The Irreverent Reverend

When the word cancer is used in the same sentence as your name or the name of someone you love, it feels like you have purchased a one-way ticket to the land of the hopelessly screwed. It takes some doing to get your brain and being around the news. As the word spreads there are those who tell the story of their second cousin three times removed who had exactly the same thing. There are those who give you the pity-puppy-dog-eyes. Then there are those who assure that they “know just how we feel.” It’s all well-meaning and utterly unhelpful. All their efforts belong to the world of “after.”

After is what happens when you can’t “unknow” what you now know. After is the forever gone delusion of the end being “out there” somewhere on the more distant horizon. After is the Big Worry that goes with all the smaller worries that are part of a devastating and frightening diagnosis. After is everything that happens after you know.

I know this because Jean was recently diagnosed with cancer. Yes, her prognosis is excellent. Yes, she is in the best hands in the world, medically.

Still, I want before. Before is the time when we had the luxury of not thinking our worst thoughts and indulging our worst fears. Before is the time when we knew in a cognitive way that we are mortal but didn’t think about it much more than that. Before is the time when there was no feeling we had purchased a one way trip to the land of the hopelessly screwed.

I want before. I want the innocence and carefree moments that will never be again. Our lives are forever changed because from now on there will be scans and poking and prodding and bloodwork and doctor visits and all the things necessary to assure the disease has not returned.

As I was mulling all this over in the anxious and scared parts of my being, and as we talked about it and sometimes around it, it occurred to both of us that while everything has changed, nothing has changed.

We still practice the spiritual discipline of being present to the moment. We still trust in the Presence to guide us from where we are to whatever comes next. We still trust this is enough. It is the spiritual discipline of a lifetime to be truly present to the moment. The more we practice it, the less fear and anxiety rent space in our being.

Being present to the moment, even if the moment happens to suck, holds the promise of seeing the sacred in the midst of the fearful, the holy in the midst of the uncertain. It reinforces what I know in my bones; all we have is the present moment. It is the gateway to the peace that passes all understanding.

This peace is pure grace. It is not something we can will. It is not something we can wish for. It is not a fruit of believing all the “right” things or being “good enough.” It is simply a gift that comes when we live fully into the moment, no matter what the moment holds. It is a gift that comes when we hold on to the promise that we are ultimately in Good Hands. It is believing it will be okay, no matter how it turns out. I am not always in that head/heart space. When I am not, it is because I have allowed my fears and anxieties to run into the unknown and it is crazy making. But at the end of the day, I believe our lives are held by grace, that God is faithful because God can be nothing else, and that the bonds of unshakeable Holy love are the foundation on which all of life is built.

This has been true since time immortal. It is all the “before” I need.

A favorite old hymn to share:

Great is thy faithfulness,

God my Creator.

There is no shadow of turning with thee.

Thou changest not, thy compassions they fail not,

As thou hast been, thou forever wilt be.

Great is thy faithfulness, great is thy faithfulness

Morning by morning new mercies I see.

All I have needed thy hand has provided,

Great is thy faithfulness,

Lord unto me.

Listen Here

 

I look out the window a lot. It’s nothing new, I’ve been doing it most of my life. It’s not something I do out of boredom, perhaps with the exception of Mr. Kopel’s 10th grade algebra class. I look out the window because there is light or there is darkness. Both have its lessons.

 

When I was a kid, I would move the shade aside to peek out the window. Just after dawn the lake was like a mirror. Pine trees were reflected in the water; our old wooden row boat was painted on the surface of the water; it was magical to me. I would sneak downstairs and sit out on the porch. Gradually the light became brighter, the mirror image of the lake disappeared and another day had begun.

 

It’s how I learned about hope.

 

I’m not sure I knew how to name it at the time, but there was something profound touching my being as I watched night melt into day. Even on the cloudy days when I couldn’t see the sun, there was light. It fascinated me in my being, not just in my head. For millions of years this ball of fire has gifted its light to the earth. Day after day after day it shines, more predictable than just about anything else. 

 

Every morning the sun gently pushes down the night and tells it to wait its turn. Every evening the night reaches out to draw down the sun; it has waited its turn. This rhythm is a reminder to me that nothing lasts forever. It is an insight that holds great joy and great sadness.

 

In times marked by unbearable struggle, profound depression, catastrophic illness and severe injury, I look out the window and know that daylight will come. Nothing lasts forever. This isn’t some Polly-Ana crap that makes any of the pain less real or less devastating. It’s a reminder that I’m not in charge (always a newsflash, I keep forgetting). I don’t believe for a minute that God sent any of this junk into my life for some greater purpose. Let’s get that crappy theology out of the way right at the start.

 

Looking out the window at the light reminds me that I am not in charge and that’s okay. Actually, it’s a good thing. The rhythm of night and day ground me in a loving energy that is the very heart of the Divine. It is the best definition of hope I can think of. The steady unfolding of times to see and times not to see remind me that while I may be paralyzed by what is happening in the moment, it won’t last forever. I look out the window and see the light. I look out the window and see the dark. Neither lasts forever.

 

The dark is comforting in a different way than the light. It acknowledges the reality of whatever I am going through in the moment. And it doesn’t try and change it or fix it. It simply allows it to be. I grow weary of well-intentioned people who are all sunshine and light. They are the poster children for Annie’s theme song, “The Sun will come out tomorrow.” When the darkness is thick around me, let me be in the darkness. Come sit with me in the darkness. I know nothing lasts forever but it lasts for right now and hearing shallow platitudes is not helpful. Rare is the person who knows how to sit in the dark with another.

 

I look out the window. If it is light and the sun is shining I watch how the light dances on the trees and casts its shadows on everything that blocks its way. If it is night I look at the depth of darkness and listen for its comforting company. Sometimes I relate to the sunshine. Sometimes I relate to the darkness. When I am in the light, I am reminded that at some point darkness will come, and it will be okay. When it is dark, I know the light will come and it will be okay. Nothing lasts forever, and therein is my gift of hope.

On May 19^th I fell off the tailgate of my pickup truck. I broke both legs in multiple places and sustained severe soft tissue damage. After two surgeries and five days in Intensive Care I was transferred to a rehab facility where I spent another two-plus weeks. Thus, the Irreverent Reverend was missing in action for a few weeks; but I’m back, a little the worse for wear but back nonetheless.

Such accidents occasion reflection. For example, life can change in an instant. Exiting the tailgate of a pickup truck is something I have been doing all my life. This time it went horribly wrong. Sometimes life is what happens when you are making other plans.

Many well-meaning friends and healthcare workers were quick to state that, “everything happens for a reason.” They posited that this accident had some larger purpose in the eyes of the divine so that I might gain some kind of insight.

I don’t buy it for a minute. God did not send this to me as some sadistic lesson on _______; fill in the blank. God was not offering a cosmic commentary on my human experience in the hope that this clueless human would manage to get it, whatever “it” is. I think this makes God into a real creep.

On the other hand, neither did God intervene to save me from my klutziness.  No giant magic hands appeared to catch me and cradle me to the ground so I might avoid injury. I heard no trumpets signaling the suspension of the laws of gravity for my singular benefit. If God were to protect everyone from personal disaster, God would have quite a job—protecting little Jimmy from crashing on his bicycle or saving Mary from a rear end collision because she was looking at her phone. The opportunities for divine intervention to save people from themselves are endless. I dare say such suspension of the laws of nature would result in utter chaos around the globe.

Here’s the reason my accident happened: GRAVITY. It is Newton’s first law of motion. This law states that an object (my body) will remain in motion until acted on by a force (the driveway). As a result of such an outside force acting on the object in motion, the object’s movement in changed (stopped dead with a splat in the driveway).

There is no mystery here. It’s simply the law of gravity proving itself in a moment of klutziness and misstep.

Instead, God’s presence was revealed in countless other ways. Neighbors heard me screaming for help and came to my aid. One neighbor who is a nurse got a towel to rest my head on and helped me calm my breathing. Two other neighbors stayed by my side calling 911 and calling Jean to come home right away. They all stayed with me until the rescue came and Jean got home. Later, they returned and finished the job I had started when I fell. I only knew one of these neighbors, but in those moments they were the very face of God. In the ambulance I wept with gratitude for their presence and care, as well as for the ambulance staff who were comforting and encouraging. There were countless other epiphanies in the following days. The surgeon, nurses, aides, dietary and housekeeping staff were unfailingly kind and competent. Later in rehab I again encountered the very face of the divine in those who cared for and encouraged me to begin the first hesitant steps toward recovery.

Sometimes we are so busy looking for God in a burning bush we miss how God shows up in a glowing twig. Waiting for a manifestation of the divine in trumpets and fanfare, we can miss how the holy shows up in a handclasp and the still small voice of calm.

The notion of the earth as our mother has been around for ages. The earliest references reach back to Greek transcripts that date from the 12^th-13^th century BCE. These texts refer to earth as “maga” or “mother gaia.” The roots began with pre-Socratic philosophers and were strengthened by Aristotle.

Many cultures embrace the notion that “nature” has its own spirit and power separate from God. In Native American traditions earth mother is a feminine expression of the divine, a womb from which all of life emerges. This image holds great attraction for many as concern about the increasing degradation of the environment threatens the stability of the planet.

In the environmental movement sayings like, “care for your mother” are common. Mother earth or mother nature is seen as a reference to the environment as a whole. In typing this blog the auto correct prompted me to capitalize both mother and nature as if they had some divine status. Listening to the weather the other night, the meteorologist described a pattern of unsettled weather stretching into the following day as mother nature’s “moods.” The long history of likening the created order and its weather patterns to mother nature conjures an image of a housewife with PMS. It’s another way to make negative inferences about women and indirectly place blame for increasingly erratic weather patterns.

More importantly, however, it is really bad theology. The earth is NOT our mother. In the Judeo Christian tradition the earth is completely the generative activity of God. In Genesis 1, the world is created by the Word of God. It’s important to say that the creation narratives were never meant to be taken literally. Throughout the stories of the First Testament, it is clear the Hebrews borrowed stories from the cultures around them and added their unique theological perspective. Most importantly, that meant one God and one God alone who is the author and creator of all that is. To suggest that the earth has an identity separate from God comes dangerously close to a kind of polytheism that assigns the earth divine status separate from God. It is blasphemous.

Pantheism is a kind of polytheism that says everything is God. Panentheism is a monotheistic perspective that maintains that God is in everything because God is the creator of everything. All the created order bears the fingerprints of the Creator.

The earth is not a being alongside God that has its own generative power. In every way, the earth is subservient to God as a creation of God. It means that the earth is our sister. We stand on similar ground both literally and figuratively as creatures of the Creator.

Shifting our language to speak of the created order as God’s creation is an important first step. Creation is not an overtired, overworked, grumpy mother and housewife with a bad migraine and a case of PMS. The earth is our sister. We are made of the same stuff, dirt and stardust, water and light. Like every other living creature, we are planted and nurtured in the rhythms of life and take our place in the created order as stewards and caretakers.

This rich created order is the gift of God for the people of God. We are to be its stewards: holy gardeners who care for the earth. Biblically, to be a steward means to consciously use and manage all the resources God provides for the Glory of God and the betterment of creation. The central essence of the biblical world view of stewardship is managing everything God brings into the purview of humans in a manner that honors the Divine.

Working from home, attending endless Zoom meetings, distance learning for children, cleaning the house or apartment, cutting the grass, managing repairs, dealing with unemployment or underemployment, keeping the family safe from Covid, learning to live with the isolation; the list goes on and on. When it comes to the past year, normal is just a setting on the dryer.

 I will be the first one to admit that I don’t fully get it. I have little sense of the pressures that attend daily life in this time. As a retired person, the truth is my life didn’t change all that much during the pandemic. But I watched what went on around me in the lives of people I care about and all I could do was shake my head in wonder and feel my heart fill with compassion.

So I get it when Sunday morning rolls around and sleeping late wins out over going to church, whether in person or on YouTube. I get it when some quality time with the family eclipses sitting for yet another hour in front of an electronic screen. As a pastor, I also get the frustration of putting hours into creating a meaningful worship service and having only a few people show up, whether in person or virtually.

What gets lost in the shuffle, is that it is easy to forget that our souls need to be fed. That’s true whether we go to church or not. Sabbath time is moments of rest and recreation when we tend to being instead of doing. There is a reason we are called human beings and not human doings. We are more than the sum total of what we accomplish, or fail to accomplish.

Our primary identity rests in the truth that we are created by the Creator. We are creatures of the Divine. We join with all the created order as the beloved of God. Reminding ourselves of that for even a few minutes a day can make the day more tolerable. Honest.

I call it the five-minute Sabbath. It can come any time and in the midst of any moment. For example, you are stuck in traffic. It’s easy to get hot under the collar, lean on the horn or perhaps extend a certain digit as a way of blowing off steam. The truth is, when traffic stops us dead on the road, we have an opportunity to simply look around. Marvel at the miracle that is the modern automobile: the collection of bolts, nuts, screws, sheet metal and some magic that makes an engine run when you turn the key. People figured out how to do this. Spend a few minutes just thinking about the marvels of the human mind.

Or, look at the sky. Is it blue, gray, sunny or cloudy? Is it raining or snowing? Clouds are moisture suspended in the air. When we breathe out we exhale moisture (not just the virus that can kill people). All the water that has ever existed in the world since the beginning of time still exists. The moisture you exhale may contain water from Niagara Falls.  The options are endless. Spend a few moments paying attention to what is around you and let your thoughts take you where they will.

We are surrounded by wonder. Each person, even the ones that annoy the hell out of us, is a unique and unrepeatable individual bearing the image of the Divine. If we spent more time thinking about that and less time thinking about how they annoy us, we would be a lot calmer.

Taste your food. Most of us (me included) inhale our food, often while doing something else like watching TV or reading a book. Let the food dance on your tongue, even if it’s just a sandwich or something simple. Savor the flavors.

Sing along with the radio, even if you can’t carry a tune in a bushel basket. Feel the air as it flows over your vocal chords. Consider for a moment what a miracle it is that we can sing, speak and communicate. Enjoy the harmony and tune along with the words. There are only seven notes in a scale but they are put together in millions of ways to create every kind of music there is. Choose the music you like and ponder the talent that makes it possible.

There are countless ways to have a five-minute Sabbath. What they have in common is that they call us to pay complete attention to the moment and connect the moment to something larger than ourselves. And it is all holy. We are all creatures of the Divine and all that we create or observe in love connects us and others to the Divine, and in a mystical way to each other.

Life has more than its share of challenging moments in these days. While the end may be in sight, it is not here yet. A five minute Sabbath to ponder the moment you are in can transform all the other moments that come after it.

Oh yeah, don’t forget to breathe.

We have become accustomed to expecting the increased politicization of the Supreme Court. With six conservative Justices and three liberal Justices, decisions made along predictable lines are less and less of a surprise.

When the Court, however, ruled six/three in favor of an immigrant in danger of being deported, there was cause for surprise. The conservative block of Justices was split. Writing for the Court, Justice Neil Gorsuch was joined by fellow conservative Justices Clarence Thomas and Amy Coney Barrett, as well as the Court’s three liberal Justices. In dissent were conservative Justices Brett Kavanaugh, Chief Justice John Roberts and Samuel Alito.

The case focused on the plight of Augusto Niz-Chavez, a Guatemalan immigrant who entered the US illegally in 2005. One requirement of immigrants is that they must show they have lived in the United States at least ten years before applying legally for citizenship. On the surface Niz-Chavez met the requirements.

The argument that Niz-Chavez did not receive adequate notice of his deportation hearing was the heart of the case. The government sent a notice to Niz-Chavez in 2013. If it was deemed lawful, it would have stopped the clock ticking on his ten year residency locking it at eight years which is below the required ten years.

A technicality turned the court in favor of Niz-Chavez. In an article in The Hill John Kruzel wrote, “Specifically, the majority found… that federal officials must provide comprehensive notice of upcoming deportation hearings in a single document. The government’s failure to comply strictly with the requirement meant he had not been properly notified. At issue is the fact that Niz-Chavez received multiple letters, each with a portion of the information about his possible deportation.”

It is a decision that has huge implications for thousands of immigrants who have met the ten-year threshold but have received multiple documents giving portions of information about deportation. This decision allows them to legally apply for citizenship in the United States.

It is a hopeful sign that the Court did not split along predictable lines. It demonstrates that the High Court is able to think independently. This is no small thing when the Court is stacked with six conservative Justices and three liberal Justices. For the law to be evenly applied there must be equality of positions before the Court. The capacity to make decisions without undue influence from outside conservative or liberal influences is of utmost importance.

One of the concerns with the current composition of the court is how personal values and beliefs influence their decisions. During the confirmation hearings for Amy Coney Barrett, her conservative Catholic practices were of concern, particularly in relation to pro-choice issues. That she was able to think outside her conservative box gives some hope about the future of the court.

Many of the Court’s decisions go beyond the law and ask questions of moral import. How to treat immigrants justly is one of those questions. The law that was clarified in this decision is one such example of how Supreme Court decisions have moral implications.

The Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act of 1996 created the ten-year requirement for applying for legal status. A problem is that illegal immigrants who leave the country after ten years for any reason are not allowed to re-enter, even if an otherwise legal path to citizenship exists.  It leads to people staying in the US unlawfully for long periods of time and risking detection rather than uprooting their lives and being separated from their families (who are legal citizens) permanently.

The Court’s ruling last week can be viewed as a first step toward correcting the limitations of the 1996 law and creating more reasonable sanctions for those staying in the country illegally. Reforming the ten-year requirement for a legal path to citizenship could allow millions of undocumented immigrants to apply using the legal system. Codifying how notices for potential deportation are delivered is crucial. Specifying ways that those who have been here illegally for years can become legal residents levels the playing field in a system that is beyond broken, overworked, understaffed and underfunded.

It’s a small step, but it’s a start. Thanks to the Supreme Court for moving in the right direction. Keep up the good work.

The trial of Derek Chauvin and the courage of the jury to find him guilty on all counts is a step in the right direction. No one can watch that video and think differently. There are several points that bear emphasizing.

It is rare for police officers to cross the thin blue line. By necessity police officers watch out for and protect one another. They have each other’s backs, and it’s a good thing. Bravo to the brave officers who were willing to stand up and say there is a limit. Breaking ranks with fellow officers is a really big deal. Let’s hope there is no blow back to them for their actions.

According to Philip Stinson, a professor criminal justice at Bowling Green State University, there have been 140 law enforcement officers who have been arrested for murder or manslaughter resulting from an on-duty shooting in the U.S. since 2005. And of that number, only 44 have been convicted of any crime—usually a lesser offense.

The Chauvin verdict is the equivalent of the jury “throwing the book at him.” Finding him guilty on all counts is significant. Second degree murder is murder that is not pre-meditated, but is intended to inflict bodily harm and shows reckless disregard for human life. Third degree murder is unintentionally causing another’s death while committing a dangerous act. Minnesota is one of only three states that have a third degree murder statute.  Second degree manslaughter is culpable negligence where a person creates an unreasonable risk and consciously takes the chance of causing death or great bodily harm to someone else. Chauvin was found guilty of committing or intentionally aiding in the commission of this crime.

By finding him guilty on all counts, there is no “wiggle” room for his accountability and culpability. His motives and actions are exposed, regardless of his intent. One cannot hold a knee on someone’s neck for over nine minutes and not expect grave bodily injury. The jury made it clear that actions have consequences.

While people are heralding it as a new day in police accountability, it is important to remember that this is one high profile case where one police officer was held accountable. It does nothing to root out systemic racism in police departments. It does nothing to change the techniques and standards of law enforcement when it comes to people of color. The sad truth is that very little will change in policing as a result of this verdict. Indeed, while Chauvin’s trial was underway, a 13 year old black boy was fatally shot by police. Adam Toledo was killed with one shot to the chest when his hands were clearly in the air in a position of surrender. Yes, he may have had a gun, but he had discarded it and was facing the officer with his hands clearly visible.

It takes a lot to change a culture.  First, it needs to be not just a people of color’s problem. It is a problem that belongs to us all. It is important for white people to use our power and influence to stand with Black Lives Matter movements and other efforts to call police to accountability. Sadly, there is evidence that Black Lives Matter protests are primarily drawing people of color. White people are not affected so they don’t participate in significant numbers to create the kind of public pressure needed to effect change. Public outcry to legislators needs to create pressure to change laws and change the current system.

It may be that the greatest improvement in police accountability is the invention of the cell phone video camera. Without the footage shot of Derek Chauvin, which later went viral, there would be no account of what actually happened. It would be a group of people of color against the words of police officers. And we all know how that would turn out.

All this by way of saying, we cannot think for a moment that the reality of police violence against people of color has changed in any significant way. There is still a partisan divide about police violence. Yesterday Democrats and left-leaning social activists celebrated the verdict. The response from Republicans was muted. There were a few who hailed the workings of the legal system and more than a few who claimed ignorance about the trial. The usual suspects, Ted Cruz, Josh Hawley and a few others called for a mistrial in the aftermath of the comments of Maxine Waters, President Biden and Vice President Harris.

Until there can be agreement about the basics of human decency, dignity and morality, we have little hope of meaningful police reform. Keep those video cameras at the ready.

It’s not every day we watch second degree murder on our TV screen. Over and over every day. This, however, is exactly what we witness every day when we turn on the news. The trial of Derek Chauvin, the former Minnesota police officer on trial for killing George Floyd, is being followed nationwide. And the video clip is showed over and over.

Second degree murder is defined as “intentional murder that lacks premeditation. It is intended to only cause bodily harm and demonstrates an extreme indifference to human life. At the moment the murder occurs, the killer definitely intends to kill the victim, but up until that moment, the killer had no plan to commit murder (Findlaw.com).” The prosecution and the defense will do their best to prove why THEY are right.

It does not appear that Derek Chauvin intended to commit murder that morning as he got ready for work. Chauvin didn’t start the day with murder on his mind. Sure, it’s easy to be the Monday morning quarterback when a police officer has to make a split second decision. Except this wasn’t a split second decision. Long after George Floyd was subdued and handcuffed, Chauvin kept his knee on Floyd’s neck.  Floyd cried out that he could not breathe and eventually cried for his deceased mother. There were plenty of opportunities for Chauvin to make a different decision. But he kept his knee on Floyd’s neck and kept his hand in his pocket. He looked completely nonchalant, as if he were ordering a latte from a street vendor.

It’s the hand in the pocket that tells me everything I need to know. He demonstrated utter disregard for Floyd and showed no emotion at all as Floyd’s life evaporated under the pressure of his knee. Chauvin disregarded Floyd’s pleas for help and kept his hand in his pocket and his knee on Floyd’s neck.

There is a reason a nearly universal ban of this type of move to subdue suspects exists. It has a tendency to kill them. Even Chauvin’s own colleagues stated that the knee on the neck was not an approved action. While prior bad acts are not admissible in court, Chauvin has almost twenty complaints for excessive force. Clearly the guy has an anger management problem and perhaps a few others, too.

The motto of many police departments is “to protect and serve.” There isn’t much about this oft seen video that shows George Floyd being protected or served. Police officers are entrusted with public well-being and keeping the peace. They are responsible for following the law and enforcing it.

The role of police officer carries inherent power and authority. It is entrusted to them for the benefit of those they serve. Police have an ethical and legal responsibility to use their power to protect and serve.

Police always have power over the people they are to protect and serve. Their words carry authority, their actions are to reflect and uphold the law, and their behavior is held to a higher level of scrutiny than other people. Police officers have an utter, and some would say sacred, duty to protect and serve those under their charge. It is a basic mindset. Sure, mistakes are made and sometimes judgment calls can seem a bit “off” to those of us who weren’t there. That is not what we witness on the video of George Floyd being murdered.

The role of race in Floyd’s murder cannot be overlooked. Racism is rampant in many police departments. Racial profiling, driving while black and harsher sentences for people of color vis-a-vis their white counterparts are common.  

It appears George Floyd was not without his faults (just as the rest of us). He is not the one on trial. He may have resisted arrest initially. In this day and age so would I. His actions before the video began filming are irrelevant. He was still due the respect and dignity that should be afforded to all God’s people. George Floyd was a reflection of the face of the Holy One, just as we all are.

What really matters is that Chauvin continued an improper subduing maneuver long after Floyd stopped posing any risk. What matters is that Chauvin demonstrated utter disregard for the unique and unrepeatable human being who was George Floyd. What matters is his attitude of arrogance and superiority reflected by keeping his hand in his pocket the entire time. If Floyd was so unruly, wouldn’t Chauvin have used both hands? Instead, he put his hand in his pocket and acted as if there was not a human being dying underneath his knee.

The hand tells me all I need to know about Derek Chauvin.

We Americans love to make everything about us. When it comes to Easter, we make it about personal survival of death. The idea of personal immortality has always had widespread appeal. We want to know we mattered, that we will continue in some way. Zillions of gallons of ink and more than a little blood have been spilled on the topic.

Easter, however, is a community thing. It is about the survival of a way of life, specifically the way of life revealed in Jesus. The way Jesus lived collided with the powers of his time. Jesus spoke truth to power. The Roman occupation colluded with crooked religious leaders and laid heavy burdens on the poor. That time two thousand years ago is more like today than we may want to admit. Predatory economies have common qualities, regardless of the age in which they exist. Making money, allowing the rich to get richer while the poor get poorer, minimizing social safety net programs and blaming the poor for being poor are consistent features of a predatory economy.

In the United States, as in Rome, there is collusion between socially, politically and religiously prominent people. Faithfulness is less of a concern than having and maintaining power. In our time the white evangelical voting block, the Republican Party and big business work together in promoting white hegemony and male dominance.

It’s little wonder we make Easter about whether or not we live forever.

If we are to faithfully celebrate Easter, something very different is asked of us. Easter is about embodying the values of the gospel. Community Easter means:

• Addressing the anti-immigrant sentiments dominant in our culture. Advocating for those seeking political asylum and common sense immigration policies are the values of Jesus.
• Using our power as consumers to support businesses that embody equality. Supporting Delta Airlines, Coca Cola and Major League Baseball in their protest of Georgia voting suppression laws is one concrete action. Boycotting businesses that do not support our values is another concrete action. Being an informed consumer is a concrete act of faithfulness.
• Learning about the racist history that is woven into the warp and woof of our culture. Becoming good ancestors to subsequent generations by righting historic wrongs and calling out racism when we see and hear it are small actions that begin to change things.
• Caring for the poor. Supporting food pantries year round, donating useable clothing and toys can make a difference in someone’s life if they are struggling to put food on the table.
• Advocating for disenfranchised populations. Assuring that homeless veterans, the LGBTQI population, the homeless and the stranger in our midst are treated fairly and justly.

In other words, all the things that got Jesus killed.

Community Easter means taking the risk to speak up and be unpopular. It means calling out behavior and language at the risk of losing friends or alienating family members. Community Easter means we will gladly take on the same risks Jesus assumed so he could be faithful to his mission. Our mission is the same. The only way the Gospel message survives is through us.

Here is my prayer for you in this season of new life and resurrection:

A Franciscan Benediction

May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half-truths and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom and peace.

May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in the world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done, to bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.

Amen.