Matthew 3:13-17, Baptism of Jesus
This post adapted from a sermon preached by the author at Saint Paul UMC Omaha, January 11/12, 2020.
When I was young, my parents were in an accident. An outcome was that one of them has utilized a wheelchair for mobility for close to 50 years. I remember family outings as a child in those pre-ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) days. More times than I would want to count we were denied entrance to restaurants, hotels, churches, or public meeting spaces because one of us was physically unable to enter. I loathed stairs and narrow doorways. I thought things would get better with the passage of the ADA in the early 90s, and in some places we did see great improvement. Yet, close to thirty years after its passage, I'll still encounter a business owner or manager who will shake their head, look down at us and say, "Ohhhhhhh. Sorry. We are grandfathered in." Just as bad is the restaurant where someone has piled up all the highchairs in what was an ADA-compliant hallway until it became a storage space because "we didn't know anyone would need the door to open all the way."
This January, the United Methodist congregation I serve is one of a group in Omaha that is focusing on our baptismal vows, focusing specifically on our promise to "resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves." These words are found in the baptismal liturgy printed in our hymnals, and speak to our commitment as disciples to not just agree to be members of a church but to remember God's claim on our lives.
In the third chapter of Matthew, we hear these words, "this is my son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased." I think it is noteworthy that these words are spoken at the time of Jesus' baptism, at the very beginning of his ministry - before the healings and miracles and teachings. When we remember our baptism, we remember that we, too, are named and claimed as God's beloved children, just as we are. And part of that claim is our future ministry of resisting evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.
I've been reflecting that our task might not be just about the resistance to the evil, but recognizing that at various times in our lives, different ones of us have the privilege of not being aware of the many forms of evil, injustice and oppression that present themselves. In my case, because I've observed the unwelcome of people with different physical abilities, I'm more aware of those forms of oppression. But it took a friend sharing with me about the time her own daughter was pulled over in their driveway because the police officer assumed she had stolen her own car for me to figure out why some people might not always want to ask the police for help. I had the luxury of not experiencing racism directed at my own child; I had the privilege of not seeing unequal treatment in our community.
I think we as Christians are better equipped to resist evil, injustice and oppression when we widen our sense of neighborhood; when we decide to learn about people's lives who have different experiences than our own. I think we are best equipped for being open to learning when we start from God's claim on our lives and those who we encounter - as God's beloved children; people who are not perfect but know themselves to be on a journey together.
I want to return to the story where I began, because I learned something new last week that I found horrifying and around which I have resolved to make a change. I was remembering how bad it felt to have people use the phrase "grandfathered in," and decided I would take a moment to find the beginning point of the phrase that evoked such an emotional response in me.
It turns out that this phrase, which I myself have used (incorrectly) to mean something like "a short undefined implementation period" has its genesis in the late 19th century in the United States. It's a Jim Crow phrase. It originated after the Voting Rights act when Southern communities added their own laws that were designed to prevent former slaves from voting; things like poll taxes and literacy tests. Not all white former voters were able to pass those tests, so they were "grandfathered in," meaning that the new restrictive laws that were layered over the Voting Rights act did not apply to white men, only to former slaves.
I am still angry that I have participated in evil, injustice and oppression via my own ignorance by using a phrase that was born of a will to harm people. But I also know that we are a people claimed for a new future. And I am resolved to not only banish this phrase from my own usage, but to learn more about additional phrases, songs, and other rhetorical forms that are carryovers from this era. When I discover I am part of a group working on an implementation phase, I will ask for a specific timeline for change, what accommodations can be made to be a bridge between the now and the desired future (I understand that elevators are not installed overnight), and if I am in a big ol United Methodist church meeting and hear the phrase "grandfathered," I have already warned my congregation that I will be the person who raises her hand and demands that we instead refer to an implementation phase with specific conditions and accountability.
Named and claimed - is who we already are. Resisting evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms the present themselves - I think this is the call to us as the named and claimed, in this season and all those seasons to come. I give thanks for the journey.
SA
Sabbath Artist
Related links:
Why I wrote the Americans With Disabilities Act, Washington Post: Why I wrote the ADA
2013 NPR story on history of "Grandfather Clause" NPR Grandfather Clause
