Foundry UMC DC: Sunday Sermons

What Not to Wear: A Sermon Preached by William E. Green at Foundry United Methodist Church August 26th, 2018

“What Not to Wear”
Preached by William E. Green at Foundry United Methodist Church (Washington, D.C.)

August 26^th, 2018

Y’all! Isn’t it good to be the church this morning?! After a week of—well, the sadly routine—what a gift we have been given in this space, to come and gather and remember and celebrate and reclaim and proclaim the Gospel, the Good News, of God’s all-saving love and ever-present grace. You know, it’s good to be the church this morning, as we gather around two baptismal candidates and conclude our Art of Music Ministry series where we’ve been so blessed by our outstanding Music Department under the leadership of Stanley Thurston and, today, Paul Heins?

           Now, if you’ve come today for fashion forward advice for the modern Christian, as some have implied my sermon title might suggest, let me apologize now. I will never be known for my fabulous heels, like Pastor Ginger or our faithful sign-language interpreter Michael. The closest I got to well-dressed was when my mother and grandmother tricked me into a plaid sportcoat and wingtips for my fifth Easter—something for which, when I want to give my grandmother a hard time, made coming out 15 years later unavoidable.

           Instead, today, I want to spend my time with you today asking this question: if we are to be about the work of Kin-dom of God and to proclaim the Gospel of Christ in sustained, transformational ways—think, “Love God, Love Each Other, Change the World,”—what must we first let go of, shed, or empty out of our spiritual wardrobe? In other words, what’s NOT to wear?
Let us pray:

How lovely is your dwelling place, O LORD of Hosts! For indeed we are a people who wander in a weary land. We are overcome by anxiety. We are beset by stress. We are broken apart by the ever-present raging of the powers and principalities of this world. Yet here you remind us that you have not left us. Here your word is proclaimed and your Spirit made known. Here we find embodied among these with whom we gather the hope of the beloved community--from which all strength, love, and hope flows.

 

Send your spirit then, O God, to renew the face of the earth and hearts of your people. Through the proclamation of your Word this day might we open ourselves once more the wonders of your love, be transformed in its hearing for your work in the world, and be emboldened in our witness to make known the mysteries of your Gospel.

 And now, O God, I am your servant. Whether through me or in spite of me, may your Word come alive in this place. Speak, O Lord, for your servants are listening. Amen.

 

1. Introduction

 

           The Letter to the Ephesians, as we learned last week, is not a traditional epistle written to address a specific concern, problem, or challenge within a particular Christian context—think the Philippian, Roman, or Corinthian epistles. Rather, its more likely intention is establishing among the churches of Asia Minor a shared theological identity. An orthodoxy from which they could draw strength, understand their purpose, and collaborate in ways which furthered the Gospel.

           This purpose is evidenced though out the letter, who’s first chapters focus on the unity of the body of Christ and assert the universally salvific—meaning salvation for all people—nature of Christ’s action in the world, as well as the work of Christ to unite people for the common cause of the Gospel. There are astonishing assertions here, especially in an era of increased tribalism and deep economic and political division—not that we D.C. folk know anything about that, right— that the whole world, not just the Roman empire, Gentiles, or Jews, have been saved by Christ and for relationship with one another, created anew with a common purpose, and chosen by God to serve in union with Christ in the proclamation of the Gospel.  But then we hit our reading from today.

           This passage we’ve read enjoys what prolific preacher-teacher Fred Craddock calls the power of the familiar. The armor of God. A elementary Sunday School teacher’s best friend to corral kids with an easy craft and quick connection to the Superhero du jour. Sadly, if you grew up in small-town Vacation Bible Schools like I did, that familiarity might require a trigger warning. Any skepticism you feel is not unfounded, not in a world where multi-million dollar military parades—almost, amen— the violent colonization of communities through gentrification—dressed in battle gear and carrying automatic weapons—which criminalizes color and values ones views of the city over the lives of ones neighbors, and the militarization of our borders which has resulted in the dismantling of the families—the opposite, I’d say, of protecting family values—and the deaths of millions necessarily demands our interrogation of a text which calls upon us to wear armor of any kind.

1. Armed to What End?

           So before we can continue, we have to ask to what end we supposed to arm ourselves. Because to focus only on the author’s admonition to wear the “whole armor of God”^[1] is to miss the point the author is trying to make. That is, that the simple assertion of the Gospel and it’s expected outcomes in the lives of the believer is not in and of itself the accomplishment of that Gospel. In other words, it’s not just enough to talk about it—it being the Gospel of Jesus Christ or its implications for the work of justice and sacred community—or for us as individuals to conform to it. Because, by virtue of its proclamation and manifestation in us, it will necessarily invite the opposition of the forces and realities which it threatens. Before we even get to the armor itself, Scripture says,

“…our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers,

against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness,

against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places…”^[2]

 

Thus all those amazing claims about God’s work in us in the world do not mean we’ve got it made. Indeed, the transformation of the world and the lives of the church through Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection is the very nature of sacred resistance—that is, as defined in Pastor Ginger’s book Sacred Resistance:

 

“…any word, deed, or stance, that actively counters the forces of hatred, cruelty, selfishness, greed, dehumanization, desolation, and disintegration in God’s beloved world.”^[3] 

 and invites rebuke and retribution from that which we are resisting, in this case not individuals, but rather the systems, cycles, and injustices which pervade our lives and the world.

           And let’s be clear, this is not about getting shouted at during a protest. It IS about the systematic ways that evil functions in our society—both consciously through the powers of empire and economy—and subconsciously through our own privilege to tear down and tear apart any perceived threat to its reign. These are the cosmic powers of institutional racism that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. sacrificed his life to challenge and on whose altar we are still sacrificing black and brown bodies every day. The spiritual forces of that evil called homophobia that faithful folk must still fight daily in our own United Methodist Churches. Forces which have locked our denomination in a 40 year battle questioning the call of Christ on the lives of faithful queer folxs to faithful participate in the church—an question, by the way, answered by Jesus’s matchless grace and love long before we even thought to ask it. This is the tyranny of the rulers of this age who foster war between us—battles of identity politics and partisan saber rattling—dividing us from one another because they know when we’re divided from one another we lack the strength to stand up against them.

           To this end, then, faithful discipleship—in addition to God’s faithfulness and work in our lives and our faithful response through transformed living—is for the author of the Ephesians means being prepared for and ready to participate in what Pierre Teilhard de Chardin called “the slow work of God.”[4] The work of showing up and sustaining our witness against the ranting and raving of empirical powers and tyrannical tweets which would erase our witness and con us into believing that truth is not always truth.

The command to take up the whole armor of God is reminder that discipleship means being in it for the long-haul, and that God gives us what we need to sustain us in our witness and strengthen us in our resolve. More importantly, it’s a call to shed ourselves of any lingering savior complexes which plague us so that we might be free for joy even in the face of adversity. Those things against which we fight—spiritual forces and cosmic powers—have already been conquered through the loving action of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. As we read earlier in Ephesians:

“But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which God loved us…

made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—so that in the ages to come God might show the immeasurable riches of God’s grace.”[5]

This is an important reminder, perhaps the most important for us that we have not be saved for ourselves OR called to action only in a particular moment—be it one of political turmoil or denominational dis-ease—but are rather together caught up in the ways that God is daily saving us and the world. 

III. We Are What We Wear…

           So, about this armor, huh? So let’s pause here for a second and turn to the field of social psychology. A little lighter fare for a hot minute. While I was researching my sermon and trying NOT to use it as an excuse to watch Queer Eye—a new Netflix re-make of the similarly named Queer Eye for the Straight Guy—I ran across a theory developed by two Northwestern professors called “en-clothed cognition.” They argue that the clothes we wear distinctly impact not just OTHER’S perceptions of us, but our own psychology and sense of self.

           And that doesn’t seem too crazy, does it? Think about it for a moment. Those ‘magical’ lucky jeans that give us the extra boldness we’re lacking. A particular tie or set of heels we wear because we feel just that much more confident when we see ourselves in the mirror. That comfortable, well-worn hoodie who’s warm embrace calms our most anxious moments. Science actually suggests that these things we wear make a difference and that our awareness of that opens up a whole new way for us to to be our best and most true selves. In a manner, then, it’s true that we are not only what we imbibe but what we wear.

           I can’t help but wonder if the author of Ephesians knew a thing or two en-clothed cognition. The appeal to military garb common among the Roman Legions makes a lot of sense. Generally speaking, the reader would have associated someone wearing armor with a well-organized, unified and prepared body of people prepared to confront any onslaught—like the author says Christians must be. In a sense, they were forerunners of peace, associated with the spread and defense of the Pax Romana, the Roman Peace, that was associated with the growth of the empire (neveryoumind such peace was mostly reserved for Roman citizens in good standing). Proclaimers of a different kind of peace, let’s say.

           It’s actually a quite beautiful metaphor. It simultaneously draws on images that embody the author’s call for early Christians to maintain unity amid diversity, admonitions to stand firm in their conviction and belief, and responsibility for proclaiming the Gospel of Jesus Christ—-while also subtly co-opting weapons of war that were used to subjugate anyone who dared anger empire and to defend a false—i.e. Caesar’s—peace.

            However, it’s quickly clear that the armor of God ain’t the armor of Caesar.  It’s parts are for the protection of the body as they together—the repeated directives, though using the word “you” would be better read “y’all”—proclaim of Gospel of REAL peace through which God desire to heal and unify a broken world. A gospel in which all have a place and because of which transformation of heart and life is possible.

           What’s important here, of course, is not that we imagine putting on breastplates and helmets before venturing into the world—no matter what VBS might have told you—but rather that if we are to be sustained and faithful in our witness we must have in our spiritual wardrobe the kinds of “armor”—practices, communities, commitments, and values—which keep us rooted in our identity as those whom God calls beloved, sustained in our knowledge that God’s got our back and that it’s in God’s strength we live, and move, and have our being, and grounded in what matters so that we can lay down and let go of what does not.

Putting on the “whole armor of God” has never then been so much about going to war, there’s no “onward Christian soldiers” here. But so that we might, as the author says “be strong in the Lord and the strength of God’s power…,”^[6] so that we might “stand” and “withstand” the inevitably weariness and jadedness and unbelief that comes from doing the work day in and day out and feeling like nothing’s going to change. So that we can continue to show up, engaging in that ministry of presence that T.C. so often talks about and faithfully lives, a reminder that our work in the world, our witness to God’s goodness and light is often less about what our protest signs say or which rally we attend or what legislation we write or pass and much more, much more about the ways our personal relationships and faithfulness under fire point to the inevitable triumph of Gods grace, mercy, and light.

           A more modern “armor,” then, might include the raised fist of resistance and the open hand of peace modeled in our new “Sacred Resistance banner—a sign of solidarity and a commitment to the radical hospitality through which all people find their place at God’s table. Perhaps the silenced cellphone of real presence, a commitment made to not simply show up but to be fully present to those we encounter. Possibly holy habit of weekly sabbath—something with which I still daily struggle—in which we take in the beauty of the world and give thanks to God, as we began our time today doing, for the wonders of God’s love and grace even in the midst of a messy world.

           Whether the armor you need for the living of these days involves some old school Roman armaments or a comfortable pair shoes and an on-point printed tee (FILL IN HERE)

1. What’s in YOUR Wardrobe?

           But of course, putting something on requires, at the least, choosing not to wear something else, if not taking something off. Several weeks ago Jack and I traveled with two of our friends to Vancouver, British Columbia. During a stretch of switchbacks on a 12 mile hike, I was surprised that while we’d donned hiking shorts and opted for a small bag with bottles of water, we passed scores of folks carrying what looked like mini-fridges complete with bluetooth speakers and all other manner of electronic accoutrement worn precariously via backpacks and straps to their person, even someone pushing a kayak on a wheelbarrow. What became abundantly clear is that there were plenty of people who were unable to see the beauty unfolding them—or to be present to their experience with others—because they hadn’t first to ask what NOT to wear.

           So then, I return to the question I asked at the beginning of my time with you. What have we been wearing on this  journey of discipleship, need to change out of so we can change into the armor of God, that is the practices, values, relationships, and commitments which ground us in God’s love and help us to stand firm as we proclaim the Gospel?

           Where have we wrapped ourselves in self-righteousness, not only protecting ourselves from the people and things that cause us pain, but keeping out the experiences, stories, and relations with those that—though we might not agree with—are nonetheless as much a part of God’s beloved family as you or I? Where have donned our anger and frustration like a Sunday church hat, proudly proclaiming to all who will hear it the point of our discontent without care for who it will hurt or how it will affect the communities we call our own? Where have we shod our feet with the clunky-soled weight of our fear, allowing ourselves to grow comfortable in our complacency rather than daring to dream bigger dreams? When have we allowed our relationships, worn threadbare by old wounds and long-held grudges, to wither and fade rather than confront our complicity in their brokenness and work toward healing?

           Perhaps, perhaps, the invitation to take upon ourselves the whole armor of God is also the invitation to take off, put down, free ourselves from the attitudes, places, and relationships that have bound our confidence, drained our energy, and kept us from living fully in to the life God has created us for.

1. Conclusion

           Helmet of righteousness or silenced cellphone of real presence, we conclude any encounter with this text certain of two things.

           First, how we prepare ourselves for this journey we’ve been called to matters. For the living of these days and in the face of all that lies ahead of us—called General Conferences and mid-term elections and the weight of another year with it’s uncertainties and unknowns—we cannot expect the proclaim “with boldness the mystery of Gospel” without the proper wardrobe. So, then, knowing the journey isn’t over take the time to get some shopping done now. Pick out a pair of spiritual practices or two that keep you grounded every day. Try a bible study or small group on for size and build the kind of intentional community through which we find strength and accountability for our faith journeys. Slip into a new volunteer opportunity and see how it feels—whether it’s youth week or Great Day of Service or our growing opportunities for pastoral care and visitation.

           And most importantly of all, this work we’re called to, and for which we’ve been thus equipped, is one we do not labor in alone. Remember, we do this thing in community. No resistance undertaken on our own is sustainable, and we need one another for the living of these days. And God is faithful. God is faithful, friends!

………………… (AD LIB)

 

^[1] Ephesians 6:11; 6:13

^[2] Ephesians 6:12

^[3] Ginger Gaines-Cirelli, Sacred Resistance, pg. 1

[4] Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, Patient Trust

[5]Ephesians 2:4, 8

^[6] Ephesians 6:10

Imbibe: A Sermon Preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, August 19, 2018, the thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost.

Imbibe

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, August 19, 2018, the thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost.

Texts: Ephesians 5:1-2, 15-20, John 6:51-58 

What do you imbibe? I’m not asking about your drink of choice, though that is the most common association with the word “imbibe” these days. To “imbibe” is from the Latin embibere, meaning “to drink in.” This can be used literally as “drink a liquid” or figuratively as “drink in knowledge.” There’s a sense in which the word can mean “to soak up,” or “internalize”—that is, to unconsciously assimilate an attitude or behavior from what’s around us. We imbibe a lot, don’t we? What do you consciously or unconsciously soak up, internalize, drink in? 

 

The letter of Ephesians offers both a filter and a recipe for what followers of Jesus take in.  Ephesians was written—whether by Paul or a later disciple (as many scholars believe)—not as a letter to one church (as with the letters to the Corinthians) but rather as a general message to many churches—a teaching bulletin to the regional congregations, if you will—about the new way of life offered in Christ, a way very different from the predominant culture.

 

This new way of life is modeled on the self-giving love and mercy of God revealed in Jesus Christ. A one-line summary of the letter’s message is found in the first two verses of chapter 5: “Be imitators of God (creative, merciful, steadfast, just, relational), as beloved children (here is found your dignity and worth!), and live in love (not hate, fear, or greed), as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”  A “fragrant offering” here is not referring to a fancy, fragrant floral bouquet, but rather the wonderful smell of roasted lamb, the central course for the Jewish feast of the Passover.  Christ gave himself to us sacrificially, to feed us with what we need most of all.

 

The Gospel of John, uses this same theological metaphor, describing Jesus as the “the Lamb of God” (Jn 1:29).  In John, Jesus is recorded as saying, “I am the bread of life (Jn 6:35)…the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh…(Jn 6:51) Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life (Jn 6:54).”  This talk freaked people out from the beginning.  Flesh-eating zombies and blood sucking vampires may not yet have been thing in Bible times, but certainly human sacrifice was practiced in some pagan rites and cannibalism would have been anathema to many peoples even then. But the point throughout the Gospel of John, the point in the letter of Ephesians, is not about literally eating human flesh and drinking blood.  The point is that we are given an opportunity and the means to drink God in, to soak up the way Jesus lives, to become like Christ, to imitate God.  We are called to a new life that is qualitatively different from life outside Christ—a life formed according to God’s wisdom and way of compassion and justice, that shares in God’s work in the world, that is filled and fueled by God’s steadfast love.  That love is our sustenance, that love is our freedom, that love is shown to us and offered to us in the flesh-and-blood gift of Jesus.  We are given this way of life, this way of love, to eat and drink, to soak up, to take in, to imbibe. 

 

Our passage from Ephesians says, “Do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery; but be filled with the Spirit.” (5:18) Wine isn’t the problem here (Jesus drank wine regularly, even made it on occasion), but rather the result of alcohol abuse, or drunkenness is the issue.  This is described as “debauchery”—in the Greek is asōtia, a form of the word used to describe the behavior of the so-called “prodigal son” who “squandered his property in dissolute living (asōtōs).”[i] (Luke 15) So it seems that thoughtlessly, greedily wasting time, wasting resources, wasting your life on things that separate you from love, from health, from God—that’s the problem. The alternative choice is to be filled—drunk—with Spirit; imbibing Spirit promises a different kind of exuberance, confidence, and freedom than wine or drugs and is said to result in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (Galatians 5:22)

 

What do you imbibe? And what is the result?  //  When we are children, we only have so much control over what we imbibe. Children soak up everything…the energies, attitudes, language and practices of the adults around them. And parents and caregivers can protect children from only so much of what is streamed into public consciousness through images, television, internet, and more.  As we grow up, we still can’t control what is happening around us, but we can become aware of those things and learn that we have choices to make.

 

I’m not sure why it is the case, but we humans often struggle to choose wisely.  What you take in to yourself changes you.  What you imbibe affects everything.  As the old saying goes, “You are what you eat.”  So why don’t we consistently choose to consume Christ and walk in freedom and joy and justice? Why not daily drink in Spirit and be filled with love?

 

Well, the truth is there’s a lot of juicy, tempting junk food and drink around that is often much easier to take in than what Jesus offers.  Junk food tastes good in the moment, but has negative effects.  Just as self-medicating in the moment with alcohol or drugs can feel helpful in the moment, we know that the fall-out can be a disaster.  Often “junk food” looks better than it tastes and we end up growing unhealthy on food that is not (as my friend calls it) “calorie worthy.”

 

What do we consume that fills us with empty calories?  What do we take in even though it can be heart-clogging, vision-blurring, energy-sapping, and joy-stealing?  We gnaw on negativity, apathy, and bitterness.  We soak up the poison of cynicism, fear, and gossip.  We consume violent and exploitive images and words.  We nurse drinks filled with our grievances.  We take in the message that those who are different can’t be trusted, that there is one right way to do things and it just so happens to be ours.  We take in headlines overwhelmingly filled with violence and bad news forgetting that’s not the only news out there.  We consume the narrative of scarcity and zero-sum games that compels us to look out for number one.  // Even though we know better, we read the comments… // We consume hurtful or limiting words directed at us from others and allow those words to have more power than God’s word of love for us.  These words are destructive; they are junk food; and they cloud our vision and our hearing and fill us up so that it is difficult to receive the spirit and life that Jesus offers. 

 

Things that do harm can be so tempting and addictive.  Why is it easier to focus on the negative, to drink in drama, to believe the bad stuff, to consume that which doesn’t satisfy?  Why is it so easy to allow foolishness to make us turn our nose up at what nourishes spirit and life?  These are the persistent questions and the primary choice before us every day: do we fill our cup with God or with idols, with hope or with cynicism, with grace or with negativity, with meaning or with distractions, with love or with fear? 

 

In thinking about our theme for today, I thought of a metaphor C.S. Lewis provides in The Screwtape Letters.  As many of you will know, the premise of that book is that of Screwtape, a master tempter, writing letters to instruct a junior in the art of deception and recruitment away from God.  Screwtape contrasts the “devils’” goal with God’s goal (Screwtape refers to God as “the Enemy”), and does so in what I find to be a terrifying way:  “To us a human is primarily food; our aim is the absorption of its will into ours, the increase of our own area of selfhood at its expense.  But the obedience which the Enemy demands…is quite a different thing.  One must face the fact that all the talk about [God’s] love for [humans], and [God’s] service being perfect freedom, is not (as one would gladly believe) mere propaganda, but an appalling truth.  God really does want to fill the universe with a lot of loathsome little replicas of [Godself]—creatures whose life, on its miniature scale, will be qualitatively like [God’s] own, not because [God] has absorbed them but because their wills freely conform to [God’s own].  We want cattle who can finally become food; [God] wants servants who can finally become [family].  We want to suck in, [God] wants to give out. We are empty and would be filled; [God] is full and flows over.”[ii]

 

All that which is not God, the junk food voices that make us shrink and fear and lash out and shut down, want to consume us.  The junk drink energies make us live smaller lives than we’re made for, keep us drugged and dull and want to devour us.  But God wants to feed our hunger and quench our thirst so that we might live more freely and joyfully.

 

Hafiz, the 14^th century Sufi mystic poet helps us think about what happens when—for whatever reason—we don’t imbibe what we need. The poet writes:

I know the way you can get

When you have not had a drink of Love:

…

Even angels fear that brand of madness

That arrays itself against the world

And throws sharp stones and spears into

The innocent

And into one's self

 

O I know the way you can get

If you have not been out drinking Love:

You might rip apart

Every sentence your friends and teachers say,

Looking for hidden clauses.

You might weigh every word on a scale

Like a dead fish.

You might pull out a ruler to measure

From every angle in your darkness

The beautiful dimensions of a heart you once

Trusted.

 

I know the way you can get

If you have not had a drink from Love's Hands.

That is why all the Great Ones speak of

The vital need

To keep Remembering God,

So you will come to know and see [God]

As being so Playful

And Wanting,

Just Wanting to help.[iii]

 

We all know how we get without God’s abundant, nourishing love. So why not take a big gulp? …and say “Thanks.”

 

 [i] Susan Hylen, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=376

[ii] C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters, (HarperOne, 1996), 38-39.

[iii] Hafiz, “I know the way you can get” (excerpt), I Heard God Laughing: Renderings of Hafiz, by Daniel Ladinsky, Sufism Reoriented, 1996.

Peacemakers: A Sermon Preached by Rev. Ben Roberts at Foundry UMC, August 12, 2018

Peacemakers

Matthew 5:1-11

A sermon preached by Rev. Ben Roberts at Foundry United Methodist Church, Sunday, August 12, 2018

 

N-A-T-S, NATS, NATS, NATS, WOOOOOOO!

A run is scored, the people sitting in (formerly Gwenda Martin’s Section) and around Larry Slagle's section extend their arms holding hat in hand, with the top of the hat pointed downward. They begin to chant; N-a-t-s, then what? NATS, NATS, NATS WOOOOO.

What if someone new was near by? They have question; you explain it to them, this is what we do when a run is scored. For each run we do this. N-A-T-S, NATS, NATS, NATS, WOOOOOOO!

A run is scored, someone else joins in, N-a-t-s, NATS, NATS, NATS,  AHUUUGA!

What do you do? You would correct them, hard...it's not ahuuuuga! It's woo, pronounced WOOOOO. What are you doing get with the program?

They inquire, what's the difference, it's still jubilation? No, it's woo. Maybe you are a tolerant person, you let it slide...the first two times, but tonight the Nats decide to score 25 for some reason not thinking about spacing the blessed runs out maybe, want to win some other games occasionally? Other games need runs Nats, all games matter!!!!

You don't let ahugahhh slide, certainly not 24 of them. You call the usher. “This person is saying ahugaa not woo, they need to go. Get them out of here.” Usher totally gets it being there day in day out, they get rid of this person. Figure out the rules and participate or go.

We teach (sometimes), we correct, this is how racismworks...I mean baseball, this is how baseball works. Slipped up there.

But you get it, you understand how culture and cultural norms work. We teach we correct. We do it with gusto. We do it as duty. We do it as doing our jobs. We do it because we've been taught too, and whether we believe it or not, we find it important and normal to do so.

This is how racism works, this is how racism works too.

Rev. Dr. Shively Smith introduced for us a few weeks ago concept of “Sankofa.” She told us about the symbol, the Sankofa bird, with its feet planted forward and its head turned back. The word comes from the Akan people in Ghana. Sankofa is a Twi word meaning to go back and get it. One of the ideas around it being, the future can be planned by learning from the past. It’s important to go back and retrieve what’s at risk of being lost. A week before that Rev. Dr. Serene Jones told us of the power of faith communities to help their people be happier by sharing stories that also include hardship and difficulty. Those stories can make us more resilient. And so, this is what I have for you today. It’s just the sharing of story with the hopes it can help us live forward better together.

Rev. Dr. Robert Brewer teacher, friend, and Th.D. in Homiletics, that is the craft of preaching advises this. “Don’t start a sermon with a question, because then the congregation will just be thinking about the question rather than what you’re saying. So, When did you first notice something was wrong with race or racism in the world?

 

Battlefields and historic sites were our playgrounds for good part of my childhood. From revolutionary war sites, to the many Civil War sites, and the battleship memorial in Wilmington, NC. These were the road trips we would take as a family and it was also our back yard. We would learn history through those places, we would learn the stories of the battels and the wars which occurred in those places. Cortney can tell you that I still enjoy going to those places when take trips. As a child, one of the best things about those places were the gift shops. What kid doesn’t love a gift shop. We would end up with little army men to play with when we got home.

These toy soldiers were usually little blue men, and little gray men. The little blue men being the north and the little gray men being the south. We were young when we had these. Somewhere in the range of 4-8 years of age. I was not processing all that the blue and gray meant. History of the civil war and the history of the state of North Carolina, and the history of my family were very intertwined, not always processed, but intertwined.

In addition to these battlefields we’d also visit cemeteries where relatives were buried like my grandfather, great grandparents and many cousins. They are all together in a little family plot near an old federal style house called Dalkeith where my family still gathers for Thanksgiving each year. The family bought the house in the late 1880’s, but it was built in 1825. We are confident there was enslaved African people present on that farm through 1865. We aren’t confident if the enslaved Africans were housed on the land or housed nearby with their labor being forced on multiple farms in the area. But that’s not really talked about at Thanksgiving.

The family plot at the cemetery is at Bethlehem United Methodist Church in Arcola, NC. At the foot of my immigrant, WW 2 United States Navy Veteran, grandfather Brodie’s grave is a little emblem they give to retired Methodist Pastors, it’s a circuit rider. At the foot of a number of my older relative’s graves, are little metal crosses with letters C.S.V. on different points of the cross. C.S.V., Confederate States Veterans. I knew what the C.S.V letters stood for this even when I was little, but again the privilege of not having to process was very real. I do think I knew enough to know that that meant they were the little gray men, the toys we would play with.

We’d go to museums like the North Carolina History where two small artifacts are kept. Both carved from beef bone, one is a bird clutching a snake, the other is a book surrounded by what resembles a horseshoe shape. They were carved by George W. Davis, a cousin, while he was a prisoner of war, a little gray man, held in a prison in Elmira, New York. We were in museums.

In Lexington, Virginia, home of the Red Hen, is also home of the cemetery where my father’s parents are buried. And Just a stone’s throw from my WW 2 United States Army veteran Grandfather Roberts, is the grave and statue of General Stonewall Jackson, C.S.V. Lexington is also home to my father’s alma mater and the place where my grandfather taught, cytology and histology, Washington and Lee University. Home of Lee Chapel where Robert E. Lee is buried, and where Confederate Battle flags hung just beyond an opening at the front of the chapel space.

These were our playgrounds and our toys. Me, my brothers, my parents and theirs. These where spaces we learned stories both from the family and from history. Some stories incomplete, few stories reflected upon in the moment. When did you first realize something was wrong?

In 2^nd grade, so when I was 8 years old. I recall specifically and vividly the moment I realized something was wrong. It’s stuck with me ever since. It is possible I’m not remembering this perfectly, but here it goes. We were sitting in the rear section of our classroom on the floor. That meant that whatever we were doing it didn’t involve desk work and there’s a good chance we were watching a movie as part of our discussion. Mrs. Adams was my teacher. Mrs. Adams was an African American woman and had responsibility for teaching young children multiple subject. I won’t be able to stress the significances of this enough, but having her as a teacher in the state of North Carolina is proving more and more invaluable.

On to our subject, through whatever medium, we were learning about the civil war. I don’t remember the film and I don’t remember any other aspect of the discussion. However, enough was said to finally articulate that slavery, was one, a thing, and two was a central to the civil war. Thankfully, I had a teacher (or teachers) who could say plainly enough that slavery meant black people were owned as property. And this was largely (not exclusively) the case in the South (my playground) and with the people of the gray team as owners (my team), and fighting to preserve this right to own and force people into labor.

Eight-year-old Ben’s head (and probably heart) nearly exploded at this point. All of what I knew about my family and the gray team was coming into focus in a new way. Deep processing and unpacking was not necessary at this point, but I knew enough thanks to good parenting that this slavery thing, this owning people thing, this working people against their will, this abusing people thing, this violence, this denigration of an entire group of people thing, this separating of families, mothers from children, husbands from wives, sisters from brothers, peoples from land thing; was not a good thing.

No time, much less capacity, to think though because, my God! My friend Meghan is sitting right beside me. Holy crap! Our whole existence has a new meaning, and what on earth shall I say to my black friend Meghan who was, I’m sure, more disturbed by all this than I was.

So, I did what any 8-year-old would do when confronted about a truth of history indicating a form of responsibility for a bad thing. I lied! I lied my tail-off! Bold face falsity as a means of self-preservation, friend console-ment, but mostly self-console-ment.

An example of what I mean here: you say to a young child knowing the answer is yes, “Did you take the cookie when we told you not to?” What’s the answer? “No.” Same for pretty much every kid, and far too many adults.

I turned to my friend Megan, I leaned over and I said, I remember this clear as day, “My family was on the blue team.” Such a little liar.

If you’re finding yourself having sympathy for 8-year-old Ben, don’t. Eight is a pretty late age to be learning something is wrong with racism in America. Maybe it doesn’t seem old for a white kid, but black boys and girls at that age are learning, as a matter of life and death how to navigate what they already knew was a problem.

This was it, this was the first time I think I realized something was wrong. I’m embarrassed it took so long. Even up to last week I was still trying to change it because it presents racism as binary (white and black) and related to  tangible institutions like slavery or segregation when we know it’s so much more than that. But it’s my story and it’s mine to grapple with. The tendency, however, to deny our story, to lie to ourselves or others about the conditions of the world and our culture is not mine alone.

When did you realize something was wrong? Do you remember your story? Is there something that you need to go retrieve from it before it’s lost? Is there something in that can help us live forward better and be more resilient in difficult times?

We read the same texts they are reading at the worship service on the Mall today. The focus for is on the Matthew 5 text, verse 9, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” It’s either a hard or very appropriate day to think of peacemaking when there are planned gatherings celebrating and encouraging violence.

Our key verse begs the question, “Really? With them?” I’d say, “yes” and “no.” With the people of all the various groups that gather today? “Yes.” With the ideas that white supremacist espouse? No, never. Resist always evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.

What a lot of us need to do today is begin making peace with our stories. Make peace with their incompleteness and their privilege. Make peace with them so our reaction to them isn’t what 8-year-old Ben did, lie about it, be embarrassed by it, feel guilty about it, re-write the history of it. You can’t change it, but you can learn from it. Ignoring the fullness of our stories isn’t helpful and only prolongs our inaction on the ways racism persists in our collective daily story.

I’ll give you another story Foundry Church. When this congregation began 1814 it was over 50% African enslaved and free. But we were segregated in our seating and leadership. By 1836 Asbury Chapel was formed and the black constituency of Foundry made their way to that space further entrenching the forced racial divide that for Foundry persisted roughly another 130 years. In 1965 Norman and Francis Prince joined Foundry as members becoming the first black members of the church since the early 1800’s. It would be another 30 years before we became a reconciling congregation, committing ourselves to welcoming all people.

Then between 2000 and 2001 a group of Foundry members decided it was time to make peace with our own story. I’m deeply grateful they did too. A congregation wide study on racism and white privilege took place over the course of at least a year. Joint classes and discussions were held with both Asbury and Foundry members. Through that Foundry was able to put together a formal act of repentance for the sins of racism through the church. Asbury received that and there were marches back and forth between our two buildings; of course, there was food. But these were the steps taken to make peace with our own story and culpability. To learn more from them and examine the deeper roots of entrenched systemic racism. Since then we’ve been able to collaborate in ministry in our downtown area. And we’ll stand together today on the mall against all forms of hate.

Those Foundry and Asbury groups took a risk. They risked admitting to not knowing everything. They risked publicly acknowledging ways we have collectively and individually participated in systems of racism. They risked having others’ opinions about them being lowered. They put in work to make peace with a story, so that we could live forward better.

Our verse today, “peacemakers;” one French translation uses “répandent (autour d'eux la paix).” I like this one, “it’s to spread peace around them.” It makes peace something you possess and spread all around you. In English though, peacemakers ends up essentially meaning peace is created. A peacemaker’s work is to reconcile two or more adversarial parties. That’s more appropriate for us today. There’s work to be done; with our own stories, so that we can alter the trajectory of our current shared narrative.

Every second Sunday, the racial justice ministry team gathers for discussion, field trips, lectures or some other activity. We do something every month. Take advantage of that, it can easily help reframe your story and what you’re seeing around. This fall we’ll be working through writings of Howard Thurman. I’ll recommend you get involved with that group. I’ll also recommend to you the book “Waking up White, and Finding my self in the Story of Race,” by Debby Irving.  It’s a good baseline consciousness raising narrative of the author’s own figuring out of how racism is operating in systems of our culture and how she was operating within and perpetuating them, as a nice person, as well.

Today if you’re wanting to go to the rally, but don’t want to get “yelled at” or something like that know this; if they only time you choose to show up is when the white nationalist come to town or shortly after another unarmed black or brown person is killed, you’re probably going to hear some yelling. Show up any way. Don’t ask someone who has an embodied experience of racism to sanitize their emotion or feelings for your comfort. Just show up. Then show up the next day and every day in between.

Go ahead and make peace with the fact that you are going to make mistakes on this journey. That you are not all knowing and that there are ways that even you, good as I know you are, still participate in racist systems. Don’t let some sense of guilt or shame hold you back from engage the work, that is one of the subtlest yet most effective ways evil works to perpetuate this whole mess. Risk your public reputation as good a good person who has it all figured out, so that you can engage in the real work of peacemaking, of reconciliation; the work God calls us to.

Soon you’ll begin to realize that the real conversations don’t happen in 3-hour blocks at rallies. Soon you’ll realize that the real work of breaking down your own privilege happens as you draw closer to one another, not in groups of thousands, but in groups of 2 or 3 or 4. This is where the real work of peace happens.

Maya Angelou says this, “if we face the past with courage we don't have to repeat it.” There is peace making work to do friends, let’s commit ourselves this day.

 

 

Coming Home: A Sermon Preached by Rev. Malcolm Frazier at Foundry UMC, August 5, 2018

Coming Home

                                                                          Luke 7:36-50

                         A Sermon preached by Rev. Malcolm Frazier, Foundry United Methodist Church August 5, 2018

One of our most endearing sentiments is that of “Coming Home.”  It has a universal appeal and touches us in a special way.  Some of our most popular movies are about coming home.  You might recall some of these:

 Movies:

1. Argo – Ben Affleck plays a CIA agent who launches a plan to rescue six Americans in Tehran during the US hostage crisis in Iran in 1979.
2. Lion – starring Dev Patel and Nicole Kidman. The story of a 5-year old Indian boy who gets lost in the streets of Calcutta, thousands of kilometers from home.  He survives many challenges before being adopted by a couple in Australia.  25 years later he sets out to find his lost family.
3. The Martian – Matt Damon and Jessica Chastian.. Matt plays an astronaut who becomes stranded on Mars after his team assumed he was dead.
4. The Trip to Bountiful – stars the late Geraldine Page as a woman who wants to return to her home during the post-World War II 1940s. When she gets there she finds that the town is deserted. She is moved to tears as she surveys her father’s land and the remains of the family home. Accepting this reality she is at peace – she had gone back home before she died.
5. Lassie Come Home – starring Roddy McDowall, Elizabeth Taylor, and the canine actor, Pal. The movie is set in Depression-era Yorkshire, England.  Lassie’s owners are poor, so they sell their dog to a rich Duke.  His granddaughter knows that the dog is unhappy so arranges for her to escape. Lassie sets off to go home and escapes many dangers before returning to her home.
6. 12 Years A Slave – Chiwetel Ejiofor plays Solomon Northrup, a free African-American man who is 1841 is kidnapped in Saratoga Springs, New York and enslaved again. After some intervention by key people, he is restored to freedom and returns to his family after 12 years. As he walks into his home, he sees his wife with their son and daughter (fully grown) and her husband, who present him with his grandson and namesake, Solomon Northrup Staunton.  Northrup apologizes for his long absence while his family comforts him.
7. Rabbit-Proof Fence – an Australian film set in 1931, about 3 mixed-race Aboriginal young girls who are kidnapped and placed in a camp where they are to be trained to be servants to white families. The three girls escape, one is captured again, and the other two follow a rabbit-proof fence and walk 1500 miles in nine weeks to get back home.

 Personal stories of coming home

1. When I came home from college
2. Coming home from England as a first-year student
3. Homecoming in the Black Church
4. Homecoming on Howard’s campus
5. 50-year high school reunion
6. Whenever I came home for the holidays I would drive through my hometown.

 Sharon Daloz Parks writes in Big Questions Worthy Dreams that it has been said that home is the most powerful word in the English language.  It is where we start from.  It is what we aspire to. 

To be at home is to have a place where we are comfortable; know that we belong, can be who we are; and can honor, protect, and create what we truly love. 

To be home within one’s self, place, community, and the cosmos is to feel whole and centered in a way that yields a sense of power and participation. 

(To be at home is to be in a special rhythm of life, engaging in patterns of work, play, and diverse relationships.  We have a support system, etc)

 Diana Butler Bass in Grounded writes that home happens in numerous geographies and in a number of different dwellings. Home is more than a house. It is a sacred location, a place of aspiration and dreams, of learning and habit, of relationships and heart. People are out of place.  Transient moderns make their homes in new places.

 I have been a transient.  When I accepted a position with Global Ministries in New York, I sat in an empty apartment in Maryland the day before and cried and cried and cried.  When the Board moved its headquarters from New York to Atlanta, I moved with it and sat in an empty apartment prior to leaving and cried and cried and cried.  When I was informed that my appointment with the Board was ending, I accepted an appointment in Washington, DC.  The day before I left Atlanta, I sat in an empty apartment and cried and cried and cried.  I cried because I had established a strong relationship in each place and the people had made me feel at home.

 

TRANSITION

 Diana reminds us that home can be a place of horror as well. Too many people have experiences of a home that shelters sickness and addiction, of homes that deteriorate from carelessness and neglect, or homes broken apart through willful violations of the relationships in them, resulting in reports of domestic violence.  I would add reports of incest.  Some social scientists refer to home-centered violence as intimate terrorism.

 

Those who have no home:

1. The homeless in our midst – mention the ID ministry
2. Those kids kicked out of their homes because they are LGBQT
3. Those who are part of the global migration crisis
4. A recent report from the GBCS share that an estimated 65.3 million people were displaced from their homes by conflict and persecution.
5. Tens of thousands of unaccompanied children are annually apprehended at U. S. borders.
6. For refugees Church World Service reports that the wait in a refugee camp is at least 10 years.
7. Church World Service reports that the vetting process for refugees can take up to two years.
8. Only the most vulnerable are referred, accounting for less than 1% of refugees worldwide being resettled.

 TRANSITION

 Now let’s look at the Lucan passage that was read this morning. Explore with me how this text informs our theme of Coming Home. While the themes of sin and forgiveness are important, I will focus on how the three main characters relate to each other. This story is set in Galilee early in Jesus’ ministry.

1. Simon the Pharisee – a member of the group of Jewish people who followed a strict code of religious laws. They play the role of Jesus’ opponents, practicing a lifestyle of separation from unbelievers or Jews outside of their own group. The word Pharisee means “separated.” They consider themselves more holy and righteous than ordinary men. In fact, Luke reports in the 30^th verse that the Pharisees refused to be baptized by John and rejected God’s purpose for themselves.
2. So why did the Pharisee invite Jesus to his house for dinner?
3. Let’s begin with the fact he could. He had the wealth and thus the power to do so.
4. And he could be selective about who he invited.
5. His attitude is ambivalent – he addresses Jesus as Teacher but did not show hospitality. Why not? Perhaps because he was busy hosting his other guests that he was trying to impress.
6. Simon was perhaps giving Jesus an assessment, trying to determine his credentials.
7. The Pharisee, with his arrogance, represents those who look down on others. (talk about the scene in “Philadelphia” when the librarian looks with disdain on Tom Hanks’ character)
8. The woman – who is referred to as a sinner
9. Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza in an essay from In Memory of Her points out that the story does not say what kind of sinner the woman was. A sinner could be a criminal, a ritually unclean or a morally bad person, a prostitute, or simply the “wife of a notorious sinner.”  (Jesus was always in the company of people like her and others)
10. Look at her actions – she enters the dinner scene uninvited, ignoring the boundaries of class and patriarchy.
11. She washes Jesus’ feet and dries them with her hair. Touching or caressing a man’s feet could have sexual implications, as did letting one’s hair down in public.
12. She created quite a scene.
13. Jesus – so what does he do?
14. Jesus challenges us to confront the Pharisees in our society.
15. He exposes Simon’s lack of hospitality (he did not greet him with a kiss, offer him water to wash his feet, or offer to put oil on his head)
16. In the Middle East the importance of honor and shame is very high.
17. Jesus showed bad table manners by insulting his host and in doing so becomes the host, as evidenced by his encounter with the woman.
18. I would like to suggest that Jesus presents a model for how we should confront people and structures that prevent everyone from being included, feel wanted, affirmed and protected.
19. We say NO to immigration policies that prevent us from welcoming the neighbor.
20. We say NO to the Book of Discipline that would deny T. C. Morrow the privilege of serving as an elder.
21. We say NO to institutions that tolerate the abuse of the elderly, the mentally challenged or other vulnerable
22. We say NO to the racism in our penal system, causing a disproportional number of black and brown persons in mass incarceration.
23. We say NO to sexism in Corporate America and our churches.
24. We say NO to white supremacists, participating in love rallies.
25. We say NO to racial profiling.
26. We say NO to schools that pass kids through who cannot read.

 TRANSITION

 As I approach my conclusion, let’s look at the importance of the scene being one of a dinner.

I frame this again around the work of Diana Butler Bass, who writes in Grounded about John Wesley’s emphasis on holy habits and declares:

Home is a training ground for spiritual and ethical habits that we take out into the world, with the door and table being the school for holy habits.

1. It is around tables where we learn what to eat and how, ways to set a table for special meals or guests, how to share customs and traditions, and how to serve others. (share personal story about Cambodia or China)
2. The table is the earthly manifestation of God’s presence, the “heavenly feast,” where all are fed and sustained and no one suffers from the lack of anything.
3. This closely aligns with the Pacific Islanders practices of reciprocity and mutuality.
4. Times of fellowships and meals are inherently spiritual as they promote the body’s growth by making the mundane sacred.
5. Meals are never just a time of eating, it is always a time of sharing the journey.
6. Meal times are times of celebration and feasting.
7. The abundant display of food affirms the bountiful providence of God, a celebration of what God is able to do in the midst of scarcity. (share about my meals with them)

 As I reflect on this text, I marvel at how Jesus, by assuming the role as host, transforms this home into a sacred place where all are welcome.

All means all.

Larry Stookey writes in Eucharist that Jesus’ fellowship is a manifestation of a new creation, which embraces all who are discriminated against in the course of human activity.

To this feast, all are invited by God on equal terms.

No one approaches the feast by means of merit, but all are invited by grace. There no one can boast or dominate or exclude, for this is Christ’s feast.  Christ is the host and the one who sets the rules (of acceptance, mutuality, and inclusion).

Maya Angelou writes that the ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.

Foundry UMC, as I come home to my annual conference, I will partner with you to welcome anyone who wants to join our family – anyone who wants to make Foundry UMC their home.  No one will be excluded.

 

Summer Preaching Series -Drop The Mic: What Do You See From a Distance? A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Shively Smith at Foundry UMC, July 29, 2018