Rocks and Loosening: thinking about Matthew 16:13-20

 

 I'll admit it. I am an adult who plays PokemonGo. I was out walking the neighborhood playing Pokemon a couple weekends ago and found myself playing a second game - see what else I could "catch" by intentionally observing the spaces I was moving through. I hadn't made it more than a few blocks when I spotted this rock. Just hanging out with some weeds under some hedges, near the sidewalk. I don't know the rock's personal history or its goals. I do know that I experienced a mental frameshift, a lifting of spirit because of our encounter. Spotting the rock "loosed" in me a will to wonder. I felt lighter that weekend. I spotted many other treasures on that walk, I think because the rock helped loosen the rigidity of worry, the weight of responsibility that I easily and willingly carry with me. 

This week as I encounter this scripture, I am thinking how I might invite my congregation, and myself, to loosen ourselves from rigidity and worry so we are willing to receive the strength we find in wonder - whether a literal or metaphorical rock. 

In Whatever Forms They Present Themselves

In Whatever Forms They Present Themselves

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

Anchored in Faith: Preparing for General Conference

Anchored in Faith, Steve Raglin Design

We’ve known for almost three years that at some point in the years ahead there would be a historically significant meeting of the UMC governing body. In time, facts appeared: specific dates in late February 2019 and a specific location in St Louis MO. Specific legislation, some of it ruled out of order, some of it revised.  Specific opinions have been written, spoken, consolidated and guessed at.

My concern has been manifold; I come to this meeting knowing I will be present physically, spiritually and emotionally as a reserve delegate from the Great Plains UMC. I come knowing that I will be returning to the parish I serve in Lincoln, Nebraska. And I am aware that anyone with an interest in the content of this meeting does so with an amalgam of roles and relationships. I think about the candidates for ministry that I mentor, the cluster of churches I lead, friends and family for whom the matter of welcome in the church is both deeply personal and hurtful, and I wonder how I will explain what happened at this meeting that has not yet happened. 

In the midst of this time of both waiting and revelation, I have been waiting for a revelation of a different sort. I have been searching for images, words and systems to help me see the way through a smothering quantity of emotions, facts, projected outcomes and opinions.

Last fall a word came to me, “anchor.” The anchor I saw with my mind’s eye had settled onto the bottom of a body of water. As the boat above it moved in the water, and as the water itself moved, the anchor also moved, tracing imperfect swirls and arcs in the silt on which it rested. I found this image of movement helpful. I found hope in the notion that a working tool could still have play in its being while remaining functional. I wondered about the mission of the Church and what it is that anchors us as a people, and I wondered how the movement of the waters around us might help us draw an arc that would be freeing rather than constricting.

Shortly after the image of the anchor came to me, I found myself reflecting on baptism. It was fall, and I was finalizing worship themes for the months from Advent through Lent. Our theme for that unofficial quarter was “Journey,” reflecting on the many thresholds and journeys that are found in the scriptures of those seasons. I’ve long cherished the creativity of the Wise Ones, who after being warned in a dream take the creative risk to return home by another way. One of the next scriptures we read is the story of another creative risk – the risk we take in baptism when we recognize and accept God’s claim on our lives as God’s children. Named and Claimed – pleasant to say, soothing and calming at times. But also a commitment on our part to listen for our name, to listen for God’s claim on our lives and then to act in concert with the accompanying vision of community and justice.

I’ve been collecting anchors since fall - charms, goofy sweaters, rubber stamps with various depictions of anchors. I’ve been collecting water and baptism images – shells, blue scarves, an aquamarine pendant. I’ve also been collecting faith stories of people who have heard God’s call on their lives and who have chosen to anchor their communities in faith, who have learned to help those who feel lost by calling out their name, whose lives are focused on claiming and naming God’s love for all people. It is in these stories that I found my quiet center, the space were I remember God's love abides now and always. 

I am unclear what the specific outcomes of General Conference will be. I am very clear that as people of faith we are anchored in the knowledge that we will be at our best when we are anchored in our faith as expressed by the baptismal claim on our lives. Named and claimed. Claimed for ministry in all the world, named as children of God, loved as we are.

SA

Sabbath Artist

PS I’ve been learning about anchors, and am happy to admit I am not an expert at all on this topic. Here’s one of my favorite lines from an article about anchors I read recently. “The earliest anchors were probably rocks.”  

This makes me giggle every time. I feel like I am at the rock stage of learning how to be anchored in faith, and I love the image of the person tossing the rock off the boat because it’s the best thing they’ve got. We are the best thing we’ve got for ministry. I’m thinking we don’t wait to be transformed into an anchor, we just take our rocky self and do our best.

Valentines Day: Sharing the Love

Valentines Day: Sharing the Love

Valentines Day. If you are young enough and the adults around you have a positive attitude, this can be quite the day! Just short of birthday party status, but perhaps better in the long term because it can be managed without nap, Valentines Day is a day I appreciate. At my current church, however, I have failed the past five years to participate in the Preschool Valentines Day exchange.

The past five years, I did not remember until  the 14^th that it would have been a great plan to hand out Valentines from the church to our kids. I was then filled with regret for at least two days, before moving on to worrying about some other missed opportunity. 

This year was different. I remembered, and remembered early enough to make a plan.

The first step was inquiring if it would be ok to participate, and if so how many Valentines I would need to prepare. The answer was an enthusiastic yes and after three different adults counted, we figured out I would need 53 Valentines to be distributed over the course of two days (hot tip, just ask the Preschool Director and make a couple extras for teachers and folks who drop by during the day).

Information in hand, I set out to handcraft the Valentines. I chose a simple heart shape, and traced it onto heavy weight scrapbook paper. On the reverse side, I stamped a goofy cactus with a message of “I’m stuck on you,” that we acquired for the church craft cabinet last year for Valentine craft night. I then attached an organic heart-shaped lollipop. I had given a bag to my neighbor kid for his birthday, and he ate several all at once, so I figured they had passed the test. Next year, I'll incorporate this project into either the adult Sunday School class during the preceding few weeks and/or a Wednesday worship craft night so that church members can participate. I did get a head start on cutting out the hearts when I found a stash I had saved from last year's multi-generational heart-garland craft night project. 

I did not embark on this project with a measurable goal in mind, other than to be sure I had enough hearts and lollipops to go around, but that’s ok. Sometimes you just want to spread the love by letting people know you care about them. The majority of the recipients are not old enough to read and the kids in the infant room probably aren't old enough for the lollipops but it's that kind of luxurious crafting that I think conveys a message to their parents that the church cares about them and consider their families part of our extended community. 

Happy Valentines Day! 

SA, Sabbath Artist