The Assumptions We Make About Others Say More About Us

        I've said many times before that the things we attack in others are usually parts of our own shadow side: that part of ourselves that we cannot face we project outwards and seek to destroy in the other.  But to take this a step further, the assumptions we make about others also reflect much more on ourselves than they ever do about those our assumptions target or encompass.  We therefore betray our own worst selves with our assumptions.  

        I found myself reflecting on this more strongly yesterday.  My health insurance offers classes that you can take to reduce your co-pay and I'd taken one of their classes which happened to focus on forgiveness.  There were MANY wonderful suggestions about how to forgive in this class, but the one that I felt was most helpful and most profound still surfaces from time to time.  We were told to write down the story or scenario that was causing us to feel resentment, anger or any other long-held emotional baggage.  We were then to highlight or underline everything that we had stated as fact in our story.  Then, we were to take a huge step back and ask ourselves honestly, looking at each "fact", “Do I actually know this for sure?  Is this really a fact or is it my perception?”  If it was just a perception or if it was based on assumptions, we were to cross it off, and then write on a separate piece of paper what we know to be actually facts – the things that we know to be absolutely true.  So any motivations we assign to the other, any thoughts of the other, any feelings of the other - all of these we would have to cross out as things we could never actually know.  Any conversations that we "heard" about but weren't actually privy to, any stories we were told but didn't actually experience: all of these we would have to cross out.  Any assumptions we made about why things happened would have to go.  The only things that would be left would be just the facts of behaviors, what happened, what was said TO US.  Our assumptions even about what those words "actually meant" would also need to be crossed out.  Our interpretations of what was actually meant would have to be crossed out.  Then we were to write on a separate paper only those things then that were really facts.  And finally we were to get rid of the original story: burn it, shred it, whatever it takes.  

    This exercise is amazing and I would encourage each of you to try it.  

    In my own life, I recently found myself repeatedly having a conversation in my head with someone whom I had come to believe was intentionally hurting me.  What was ironic is that in this "conversation" she was making all sorts of assumptions about me that weren't true.  And I found myself becoming more and more upset about these assumptions she was making about me in my head.  (sigh).  Again, we can be our own worst enemies: and again putting out there onto other people what we are doing ourselves is oh-so-common a theme.  So I stopped.  And realized that I was getting upset because of assumptions that I was making.  I was assuming that she was assuming things that were just not true.  (As if that isn't confusing enough).  Thank you, God, for reminding me of this practice and also encouraging me, always, to look deeper at what my own assumptions had to tell me about myself (NOT about the other person!).

    My own assumptions spoke to me of my fear: fear of being misunderstood, fear of not being given the benefit of the doubt, fear of never being forgiven for being the human me that I am, fear of always being a disappointment and never being enough.  Once I was able to dig down that deep, I was also able to remind myself that I don't believe God calls us to be perfect.  We are just called to be who we are, and to strive to grow in love, compassion and the ability to offer grace to others.  That's all we can do.  That's all we can be.  I believe God cares more about our efforts to be kind than about being "right", and God certainly cares more about out intentions to be loving than about our efforts to be perfect.  And THAT reminder has allowed me to let go of the assumptions that have been fueling this imagined and internal conversation with this other person.

    I don't know what has led to the behaviors of the other that caused me pain.  Until the other chooses to talk to me about it, I can't know.  I am going to stop trying to guess, stop trying to make assumptions that I can't validate or check out.  I will rest in the grace of God and stop trying to guess about someone else's thinking.  That's the best I can do for now.  

    I encourage you all to likewise put aside assumptions.  The practice of discerning what is a "guess" and what is a fact is an amazing practice.  I wonder if more of us did this what we might be able to accomplish in the world in terms of peace-making, reconciliation and healing.  Until we try it, we will never know.

If a certain category of people are always a problem for you, perhaps the problem is you.

          I found myself today remembering a kid I grew up with who had trouble in school every year.  Every single year the mantra was, "My teacher is mean to me."  "My teacher doesn't listen."  "My teacher doesn't care."  Eventually, he decided that all teachers were just unfeeling, un-listening, uncaring people.  His parents supported this attitude.  I remember often seeing them on campus, headed in to talk to teachers, to the principal, to administrators.  While as a child I was rarely privy to these conversations, I can remember coming in from recess one day in time to hear the parents shrieking at the teacher with whom they had been meeting that "All teachers at this school have it in for our child!"  I was in 6th grade at that point: old enough to realize that all his teachers probably had had conversations about this boy.  I was able to suppose that those conversations probably did set each one up at some level to be predisposed to see the worst in him. I wondered if any of them had given him a fair chance.  I wondered if they didn't begin by being impatient and a little stern with him from the get-go based on what they already "knew" of the boy. 

         As a kid myself, I don't remember being able to expand my thinking too much beyond that.  It didn't, for example, occur to me to remember that this boy was not just difficult in the classroom but out at recess, too.  Nor did I remember that he was a person all the rest of us kids avoided at any cost because he was mean and demanding, loud and pushy.   

         It also didn't occur to me to realize that I'd had many of the same teachers that this boy had had and that my experience of them towards myself had been consistently positive.  I wasn't able to have a wide enough vision to see that the common denominator in all of these interactions was the boy, not the individual teachers.  But then, I was a kid, and I identified more strongly with other children.  The school understood the situation better.  But again, because of previous interactions with the boy, I am certain the teachers as well as the administrators did approach this child with at least a little un-ease, and no doubt each year a pre-conceived idea of who he was, a bias.  In every interaction there are at least two people.  Therefore when there is conflict, when there are problems, at least two people have a part in those problems.  Sometimes the responsibility is more heavily weighted towards one side or the other, but where there is human interaction, both sides have at least a little culpability.  So, I'm certain the teachers were not completely blameless in this situation.  This kid obviously had problems and approaching him as someone in need of help rather than as just a problem to be dealt with might have changed the dynamic immensely.  But I write from the place of knowing I was a kid at the time, not privy to the exchanges of the adults, and certainly not knowledgeable about what had been tried, or what even could have been done.  I also know that we've come a long way in understanding the challenges our kids face and in finding appropriate ways to deal with them.  Resources exist now that simply weren't available when I was young.  It's easy to be condemning of the past and fail to remember that time has taught us some things.

        But my point here is that it was not easy for the parents or the child to see that if the kid was the one having an issue with all of these teachers, while other children were not having issues with all of these teachers, that chances were good that the kid contributed something to the problem.  They were so busy attacking and categorizing "all teachers" as uncaring, unfeeling, and unkind that they could use this label "teacher" to divide the world into the good and bad, with "teacher" being on the bad side.  Just as the teachers probably approached this kid with some preconceived ideas, this boy and his family approached "teacher" with a lot of preconceived ideas.  

        They all came with their tunnel vision to the conversations.  And while it was probably easy for an entire school to band together in mutual condemnation of this boy and his family, it was also amazingly easy for the boy and his parents to band together in a conviction that it was "all the teachers" in the school that were at fault.  From that place, there wasn't going to be a whole lot of movement on either side towards reconciliation, healing, change or growth.  There just wasn't.  

      Condemnation is easy.  Labeling is easy.  Deciding that one side is wrong/bad and the other side right/good makes the world neat and tidy.  In this scenario, I know who my friends are and I know who my enemies are.  I know what to think and believe.  I know who to trust and who to fear.  I know where to place my anger and my disappointment with the world, and I know where to look for salvation and hope.  I know who to convict and who to redeem, and I know that to be loyal means to choose the clear-cut side I've come to believe is always the right side.

      Oh, if only that matched reality in any way!

      The truth is so much more complicated.  But truth is very, very hard.  No one of us will EVER have a complete grasp of truth, because truth includes everyone's experiences, and opinions and feelings.  We will never have everyone's experiences and opinions and feelings so none of us will ever grasp the full truth.  Truth is also hard because it involves seeing that everyone has good gifts, and everyone has faults.  Everyone does some things right, and everyone makes mistakes, whether they are able to see them or not.  The best any of us can do is to keep trying to do better.  The best any of us can do is to keep searching for genuine understanding.  But let me just say the obvious here:

      Genuine understanding is not easy.  And it is far too easy for us to avoid seeking it.  If we were to seek genuine understanding, we'd have to expand our views.  If we were to strive to listen to the other side, or to engage those with whom we are angry, we might have to change.  If we were to open our eyes to a bigger vision that goes beyond us and them, black and white, my side and your side, we might have to face the reality that we aren't always right, or good.  And we might have to admit that we have not always been just to people who have deserved to be treated better.  

      This seems like such a hardship for most humans.  And that makes me very sad.  But my commitment this day is to try harder to see the greys, and to hear the other side of things.  My commitment is to be quicker to say "I'm sorry" and to forgive the other, but also faster to forgive myself for my part in conflicts (because, really, it is easier to face the truth of our errors if we know there will be forgiveness for them!). My commitment is to not just take the easy way of deciding who is right and who is wrong, but to recognize that everyone in a conflict is both right and wrong.  Everyone comes with stories and histories and everyone is in need of healing, reconciliation and forgiveness.  That's all I can do.  I can't change anyone else, but I can strive to do my part.

Making One Out of Two

 Mark 6:30-44, Ephesians 2:11-22 

            Today we continue with our second week study of the book of Ephesians.  And while we didn’t focus very much on Ephesians last week, today we will spend a little more time with it.  Today we hear these words of unity, of reconciliation, “For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility,… His purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace, and in one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility.  He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near.”

            What is interesting is that, biblically speaking, we usually talk about God’s “peace” as something God creates between us and God, or something that we find within ourselves.  But the promise here in Ephesians is extraordinary.  The promise is that peace will be created between divergent and even fighting peoples, as it was between the Christian Jews and Gentiles of that time.  When I think about the many generations of racial strife and fighting in our country, when I think about the Israelis and Palestinians currently, when I think about the divisions along political lines in our own country, the words of not only disagreement, but frankly hatred that I have heard people speak for those who disagree… when I think of ALL of this, to hear these words from Ephesians which speak of Christ’s sacrifice, his death, as a bridge that will create PEACE and reconciliation between these different groups, it is truly almost beyond hope.  How big and different from what we know will God’s realm, God’s reign have to be for us all to be in it together in peace, for us to come together as diverse people to love and care and connect to one another, to be “one”?

            But this passage from Ephesians promises this.  It says that Christ’s cross has destroyed and will destroy three things: a barrier or wall, the law of commandments and decrees, and most importantly enmity.  According to Ephesians, by dying on the cross, God breaks down a wall that separated humanity from God.  This is not about atonement, according to the author of Ephesians.  This is about experiencing and living fully our humanity.  As the NIV commentator said it, “Humans are too trapped in the deadly effects of sin to return to God on their own – or even to notice the wall that is keeping God out?  People still need to be convinced of God’s unconditional love for them….  People have to be loved into forgiveness.”  And it is from that place of being convinced of God’s unconditional love, of God’s unimaginable forgiveness, that breaking down of the barrier between us and God that all barriers between humans, between dividing forces are also being broken down.

            So how is this possible?  And since the cross has already happened, if the cross unites us, why are we not united?  Why are we still so very divided, still separating ourselves into “us” and “them”, still estranging ourselves from people who think differently, rather than being one, being reconciled, working towards healing, wholeness and the living into the new and full humanity that the cross has created for us?

            The thing is, as I have said so many times before, what we do for ourselves affects greatly what we do for others.  If we cannot accept God’s unconditional love for us, if we cannot accept in forgiveness, or grace, how can we extend that to others?  We can’t.  Period.  We can’t. 

            But I want to say again, that I think culturally the cards are stacked against us stepping into that.  Which is why faith is countercultural.  Faith calls us into a very different way of being than we see modeled and even idolized in our culture.  Faith calls us into a different set of values than what we have presented in our culture.  The cross, and the reconciliation it offers calls us to be very, very different in this world than what we are told is the best and right way to be.

            One of my lectionary friends told us this story this week:  there was a congregation down the road from her own congregation: a predominantly African American congregation and they ran a food pantry for many years.  But there came a point at which they needed help.  So they called on my friends’ congregation and asked if they could partner together to keep the food pantry alive.  After one week of working together, my friend asked the folk in the originating congregation how the food pantry work was going.

            “Terrible!”  one woman said, while all the others nodded in agreement. 

            “Terrible?  Why?” my friend asked.

            “Well, the folk from your church show up, they quickly load up the bags, they put them into the cars of the guests who are coming, they clean up everything perfectly and then they leave.  The whole thing lasted from 8am-10am and then it was over.”

            My friend was stunned.  This sounded wonderful.    But she had enough wisdom to ask, “What did it look like before, when it was not terrible?”

            “Oh!” the woman said with joy as she remembered how the food pantry used to be run.  And then the whole group of them began to quickly talk over each other sharing their past experiences.  “We would gather between 7 and 8, we’d talk, we’d check in with one another, we would laugh and play around as we gathered together the things to put in each bag.  Sometimes we’d stop, pause, sit down and have a drink to talk together and cool down.  Then when people came to get their food, we would talk to them, sit with them, ask them how they were doing, laugh more, talk more, sit again and share a coke for a bit.  We’d spend the whole day at the food pantry, just being together.”

            Different values, yes.  But I think we miss something with our emphasis on efficiency.  I speak to myself here.  I am the queen of efficiency.  I was thinking about this this last week when I went to pick up a book from a parishioner.  When I stopped at her house, she invited me in to sit and talk for a while. After we had talked for some time, she said to me as I was getting up to go, “I needed to grab you while you were here picking up the book because I know you are just so very busy.”  And it hit me differently.  I hear all of you say this, often, to me.  “Oh, I know you are so busy!”  and at some level, I think, I’ve always heard that as a positive: you all know how much I work, how hard I work, and that answers my value of needing to work hard, do well, work harder, do better.  But is that really a godly value?  As I heard one of you speak to me this last week, I realized that it would be more valuable to slow down, to be with people for more time, to dig in more deeply with people.  For the first time I heard “you are so busy” as a critique – not because it was meant to be, not because it was spoken as such, but because I heard it with different ears this time.  I could hear God whispering to me through this parishioner that I had gotten lost, distracted about what really matters, and had forgotten about what I am really here to do.  My job as a child of God, as a follower of Christ, as a person on the way, is not to be rushing around “accomplishing things” or “getting things done.”  My job, as a disciple of Christ, as a person striving to be closer to God is to take the time to be with each person who is in front of me in any one moment.  I think about the comment, “If you’ve ever seen a chicken running around after its head has been cut off, you know that running around is NOT a sign of life.”  We are called to live fully.  But what we are doing by being so busy is not fully living and is certainly not fully living into our calling as children of God.

            I think about Tolstoy’s three questions:  “Who is most important?  What is most important?  When is the most important time?”  He answers it this way, “The one you are with at any moment is the most important one.  The most important thing to do is what is right in front of you that needs to be done.  And the most important time is this moment that you have now, for there is no other.”

            I am not alone in these struggles.  As I was telling my lectionary group, a group of pastors who have committed to meeting every single week for two hours and sometimes more to pray together, study scripture together, check in and support one another: I could not get such a group going here in the Bay Area.  All the pastors here who I know are “too busy”.  Again, we feel our “importance” by filling our time with programs and activities and work.  But that is not what God is calling us to do.

            What does all of this have to do with the Ephesians passage?  Crossing those bridges, building those relationships, reconciliation, the peace with our neighbors – the one that is offered through Christ: these things take time, take commitment, and take intentionality.  If we are too busy “doing” things to sit with people who disagree with us, to talk together, to be in relationship with one another, to do the work of reconciliation, then that peace of Christ, which is what is being offered through these relationships and through our faith – it will never be ours.  

            Our churches are failing in this, maybe even more so than in the bigger community.  Did you know that the most segregated hour of the week is 10am Sunday morning?  Our churches are the last bastion of segregation.  And that is not what God wants from us nor for us. 

            The cross is there, reminding us that God knows all of what we live, all of what we suffer, all of what we struggle against; and it is offering us reconciliation, not only with God, but with one another.  It is a profound promise.  A very deep and full promise.  But we have to step into that.  If we truly want reconciliation, we have to act like we believe the promise that it is available for us.  If we truly want unity and wholeness, we have to step forward in the faith that it is a gift offered to us that we have only to claim.  If we want the peace of Christ in our lives, we have to start by working to trust God’s unconditional and overwhelming love, and more, to trust that through God’s grace it is offered to each one of us.  It’s all that easy, and all that hard.  Amen.

Challenges of the times

        Thursday evening was my daughter's back to school night.  This was a different back to school night because it was all on-line.  It was set up so that every 15 minutes we were invited to "move" from one period of study to the next by closing a zoom group meeting that was hosted by the teacher for that particular period at school, and opening the next zoom meeting for the next period's teacher.  We were sent a list of the zoom links for each of our child's classes.  Unfortunately the links to the zoom rooms that the parents were sent all required passcodes, none of which were sent.  

      To say the least, then, it was an interesting evening.  We had been invited to start the evening with a zoom meeting with the principal.  That room was accessible and did not require passcodes.  So, as each parent discovered that they were unable to get into their child's zoom classrooms, they returned to this zoom room.  The principal's zoom room had all of us permanently muted.  So different parents were writing signs and holding them up for all of us to read.  The signs said things like, "This is what our kids are experiencing every day" and "This is why our kids need to actually be on campus".  Personally, I disagree with that second sign and I don't understand this perspective.  I would much rather have my child struggling to learn in a new way (after all, that is learning, too and isn't that what school is about?) than to risk my child being exposed to a deadly and highly contagious disease.  But I seem to be in the minority in this perspective.

       Of course, the school was on top of the problem fairly quickly.  And so we were able to connect to most of my daughter's classes.  The school immediately sent out emails to all the parents apologizing and begging for our compassion and patience.  That was not hard for me to give.  These are hard times, we are all struggling to make our way through new ways of doing things, new ways of connecting.  We are learning new technology and sometimes it doesn't work for us in the ways we expect or hope.  I know how to contact my child's teachers and if there is an issue, I can just reach out directly.  While I was unable then to hear a couple teacher presentations, I do not feel that I have missed vital information that will change the course of my daughter's future irrevocably for the worse.  This was a small inconvenience and the school dealt with it as quickly and as efficiently as could be expected.  Mistakes happen.  We all make them.

       But I have since heard that not all parents were as compassionate or as patient.  While this, too, baffles me at some level, I again have been made aware that this shouldn't surprise me at all since the anger, rage and attacks are happening in so many different situations and places.  We know that one of the real problems of social media is that people feel emboldened to say cruel and hateful things through social media that they would never dare to say to others in person.  People are not held accountable and they rant and rave on social media in ways that would be seen as extremely childish, unthoughtful, and simply inappropriate if it were done in person.  Relationships are permanently damaged then because of the things people feel free to type, things that they would be prevented from saying to a person's face because they would see the hurt, see the pain they were causing which would then push most people to find gentler and better ways to speak their truth if they chose to speak at all.  

       But now, we only have these distant ways of communicating.  We are no longer talking directly to people, no longer seeing the faces of those we are injuring in person, no longer forced to talk to those with whom we disagree because it is so much easier to just refuse to answer the phone, to choose to ignore the email, to pretend the other doesn't exist, or to choose to speak about others rather than TO others directly.  We could never do this if we were in the same places at the same time.  But we can and do do this now.  90% of communication is non-verbal.  But we no longer have these non-verbal cues to help us to be the sane, kind, compassionate adults we are called to be.  And as a result, people's daily behavior is deteriorating at a rapid rate.

       As always then, my question is where do we go from here?  I remind all of us to work a little harder for compassion.  Try to remember that we are all struggling, all finding our way.  Mistakes happen.  Work harder to forgive.  Additionally, reach out, especially to those it would be easier to avoid.  Our call is always towards reconciliation, bridge-building, healing relationships.  We do not and cannot do that by refusing to speak to each other, by gossiping, or by attacking each other rather than listening with compassion.  

      And, as I have also said often before, remember that we have a choice about how we walk through each day.  We have a choice about our perspective.  Do we see these times as struggles?  Or as opportunities to grow and learn?  Do we see these times as nothing but hardships with people who are simply difficult?  Or do we see this time as providing us the opportunity to be brave, to reach out to those with whom we disagree or are struggling and to find a new way to be in community together?  I know that these dualisms are not realistic always.  We will usually see both the bad and hopefully some of the good.  We will recognize that there are hardships and gifts in this time.  But I encourage all of us to focus on the good in our own lives so that we have the strength to deal with the challenges that we all face.  Listen for God's call to you today.  Listen to the ways in which we are being challenged to grow in our understanding of the connectionality, the interdependence of all things.  We need each other.  As we can remember this, it will help us to choose kindness.

       My prayers are with us all as we continue to navigate these troubling waters.  May you find a place to breathe, a space to be.  May you be held by your love for one another.  And may you be emboldened to speak from places of love, compassion and forgiveness rather than from places of rage and pain.

As the crisis continues...

        I've been having bad dreams at night.  Not exactly nightmares, but disturbing dreams.  Most of them seem to center around relationships from the past, people who were once part of my life but aren't anymore.  Some of the dreams are fairly realistic: exploring what would happen if we met up again.  Others are completely unrealistic and travel down weird roads and situations that are just not realistic at all.  I know I'm not alone in having bad or disturbing dreams.  Other people have shared with me that this has been one of their experiences of this crisis time as well.
       Any trauma can bring up for us all the traumas of the past; any unknown time can bring up everything that was unsure, uneasy, or unresolved from the past; any time of fear can raise in us a need to try to heal or fix anything from our lives that has not been dealt with sufficiently.  I think that at some level, no matter what the crisis, trauma causes us to look at our mortality and to try to work through what we want dealt with before we leave this life.  Sometimes our dreams are a way to try to work through some of those things.  Sometimes dreams are invitations to look more closely in our waking hours at our past so we can walk with more confidence and wholeness into whatever future we may have for however long we may have it.  Maybe the challenges of this time, the traumas of this season are affecting you in different ways or manifesting for you in different ways, but for me, the challenges of today seem to be manifesting especially through disturbing dreams.
       As always with the things that challenge or disturb, I see in them a calling.  For me, one of the callings in this present disturbance is to do more real and important life work than maybe normal times allow us to do.  I see in my disturbing dreams an invitation for healing and reconciliation, a call to reach out to those I haven't spoken to in a while, a chance to really do some of the inner work, healing and peacemaking that we are always called to do as part of our human journeys.  I know there are some relationships that cannot be attended to.  I know there are some situations that it are best  turned over to God for healing.  I do believe that relationships that cannot be dealt with directly still can be healed within ourselves, and I also believe that God is active in healing all relationships when we are serious about doing that work.  Still, there are people who we might not have connected with in a long time, and this time may be an invitation to reach out.  And there are many relationships and situations that can be healed directly through conversation, the making of amends, the offering of apologies and forgiveness, and the work of grace.
      I find myself remembering the good about many people I haven't talked to in a long time.  I find I am missing folk I haven't been with in a long time.  Mostly, I am feeling incredibly grateful for all the people who have touched my life: some for a short time, some for a longer time, some for my life time. For all of you who have graced my journey, I am grateful.  I am grateful whether my time with you was for growing, was for learning or was for healing.  I am who I am because of my time with each of you.  I will grow into who I will be because of our interactions, whether they were positive or negative.  For all that you are and do and have done, I offer thanks.

Reconciliation

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

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

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

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.  

Discerning the Body

1 Corinthians 11: 17-33

Ephesians 2:14-18

               In today’s first passage Paul is confronting bad communion practices.  He starts with this: “So then, when you come together, it is not the Lord’s Supper you eat, for when you are eating, some of you go ahead with your own private suppers. As a result, one person remains hungry and another gets drunk.  Don’t you have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you despise the church of God by humiliating those who have nothing?”  So his first point is that all are included, regardless of economic level, regardless of what they can bring to the meal.  Also note, as I’ve mentioned before, that communion was meant to be a meal.  It was meant to fill those who came, feed them in a very real and concrete way.  It was a supper, it was a gathering of community, it was a celebration of God-in-our-midst, God who provides our daily needs of food and drink, God who comes to us in the ordinary and every day experiences of eating and drinking, of joining together with friends.  Today’s passage from 1 Corinthians ends with this, “So then, my brothers and sisters, when you gather to eat, you should all eat together.”  We do this after church on Sundays: just snacks, most of the time, but that eating together, that time for community and sharing of food, that is communion at the deepest level.

               By the way, this idea that communion is a meal is mirrored in the very words we use when we say, “this is the joyful feast of the people of God.”  It is meant to be a feast, a meal.  A feeding.

               Obviously we don’t do it that way anymore.  The communion “feast” became limited to a small piece of bread and a small sip of drink in a time when people were afraid that folk were coming solely because they were hungry and wanted to be fed, rather than for the “proper” reasons of remembering Christ’s life, death and resurrection.  But I will tell you honestly, it always feels more like real communion to me when we are feeding and sitting with those who are there simply out of need than it does to me to take a single bite of bread and call that communion.  Jesus fed people, including the hungry.  And when we do the same, we are more accurately following Jesus’ footsteps, we are more accurately acting out the “sacrament” than any other way we do communion.  Sacraments in the Presbyterian church involve three components: 1.  Jesus participated in it.  2.  Jesus did it for us.  3.  Jesus called us to do it.  When it comes to communion, Jesus ate, Jesus fed, and Jesus called us to do the same.  We are sacramentally called to feed one another, and when we do so in community, it truly gets at the heart of the sacramental practice of communion.

               Paul ends this passage in Corinthians with the following statement: “Everyone ought to examine themselves before they eat of the bread and drink from the cup. For those who eat and drink without discerning the body of Christ eat and drink judgment on themselves.”  So what does it mean to “discern the body?”  He’s already said that excluding anyone who comes to the table is a failure to discern the body.  He has also said that eating within your own small groups is a way of failing to discern the body. 

               The passage we read from Ephesians gives a bit more insight.  “For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by setting aside in his flesh the law with its commands and regulations. His purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace, and in one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility.  He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near.  For through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit.”  So “discerning the body” has to do with an ability to get past our differences, to remember that we are connected, united in Christ.  “Discerning the body” is about seeing one another with eyes of love and peace and recognition that we are all children of God despite our differences, despite our disputes.

               Roger Wolsey sent me a story this week in which he described an encounter he had with someone on the opposite side of the theological spectrum from himself outside the General Conference of the United Methodist Church.  They were arguing with each other loudly, with passion, with intensity, about LGBTQ inclusion.  Wolsey wrote, “In the midst of this nasty melee, I felt a breeze against the back of my legs. I turned and saw a tall man in a suit reaching in between us with a large cookie in his hand, saying, “Have a cookie!” The guy with the sign and I looked at each other, then at him, and then we took the cookie being offered. We broke it in half and started to enjoy the cookie. The guy in the suit walked off hardly breaking stride at all. We found ourselves still arguing, but our volume level went way down and we somehow shifted into a more civil mode of, slightly, more rational debate. He learned my name is Roger. I learned his name is Fred. And at the end, we honored each other as being fellow Christians, we shook hands and pledged to pray for each other (both of us certain that the other needed prayer).”  He continued, “the line between enemy and friend is not a rigid one and … the concept of “enemy” is only there to the extent that we want and allow it to exist.  Historic writings about the early Church tell us that non-Christians often remarked of Christians “See how they love each other!” There was a time of such a lack of love in ancient Roman society that any show of love or joy, let alone unconditional love like the kind that had them going out of their way to ensure that the poor people of Rome received proper burials, set Christians apart from the rest of the crowd. People could sense something was different about those Christians. That difference was inclusive, radical love and compassion – and that difference made Christianity worthy of consideration. Those early Christians provided proper funeral services for the indigent strangers when no one else would. They rescued infants with birth defects from the garbage heaps who’d been rejected and discarded as refuse by families unwilling to raise them. And they notably tended to each other when they took ill, experienced hardship, became widowed, etc.”

               On this World Communion/Peacemaking Sunday it is especially important that we remember this.  We are celebrating communion with Christians around the world today.  We are also remembering the needs, and especially the hungers of people around the world as we collect the peacemaking offering which goes in large part towards the ending of hunger around the world.  These three things: our connections to each other around the world, our feeding of each other through communion, and peacemaking are all intimately connected. 

               So today as we celebrate both peacemaking and world communion Sunday I invite you to take part at a deeper level in both being fed and in feeding.  In terms of being fed, we have baskets full to the brim with different kinds of breads from around the world.  Do not just take a bite, but take a real piece of bread.  Savor it, taste it, let it fill you in body as well as in spirit and in soul, let it be part of you even as you see that same bread becoming part of those around you.  In terms of feeding one another, I encourage you to give generously to the peacemaking offering that we will be taking in a few minutes.  In our praying, I encourage you to remember people around the world, our brothers and sisters, our family whom we have yet to meet, and to lift up deep prayers for their wholeness, their well-being, their safety and health.

               Communion is so many things.  It is remembering.  We remember Jesus’ death and resurrection.  We also remember what God has done throughout history.  When Jesus ate the Passover meal, he was remembering the Israelites freed from slavery.  We also remember the return from exile.  We also remember that Jesus was recognized by his disciples after the resurrection through the breaking of the bread – through eating with them in communion and community. 

               It is New covenant of forgiveness and grace and life. 

               It sustains the church by Christ’s pledge of undying love and continuing presence.   

               And on this World Communion Sunday it also connects us to people around the world in a commitment to love, to peace, to justice.

               We thank you, God; we bless you, God; we anticipate, God, your fulfilling of the kingdom on earth.  We trust in and receive Christ’s love, we manifest the reality of the covenant of grace in reconciling and being reconciled.  We proclaim the power of Christ’s reign for renewal, justice and peace in the world.  We bind the Church with Christ and with one another, united with all Christians, nourished by Christ’s presence, and we ask to be kept faithful.  We renew our baptism vows through this taking of communion.  We celebrate the joyful feast of the people of God and anticipate the great banquet where all people will be united and made whole.  Amen.

A Different Kind of Grief

I've been thinking lately about the very different kinds of grieving that people do.  We tend to lump all grief together, we identify stages and experiences that people go through, no matter what kind of grieving they are doing, and while we "rank" grief (death of a spouse is worse, for example, in our minds than death of a acquaintance or perhaps a pet), that ranking shows in many ways how little we understand about grief.

Each person grieves differently, and each loss for each person is experienced differently.  Yes, there are some similarities: most people experience some form of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance (others identify different stages which can include guilt, pain, loneliness, reconstruction and hope in addition to the others mentioned).  Most people revisit other times of grief, other losses, as they go through whatever current loss they are facing. For most, the order of these feelings and stages varies and there is a bit of "cycling" where you may pass to one stage then back to one you've experienced before then onto another and back again.  This can happen rapidly or slowly.  Sometimes, regardless of the kind of loss, people can get stuck, mostly when they are unwilling or unable to actually feel all the feelings that arise with a particular loss, or when the loss continues to cause other problems for them.

But regardless of these similarities, there are also so many differences.  I've been thinking in particular about the difference between a death and a 'break up' of any kind of relationship, be it friendship, a schism in a family or a partnership.  The stage names may be similar, but they look very different.  For example, the "bargaining and denial" stages after a death usually don't last too terribly long because the reality is you can't bring someone back.  Once they are gone, they are gone.  But after the ending of a relationship where both people are still alive, the denial and bargaining can go on for years.  We've all heard of people who still hold a torch for their exes years and sometimes even decades after the relationship has ended. I find that within those stages there are also different aspects than perhaps occur after someone has died.  One sub-stage is a vilifying of the other, which may not always happen but often does.  In this aspect or sub-stage of denial, the end of the relationship occurred because the other is just wrong, evil, messed up.  We deny our own part in the ending because we can't face it.  We exaggerate the others' part in the ending because it hurts too much to think we would be "left" or that the relationship would fail because of anything other than our partner or friend or family member just being an awful human being.  Another aspect which combines the denial and bargaining stages is a continual hope that somehow things will be resolved or that reconciliation of some kind will be possible, especially if things ended with animosity.  Most of us don't like the idea that someone out there hates us, or feels negatively about us.  And I think most of us would wish for that to resolve, for the other to see through whatever our issues and behaviors have been and to desire healing and good will in the end.  Even when we know this is an impossibility, even when we know it is not best for either of us, even when our smartest, most mature selves would balk against any renewed interaction that might look like the potential for reconciliation because we know it would lead to other problems, be unhealthy, or cause more damage, we still hope for it in our hearts as part of our grieving process.

The point of all this?  While it has been a huge step forward that we now recognize that grief is a process that takes time and that there are different and normal stages that most people experience through grief, we still have a ways to go in understanding how every grief is different.  While models of grieving initially are helpful so that we have a framework for understanding grief as a natural and healthy process, failing to see each grief as the unique experience that it is can damage our ability to be truly empathetic with what another person is feeling.  Each grief is its own.  Each loss will be handled and experienced differently by each person.  Trying to box a person into a particular stage, and scheduling out how long or in what way that stage should be "mastered" won't help. The more we can simply be with one another through whatever the other is experiencing, the more we can support each other in moving through grief. The worst thing we can do is to tell someone else to get over it, or to feel something other than what they are feeling in the moment. The best we can do is allow another to go deeper into whatever the feelings are so that they may emerge on the other side.  That means we have to let go of our preconceived ideas about what each grief should look like. There just isn't a right way to grieve.  And there certainly isn't a map through the grief process.  There isn't a "one size fits all" way to walk through our losses.  I say it again: each grief is unique and the process through each loss will therefore be unique.  There isn't a right or wrong, and there isn't even a "better" or "worse" way through.  It will be what it will be.  And the best we can do is hold hands as we walk our journeys.

A Deeper Exploration into Reconciliation

         I've been spending a great deal of time over the last few years thinking about reconciliation.  I believe deeply in searching for, creating, and working towards reconciliation.  I believe that we are called to move towards wholeness, and that doesn't just mean as individuals, but as a people.  I believe the anger, hatred and fear that exists between people tears us apart, not just between people, but within our very souls.  We forgive so that we can let go of anger, hatred, fear, and pain and find peace. We make amends so that we can release the heavy and debilitating burdens of guilt and shame. We heal relationships because when we hang on to pain we cannot find peace within or without. Peace comes from grace, but also I believe we reach out, own and claim grace as we make peace, not only with God and with ourselves, but with all of those around us.  We cannot be at peace as long as there are tears (rips) within us or between us.  We cannot fully embrace grace as long as we cannot own our own parts, make amends, and extend forgiveness to others and to ourselves.  We cannot be bearers of peace, grace, and their overarching parent, Love, as long as we are consumed inside with anger, hate, pain, shame, guilt or fear. And when we are not reconciled in our personal relationships, what hope do we possibly have of being reconcilers in the world?  How can we carry peace to a community when in our personal lives we are so torn? When our insides look like this:

how can we possibly hope to convey and be bearers of this?:

     My deepest heroes are people of peace: Mr. Rogers, Ben Weir, MLK, Don Carroll, Carol Creek, Jimmy Carter, Richard Rohr, Cyndi Sneeringer.  You may not know all of these people, but they are all people who embodied/embody peace, grace and love.  Their very presence makes a room feel lighter, more hopeful, more "holy". Their spirits are calming, and when I am with them in any way (with their writings, their words, or in their presence), I find myself often moved to a place of tears, a place of release, a place of praying with all of my being for the world's wholeness and reconciliation. They model for me who I want to be.  They show me a way that is better than who I currently am.  

      And yet, in the face of all of this, I am aware that there are some relationships that simply cannot be reconciled. There are some people who do not want reconciliation. There are other people who struggle with specific mental illnesses that do not allow them to create space for reconciliation. There are people who cannot be self-reflective and therefore cannot do the work of remorse, repentence, asking for forgiveness and offering forgiveness - all of which is truly necessary for reconciliation. There are barriers sometimes of time, distance, situation, even death. And sometimes there are people who are simply toxic for us for a myriad of reasons that make that reaching out, that crossing of the barriers, dangerous - for the other as well as for ourselves.  

      I struggle with this. I want reconciliation to always be possible. As I said, I believe in wholeness, in healing, in crossing boundaries. I believe in grace and peace. What, then, does a person who wants with her whole being for the world to find peace, to be reconciled - what does that person do with the reality that sometimes it just simply is not possible? I asked some of the wise people in my life, those people of peace, "How do you believe in reconciliation when you can see situations in which it appears impossible?" 

      "It is ALWAYS possible," was the answer that was returned.  But also, "It is possible within yourself, it is possible with God, it is possible with the universe.  But it is not always helpful or possible to do this directly with the other. Most of the time it is. But with a few it just isn't.  It is so important to accept this. There are people we cannot and/or should not connect with. There are people we cannot reach and people we cannot help. We are human, and because of that, we have limits and limitations. And others have those limits and limitations too. Only with acceptance of this reality of what it is to be human can God create the forgiveness, the healing and the reconciliation within each of us."

      I think about the 12-step program necessity of making amends wherever possible.  It is crucial to healing that we do this. And I have wondered if we aren't making excuses to avoid the hard work when we choose not to seek out reconciliation. Part of truly reconciling, even if it is just within ourselves, is to ask ourselves and to be able to answer honestly that we have done what we could, as well as then turning it over to God or the Universe or whatever you understand to be bigger than yourself. 

      This journey that we are on is not a smooth or easy one.  But one day at a time, one step at a time, one relationship at a time, we can learn to find peace even when the answers are not what we want or expect, either of the world or of ourselves. I believe the first step in becoming the people we strive to be is simply to accept our humanity. And to seek to offer and accept grace and forgiveness in the face of limits and limitations, not only to others, but to ourselves as well. 

An image worth sharing

Christmas Peace

Today is Christmas Eve.  And I find myself anticipating...well - busyness, chaos, lots of singing, acting, music, eating, presents, noise, family, friends, joyful sounds, excitement, driving and, again, busyness.  Our sanctuary is filled with poinsettias and Christmas banners and nativity scenes, candles and words.  We will have 2 vocal choirs, 3 small music groups, bells, a brass choir, organ and piano solos as well as traditional Christmas carolling.  We will have preservice music, then a service, then more preservice music, and another service.  Two pastors, two congregations, two organists, two music directors, lots of volunteers, Santa, Jesus, children, adults, readers, singers, etc, etc, etc all joining together in joyful, planned, full worship.  And it will be glorious and fun.  We will end it all with candles and quiet, only to be awaken from that by a rousing postlude of "joy to the world".  It's the happiest time of the year.

But...

Under it all, I find myself anticipating something else.  I strive to sit in quiet each day for at least fifteen minutes during all of this busyness.  It doesn't always happen, but that is my goal.  To sit.  To listen. To breathe.  And as I do that I find that underneath the anxiety, the stress, the worry, the joy, the planning, the activities and the anticipation of more movement and business, that there is something more. Something that is waiting.  When I am still I find myself waiting, watching, praying, and hoping.  I find myself searching for, and anticipating forgiveness, reconciliation, healing... peace.

I can't make those things happen.  But I know that God can.  And I know that God chooses those things as well.  God, too, wants forgiveness, reconciliation, healing within each person, between individuals, between communities, around the world.  Our Prince of Peace wants those things for all of us.  Often we can be part of creating those things, often we are necessary to be part of creating those things. But sometimes the most we can do is choose to enter the world with peace in our hearts, and choose to be open and offering at all times of those things to all we encounter, and even to the spirits of those we never meet face to face.  We can welcome into our hearts forgiveness, reconciliation, healing... peace.  And pray to embody those things in the world.

Sometimes these qualities are things I only strive for and not characteristics or ways of being in the world that I easily embody.

But this Christmas Eve I wait, watch, search for and anticipate their coming.  I trust that God is bringing them.  And I will look with eyes open for ways to be part of that, in my own life and in the world.