Distracted from what, Bishop?

North Alabama Bishop Debra Wallace-Padgett released this statement* criticizing retired Bishop Melvin Talbert's decision to officiate a same-sex wedding in her conference. *(It seems the original statement has been replaced by a new one as of this afternoon.) Part of the Bishop's concern is that Bishop Talbert's actions will somehow be a distraction from the church's *real* ministry.

First of all, to her concern about media coverage, I say bring it on. The coverage of Bishop Talbert performing the wedding in opposition to discriminatory church law will be an inspiration to many of us, inside and outside the UMC. How refreshing it will be to see a leader lead.

But yes, the ongoing debate about sexual orientation and marriage equality is a distraction. It consumes too much of my time and energy as a queer United Methodist. Jesus, we should all remember, did not seem to care at all about condemning or policing people around their adherence to Levitical law. He did, though, say a heck of a lot about money and the poor and how we should treat those on the margins. If Jesus were still in his grave, I am sure he would be rolling over. It's true that the church's obsession with sex is a giant distraction from the ministry to which we followers of Jesus are called.

Except that church law and practice as it stands is causing grave harm to God's children. It is further marginalizing the marginalized. And Jesus does call us to care about that. Bishop Wallace-Padgett, I will be glad to turn my attention to things more important than sexual orientation when you and the rest of the church stop actively marginalizing me and my LGBT brothers and sisters. Until then, we will not be silenced.

Going Deeper

Last Sunday's Gospel reading was a tough one!

From Luke 14:25-33:

Now large crowds were traveling with him; and he turned and said to them, "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.

For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, saying, 'This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.'

Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. 

So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.

Here's my reflection on this passage at Parkland United Methodist. Jesus' words are challenging and discomforting. But the resistance they might evoke is an invitation to go deeper.

Thought of the Day

I love this description from Cynthia Bourgeault's Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening:

"The big difference between [ordinary and spiritual awareness] is that whereas ordinary awareness perceives through self-reflexive consciousness, which splits the world into subject and object; spiritual awareness perceives through an intuitive grasp of the whole and an innate sense of belonging. It's something like sounding the note G on the piano and instantly hearing the D and the B that surround it and make a chord. And since spiritual awareness is perception based on harmony, the sense of selfhood arising out of it is not plagued by that sense of isolation and anxiety that dominates life at the ordinary level of awareness."

On Syria

I used to pay more attention to news from the Middle East than I do now. In college, I spent time in the West Bank and Morocco, studied Arabic, and got connected to human rights activism around Palestine. At that time, I kept pretty close tabs on news and analysis, but it's been awhile. Though I still keep up on what is going on in Palestine, I can't say I have been paying very close attention to Syria over the past two years.

It doesn't take much expertise, though, to know that Obama's proposed unilateral military strikes are a horrible idea. For one thing, I am trusting the expertise of others, who have convinced me that military action is ill-conceived and extremely dangerous. Some of the most helpful things I've read/heard:

Bassam Haddad On Democracy Now

Do's and Dont's For Progressives Discussing Syria

On Syria, A UN Vote Isn't Optional

Iraq Veterans Against the War Statement

Juan Cole: A US Attack on Syria Will Prolong the War

But most of all, I don't think any of us have to be experts to see a pattern emerging over the last decade plus of U.S. intervention. Syria can't be easily compared to Iraq, Afghanistan, or previous conflicts. However, those of us whose skepticism and war-weariness are heightened by our country's recent (and not-so-recent) past should pay attention to that intuition. We have learned things: No, the U.S. is not primarily motivated by humanitarian concerns. No, it will not be quick, easy and painless - not for our own country and especially not for the already war-torn country we plan to bomb. And no, our conventional weapons of mass destruction are not likely to deter others from using their WMDs, conventional or otherwise.

If - as seems likely - we do launch missiles in the coming days, I truly hope my go-to experts and I will be proven wrong about the geo-political consequences.

Regardless, though, the moral and human consequences will still stand. I don't always agree with my denomination's stance on things, but I think the United Methodist statement on war is worth sharing:

 "We believe war is incompatible with the teachings and example of Christ. We therefore reject war as an instrument of national foreign policy. We oppose unilateral first/preemptive strike actions and strategies on the part of any government. As disciples of Christ, we are called to love our enemies, seek justice, and serve as reconcilers of conflict. We insist that the first moral duty of all nations is to work together to resolve by peaceful means every dispute that arises between or among them. We advocate the extension and strengthening of international treaties and institutions that provide a framework within the rule of law for responding to aggression, terrorism, and genocide. We believe that human values must outweigh military claims as governments determine their priorities; that the militarization of society must be challenged and stopped; that the manufacture, sale, and deployment of armaments must be reduced and controlled; and that the production, possession, or use of nuclear weapons be condemned. Consequently, we endorse general and complete disarmament under strict and effective international control."

  

Humility and Making Space

This week I preached on Luke 14:1, 7-14, looking at what humility means (and doesn't mean) for those at the banquet and those Jesus tells us should be invited.

Here's the text:

"On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely. When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. "When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, 'Give this person your place,' and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, 'Friend, move up higher'; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." He said also to the one who had invited him, "When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."

Hear my sermon on this passage here. (The link will download the mp3 audio file.) 

Thank You, Antoinette Tuff

What a troubling news day yesterday was. So much bad news from Egypt, Syria, and the US of A. So much to despair over. In the midst of it, though, was this story about Antoinette Tuff, the elementary school bookkeeper in Decatur, GA who talked down a 20-year-old with an AK-47 and likely prevented a massacre. If you haven't watched the video (here's the link again), it's well worth the 16 minutes.

What calls to me in this story is the incredible spiritual power that Tuff embodies. At 6:20 she talks about her pastor's teaching recently about "anchoring in the Lord." She anchored herself during that terrifying, overwhelming moment and then acted out of a place of love and compassion. She prayed. And then she told this shooter that she loved him, that he didn't have to die, that his life could turn around. She shared her story, of hardships she'd endured in the past year, and she appealed to him to give his life another chance.

It made all the difference.

At times, I underestimate the importance of "anchoring" in the Spirit. It's so easy for my energy to go elsewhere. Often, my energy goes straight to my head, bypassing my heart. I retreat to parsing the politics and the power dynamics. I analyze. I make my judgments. None of that is wrong in itself, but Antoinette Tuff reminds me of something deeply true that I too often forget. If not grounded in Love, all the acting and thinking so often wanders astray.

What I forget, too, is the incredible power in such spiritual grounding. It is a counter-cultural power - not based in intellectual reasoning or physical force (the two holy grails of our society, you might say). She showed a power based in a connection to something larger than herself, which encompassed both her and the man with the gun who faced her. It's a power rooted in vulnerability. (Which, in all honesty, is one reason I shy away from it!) But that power moved an armed and dangerous man. It stopped a massacre.

In practice, Antionette Tuff's power was that she valued the life in front of her. We live in the age of Trayvon Martin and Oscar Grant, in a society that says it's ok to use lethal force against people who seem suspicious - let alone someone armed and ready to kill young children. Yet Tuff's vision was bigger.  She looked into this man's eyes and saw someone who was ill and in need of healing - not just a "bad guy with a gun." Had the shooter instead faced hostility and gunfire, we can be sure that at least he would be dead and likely many more.

Today I am grateful for Antoinette Tuff, not only for the lives she saved, but also for the reminder of what is possible when we ground ourselves and claim authority in love.

Worthy of Life

More than two weeks have passed since George Zimmerman was acquitted of the murder of Trayvon Martin. This morning, two other all-too-familiar stories caught my attention on Democracy Now. In Florida, and unarmed 60-year-old African American man was shot by police in his yard. In Toronto, an 18-year-old was shot dead by police as he stood in an empty streetcar holding a knife. (The police were outside the car, out of harm's way.)

My heart hurts for all these families, and for the state of our society, in which life (especially - but not only - the lives of men of color) is so expendable.

So much of the Trayvon Martin trial and the conversation around it seem to have been devoted to discerning his character. The most basic fact of the case - that an unarmed 17-year-old boy was shot point-blank in the chest - was not compelling enough. Instead, the subtext became the question of whether Trayvon Martin was worthy of living - or at least worthy of having his life protected by the law. Is a black 17-year-old boy worthy of life? What if he is wearing a sweatshirt? What if he has used marijuana? What if he has been in trouble before? What if....?

These are the questions our society has been asking with a straight face. We have been weighing whether or not Trayvon Martin was expendable - whether (for reasons based on racial and class prejudice) he could reasonably be seen as so threatening that his right to life was forfeited.

The day after the George Zimmerman verdict, I found myself in the Los Angeles airport watching CNN as I waited for a flight. That morning I was appalled - though not surprised - when Newt Gingrich came on and attempted to pivot the conversation to the number of murders of black men committed by other black men in Chicago. It was clearly a very cynical attempt to say that a) black men really are scary and dangerous and b) we should be talking about that instead. (This seems to be a talking point that racist Fox News has been running with.) But I think the more disturbing undercurrent of Gingrich's and Fox's story line is that the life and death of people of color doesn't matter that much.

The week after the Zimmerman verdict, I read Octavia Butler's Parable of the Sower. Published in 1993, it describes the USA in the 2020s, when climate change, economic and government collapse, privatization, inequality and disease have led to a nation in chaos. It was an eery read. In the 20 years since the book was written, we do seem in many ways to have headed in the direction that Butler imagined.

One of the characteristics of the decimated society Butler describes is the devaluation of human life. Gone are free public services. Gone is the expectation that all people should have access to public education, police protection, the fire department, water, or medical care. People who can't afford these things are left to die - and considered dangers to those who are well-off enough to access them. No one bats an eye if they happen to be killed.

Treating human life as expendable has a long history in this country. America has consistently treated black and brown people as expendable. And we shouldn't forget that poor white people have long been treated as expendable, too. It feels like it's getting worse. The fact that 80 percent of U.S. adults are close to poverty is yet another sign and symptom.

Though it can feel like such a small thing, this all reminds me of why building community is so important. So many forces are seeking to divide us, to make us question what we know: that life is sacred. Just as we have to commit to political action, we have to commit to loving each other, being in relationship with each other, and cherishing all life and each life.