aren't sure what the other is communicating, we are more likely to ask.  We are also more likely to assume the best intentions of the other when things are going well.  

    But lately as I've thought about this, I've been taking it to a more personal place.  What I mean is that it can be difficult to see what it is we are communicating.  And if others aren't clear with us about what they are seeing or hearing, we often don't realize what we are communicating that was unintentional or even the opposite of what we are trying to say.

    Recently I was told that there is a disconnect between the way I write and the way I present myself at my job.  If I understood the person correctly, in my job I come across as competent and capable, but in my writing I come across as broken and hurting. I have to be honest and say this was surprising to me: VERY surprising to me. I write about what I have experienced as a way to connect life lessons to real stories.  I write about what I am experiencing as a way to connect with others' stories and experiences so that we can all grow together.  I always end my posts with hope, with lessons, with the gifts of each day.  But that is not what is coming across.    

    So, let me be clear: I am not "hurting" or "broken" except in the ways that all humans are.  We all have challenges or traumas we work on, deal with, and grow from. And while I have been choosing to share those, it is from a place of strength that I can be vulnerable and open in my sharing. I have lived through many things that have been incredibly difficult.  Whatever I experience now cannot possibly compare to those things, and I came through those times with strength and courage.  I do the same now: I am resilient and I know how to take care of myself.  I also know where there are resources if I need more help and I'm not afraid to ask for help.  Again I share my own journey as a way to help others learn the lessons and find the hope that I find.  I am not, ever, asking to be fixed.  Nor am I asking for sympathy or pity.  I am certainly not wanting people to be concerned or to feel they have to walk on eggshells around me. 

    Henri Nouwen talks about there being, in general, two kinds of pastors.  The traditional pastor is distant, removed, and appears, as apparently I do in person, as competent and capable.  The other is a "wounded healer": someone who shows their vulnerability and wounds as a way to be more accessible, but also as a way of communicating that they, too, are human and understand the pain that those around us experience. I have always tried to be transparent because I cannot relate to the distant traditional pastor and therefore have never wanted to be that. 

    Nonetheless, I learned early in my ministry not to use my personal stories in sermons unless they were resolved.  I use stories of past injury or past struggle as a way to present that honest but human "wounded healer."  I learned early on that I cannot share current stories or people will feel they need to step in, to fix me, to "help" me.  That's not an appropriate role for parishioners, so I don't share current struggles in sermons unless, again, they are resolved.  But I felt that, if I could make it clear in my blog that I was not asking for help and that I found hope and goodness and lessons for the journey in the daily struggles, that I could be more current in my writing, present a more authentic "wounded healer" who is on the journey of life as you all are.  

    I realize now though, that I can't, though I feel very sad about this.  Like the lesson I learned early on about not preaching current struggles since they would be misunderstood and distracting, I hear now that there are parishioners who read my blog in this public place and when they are about my current challenges, that my words are, again, often misunderstood and distracting for people; causing worry rather than inviting people to reflect on their own lives and to see both the lessons and the hopes that their own circumstances and situations share in common with my own life walk.  

    I am writing about this here for two reasons: first, to say that I will work to omit current challenges from my blog.  But secondly, I would like to challenge those who read my blog, have read it, continue to read it, to do two things.  First, I encourage you to read more closely.  Again, my intention is to share in a way that we all understand we walk this journey called "life" together, that there are lessons we all learn on the way, and there are experiences we can relate to our own lives in ways that help us to reflect and grow as well.  And that leads me to my second request: rather than focusing on me when you read my writings, I invite you to take it into a place of self-reflection to see where you, too, have similar experiences and how my own words might touch your own lives.  Most of the feedback or comments I receive on my blog have been from those who do exactly that.  And for that I am grateful.  

    As I always do, then, I choose to end this blog with the lessons learned and the hope I carry forward.  The lesson for me is one of paying more attention to the needs of those with whom I interact: in this case, the needs of my parishioners who read my blog.  The lesson for my readers, I hope, is also one of paying more attention: reading more carefully for the lessons, the gifts and the hopes in what they read, and applying it to their own lives.  The hope, then, is that we can grow together, as the hope for me always is.  That we can learn a way to be, even in this blog space, that is not upsetting or hurtful, but is still honest and vulnerable.  For again, the greatest strength is not found in protective walls, but rather in honest vulnerability.   

"I'm just being honest"

     I love that phrase, "I'm just being honest."  I equally love the phrase, "I'm just speaking my truth".  Please note the heavy sarcasm in my comments.  These are two phrases that are used to justify cruelty.  Somehow, as a culture, we believe that honesty and the integrity of being one's genuine self are acceptable excuses for truly unkind, hurtful words.  But really, are they?

    It's not that people don't need feedback.  And it's not that people don't need to hear hard truths.  We all can grow, we all can learn, we all have blind spots in our self-understanding that mean that the constructive feedback of others can help us move forward on our journeys.  Seeing things in a new way, learning how things we have been part of or have done might have caused damage: these are important lessons for all of us.  But please notice that I used the word "constructive" when I talked about feedback.  Attacking someone's personality or saying things in a way that is simply negative is not constructive.  Those comments are seldom truly heard in a way that can communicate something helpful to a person and it is extremely rare that a person can grow from mean comments.  There are ways we can communicate truths that do help people to grow, to learn, and to move.  

    Bottom line: when people say "I'm just being honest" or "I'm just speaking my truth" what I now hear is "I am being lazy" - too lazy to think through a positive, constructive, or helpful way of giving feedback or speaking truth.  There are always ways to communicate that are equally honest, but are not cruel, generalizing, vague or violent.  While it may take work to figure out how to say those things, that work is worth the effort if it actually has a chance of communicating something helpful, something important, and something that is not just inflammatory or destructive.  Cruel words are damaging, not "honest".  

    I struggle to understand, truly, why people do say those mean things.  Do they not see that this reflects much more on themself, on the kind of person they are choosing to be, than on the one they are attacking?  Do they not understand that when people hear meanness coming from someone, they are much less likely to trust and value the person expressing the cruelty than they are to then see the one who has been attacked in a negative way?  

    Unfortunately, I guess this is not universal.  I did hear someone recently extol the "loyalty" of another person, who then went on to describe that loyalty as manifesting in the attacking and unkind words they spoke to another person that they both didn't like.  I found myself staring at the one telling me of the "loyalty" of the other, wondering how long it would take them to realize that someone who is unkind is someone who is unkind.  While that person's unkindness was directed at another in this instant, how long will it take for that unkindness to circle around to the one praising it at that moment?  Not long.  Never long.  

    So, to take my own advice here, I don't want to just stay in the "attack" but also want to offer other ways we can express our truths that might be more helpful.  Using "I" phrases is always a good start.  "I feel x when you do y because of z".  "When x happened, I felt y because of z."  Those are good starts.  Wondering is also helpful, "I'm wondering about this thing over here that happened.  Can you tell me more what you were hoping for/working towards/expecting when you said or did x?"  "I'm wondering how it felt to say x?  I'm wondering what happened that led to this?"  We can learn to address specific events rather than globalizing.  Instead of "Why do you ALWAYS..." we can say, "I'm thinking about what just happened and wondering if you can tell me more about it from your perspective."  "I noticed that Saturday when Naomi said x, you responded with y and I'm wondering what that was about for you."

    I understand that sometimes these things feel contrived.  But isn't it better to work on learning to communicate in helpful ways?  It may take practice, but we can learn and then it will become second nature and not feel contrived anymore.

    I write this to myself as well.  I am currently wondering what led that person to use that phrase, "I'm just being honest." And I'm feeling sad that I heard it yet again because it triggered for me memories of when, as a child, another child used that as an excuse to say unspeakably cruel things.  I wonder what they were hoping to communicate.  And I'm hoping that I can learn more from the underlying beliefs and ideas when I am able to ask deeper questions.  

    One step at a time, here.  One step at a time.

A New Day Is Coming - Pentecost Sermon

 Galatians 4:1-7

Luke 11:11-13

Acts 2:1-4

            Today we once again have this amazing story that we hear every year about Pentecost.  And while it is really only four verses that we hear today, I want to start by once again doing a bit of a word study.  What I read to you today said “they were all together in one place”.  The word translated as “all together” has much deeper meaning than just “being together in one place.  It means more, “they were in one accord” in that place, or they “shared the same ardor, heat or passion”.  In other words, they weren’t just in the same place physically, but also mentally and more importantly, spiritually.  This passage follows the last time they have just seen Jesus.  They have seen him, Jesus has declared to them that the Holy Spirit will be coming upon them, Jesus has left them, they have travelled to Jerusalem, picked the disciple to replace Judas and now they are gathered together in a spirit of prayer and commitment when the Holy Spirit descends upon them. 

           Later in Acts, as we heard in our last month’s study of Acts, that this time is followed by many, many conflicts, and disagreements about who they are to be, who and what the church is and what it will and should do.  But that is not where they are here.  Here it began, with this moment of deep oneness, connection, and excitement about who they were and what they were called to do.  They understood their mission and they were about to begin it. 

            It is often in that space when we are most closely connected, most deeply aligned, excited about starting something new in which we experience the Spirit.  Note once again that this Spirit is not experienced by people alone here.  It comes to them when they are in community and worshiping, praying together.  These are not individualistic experiences.  They are experiences in community, in one-ness, in ardor.  And again, it happens at the beginning, in their excitement and passion about their work.

            As my lectionary group discussed this passage this week some of the pastors in our group talked about beginning congregations, being the start-up pastors for new churches and that in that excitement and spirit of passionate unity, they, too had group experiences of deep and profound movement of the Holy Spirit in their midst.  Everyone was working together towards one goal, the startup of the particular congregation, and the intensity of prayer and commitment often brought about these deep moments of sensing God’s presence in their midst, of feeling the Spirit guiding, shaping, encouraging their work.  But these wonderful and intense highs of the Spirit’s calling, the Spirit’s movement don’t usually last.  They are mountain top experiences of deep and profound joy, wonder, awe that quickly end up forgotten when conflicts arise, when differences of opinion show up.

            They shared that often those mountain top highs of sensing the Spirit can come back during a new pastor search or at the beginning of a new pastorate.  Then you have the “honeymoon” stage for a while, but that too wears off after a time.  And then those moments become harder to find.  But Holy Spirit moments do not have to be big events.  They don’t have to be big highs.  They are just moments when we rest in God, moments when we feel God’s presence, moments when we remember our deep connections to God, and through God to one another.  Holy Spirit moments are times when we are able to put aside our differences and to be united as one body, connected to God and one another.  All were connected, all were united under this Spirit.

            Today’s passage from Galatians is an extension of Pentecost.  To remind you of what we read, Paul writes about the facts of Roman society at the time.  “As long as the heir is a minor, he has no advantage over the slave.  Though legally he owns the inheritance, he can’t claim it until he is officially an “adult”, an age set by a father.  But when they become legal adults, they can claim their inheritance.  Paul says that in a similar way, in grace we have now been set free as adults, able to experience the heritage which God has prepared for us.  We are fully adopted as God’s heirs now.  That once the Spirit was received, we were made full adults, no longer slaves but full children, heirs.  This, too, then is a statement of inclusion and full heirs/adults.  Acts 10 tells us that God has no partiality.  As we read last week from Galatians 3, Paul tells us the walls no longer mean anything.  In Christ there is no Jew nor Greek, male nor female, etc, etc.  Inclusion is no longer limited by walls that need to be broken down.  That Pentecost passion includes everyone, which is why everyone can now understand each other even across differences in language.  That is what Pentecost is about. 

            But we struggle in our regular times, in our down times, when our passion and excitement for our faith, our church, are low.  And much of this struggle begins with the fact that we just don’t hear each other.  We just don’t understand one another.  I thought about starting this sermon with the words, “Hola!  Como Estan?  Estan felices ahora?  ¿Qual día es hoy en la iglesia?”  I know some of you would understand, but some wouldn’t. 

Still, we don’t even have to be speaking different languages to fail to understand one another.  One of my lectionary friends told us that when his son was little, their car broke down and they had to have it towed.  He told his son that he would soon get to see the car towed.  But when the tow man showed up to tow the car, the son was very confused and said, “where’s the car toad?  I want to see the car toad!” thinking that there would be a toad hopping around.  I remember when I was a child being told that the world was round.  I kept looking up to see the people on the other side of the world because I thought we were all on the INSIDE, rather than the outside of the earth.   

When we speak different languages, we can look it up in a dictionary when we don’t understand.  But idiomatic phrases still make it hard to understand each other.  Phrases like “don’t have a cow!”  or  “it’s raining cats and dogs”.  What are some of your favorite idiomatic expressions?  I used one the other day that was so familiar to me but that my children said they had never heard before and didn’t know what it meant.  “a Tempest in a teacup”

We also have trouble because we don’t communicate well.  I can’t tell you how many times people have made to me extremely vague unhelpful comments that communicate absolutely nothing.  “It isn’t like that” they will say.  “It isn’t like what?” I will ask.  “It just isn’t like THAT!” they will insist.  “Tell me what it is like?” I will push.  “Not like THAT.” They will say. 

But even more than poor communication, we struggle as a people to listen.  We don’t reflect back to check things out, we don’t ask clarifying questions.  But even more than all of this, we plan our responses while we are listening rather than just listening.  I’ve found this to be especially true in the Bay Area in which we talk so fast that there is no time for listening, for giving space to truly hear and THEN to form our responses.  I’ve shared this with you before but when David and I first met we struggled a bit with communication because he doesn’t listen in this terrible way.  He actually listens to hear.  Then he pauses to determine his response.  Because I was used to the pace of communication here, I would assume he wasn’t going to respond at all when he took the time to respond.  We’ve both learned: but I fear his learning has been in the negative direction of realizing he has to jump in more quickly rather than what he used to do in order to stay in the conversation.

We are divided.  And we make that so much worse than it needs to be.

            When I was in Cleveland there was a music group formed called “Elders of Jazz”.  These were “elders” in two senses of the word: they were all Presbyterian elders (ruling and teaching elders) from different Presbyterian congregations in the area.  They were also all retired, so “elder” in that sense too.  They served together, going around to different congregations with offerings of Jazz music for a Sunday.  However, at one point the founding church had a strong disagreement with the Presbytery.  That disagreement started with a theological difference, but moved then into the church withdrawing from the Presbytery and arguing with the Presbytery over the cost of doing so (as you know, our churches are owned by the Presbytery, not by the congregation, so when a church leaves the denomination, they are required to buy their building and grounds form the Presbytery).  This created a rift.  There was no longer a place for them to meet, to practice.  There was no longer common ground for them to be a united “elders of jazz”.  But they had the vision to see that disputes are temporary if we trust in the Spirit.  And that God’s call to be united in Christ extends beyond our differences and our diversity.  So they put a statement together for the Presbytery that said, “We currently are not meeting, but we are still in existence and waiting for the Spirit to unify us once again.”  With that attitude, they were, indeed unified once again, despite their differences and despite their struggles.  They remembered what it was to be “one in Christ”.  They remembered that the Spirit’s job is to connect us all and God and that if we let the Spirit do that, She will.  They remembered that they did not need to be in charge of everything, or control everything, or fight every time there was a disagreement. And so they prayed.  And they waited for the Spirit.  And they trusted that the Spirit would come.  As it did.

God gives us the gift of understanding each other across our differences – differences in understanding, differences in culture, differences in beliefs, differences in language.  This is the gift of God’s Spirit, uniting us and calling us to be church together, to be one together.  Amen.

Too Much Judgement

          Over my life-time we have been steadily learning that punishment is not nearly as effective (if it is effective AT ALL) as a combination of positive reinforcement and natural consequences.  We've learned that beating on children, for example, does not improve behavior, but teaches kids to be bullies themselves.  We've learned that natural consequences (you break a toy and then you no longer have it,  you are mean to a friend and you lose that friendship, you spill and you have to clean it up yourself) have a much bigger impact on all of us.  We learn when there are consequences for our actions that are natural.  What children and all of us learn when we are "punished" for things we've done wrong is more to hate, distrust, fear and seek revenge towards the ones who have punished us.  We've learned this, and in many ways we are beginning to live that out more and more fully.  The best parents I know often use mistakes as teaching opportunities, seeing errors as growing and learning experiences rather than as "sins" that need punishment.  But in other ways, we continue to use the archaic and ineffective methods of punishment in dealing with "mistakes".

    With children, for example, we still use some truly ineffective punishments.  I read an article yesterday that went into detail about something I had long ago come to believe: that suspensions and expulsions just teach kids to act out more: they get out of school, the school has made it clear that they don't want the kids there, often the child gets to be home alone while their parents are working, and what kids have learned from this is that the school authorities don't listen, care, or really values them as human beings.  They are being sent away because they aren't wanted.  No one has taken the time to work with them on what went wrong or how to do things differently, they've just dismissed the child.  What child will work harder for those who just dismiss them?  What child will change their behavior when it is clear that they get rewarded with time off when they act out?  It makes no sense.  And studies are finally catching up and showing this to be true.   

    I've also mentioned before that studies also show (see previous posts) that our entire retributive justice system just creates the criminals we are somehow hoping to change by these punitive responses to crimes.  Restorative justice, in contrast, which focuses on natural consequences, healing for the victims and for the perpetrators, restoration of relationships and reconciliation, in great contrast leads to MUCH lower recidivism rates and actually makes a positive difference for all involved.

    But while I've talked about both of the above in detail in the past, I've been thinking about the other ways in which we continue to live out the mistaken thinking that judging, condemning and punishing others is the way to get others to change in the ways we want.

    For example, employee evaluations have, historically, been opportunities for anonymous people to slam someone else rather than effective and helpful opportunities for constructive feedback.  Often, they have not offered helpful critique that allow for growth and change.  And the anonymity of them means that the person receiving the criticisms can not follow through or ask questions that would allow for further clarity or growth.  Additionally, the anonymity of these critiques also encourages normally sane people to take advantage of their "hidden" status to express opinionated, judgmental and often harsh or unkind ideas without recourse or consequences.  Often these are simply the expression of likes and dislikes rather than genuine helpful feedback that would encourage growth.  My own experience with these kinds of evaluations has also been that I'll receive one evaluation with a comment like "Don't talk so loud!" while another writes, "You need to speak up!" or one saying, "Speak more slowly and calmly!" while another says, "You need to be more animated!" Even less helpful are generalizations that offer no specifics, "I don't like her sermons." or "She doesn't lead well."  All of these leave me without any real way to address opposing or non-specific complaints.  

    But even more basic to our current lives is the "dislike" buttons on all social media platforms.  What does "dislike" communicate after all?  It says absolutely nothing that is helpful.  It does not say WHY a person dislikes something.  It doesn't communicate if there was something specific that was not appreciated or if it was the entire thing.  Often people cannot even see on these platforms who it is that said they "disliked" whatever it was.  And more and more I wonder why we have this option.  I have been listening to some incredible music on YouTube lately.  But I always see in these posts a number of "dislikes".  Why do people listen to those posts if they don't like that kind of music?  Why do people bother to be critical and judging at all of a post that may not have been meaningful to them, but which could be so meaningful to so many others?  How are these snap, unclear, and blanket "dislikes" in any way productive, or helpful, or meaningful?

    We are struggling as a country with increased divisions.  I think part of this is a simple failure to communicate with one another.  But a bigger part is that we make quick and full judgments that we don't explain, don't think through and which do not serve those we judge or ourselves either for that matter.  This is a pattern, this is part of our culture, and it seems to bleed into every part of our society.

    There is a reason Jesus said, "do not judge lest ye be judged."  When a society is more focused on judging than on understanding, on condemnation instead of compassion, on tearing one another down, punishing, hurting, seeking revenge, rather than working to build up, communicate, create bridges of reconciliation and healing, then we are doomed to continue these divides that will tear us all apart.

    Bottom line?  We are far too judgmental.  And we are far too quick to "punish" rather than to heal.  Until we get this, until we change, we are heading down a very dangerous path.  God save us all! 

Confidentiality, Anonymity, Privacy and Healthy Communication

           This last Sunday our lectionary passage was the one in which Jesus talks about how you are to talk to people directly when you are upset with them.  We are not to talk ABOUT people, but TO people, one on one, when we are upset.  If that doesn’t work, we can take someone along as a “witness”, not as someone to back up our claim, or to be our voice for us, or to defend us, or to interfere in anyway.  They come as a witness.  Why?  Because we don’t always hear one another well.  I’d actually take that a step farther and say we rarely hear each other well, especially when we are upset.  But when there is another person present, we tend to hear better.  It is almost as if their ears, and their way of hearing extend out to us and enable us to hear through more clearly, if only a little bit.  A witness is a gift to both parties because both can hear better in the presence of a third person, assuming that person is able to truly be a “witness” rather than someone who is taking sides.

There are many things that can be said about all of this.  My last sermon focused on gossip and why it is so harmful, especially if given power.  But today I want to take that a step further because I realize people easily become confused about what is gossip versus what is processing.  And more, what is confidentiality versus what is anonymity.  And what is therefore healthy in different situations.

Do we need to process through what we will say when we do talk to people with whom we are upset?  Sometimes we do.  It helps us to think aloud about what we will say and how we will say it.  It also can help us to talk through whether or not we are really upset about something or whether we have taken offense when none was meant, intended or even an appropriate response to what was said or done.  But there is a difference between processing and gossiping.

1. Are we talking about the problem because we plan to address it and need to work through how we will do that (processing) or are we talking about it to try to garner support for our side, for our position, while discrediting, devaluing, or disempowering the other person (gossiping)?

2. Are we sharing a story that is ours to work through (processing) or are we sharing someone else’s story that really has very little to do with us (gossiping)?

3. Am I talking to someone who will keep what I share to themselves and who is able to recognize that all stories have more than one side and that I am only sharing my own in order to think through my future responses (processing), or are we talking to someone who will spread around what I say, contribute to the creation of schisms, or feel the need to “take up our cause” which disempowers me in my ability to repair and tackle my issue directly with another (gossiping)? 

         These are not small or insignificant questions that we should ask ourselves when we are talking with others.  These questions are vitally important to the health of a community and how we move through.

       Then we come to the question of anonymity vs confidentiality.  Confidentiality is the keeping of another’s story to ourselves.  It is the decision to honor what someone tells us as simply and wholly between that person and us.  Confidentiality is important in that it protects a person’s story, allows a person to share their experiences in a place and in a way that is safe, honors the reality that someone’s story is theirs and only theirs to share.

      Anonymity has to do more with sharing what was said or what occurred but not revealing who said it or did it.  Pastors tend to use “anonymity” when they preach stories.  They often share stories without revealing who the stories involve.  It is extremely important that when this is done, it is done in a way that does not lead the listeners to “figure out” or even to try to guess who the story was really about.  For this reason, I personally only use stories about people my congregation does not know and would not meet.  12-step programs also have a code of anonymity.  This allows for people to use and pass on stories that have helped them heal, but to do so in a way that preserves the privacy of individuals, that does not ever reveal their identity.  

        In these contexts, both confidentiality and anonymity have their place.  People usually do not have a problem understanding confidentiality, though sometimes they forget to uphold or honor it.  “You never told me not to tell” is a common excuse for passing along another person’s story.  But the truth is, we should never pass along other people’s stories, but should assume confidentiality when a story is told to us that is about the teller and is only the teller’s experience and story to tell.  

       Anonymity is harder for people.  People often use the word “anonymity” and sometimes the word “confidentiality” as a way to pass along critiques, judgements, and accusations, without revealing where they originated.  But this is extremely damaging and unhealthy for a number of reasons:

1. We are called to be communities where people have, claim and use their voices to speak their own truths.  “Anonymity” in the sense of passing along a critique someone else has told us does not empower other people to speak for themselves, to own their truth, and to deal with their issues, complaints, and difficulties directly.

2. When comments are "anonymous", it is difficult to get a handle on how serious, pervasive or widespread the critique or problem really is.  The person or groups receiving negative feedback can feel that everyone is against them, and that everyone does not have the courage to speak to them directly. They can start feeling anxious or negative towards the group as a whole.  This usually backfires and has the opposite result intended.  Instead of the problem then being addressed and worked on, those receiving the critique often can become entrenched in their behavior, either from a place of feeling, “nothing I do is right” or from a place of being truly unclear about what is being asked.  

3.      Often there are people on both sides of an divisive issue who are unhappy with a decision.  If only one voice is passed along, and it is anonymously quoted, a clear picture of the reality of the situation is not being offered. 

4. If a person offering a critique is “anonymous” there is no way to ask for clarity, to work together to bridge, understand, reconcile or work through the problem.  

5. Hearing a story second or third hand is a guarantee that what we are hearing is not completely what was intended or meant.  We all hear, understand and take in comments differently.  So, whatever someone else tells us will change slightly in the re-telling, regardless of our best intentions.  Encouraging people to speak their truth directly allows for communication first hand, and offers up the possibility of truly working through problems in healthy ways.

        The basic rule of healthy church communities in dealing with complaints: if a person does not own their own words, the critique should be discounted.  In other words, the anonymous letters that come to a church go directly into the garbage.  This is also true of anonymous comments.  If a person is unwilling to stand behind their words, they should not be spoken.  Period.  Using “anonymity” as a shield in the church allows for gossip to run rampant, it does not encourage people to claim their own power and voice, and it creates turmoil, dissention, and rifts in communities.  

          So what can we do about this?

1. If someone has something they want you to pass on to someone else, it is best to encourage that person to say it directly.  Offer to be the “witness” standing with them if they are nervous about speaking their truth, but empower them to speak with their own voice.

2. If you are a representative for a group and they are telling you as that representative, make it clear that you will tell the group who it is who has made the original comment.  If they are uncomfortable with having their name passed on, that says one of three things:

      a. They aren’t comfortable because they know or suspect that part of what they are saying is false.

     b. They do not feel the church or group is “safe” for them to speak their truth.  If this is the case, it needs to be addressed.

     c. They want the complaint to appear more general than it is. If there is no name attached to the complaint, then it looks like it might be more than one person.

3. Be consistent about all of this.

        The unfortunate truth is that when you try to change a long-standing pattern in a community, there will be push-back.  Change does not happen overnight.  And people do not tend to like change, especially when it involves changing something that is basic to a group’s culture.  People may stop sharing their complaints and feelings all together for a while in reaction to the new policy.  But people are not good at holding on to their feelings over the long run, and my experience is that communities not only adjust, but come to appreciate the change.  They will learn that their voices are valued, they will feel empowered to speak for themselves and own their own words, and they will be more thoughtful about their complaints and critiques, taking time before speaking them (always a good thing for any community!).  

        I know none of this is easy.  But we are called to be in community together.  And that means working hard to hear, support, speak and be brothers and sisters to one another.  Setting policies that encourage direct communication and bridge building is just one step in becoming healthier, thriving communities.

Messages we deliver without meaning to.

         I've been thinking, recently, about a number of situations in which people communicate much more, or at least a different message, than they perhaps intend to deliver.
     A man I often see at Presbytery usually does not acknowledge me.  When we pass each other, when we are in the same groups, when we are at the same table, he doesn't talk to me or smile or nod his head in recognition, although I usually try to make eye contact, smile and say hello.  I assumed that was because he simply didn't know who I was and, in a conversation with a mutual acquaintance I must have made the comment that we really didn't know each other: that I knew who he was, but I didn't think the reverse was true.  About a month after I had made that comment, this man actually approached me and said, "I DO know who you are!  See, I'm telling you that I do know and have known who you are for a long time!"  Okay... except that I had actually been giving him the benefit of the doubt by assuming that he didn't acknowledge me because he didn't know who I was.  Frankly, it hadn't occurred to me that he was actually being intentionally rude or dismissive.  I just really didn't know how to respond to his acknowledging that he knew me.  Perhaps I should have named what I heard from him directly, "So, what I am hearing is that you haven't acknowledged me before, not because you don't know who I am but because you didn't feel it necessary to acknowledge me.  Perhaps it wasn't worth your effort to respond to me.  Or...?  Help me to understand this."  But I didn't.  Which leaves me wondering what he was really trying to communicate with all of this.
        Another situation:  A good friend of mine invited some folk over for dinner.  Since she (like many of my friends) is a vegetarian and doesn't cook with meat, she made what I felt was a hearty meal of a vegetable stew that was packed with beans, tofu, pasta and tons of vegetables and cheese, along with homemade bread, salad, hors d'oeuvres (including fruit, cheese, dips, vegies) and a home baked-fancy dessert.  A couple days later one of the people who attended the dinner said to her (within my hearing), "Well, I never before thought it was okay to just serve people soup, but now I know I can and I won't work so hard on meals I make for others."  I was shocked.  Um... how about "Thank you for the meal and the company"?  But what was interesting was that I don't actually think she meant to be hurtful.
        A person I know has been very fond of sharing the fact that when her daughter was very little (2 and 3 years old) the little girl would beg anyone passing by to come play with her.  The mother has no realization at all that telling this story always makes the hearers wonder why SHE didn't make the effort to play with her daughter herself.
        Another person I know has a husband who was trying to quit smoking after having some related health problems.  As we know, the first 30 days of trying to conquer any addiction can be trying.  This person bragged though that after 15 days of her husband acting grouchy, she went out and bought him a pack of cigarettes which she then insisted he smoke because, "Well, I didn't like his grumpy attitude."  So, half way through the hardest part, his grumpiness was more important to her than his health?
        One time I was standing with a group of people discussing plans for an event and the director of the project asked if someone on the committee could do a specific task.  One of the other members of the committee said, "Say 'Please'!" much to the embarrassment of all of us.  I was struck with wonder that someone could be trying to correct another person's social skills in such a completely socially unskilled way.
        On Facebook a while ago a friend of mine posted "happy birthday to three of my favorite people!" and she proceeded to name three close friends.  A person who is also a friend to all three of those people responded in the comments, "I'm tagging on here.  Happy birthday to..." and then named two of the three folk, even though the third was also his friend on Facebook and a close acquaintance, at least, in the real world.
        What do we communicate with our slights?  What are we really saying when we are rude to other people, or when we share times we've been unkind or inattentive or lacking compassion for others?  Why would we act this way?  Are we unaware that our own behaviors (as well as our words) reflect so much more on ourselves than on anyone else we might be trying to confront, make fun of, or judge?
          I know we all make mistakes.  And we all can do things or say things that affect other people in ways we don't see, don't expect or don't understand.  I am grateful to those people who actually tell me when I've communicated or done something that hurts others or hasn't been received well. But these other incidents end up also being gifts because they call me to pay more attention to what I'm communicating that I might not even be aware of.
         I think that during this stressful time we have choices to make about what we will contribute to the world in each day.  Do we give support and kindness, or do we act out with anger, harm or unkind actions?  Do we offer grace and compassion, or are we unforgiving and unkind?  We have a choice. Do you want your time on this earth to have contributed in a positive way to the lives of others, or did you want it to have negatively impacted the world?
         As I said, we all make mistakes.  And we are not always aware of what messages we actually send out, good or bad; the long term affects of our behaviors, for better or worse.  I hope you will tell me when I have done harm so that I can work on doing better.  For this day, I am working to hear more deeply what others are communicating and what I may be intentionally communicating as well.

Professional Hazards: language.

        While it is not intentional, I spend most of my time with other faith-based people.  I'm with my congregation most of my working life (which is a lot of time and includes evening meetings as well as regular day-time hours, and weekends).  Beyond that, I'm part of a couple of clergy groups of other Presbyterian pastors, as well as a local clergy group that is Ecumenical and I serve on a couple of interfaith boards (one to create low-income housing and support services, and one for advocacy for the poor in our community).  Many of my friends and family are also faith people, some of different traditions, some of the same.  But even those that aren't are probably just used to me, my language, the way I present in the world.  It takes a situation in which I'm thrown into "normal" society for me to realize how much of my person has been influenced and affected not only by my role, but by my associations.  

         I was at a party of a family member a couple weeks ago and found myself in a conversation with a person whom I had never met before.  After a few minutes I realized she was giving me a weird look after something I had said.  I think we were talking about how horrible people are behaving in their cars and I responded by saying, "Yes, but I'm working to try to respond more with grace and compassion, to try and spread kindness through a stance of love, even in the face of their rage.  Not easy, but I try." She gave me this weird look and I realized I was using words, phrases and even ideas that were "churchy" or "religious" without even knowing it.  A little while later, she was talking about her struggles with raising her son on her own.  I mentioned that I had parented my children on my own for many years, too.  And then I said, "But as hard as it was at times, I also see the gifts that have come from that particular challenge..." That too received a weird look.  I've done it again, I thought.

          I've found myself reflecting on this ever since, with two very different thoughts.  The first is that, yes, many vocations have language affectations that develop within and around them.  When David reads me some of the posts of people on his Marine's Facebook page, there is definitely a speech pattern and use of specific words that I don't understand, that aren't part of my world, that are unique to that situation of being a Marine.  When he is talking about work (he's an IT guy), he also uses a code that I don't understand.  We all know airline people have definite inflections and speech patterns that are unique to their trade.  Doctors and nurses use a specific vocabulary in normal speech, not just in the office, that usually informs those of us around them that they are medical people.  Musicians have a specific way of talking, and these are different depending on what kind of musician you are.  Clergy aren't immune to this, though I often hate when I hear that kind of speech in other clergy.  I hate it because it often feels phony to me, put-on, a kind of "holier than thou" way of talking that seems judgmental, superior and manipulative.  I feel like when I use it, I'm trying to talk to myself, more than the other, about how I need to be in the world.  But I wonder if it, too, doesn't somehow come across as all the things that I don't like when I hear it in other clergy.  Which brings me to the second point:

        If we don't want to isolate and alienate people, learning to speak in their language is important.  "Churchy" language can be off-putting.  So I've found myself trying to think through ways that maintain my integrity, my truth, and yet are not in the coded, isolating, and sometimes self-righteous language of the church.  "Grace" is a loaded term for people.  Wouldn't it be just as clear to say, "I want to try to pass kindness forward, even when it isn't deserved" rather than saying, "we need to offer them grace" or "we need to reflect love"?  Wouldn't it be better to say, "I know I've learned some things through these hard times" rather than "I see the gifts in the challenges"?  

       I've been uncomfortable with the idea of having different patterns of speech: one for the "insiders" and one for everyone else.  At the same time, words like "grace" which have deep meaning for me, can be uncomfortable for the larger community.  But is the idea of speaking differently in different situations really that strange or novel?  I remember a time I was in seminary when the man I was dating at the time came up from New Mexico for a visit.  After sitting in on a conversation that I had with one of my other seminarians, my then-boy-friend said, "I've never seen this side of you.  I didn't understand what you were saying at all.  You spoke and interacted in a completely different way."  I was surprised by this.  I hadn't realized that I had adjusted or changed my way of talking when I was with other pastoral students than when I was with him.  We do adjust our topics of conversation and even our speech patters relative to whom we are with.

          Ultimately, I find myself reflecting back on Paul's words in 1st Corinthians 9: 19-23 when he says, in essence, "when in Rome, do as the Romans do".   If we want to be able to connect with all kinds of people, if we want to try to build bridges of understanding and community, if we want to work for reconciliation and healing between people, no matter their beliefs, world views, opinions or life-orientations, then being able to communicate in a language that others understand is important.  I also think this means I need to be intentional about being out in the world more, to understand and remember how other people are talking (and not talking).  It's easy to become isolated and comfortable in our own little corners of the world and to fail to build bridges of understanding and reconciliation simply because we have not taken the time to interact with the "other," let alone understand them.  

          I want to be clear that I'm not suggesting that we fail to act with integrity, or that we adjust our beliefs or values based on who we are with.  It also doesn't mean that we fail to speak up against injustice or to fail to engage people whose opinions differ from our own with honesty.  What it does mean is that if we want to bring healing and connection, it is important to start from a common ground.  That common ground begins with how we communicate with one another.  Can we work a little harder to make sure others understand the words and phrases and ideas that we are trying to communicate?  Can we take the time to be intentional about speaking in ways that others understand? Can we seek to use language to connect rather than to isolate, pigeon-hole, separate and alienate those around us?

         I'm working on this.  It's not easy for me.  But I'm working on it.  Part of having integrity for me is trying harder to connect rather than to separate.  And that has to start with the way I present myself and talk to others.  Wish me luck.  

Pentecost and Music

                                             Acts 2:1-21

Ezek. 37:1-14

Today we celebrate the birthday of the church.  And we do so by recalling days when the Spirit took hold of things, changed things, lit the place on fire.  Both the Ezekiel passage and the passage from Acts tell us stories of the spirit, stories in which the spirit blows in with great force and in doing so ignites the miraculous, the amazing, and the unexpected.  In Acts, when the Spirit blew in, the people could understand one another even across language barriers.  I think it’s very important here to note that it is not that the people all started speaking the same language.  They were still each speaking their own languages, though it says here that some were speaking languages they did not formerly know.  But while still speaking different languages, they were able to understand one another.  This is a miracle indeed.  For we know that even when we speak the same linguistic language, we often still don’t understand one another.  In previous Pentecost sermons I’ve shared with you personal examples of those misunderstandings.  Times when we are speaking the same language and really not understanding one another. 

One more story for you:  There was a woman in one of my congregations who spoke or understood the world completely differently from me.  I would say things that I thought were unoffensive, were kind, were reaching out: things like, “You seem a little down.  Are you okay?” And would be met with anger, “I am NOT down!  Why would you say that! I was fine until I talked with YOU!”  We just missed each other at every turn.  We both were speaking English.  But we were never speaking the same language. 

I’ve been thinking about this idea of understanding one another across languages in terms of music since today is the last Sunday the choir will sing for the summer and I’ve been especially aware of the amazing gift of music that the choir gives to us.  I think it is very appropriate that we remember the miracle of Pentecost in relationship to music, because many would say that music itself is still that language that crosses language barriers.  Would you say that’s true?  But as I’ve reflected on it, I’ve also realized that music can also sets up new barriers, new language problems, as it were, if we let it.  It isn’t just that we don’t all like the same kinds of music, at times I would say we simply cannot understand the same kinds of music.  Personally, while I enjoy many different kinds of music, I still find that there are certain types of music I simply don’t understand: for example, certain types of punk rock and the more aggressive rap music.  Also, I struggle to understand and appreciate certain kinds of music from different countries: certain types of Asian cultural music, for example, is harder for me to relate to or appreciate.  And I think that just as when we don’t understand different languages when we have not grown up around them, have not listened to them in our formative years, the same can be true of different kinds of music.  We often understand best the music we were raised with.  And while we can grow into an appreciation of other kinds of music and even an enjoyment or love of these, many times it takes long-term exposure and experience - study, I would even say, just as with different languages, to learn and understand these different types of music. 

As I continued to look at this passage in Acts, the more it seemed to me that the experience of the community in Acts, responding to the Spirit moving in such a way that people could understand each other across languages, is very similar to today’s church community responding to the Spirit moving through music.  In the story in Acts, there were people who understood each other across the different languages.  They heard the words in their own languages.  So, too, in our communities, many do experience the universal language of music.  We are moved and hear things in new pieces that touch us, that speak to us in the language of our hearts.  In the community in Acts, there were also people who didn’t like what was happening, who sneered and assumed that too much alcohol was involved.  So, too, when the Spirit speaks through new music, especially new kinds of music, there will always be other people who, hearing a piece for the first time will be uneasy, uncomfortable, assume impropriety, and so attack it.

Throughout our church history there has been controversy over what is appropriate church music.  Before the Protestant Reformation the Catholic church went through various different positions on music.  At the time of the Reformation only the priest sang in church.  One of Martin Luther’s issues with the church was that at the time worship was not a participatory event.  Everything was done in Latin and only done by the priest since the common person did not know Latin.  In response Luther invited congregational participation through singing, and singing in the language of the people, which in Luther’s community was German.  Luther took common, popular music, popular tunes of the time, the music of the youth, some have even said bar tunes, and made them into hymns.  The equivalent today would be taking hard rock, hip hop, EDM (electronic dance music), ska, rap, death metal, punk music and putting Christian words to it for worship.  Can you imagine how the people reacted?  Many felt scandalized that secular music was coming into their holy places.  It is the same reaction many in our churches have today when the popular music of our youth comes into the congregation.  Luther believed that these tunes would first attract the young people, but second, he believed in providing Christian lyrics to the tunes they already knew, filling their minds with those words when they chanced upon the tunes in other settings.  Interestingly, Luther did not allow organs or other music accompaniment in his churches and instrumentation was allowed in Lutheran churches only about 50 years after Luther had died. 

In John Calvin’s church, Calvin hired a lyricist and a composer to rework the

Psalter.  The lyricist re-wrote the psalms, and the composer set it to music.  The queen complained about these “Geneva jigs” because it, too was a departure from the Latin plainsong.  And yet again, by today’s standards, we would also see Calvin as very strict and austere.  He would only allow psalms to be sung in worship, and he insisted not only that these psalms go completely unaccompanied by instruments but that they also be sung without harmonies.  It was not until the end of the 17^th century in the Presbyterian church that some churches began to allow instrumental accompaniment.

We understand music differently.  We speak music differently.  And yet again, we are given the Pentecost story in which people continue to speak different languages, but some are speaking languages that are different from their own, and others are hearing those voices spoken in their own languages.  The Spirit brings in something new, something different, but it is always something that helps us be more connected, if we are open to it.  Literally, we begin to understand and hear in our own languages... in the languages of our community, in the languages of our media, in the languages of our music, in the languages of our children.

In the Ezekiel passage for today God promises that the very bones will be raised.  What has been declared dead will rise to new life.  This is not a comfortable or easy thought.  But again, the Spirit is not promising to be easy or comfortable.  The Spirit is promising to be alive, and to live in unexpected though glorious ways.

Today we celebrate the Spirit’s movement through music.  And I invite you to listen for the Spirit in a new way, to celebrate the new life that the Spirit can raise in all of our old bones, to live through song.  Amen.

Taking Offense and Turning it to Good

Genesis 45:1-28

Matthew 15:10-28

Luke 4:21-30

               What offends you?  What do you get upset about and defensive about and irate about?

               Now, a more important question: Does it help to take offense?  Do problems get solved?  Injustices corrected by our becoming offended? 

               In the face of injustices, sometimes it feels like there are only two responses.  The first is to get angry.  And the second is to turn that anger inwards and to just accept the pain and injustices that come our way, often accompanied by a sense of helplessness or even hopelessness.  Anger often involves lashing out.  And one or both of these responses may include walking away, leaving the situation that has offended us.  Sometimes anger can make a difference.  Sometimes speaking out the truth in anger, like Jesus did as he flipped over the tables of the money changers in the temple, will make a difference, affect change, challenge and overcome injustices.  We don’t know the results of Jesus’ actions on that day, but we do know that the story of his turning those tables continues to inform us, educate us, make a difference in how Christians understand their church buildings and what they can and should be used for.  But other times anger does not actually make things better.  When anger is not accompanied by something productive, like ideas about how to change things, a direction for ways in which something might be done differently, or an offer of help for ways in which something could be done differently, then it tends to also be simply destructive. 

For those of you who read my blog, you know that this week started in a very unpleasant way for Youngest and I.  I was driving Youngest to school Monday morning when a ridiculously large truck started riding my bumper.  When I finally pulled over because he was scaring me, he drove as close as he could to my car, nicking the mirror even, to express his outrage, and then slowed to a crawl when I got behind him.  When he came to a stop sign, he refused for several minutes to drive through.  Clearly he was expressing his anger at me about something, but I’ll be honest and tell you that, first, I don’t know what he was angry about!  I was driving behind someone else and it was impossible for me to go any faster, if that was the problem.  I know I didn’t cut him off since I was in the same lane the entire time.  Secondly,  this behavior did nothing of good.  It only succeeded in scaring myself and my young daughter, upsetting me for most of the day actually, and causing worry (since once I was behind him, I saw that he was dropping off a kid at the same school I was) that I would run into him again the next day (which, in fact, I did… so now I’m anxious about driving Youngest to school at all).

               We see this same rage behavior in the Luke story today.  They didn’t like what Jesus said about it being challenging to bring healing and help to those in one’s own town.  They didn’t like it and they responded by driving Jesus out of town, which meant that there really was absolutely no way, now, that he could help them. 

               Our responses of rage, of yelling, of doing damage: these hurt people, hurt relationships, cause a lack of trust and a lack of honesty from those we are engaging who then become afraid of speaking their minds or being present in any kind of real way in the world.    

And that other option of just accepting perceived injustices?  Of walking away?  That’s frankly not very effective either.  Walking away doesn’t make things better.  And as Christians we are called to do something about real injustices and to change the pain or cruelty that we experience or witness.  When the injustices aren’t real, when the slights that offend us aren’t genuine, it does even less good to rage or walk away because we never have the opportunity to learn when our assumptions are wrong.

This morning Upworthy posted a story about a man who was offended by another man.  The offended man was taking a class and every time he approached his seat, this other man’s stuff was on the seat.  As soon as the other man saw him, he would say, “oh, you are here” and move his stuff, but, as the offended man said it, “He knew I would be there every day, so why didn’t he just keep his stuff off of my seat?!”  Then one day he was late for class.  And as he walked in, he saw that someone else was trying to sit in his seat and that the man who offended him by putting his stuff there said to this other person, “I’m sorry, this seat is saved for my good friend!” and then moved his things when he saw the author of the article walk up.  His offense had kept him from understanding that the man’s stuff was there as a way to save him his seat.

               What I would like to propose today is that there is at least one other way to deal with injustices, both personal and communal.  Today’s first scripture reading was the end of the story of Joseph.  To recap the larger story: Joseph was not very popular with his brothers.  He was favored by his father, which led to his brothers not liking him very much at all.  But he also chose to share with his brothers that he had had dreams of them bowing down to him.  This, too, failed to make him a very popular member of the family.  So the brothers threw him in a pit and then sold him as a slave to Ishmaelite traders, telling their father he had been killed.  This was an amazing injustice that lead Joseph into slavery, and then into prison.  Eventually he ended up as Pharaoh’s helper – in charge of Egypt’s land.  But not before a great deal of suffering had taken place.  How did he feel towards his brothers?  How did he handle all that had been done to him?  How did he treat those who had almost killed him and sent him to a life they knew would be horrible?  When they came to him begging for food, not recognizing him, what did he do?  Here was the perfect opportunity to get his revenge, to act out in anger and revenge.  He could have turned them away.  He could have announced, “as you did to me, so I do to you” and refuse to give them food.  He could have locked them up, or sold them as slaves.  And truthfully, he didn’t let them off easy.  He wanted to be sure they had changed.  But once he had seen that their hearts had changed, that they were no longer the young men who had done this terrible thing to him, he forgave them and acted towards them with grace and love, providing food during the famine, rescuing those who had wanted him dead, providing for these his torturers for years – caring even for those who had hurt him so badly, recognizing and remembering that in the end the path they forced him down, while not an easy one, ended in new opportunities and life for all of them.

               In the Matthew passage for today we are given two examples of ways to respond to things we don’t like.  We first have the Pharisees.  They were offended by what Jesus said and they reacted with offense.  They reacted by being angry, by pulling away, by plotting his destruction, and in the end by having him put to death.  In contrast we have the Canaanite woman who asks for help for her daughter.  Even though Jesus first ignores her and then insults her, she, in great contrast to the Pharisees, does NOT choose to act out of offense or anger.  Instead she acts with gentle, non-attacking, straight-forward persuasion.  She does not get angry.  But neither does she crumple, give up, or walk away.  Instead she offers a different perspective.  The Pharisees became offended but nothing came of that reaction of offense except, in the end, the crucifixion of an innocent man.  They did not get Jesus’ attention by acting offended.  And they certainly didn’t persuade him to change his tactics or change his mission or his approach or anything.  Jesus’ response when his disciples mentioned the Pharisees offense was to tell the disciples to leave them alone.  “The blind are leading the blind,” he said. Their offense came to nothing except anger and pain for themselves, and dismissal by Jesus.  But in contrast, the woman who chose to not act with offense, the woman who instead gently but persistently chose not to leave, not to act in anger, not to get mad nor to just accept what came her way and in helplessness to walk away, the woman who instead showed up and asked for what she wanted with determination but again without becoming angry – this woman, this woman got what she wanted, challenged Jesus and changed his approach to her and to all the other gentiles who followed in the gospels. 

               How do we respond when people offend us?  Do we pick up our toys and go home?  Do we feel helpless and hopeless?  Do we act out in anger?  Or can we choose this other way, speaking our truth in peace, with determination but also without attacking, without rancor, perhaps with humor and with the simple but powerful act of being present?

               I read in the news that a high school student in Tennessee was suspended for saying “bless you” to another kid when he sneezed.  Apparently the teacher was offended by this and considered it an infringement on the separation of church and state.  While I personally believe very strongly in a separation of church and state, the purpose of that separation is to allow each person to practice and live out their own faith, whatever they may be.  To suspend a person for an act of kindness that originated from their faith (and that’s assuming that it wasn’t just a flippant automatic response, which is also a possibility), is to fail to understand the purpose and reasoning behind a separation of church and state.  It is, instead to impose on an individual rules about where and how they can express their faith, the exact opposite of what the separation was intended to do.  Putting my strong opinions about this aside, a teacher’s offense at an act of kindness will no doubt have lasting negative effects on those around her.  Already, the community has become more divided around this issue.  Instead of people talking to each other, listening to each other and growing in that listening, people are entrenching in their own opinions and acting out with anger, with aggression, with attacking, accusing, hurtful words.  An act of kindness has become the center of a controversy that has turned people bitter, angry, has made enemies out of friends and created a stubbornness and unwillingness to hear each other that will be hard to overcome.  I wonder what would have happened if, instead of suspending the girl, the teacher had used the moment to open a conversation about separation of church and state, what that means, how that should be lived, the history of that policy, and where it has taken us now.  People might still have disagreed, but if the conversation were set in an atmosphere of exploration, people might have learned and grown from it.

              When I was in college I lived in a Christian co-op with 19 other students in what was the campus ministry center.  Living in this center involved a commitment to participate each week in one of the regular programs of the campus ministry center.  It also involved committing to attending a weekly potluck and each week one of us put on a program for the others to consider some aspect of faith or living out that faith.  The community I lived in was very diverse, ethnically and in every other way.  And while we were supposed to be committed to growing together as a community and as a body of faith, there were divisions.  There were smaller groupings of friends within the community.  One week, the woman leading the conversation was a white woman who had felt excluded by the rest of the community.  She led a program in which we were all invited to pick someone we didn’t know well and try to get to know them better.  I don’t remember all the ins and outs of this conversation.  But I do remember that about a year later, one of my friends, a Latino man, shared with me that the people of color within our community had felt the presentation was racist and excluded them.  I was shocked because they had said nothing at the time.  They had left the community at the end of the year, found housing elsewhere without ever explaining why they left, without ever telling the woman that they were angry or hurt or upset.  I asked Mike why this group had never voiced their feelings.  And he told me “we, people of color, know that it is not our job to have to educate white people on their racism.”  Well, they are right.  As people of color, it is not their job to educate the rest of us on our bad behavior.  Women don’t have the job of educating men on their sexism.  Poor people don’t have the job of educating wealthy people about their privilege. People with disabilities don’t have the job of educating those who don’t.  It is not the job of people who might have experienced any kind of injustice to educate those who perpetrated it.  Education should be done by other people who have those privileges.    

However, as Christians, as people of faith, it is our job to act with love towards all people.  It is not an act of love to walk away from a situation without talking to people who may be unknowingly doing harm.  It is not an act of love to refuse to engage one another, even our enemies in open and honest conversation.  Scott Peck defines love as “working towards the highest spiritual growth for the other”.  It does not work towards the others’ highest spiritual growth to walk away.  It does not work toward the others’ highest spiritual growth to hide behind feeling “offended”.  We are called to move beyond that.  To instead find peaceful, humorous, loving but truthful ways to be present and honest and real with one another. 

               I will admit I do not always find this easy.  Not at all.  I remember several years ago when Eldest received a 75% on her assignment the first day of class which was to have her parent sign her syllabus, a syllabus I did in fact sign, I found myself quickly moved towards feeling offended.  This was my assignment.  Had I spelled my name wrong?  Why did I get a 75% on signing her syllabus?  But my decision to be offended started me off on the wrong foot with Eldest's teacher.  Instead of being present, again using humor, or simply asking if there had been a mistake, I approached it with my bristles out.  This served no one.  Least of all Eldest.

               There are so many things we could be offended by on a daily basis.  So many.  That person wasted our time by refusing to use their turn signal.  That person snarled rather than smiling.  That person failed to invite everyone to their party.  That person wrote something that could have applied to us.  That person failed to remember that someone was gifted in a particular way and to include them in a project.   That person gave an excuse that we know was an untruth.  Well, again, we can find things to cause us offense daily.  And when we fail to speak up, sometimes those little things start to add up until we are so offended we explode or leave.  Hanging on to our grievances isn’t the solution.  But reacting with anger or walking away are not usually productive options either. 

               We see this more and more in our culture, in our community.  The divisions between world-views and thinking is expanding in this country and becoming more volatile, more violent, and more permanently damaging.  We have stopped being able to hear each other or communicate in ways that bring learning, growth and understanding.  Instead we attack what we don’t agree with and end up increasing the divisions, entrenching in our own worldviews without possibility of growth or change, and tearing families and other relationships apart in the process.

               So what do we do when we are feeling offended?  Well, first I think taking a deep breath is  always a good start.  Remembering the Canaanite woman, remembering Joseph, remembering how others responded without a sense of righteous outrage when they could easily have done otherwise, remembering our call to forgive, remembering our call to love even our enemies, remembering that we can do a lot more good and spread a lot more love by choosing something other than offense.  All of this can help.  But the bottom line is that it takes practice.  And looking at the good models we have in some people helps.

               Ben Weir is one of my truest heroes.  He was one of the Lebanon hostages in 1985.  He was held for 16 months and suffered cruelly.  He was also a friend.  And truly one of the kindest, gentlest spirits I have ever met.  I remember one time when I was with him he was confronted by an angry attacking young man – “what kind of God do you believe in anyway?  You went over there as a MISSIONARY to try to convert people to a hurtful religion and you were punished because of it.  You got what you deserved.”  And Ben’s gentle, quiet, but listening response… “I’m sorry that you are feeling angry.  For me, my faith got me through that time.  But I understand that can be hard for folk going through hard times.  I would be happy to listen any time to what you have experienced.”  I never once heard him snap or respond in anger.  And even after his cruel treatment, he remained one of the world’s most respected advocates and workers for peace in the Middle East.  His gentleness permeates everything about him.  And through his actions he modelled for me, as for many, a person I would like to be: one who chooses a different way - who listens - who loves - who sees.  He also shows up, no matter what injustice or offense is aimed his way. 

               My prayer for all of us is to find that kind of peace, that kind of wisdom, that kind of LOVE.  Amen.