Honoring our Veterans

Things have changed since WW II.

As veterans began to drift back from Europe and the Pacific, the G.I. Bill was passed in order to help servicemen transition back to civilian life, and though the final version was not as far reaching as intended by FDR, it provided a means for vets to receive collegiate or vocational education, receive unemployment benefits for up to one year, and allowed for zero down-payment home loans.  Returning veterans were greeted with abandon and genuine feelings of gratitude and respect.

Something happened.

My basic contention is that in subsequent wars, the real enemy was not as sharply defined, and as such did not stand in obvious contrast to our shared values; and, our motivations – however one defines national interests – were seen as equally ambiguous, often less than honerable. Vietnam was so divisive and raised such fundamental questions, that returning veterans were hidden from sight, ignored. They served in a war that we wanted to forget. And, we forgot them.

In spite of herculean efforts to suppress opposition to the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq and to manufacture an enemy on the scale of Nazi Germany, and to sell a reinvented jingoism through every outlet from the NFL to NCIS and 24, our veterans remain pawns in a larger game. (If they are national heroes, why are the caskets of the fallen hidden from the public? And, why are so many veterans sleeping in tents in Boston, Oakland and on Wall Street?)

They deserve better.

And, that begins with refusing to send them into harm’s way until all other options have been exhausted, and perhaps not even then. Wars are not won. They are survived until the next one begins. And those who lead down that path seldom pay any price for it, though they reap the spoils. Wars belie a fundamental misunderstanding of the value of life and a conscious decision to abandon civility and imagination.

Patriotism is love of country.  Sometimes that means a willingness to fight if and when the cause is just.  That love also means protesting those bad decisions, and acts of aggression, oppression or injustice that fly in the face of our basic ideals. As Christians we believe that all people are created imago dei, with God’s imprint – the divine spark. All life has value. All. As Americans our fundamental belief is that all are created equal, even though then and now – our actions, policies and attitudes – as reflected in popular media- prove otherwise.

This is often the harder route. The slave in Matthew’s parable – from our text this Sunday – who is given the single talent is so gripped with fear of judgment and reprisal that he is unable to act freely on either his own behalf on that of his master. His fear leaves him, finally, in a state of perpetual darkness and torment. Though largely ignored by the media, I am heartened that more and more veterans are coming forward to speak out against continuing hostilities in an endless war. But, there will be another time to speak more on this.

On this day, we do need to take time to remember those who have served. But, we also need to truly honor them –and their families – for their unselfish sacrifice and do all we can to make sure that they are not forgotten nor their needs ignored by policy makers and others who tug on those purse strings in Washington.

 

All Saints Redux

Leroy Dowell was buried yesterday.  More than a few of you reading this will not know Leroy or who he was in the context of our parish life – for the last few years he has not been able to attend services –  but it is the intersection of his story with that of All Saints that makes him worthy of remembering beyond his roles of husband, father, brother, farmer, and first baseman.

Leroy was one of the re-founding fathers of our parish.

When Fr. Owens arrived in Sunderland in the mid-1950’s it was to assist the members of All Saints with the task of closing its doors.  Membership had fallen off, the 1774 vintage building was in need of repair and restoration, and resources were limited – just the type of challenge we have come to relish.

Needless to say, that challenge was met. Leroy and other leaders could not imagine a community without the witness of All Saints and they put into motion a process that inspired financial investment, revitalized and expanded membership, and created this bond – a love of place and person – that has survived to this day.

Few of that number now remain, but their contributions to the life of this community have made possible our ongoing moments of discernment and action, of motion and rest, of shared pain and joy, of the privilege of being called to serve in this pilgrim band.

Occupying Christianity

Rachel is a Native American from Western Massachusetts.  She has been out of work for nearly 18 months.  Brenda is an unemployed mother of three from Allston. Doug has been out of work for eleven months and now finds himself fighting an addiction to pain killers. Russell and Donna teach ninth graders in a high school in Brookline.  They are here in Dewey Square – with their classes. There are all participants in and witnesses
to the Occupy movement.

The Rev. Canon Ed Rodman – veteran of the Civil Rights movement – reminds his class that this has all happened before. When it did, the robber barons of the 19^th Century were eventually reigned in as William Jennings Bryant became a populist hero; the excesses of the 20’s were halted by the Great Depression. But, the current crisis has been growing, unchecked, for thirty years and is no longer an economic system but – in his words – ‘a theology, with facts established to support the theology; at some point, however, the situation on the ground gets too large for the container to hold the oppressive system together.’ Will the current movement get to that point? Wall Street and K Street will do all in their power to prevent that.

Wednesday evening at St. Paul’s in Boston, Harvard theologian Harvey Cox also reminded his audience that this has all happened before.

Jesus and his disciples – in a not so peaceful demonstration - occupied the Temple for a brief time and brought the oppressive financial system in which it was a player to a halt, overturning tables, disrupting commerce and driving out the agents who loaned money, approved mortgages and marketed religious commodities. Disruption was their aim – get over it – and, as we know, the system struck back. The Temple was Wall Street and K Street. When the Romans destroyed it a generation later, the first thing they did was to burn the mortgages that it held.

The Episcopal Church finds itself – as usual – in a difficult situation.

While we officially support and ‘affirm’ the growing movement and ‘resistance to the exploitation of people for profit’ and ‘the faithful witness in the tradition of Jesus to the sinful inequities in society’ (Executive Council, Oct. 23) we do so knowing that we are heavily invested in Wall Street ourselves. And, we do so quietly – I would wager that no one reading this blog is aware of their statement –  so as not to offend our members who view the movement and its participants differently and who write checks in support of the Church’s mission everywhere.

Which is why perhaps, the movement needs to consider the occupation of Christianity.

Rendering Caesar II

A loss of innocence.

I recently finished a book by Susan B. Thistlethwaite entitled Dreaming of Eden. In it she explores the Jewish creation myth of that Garden and its attendant story of Cain and Abel, using them as a means of analyzing the complex intersection of American religion and culture. One of her conclusions is that our political divide is primarily a theological divide, and is predicated upon how you view the lessons of Eden and the complex character of Cain.

In one interpretation, the Fall is a fall from an original state of sheer bliss. We had perfection and lost it and now must – and can – find our way back to it. The basic motif is one of judgment. There are evil people and there are good people and at some indeterminate point, the good people will be swept back into Paradise and the evil people will perish.

In the other interpretation, the Fall is actually a fall ‘up’ and makes us partners with God in creation, and though it is fraught with contradiction and pain and uncertainty – Cain murders his brother, but goes off under God’s protection to found the first city and in so doing creates civilization – it allows humanity, now armed with the knowledge of good and evil, to progress, and eventually attain the best of all possible worlds.

These views permeate our politics. And, when taken to extremes…

One side yearns for a return to the ‘good old days’ and believes that we can recreate them if we return to Christian fundamentals or display the Ten Commandments in public buildings or bring prayer back to school. It believes that it obvious who is evil (the poor, gays and lesbians, Hispanics, Muslims) and who is good (everyone else but only if they don’t ask too many questions). And deeply embedded in this worldview is the unshakeable belief in the innocence of America, the new Eden; and its holy mission as the champion of freedom and democracy, prepared to confront evil wherever it may surface.

The other side believes that the best days are yet to come and given the choice between good and evil, that humans will eventually and always choose the good. It believes in the world of Star Trek where everyone will dress alike and thanks to our evolved human nature, obey the prime directive and only practice the art of war against Klingons if there is no other choice. This side believes that people contain both good and evil tendencies, but that with education and patience and positive reinforcement, the inclination to evil can be overcome.

Both are flawed. We are not innocent. We practice torture. We will not choose the good. We would sell our mother if the price were right.

The Garden has been lost. The first point of the story in Genesis is that everyone thinks that the past – some past – was the golden age, in fact, so much so, that the original past must have been perfect. (See Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris) But, there is no going back. We know too much, perhaps for our for our own good.

And, secondly, no one is good or evil, but more, there is not one without the other, ever. (Paul reminds us that all fall short of perfection). We are all fragile humans who can be tempted and who will give in to that temptation. Because we hold public office or work for Goldman Sachs does not exempt us from making bad or selfish and sometimes catastrophic decisions. As such, we need to hold each other accountable for the evil we do, the evil we contemplate, and the evil done on our behalf. And, not in judgment, but as signpost to something better; as an invitation to a deeper acknowledgement of the good and evil entwined within all of us and the hope that together we can take just one more step toward each other.

Rendering Caesar

I have made two trips this week to Dewey Square, the heart of Boston’s financial district, where protesters have established a tent city in support of the Occupy Wall Street movement. I hope to report over the next few days on the people that I have met, the stories that I have heard, but more importantly, on the humanity and common decency that I have observed.

Rather timely that in today’s appointed Gospel reading, the Pharisees come to Jesus with a question about taxation and our obligations to yield to the oppressor.  It seems that even in Jesus’ time those who wished to flatter power in hopes of sharing in the wealth had a habit of hiding behind tax codes and creating problems for those radicals who wished to feed the hungry, heal the sick, welcome the stranger and speak a word of truth about the human condition.

From a distance it is easy to be swayed by news reports that only focus on arrests or potential confrontations.  It is easy to believe the voices of power – those who serve the 1% – and dismiss the 99% as having no discernable issues and no organization.  They criticize those who feel no recourse but to take to the streets and respond by planning to cut services to the poor while blocking any attempt to levy a tax increase against those most able to pay a bigger share.

And where should the Church position herself in this and any instance where Caesar is concerned?

I am always puzzled by those who interpret the separation of Church and State to mean that as people of faith we turn a blind eye to the abuses of power. Perhaps they believe that we somehow have two lives: one that takes care of number one, content to grab what advantage we can from a corrupt and oppressive system no matter who it disadvantages or destroys, oblivious to the all-embracing love of God and commitment to neighbor that we profess in our other life, our church life, in those few moments we allow ourselves to connect with community on Sunday morning. Perhaps we do not want to be reminded of who we really are because we fear losing what we think we have. Trinity Wall Street responded this past week by opening its doors to the protesters, to provide what shelter, comfort and encouragement they could.

What the separation of Church means is actually quite simple.

Though the Anglican Church was the established church of the colonies, for example, under the Constitution we have no established  State church.  That means persons living in the parish no longer must bring their allotted share of tobacco to All Saints, though in today’s culture it means that your tax dollars do not pay my salary.  It also means that I cannot endorse a candidate from the pulpit or order you to vote for this person or that as a condition of membership in the Church. It does, however, allow me or the Church – which the Episcopal Church does routinely through its Public Policy Network – to speak out about issues of concern for people of faith. It is a proud legacy that we once had courage enough to speak out for the abolition of slavery, the improvement of conditions for the working class, and for Civil Rights, though not without threats from those who felt their own power and position threatened.

The bottom line is that Caesar will do anything Caesar can to maintain power, ultimately, to survive, but primarily to dominate.  And history has proven that Caesar – cast as government or as corporation – will subvert any law or enact any policy with little regard as to consequences for humans or the environment to accomplish that goal. As followers of the teachings of Jesus, and as people who pledged to work for the dignity of every human being and for justice, our voices need to be heard.  We now have another opportunity.

The Undiscovered Country

Happy Indigenous Peoples Day!

It was 519 years ago that Columbus stumbled upon a few islands nestled in the Caribbean, introducing their populations to a doctrine that had already been operative on the African continent for fifty years.

Columbus was given the name Cristobal by the Church – ‘Christ bearer’ – and he sailed under the imperative of a Papal Bull from 1452 known as the Doctrine of Discovery, which did not validate Columbus as an explorer, but commissioned him as the leader of an expedition of exploitation and conquest of the world for Christ. The Portuguese had used the authority of this Bull to begin the colonization and enslavement of the African continent.  Columbus was now going to carry this doctrine westward. Upon his return in 1493, Pope Alexander VI granted the right to Spain to conquer this new land, claiming that the enemies of Christ needed to be enslaved, and it was thus the obligation and destiny of Christians to claim and subdue those territories not ruled by Christian monarchs.

And so it was that the Church became complicit in the death of civilizations on three continents: Africa and the Americas.

In 1823 this doctrine was quietly adopted into U.S. law by the Supreme Court in Johnson v. McIntosh, and established the principle that the United States, in winning independence from Great Britain, became the successor nation to the right of discovery as practiced by the colonizing European powers. Since they were ‘discovered’, Native Americans had lost “their rights to complete sovereignty, as independent nations,” and only retained a right of “occupancy” in their lands, subject to the ultimate authority of the Christian government. This precedent has been used as recently as 2005 in The City of Sherrill V. Oneida Indian Nation of N.Y., to justify decisions invalidating or ignoring tribal claims to land.  If nothing else, 453 years of invoking papal policy raises new questions concerning the separation of Church and State.

To our belated credit, the Episcopal Church repudiated the Doctrine of Discovery in General Convention…  in 2009.  In addition, delegates also called upon the United States to endorse the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, which was adopted in 2007 on the strength of votes from 143 countries. The four who voted against were the US, Australia, Canada and New Zealand, all former British colonies with indigenous populations; the U.S. objection based upon definition of “exactly whom the term ‘indigenous peoples’ is intended to cover.” President Obama has pledged that the US will endorse… in…  uh…   well, soon.

Some members of my parish who follow this blog may now be wondering what they were thinking when they called a history major to serve as rector. But, I offer this lesson as a vehicle of reflection concerning this holiday.  Not that we discredit or disparage the memory of Columbus, but that as people of faith we ask ourselves where are our own perspectives have been shaped by the arrogance and actions of our forebears, and continue to be shaped.

That may be more subtle and expansive than you realize, impacting attitudes that run from race and culture to immigration.  (Immigration, you say? After all, as both Native Americans and Mexicans can rightly claim: we did not cross your borders, your borders crossed us).

Have a good night, Christ-bearers.  Happy Ruminating!

The Most Important Lesson

Faith-based organizing 101.

Members of St. James Episcopal Church gather this evening in Cambridge to plan for a social justice workshop. For the past three years, St. James has participated in the GBIO (Greater Boston Interfaith Organization) which is currently involved in campaigns supporting a freeze on health care premiums – it seems the only uncontrollable expense is insurance company profit margin – and an initiative encouraging individuals, organizations and businesses to ‘move their money’ into local banks. (Hmmm… Jesus gave away health care and issues many warnings about greed and the pursuit of profits.  I sense a connection). And, on October 23 they will come together to encourage each other in this work, gather other concerns for the parish and the community to consider, and invite others to enlist their talents and passions.

This event is being organized by their student leader – a young man of 24 who has come to St. James through a program called “Life Together.” This ministry is comprised of two 11-month internship programs for young adults between the ages of 18 and 35. Reed is a Micah Project intern, one of a cluster of interns who ‘live together in Christian community and discern their vocational calls’ while serving specific congregations of the diocese by taking leadership roles in social justice-based projects. (The Relational Evangelism Pilot Program is the other internship path in which young adults are trained as community organizers with the intention of engaging more young adults in ‘the mission of God and the life of the Episcopal Church.’ Interns in both groups meet weekly to develop their discipline and guide personal and communal spiritual practices). A child does lead them…

One of the essential elements in bringing people together to work on these projects is the fundamental belief that there are no spectators. More precisely, that everyone is given a suitable task to do and that every task is important. Every person and every task – no matter how menial – has great value and is essential to the mission.

Paul said as much when he wrote about varieties of gifts or the importance of every member of the body.  The hand does need the foot it seems. It is inherent in creation itself. The instruction to be fruitful, multiply and have dominion not only implies that there is enough to go around, but that we each have a vital role – no matter the task – in assuring the peace, stability and nurture of the whole.

Somehow we still manage to give honor to doctors, bankers, lawyers – yes, in spite of the jokes – and are rude to our waiters.  We worry that our favorite team won’t cough up the money to attract a particular free agent but are not concerned at all that a teacher or a nurse or the ‘idiot clerk’ who made you wait in line cannot afford to live in our County.

The church is not immune to this sort of hierarchical thinking. We praise some members, disregard the contributions of others, in spite of what I hope are our best intentions.

As I listen to Reed describe about how crucial it is to the success of the event to have the invitation envelopes stuffed and remind us to thank the person who went out to get the post-it notes, I make the mental note about how glad I am that I came out this evening.

 

 

“Where Real Church Meets Real Life”

I had the opportunity to worship at The Crossing, an ‘emergent’ faith community whose members gather on Thursday evenings at 6 for worship which is loud, joyful, inviting, engaging, provocative, colorful, celebratory… I could go on… and all of it driven by an undulating beat of modern jazz and rhythm and blues.

At the center of this sea of smiles and swaying bodies is the Rev. Stephanie Spellers. Though she is described as ‘our priest and lead organizer’ – a concept that Commissions on Ministry and seminaries might entertain more intentionally – the leadership this night is shared by many members.  In fact, as we break off into small groups of three and four, we are all drawn into the time of reflection.

Though I notice a few grey beards in the mix, the congregation is comprised of mostly 20- and 30-somethings, who have streamed in from work, from school, from real life – as the community’s tag line goes – to be here.  Here, by the way, is St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, which lies off the southeastern corner of the Boston Commons, in the shadow of the State House and on the border of the financial and commercial districts.  And somewhere in the background, there is some interesting architecture, but through the use of folding chairs, table lamps, candles and an outrageously decorated makeshift altar, the formal worship space has been converted into a large and welcoming living room.  Connecting to God can be a cozy experience, too.

On this particular evening, the Crossing celebrates its fifth anniversary. Their founding principles are summed up in what members call The Rule of Life, and by this covenant they commit to a discipline and practice of radical welcome, deeply engaging prayer and worship, community building, relational nurture, justice and service, and the sharing of resources. In another context, what they do is described as relational evangelism. That appeals to me.

I do not have time or space to elaborate on those practices – I leave them to your imagination and interpretation – but from what I experienced and from what I witnessed, they are working. God has planted a vision in the hearts and minds of this diverse and loving band of believers about life, the Church and how it all comes together to create something better, something more. And they are acting on that shared vision. And, God is
blessing their hard work.

I’ll return to this place again.  And, I invite you to visit the Crossing through this link:

http://www.thecrossingboston.org/

 

 

Christ of Two Communities

Seminarians gathered this evening for the first community meal of the semester. I made chili, but everyone still seemed to enjoy the pot luck meal and informal Eucharist. One of the students was asked to offer a reflection on her recent work in Oaxaca, Mexico and she did so by drawing comparisons to her own home in rural Washington State.

The two places have deep connections.

Oaxaca has seen a mass migration of its population into the cities to the north, and beyond that into the United States. The reason for their departure is the lack of economic development coinciding with the destruction of the agrarian culture. There was a time when farmers could subsist on the crops produced by their farms. But, NAFTA and U.S. farm subsidies have conspired to flood Mexico with cheaper American corn and beans, the main staple of the Oaxacan diet.

Unable to compete and thereby deprived of a livelihood, the economic refugees head north. A good number, as if drawn by fate, arrive in Washington State.  And there, local farmers are also in economic distress.

Small, diversified farms are foreclosed and swallowed up by single product corporate giants, throwing the Washington farmers into competition with the immigrants from Oaxaca for whatever employment can be found. What irony – refugees from the farmlands of the Pacific Northwest are pitted against refugees who were forced from their farms far to the South.  And the pain and anger that both groups feel becomes misdirected at each other and not at the common source of their pain; namely, an economic philosophy that is out of control, that rewards the reckless pursuit of profits, and that turns a blind eye to the life-shattering consequences brought on by policy decisions made by the likes of ADM and Monsanto.

This Sunday’s text is about tenants in a vineyard who went too far in their attempts to gain everything for themselves, which – according to the parable – visited violence and death upon those who stood in their way. Jesus told this story to peasants who had lost their farms to the elite class in Jerusalem, and, who like the laborers we read about last week who stood idly in the market place hoping to be hired, were at the mercy of those who held all of the power and wealth and influence.

Jesus message to them was to remain filled with hope, because a great leveling was on the way.  I wonder what he would say to the farmers of Washington and Oaxaca. What would we say?

The seminarian who presented this evening plans to return to Washington to minister to both sets of refugees. She hopes that she might in some way help them to see Christ present in their mutual suffering and present in the work they might do together against an oppressive system.  I sense God in the mix here.  She will do well.

History Lessons

I had the opportunity over the week-end to visit the house of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in Cambridge; and, Paul Revere’s house and the Old North Church, both in Boston’s North End.  And, yes, this former U.S. history major had a splendid time. I learned more about Longfellow in 45 minutes than I had in 20 plus years of formal schooling.

I also spent some time in Christopher Columbus Park, and, yes, this former history major also understands the link between all of those sites and – as theologian – can appreciate the danger present when we take our myths too seriously, because myths tend to cloud the truth of history while imbedding in us what Susan Brooks Thistlethwaite would describe as a false sense of ‘innocence’. (Carnegie and Rockefeller and Morgan and their ilk were heroes, so it follows then that Wall Street suits would never willfully do anything to hurt the public. It must be gay marriage and Mexicans).

Myths also can seduce us into believing – as fans of Woody Allen’s latest film, Midnight in Paris might agree – that one particular point in our history was the ‘Golden Age’ and if we could just go back to that time, everything would be fine once again. (I’m sure that the first slaves to arrive in the Jamestown colony in 1619 in order to work the land for the starving English gentry – who had no idea how to cultivate the land or the desire to do manual labor – would agree. And, speaking of Columbus, we might poll the Arawak Indians about their encounters with the brave explorer, if we could only locate a living descendant to ask. Hey, he discovered the New World. I’m sure he meant well. All of that bloodshed and
slavery was just, progress. And, it is also a story of greed and a quest for gold and power and domination that is never taught to school-aged kids on October 12. Myth serves someone’s higher purpose, I guess).

The seductive power of myth also drives our current political debate; it impacts our views on everything from immigration to civil rights, the functionality of our families and the make-up and mission of the Church, as if a return to the 1950′s would solve every social, cultural and religious problem.

Still, I wonder what would happen if we could take an honest look at where we have come from and evaluate the past not just from the glorified perspective of the ‘innocent’ winner, but from the perspective of those whose lives have been shattered, and often times for the benefit of those winners. And, could we do it without casting blame or evoking anger or guilt, or slipping into denial?  I don’t know. Myth is a powerful drug and the other path would force us to come face to face with the human pain born of regrettable decisions and actions. That doesn’t sit well with us; if nothing else, myth is comfortable, soothing…  and doesn’t ask us to risk imagining a shared humanity.  It only asks for blind allegiance.

I could play that old cliché here and ask if we doom ourselves to repeat those regrettable decisions and actions by not taking that honest look and learning the hard lessons that our past is trying to teach us.  But, I would rather ask us to think about how we – as agents of the gospel – can encourage each other to become myth-busters: people who are reconcilers of the past, healers of the present, and, in turn, parents of a different future history.