Dear People of Christ Church,
As I write, I’m sitting at Café on the Common: my second office. It’s lively, bright, and sunny, with the whole spectrum of our city sitting and drinking their coffee. Fat/thin, young/old, black/white, business-serious and summer-casual: everybody’s here. I wonder if this is what it felt like on that day of Pentecost, 2000 years ago—the disciples just hanging around, doing what they had to do, and then, boom! Tongues of fire and a riot of languages, everyone met by the Holy Spirit exactly where they were, finding them each in their own languages, but also uniting them in a common experience. This Sunday, we’ll have our own linguistic Pentecost moment, with Spanish, German, Italian, Swedish, Hebrew, and even Welsh portions of readings (all of it will also be printed, as usual, in English so you can follow along).
The Pentecost experience of unity in diversity was something we experienced last Sunday at the Mother’s Day walk for peace, too. Thousands of people had gathered in Dorchester from all around—we had our Christ Church sign, just as there were banners from Episcopal Churches in Walpole and Sudbury, Unitarians from Lexington and Chelmsford, and individuals from all over with T shirts or buttons memorializing those they had lost. The day was pervaded by a deep sense of mourning, as well as a deep sense of possibility. Terrible things have happened. But newness and grace are possible.
First, we can start asking some different questions; the usual narrative we tell around tragic violence puts the focus on the victim. We talk about how someone was “in the wrong place at the wrong time,” with the subtext that it could perhaps have happened to anyone. This is a natural response; it is, strictly speaking, true: Jorge Fuentes was walking down his own street, and had someone else been walking down that street at the same time his killer pulled out a gun, that person could have been shot instead. There was nothing about Jorge that would have made someone single him out. Yes, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it didn’t “just” happen. It’s more complicated than that.
While we think we are preserving the innocence of the dead, we’re still putting all the focus on the victim, not the perpetrator. Tina Chery, the founder of the Louis Brown Peace Institute, said on Sunday that we should instead ask: “Where did they get the gun?” These crimes are perpetrated by individuals who are, themselves, part of a wider context. There is a whole web of poverty and violence and poor education that brings them to that point. And a whole other system of criminality and commerce that brings the gun that they pick up.
The police have not arrested the person who killed Jorge, but what about the other 6,000 youth nationwide who have been killed by gun violence since he was in September? That’s 12,000 parents whose children have died. What about those guns? What about those communities where 1% of the population terrorize the rest? What if there were the same level of outcry whenever any person, anywhere, were killed? What if, as a culture, we really and truly valued the life of every person? What would have to change? How would each of us have to change?
I don’t have all the answers—not even close. There was something so holy, though, about all of us pouring through the streets of Dorchester, just for a morning, to stand with Tina, and Jorge’s mom, and Scarlett, whose six year old son was killed in Newtown, CT who also walked that day. As Rev. Tim Crellin, priest at St Stephen’s, Boston, said, “These are the first of many steps.”
Last night, at our Alewife Deanery meeting, we talked about how to move forward in this work for peace in our cities. All of our contexts are different; Waltham and Burlington won’t need the same thing, and neither will Bedford and Cambridge. Below, you’ll see an announcement about a community meeting that’s happening in Newton that our own Heather Leonardo heatherleonardo@gmail.com plans to attend. So please be in touch with her if you want to be part of that. Finally, mark your calendars for September 28, when the annual diocesan resource day will host workshops on nonviolence organizing. And feel free to give money--we’ve so far raised $200 for the Louis D Brown institute, and will collect donations for one more Sunday; write B Peace on your check.
And pray! This Sunday the disciples were gathered in one place praying, when they were surprised by the Spirit. It can happen to us, too.
Peace,
Sara+
Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
From: April 25: Journey towards Peace
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I find that I'm finally ready for some perspective.
I wrote last Thursday in this space about how I wasn't; all I wanted to do was sit in my sadness for a moment. Everything was so unsettled then, obsessively clicking "refresh" on bogus CNN stories about how a suspect had (not, it turned out) been arrested. My soul got a little healing preaching psalm 23 last Sunday and celebrating Carlos and Elena's baptisms, so it feels a little safer to come up for air. Now that I'm not just feeling hurt, I can take a look around me and see what's there.
So-what's there?
Hurt, yes, still. But also more sad than angry. Learning more about the Tsarnaev brothers, it seems that they have more in common with Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris, the Columbine shooters, than they do with some international or domestic terror network. I spent the first three days of this week at our annual clergy conference for the diocesan (our is the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts, which includes east of Route 495 and the Cape)-most of the priests and some of the deacons, gathered for some learning and working time together. It was striking to hear the reactions of the clergy from the Cambridge churches-kids at their parishes attend Cambridge Rindge and Latin, and knew the suspects, or at least the environment they grew up in; they knew how normal life seemed, until it wasn't. There's always a tendency to "other" those who experience violence; we hastily explain to ourselves how it simply couldn't have happened to us. When random violence strikes, we're forced to realize that it could.
Part of yesterday's presentation was also a more in depth conversation about the B Peace for Jorge endeavor we've been invited into. Next Tuesday we wrap up our conversation on The Rich and the Rest of Us, and then on May 12 there is the Mother's Day walk, which feels like it has all the more resonance. Jorge Fuentes was killed while standing on a porch across the street from his house. His mother heard the shots while she was cooking dinner. Jorge was the only one hurt; he had just pushed someone out of the way. We saw a segment from Fox 25's "Unsolved" murder segment about him (you can see it here)
where we meet his mother showing off his ROTC uniform; he wanted to join the Marines.
From Jorge's death on September 10, 2012, to the death of Martin Richard on April 15, whatever appears to motivate violence, it's still that-violence. We can disagree on all the details about how to respond on a political level. Some will want to outlaw handguns (me-don't get me started on Congress last week), others will want to be sure that every man and woman has one concealed in their jacket. I will grieve the use of torture by our government in the aftermath of 9/11, others will declare that that is the only reason another massive-scale attack didn't happen. In Christian community, we bring our whole selves to the table, and we don't always agree as we meet one another there. Still, wherever we place ourselves around the table, the call to the compassion of Christ pursues us all. Violence wins a second time if we allow our opinions about it to drive us away from one another. If God can raise a crucified Christ, surely God can handle us.
Blessings to all of you, wherever you find yourself on this journey,
Sara+
PS There is more going on with the B Peace effort! Let Rev. Sara know if you'd like to be part of deanery efforts at responding to violence in our community.
This week, I find that I'm finally ready for some perspective.
I wrote last Thursday in this space about how I wasn't; all I wanted to do was sit in my sadness for a moment. Everything was so unsettled then, obsessively clicking "refresh" on bogus CNN stories about how a suspect had (not, it turned out) been arrested. My soul got a little healing preaching psalm 23 last Sunday and celebrating Carlos and Elena's baptisms, so it feels a little safer to come up for air. Now that I'm not just feeling hurt, I can take a look around me and see what's there.
So-what's there?
Hurt, yes, still. But also more sad than angry. Learning more about the Tsarnaev brothers, it seems that they have more in common with Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris, the Columbine shooters, than they do with some international or domestic terror network. I spent the first three days of this week at our annual clergy conference for the diocesan (our is the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts, which includes east of Route 495 and the Cape)-most of the priests and some of the deacons, gathered for some learning and working time together. It was striking to hear the reactions of the clergy from the Cambridge churches-kids at their parishes attend Cambridge Rindge and Latin, and knew the suspects, or at least the environment they grew up in; they knew how normal life seemed, until it wasn't. There's always a tendency to "other" those who experience violence; we hastily explain to ourselves how it simply couldn't have happened to us. When random violence strikes, we're forced to realize that it could.
Part of yesterday's presentation was also a more in depth conversation about the B Peace for Jorge endeavor we've been invited into. Next Tuesday we wrap up our conversation on The Rich and the Rest of Us, and then on May 12 there is the Mother's Day walk, which feels like it has all the more resonance. Jorge Fuentes was killed while standing on a porch across the street from his house. His mother heard the shots while she was cooking dinner. Jorge was the only one hurt; he had just pushed someone out of the way. We saw a segment from Fox 25's "Unsolved" murder segment about him (you can see it here)
where we meet his mother showing off his ROTC uniform; he wanted to join the Marines.
From Jorge's death on September 10, 2012, to the death of Martin Richard on April 15, whatever appears to motivate violence, it's still that-violence. We can disagree on all the details about how to respond on a political level. Some will want to outlaw handguns (me-don't get me started on Congress last week), others will want to be sure that every man and woman has one concealed in their jacket. I will grieve the use of torture by our government in the aftermath of 9/11, others will declare that that is the only reason another massive-scale attack didn't happen. In Christian community, we bring our whole selves to the table, and we don't always agree as we meet one another there. Still, wherever we place ourselves around the table, the call to the compassion of Christ pursues us all. Violence wins a second time if we allow our opinions about it to drive us away from one another. If God can raise a crucified Christ, surely God can handle us.
Blessings to all of you, wherever you find yourself on this journey,
Sara+
PS There is more going on with the B Peace effort! Let Rev. Sara know if you'd like to be part of deanery efforts at responding to violence in our community.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
From April 18: Praying for Boston, Praying for Peace
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, of course, I've been praying for Boston. About 15 parishioners and community members gathered for worship on Tuesday night to offer prayers for the victims of the bombings and for peace. See the Waltham Patch piece hereI was just writing in this space last week about the Mother's Day Walk for Peace we've been invited to participate in, and now again, I'm writing about violence.
The hardest thing to understand about Monday is, of course, WHY? Not so much why God "allows" such things to happen, but the more basic question of why someone would want to hurt completely innocent strangers on a public sidewalk. I've struggled with the question of innocence; we keep describing the people there as innocent, which certainly they were. The problem is that that then carries with it the assumption that others who might be victims of violence are guilty, and that's more problematic. All of us are created in God's image, and we all have the right to live in peace, whether we are innocent or not. Just because we are. We may do terrible things, we may deserve to live behind prison walls, but we still deserve our lives.
At the same time, I don't want to skip out on my feelings, which are very real, and very hurt. The same day of the Boston bombings several friends posted on facebook about how many Afghans had been accidentally killed by the US military that same day: thirty. Thirty is more than three, but those three were our three, and it does not honor those thirty to forget our own. That fact did not offer me any "perspective," important as it is to realize that our hands also are not clean. Our prayers on Tuesday night included a plea to avoid rushing to judgment, too: I pray as well for Muslims who are now praying that it was not a Muslim who carried out the bombings, that there won't be more racist backlash and more hatred.
So what do we do?
We do what we do. On Tuesday night we gathered in such raw emotion; the thing we had to offer that day was our grief. Everything we have comes from God, and while we can't offer much back, we can offer what we have, and what we had that day was pain. Being willing to sit in pain, there at the cross, even that is a blessing: we know that God has been there in Christ. We know that God was with the people who ran toward the carnage, we know that God was with those marathoners who had just run 26 miles and then just kept on running to donate blood. We know that God is with each of us, in all the different ways we feel, even when we react differently from one another, even when I'm annoyed at my friends' Facebook pages.
We do what we do: this Sunday we baptize Carlos and Elena, and gather with their father, Byron, their mother, Margaret, godparents Anna, Harvey, and Isaura, and promise that we'll do all in our power to support their lives in Christ. We'll plant flowers, mow the lawn (we're going to need volunteers soon enough, as well as someone to organize our overall landscape and gardening plans), and look toward the new birth and new promise God always surprises us with. We'll sing Alleluia, since it's still Easter, since Christ is still raised, along with Martin, along with Krystle, along with Lingzi Lu and in all of our lives.
Peace,
Sara+
This week, of course, I've been praying for Boston. About 15 parishioners and community members gathered for worship on Tuesday night to offer prayers for the victims of the bombings and for peace. See the Waltham Patch piece hereI was just writing in this space last week about the Mother's Day Walk for Peace we've been invited to participate in, and now again, I'm writing about violence.
The hardest thing to understand about Monday is, of course, WHY? Not so much why God "allows" such things to happen, but the more basic question of why someone would want to hurt completely innocent strangers on a public sidewalk. I've struggled with the question of innocence; we keep describing the people there as innocent, which certainly they were. The problem is that that then carries with it the assumption that others who might be victims of violence are guilty, and that's more problematic. All of us are created in God's image, and we all have the right to live in peace, whether we are innocent or not. Just because we are. We may do terrible things, we may deserve to live behind prison walls, but we still deserve our lives.
At the same time, I don't want to skip out on my feelings, which are very real, and very hurt. The same day of the Boston bombings several friends posted on facebook about how many Afghans had been accidentally killed by the US military that same day: thirty. Thirty is more than three, but those three were our three, and it does not honor those thirty to forget our own. That fact did not offer me any "perspective," important as it is to realize that our hands also are not clean. Our prayers on Tuesday night included a plea to avoid rushing to judgment, too: I pray as well for Muslims who are now praying that it was not a Muslim who carried out the bombings, that there won't be more racist backlash and more hatred.
So what do we do?
We do what we do. On Tuesday night we gathered in such raw emotion; the thing we had to offer that day was our grief. Everything we have comes from God, and while we can't offer much back, we can offer what we have, and what we had that day was pain. Being willing to sit in pain, there at the cross, even that is a blessing: we know that God has been there in Christ. We know that God was with the people who ran toward the carnage, we know that God was with those marathoners who had just run 26 miles and then just kept on running to donate blood. We know that God is with each of us, in all the different ways we feel, even when we react differently from one another, even when I'm annoyed at my friends' Facebook pages.
We do what we do: this Sunday we baptize Carlos and Elena, and gather with their father, Byron, their mother, Margaret, godparents Anna, Harvey, and Isaura, and promise that we'll do all in our power to support their lives in Christ. We'll plant flowers, mow the lawn (we're going to need volunteers soon enough, as well as someone to organize our overall landscape and gardening plans), and look toward the new birth and new promise God always surprises us with. We'll sing Alleluia, since it's still Easter, since Christ is still raised, along with Martin, along with Krystle, along with Lingzi Lu and in all of our lives.
Peace,
Sara+
Thursday, April 11, 2013
From April 11: Mothers Walk for Peace
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I'm writing to ask you to mark your calendars for May 12, Mother's Day. Of course it may already be on your calendar, but this year we've been invited to participate in a new way, to accompany our bishop and other friends from the diocese and Boston on the Mother's Day Walk for Peace.
Bishop Shaw called me up this week and started with "Hi, Sara, It's Tom. And I have a big favor to ask of you." Naturally disposed as I am to do what the bishop tells me to do, when he asked me to skip church at my own parish and come and concelebrate with him at the Boston service (i.e., stand at the altar with him and a contingent of other parish clergy), my first thought was not "of course!" It was "ummmm, okay." But then I remembered my first mother's day.
I was on maternity leave with newborn Isaiah. We participated in the peace walk as a new family with members of St Anne's, Lincoln, where Noah was the assistant rector at that time. I think Isaiah must have been about six weeks old, strapped snugly onto my chest, and I could not imagine what a nightmare it would be if harm ever came to him. The Louis D Brown Peace Institute, which is are organizing the walk, was started by Tina Chery in memory of her son, Louis, who died at age 15, struck by a stray bullet in a gunfight while walking down the street (to a "youth against guns" gathering, at that!). The institute offers resources for survivors of homicide; grief counseling, groups for children to process the loss of a sibling, and other help for parents and community members. They've also created a nationally recognized "Peace Zone" curriculum to be used in schools on violence prevention. Their seven core principles are love, unity, faith, hope, courage, justice, and forgiveness.
It's easy to sit back and wonder, "Well, what does this have to do with us?" and I think it's exactly because we have the luxury to ask that question that we have to go out of our way to make it our concern. My son's asthma is made worse by pollen, not city smog. I don't worry that my daughter could get shot while learning to ride her bicycle. But if I can go and walk together, to witness, as a Christian, for peace-if I can do just that one small thing, how can I not?
There are a whole variety of opinions about what to do about guns. I know I raised a few eyebrows a couple of weeks ago when I mentioned gun control in a sermon. And yes, I do believe that the second amendment does not protect the right to own an assault weapon. But this isn't about that (there is an event in Lexington coming up-see announcements below). Teaching peace works. Youth employment programs work. Helping the sibling of a murdered teenager deal with those feelings will make it a lot less likely that they'll pick up a gun and try to kill somebody else. This is one thing that pretty much everyone can get on board with.
And it's Mother's Day! In 1870, Julia Ward Howe, who also wrote the Battle Hymn of the Republic, wrote the "Mother's Day Proclamation," declaring, "Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy, and patience. We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs." The walk is not long-it's 3 ½ miles. The opening remarks are at 8am, and it wraps up at 10, and we'll celebrate the Eucharist with Bishop Shaw and other friends right at the end of the route. The goal is to have 15 people from each parish, but I would hope we could get more than that!
You'll be home for lunch. Please sign up on the bulletin board and I'll give your name to the bishop's secretary so she can register our group. No donations are required, but of course they are welcome.
blessings,
Sara+
For more information:
A diocesan registration page will be set up shortly.
http://www.ldbpeaceinstitute.org
http://mothersdaywalk4peace.org/
This week, I'm writing to ask you to mark your calendars for May 12, Mother's Day. Of course it may already be on your calendar, but this year we've been invited to participate in a new way, to accompany our bishop and other friends from the diocese and Boston on the Mother's Day Walk for Peace.
Bishop Shaw called me up this week and started with "Hi, Sara, It's Tom. And I have a big favor to ask of you." Naturally disposed as I am to do what the bishop tells me to do, when he asked me to skip church at my own parish and come and concelebrate with him at the Boston service (i.e., stand at the altar with him and a contingent of other parish clergy), my first thought was not "of course!" It was "ummmm, okay." But then I remembered my first mother's day.
I was on maternity leave with newborn Isaiah. We participated in the peace walk as a new family with members of St Anne's, Lincoln, where Noah was the assistant rector at that time. I think Isaiah must have been about six weeks old, strapped snugly onto my chest, and I could not imagine what a nightmare it would be if harm ever came to him. The Louis D Brown Peace Institute, which is are organizing the walk, was started by Tina Chery in memory of her son, Louis, who died at age 15, struck by a stray bullet in a gunfight while walking down the street (to a "youth against guns" gathering, at that!). The institute offers resources for survivors of homicide; grief counseling, groups for children to process the loss of a sibling, and other help for parents and community members. They've also created a nationally recognized "Peace Zone" curriculum to be used in schools on violence prevention. Their seven core principles are love, unity, faith, hope, courage, justice, and forgiveness.
It's easy to sit back and wonder, "Well, what does this have to do with us?" and I think it's exactly because we have the luxury to ask that question that we have to go out of our way to make it our concern. My son's asthma is made worse by pollen, not city smog. I don't worry that my daughter could get shot while learning to ride her bicycle. But if I can go and walk together, to witness, as a Christian, for peace-if I can do just that one small thing, how can I not?
There are a whole variety of opinions about what to do about guns. I know I raised a few eyebrows a couple of weeks ago when I mentioned gun control in a sermon. And yes, I do believe that the second amendment does not protect the right to own an assault weapon. But this isn't about that (there is an event in Lexington coming up-see announcements below). Teaching peace works. Youth employment programs work. Helping the sibling of a murdered teenager deal with those feelings will make it a lot less likely that they'll pick up a gun and try to kill somebody else. This is one thing that pretty much everyone can get on board with.
And it's Mother's Day! In 1870, Julia Ward Howe, who also wrote the Battle Hymn of the Republic, wrote the "Mother's Day Proclamation," declaring, "Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy, and patience. We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs." The walk is not long-it's 3 ½ miles. The opening remarks are at 8am, and it wraps up at 10, and we'll celebrate the Eucharist with Bishop Shaw and other friends right at the end of the route. The goal is to have 15 people from each parish, but I would hope we could get more than that!
You'll be home for lunch. Please sign up on the bulletin board and I'll give your name to the bishop's secretary so she can register our group. No donations are required, but of course they are welcome.
blessings,
Sara+
For more information:
A diocesan registration page will be set up shortly.
http://www.ldbpeaceinstitute.org
http://mothersdaywalk4peace.org/
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
On the Ending of the Iraq War
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I find myself puzzling over-if I can use that light a word for something so big-the end of the Iraq war. I have probably told the story in this space before of how my husband and I got married in New York City in 2003, about six weeks before it started. February 15 was a world-wide day of action against George W Bush's plan to invade Iraq, and it also happened to be our wedding day. The BBC says that between 6 and 10 million people in up to 60 countries participated in protests that weekend-organizers put the figure at closer to 30 million. Even the Guinness Book of World Records agreed that 3 million turned out in Rome-the biggest anti war protest in history. Our wedding date was chosen because of the bishop's schedule, not our own, but when we knew about the protests planned for the day, we encouraged our guests to go uptown after the reception to march. Archbishop Desmond Tutu spoke: "President Bush, listen to the voice of the people, for many times the voice of the people is the voice of God. Listen to the voice of the people saying, 'Give peace a chance.'"
Not long after, on March 20, we were in a roadside café in Rhodes, Greece, and saw the news-the war had started. Now, almost eight years later-a big 8 years for me, it's seen me get ordained to the priesthood, get called rector of Christ Church, and give birth to two children-it's done, with President Obama speaking to troops at Fort Bragg and saying, simply, "Welcome Home." This week Time Magazine also announced that their Person of the Year is "The Protestor." I'm not an avid reader of the magazine, but I appreciated their question:
Is there a global tipping point for frustration? Everywhere, it seems, people said they'd had enough. They dissented; they demanded; they did not despair, even when the answers came back in a cloud of tear gas or a hail of bullets. They literally embodied the idea that individual action can bring collective, colossal change (Rick Stengel, Time Magazine).
It's the literal embodiment of protest that's moving; putting your body where your heart is. In my sermon on Sunday I talked about a book I read recently, by Leymah Gbowee, one of the three women awarded the Nobel Peace Prize this year. Gbowee was one of the architects of a women's peace movement that ended the brutal regime of dictator Charles Taylor. Coming to grips with their own fear and pain, they showed up day after day in the public square and organized across their own differences. Muslims and Christians, women of all tribes, working together. They even held a sex strike! But it took 14 years.
I don't know what impact those global protests had 8 years ago. I am certainly thankful for Waltham's faithful witnesses for peace who have stood on the common in Vigil on Saturdays since then, and who will still be there in witness for Afghanistan. For my own part in 2003, sending a few wedding guests on the subway is not much of a contribution (I confess that we took a cab in the opposite direction and went to a fancy hotel before coming back to Church History class on Monday). After so much of my own anger about this war-undertaken, after all, ostensibly on my behalf as an American (and a New York City resident on 9/11/01)-I long for a deeper sense of resolution or satisfaction. Instead, it's vague sadness and resignation. It is also true that a large part of the complete pull out at this time is due to the fact that the military would not tolerate losing immunity to prosecution by Iraqi law. That doesn't sound like much to celebrate.
Still, we are in the third week of Advent-the pink candle week-when we hear St Paul write to the Thessalonians in his first letter:
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you (5:16-18).
The will of God in Christ for us is to rejoice; to hold fast to even the smallest shred of good that we can find, not to be blinded by so much evil. And the end of a war is surely more than a shred of goodness. Theologically, too, there is in the Christian faith the strong tradition of lament; lament for the more than 100,000 Iraqis killed, and prayers for the one million widows and two million orphans that will have to rebuild their country. Maybe penance is appropriate, too-hopefully a chastened America will move more deliberately. I also take comfort in a Christian faith in which I don't have to have the answer; two months ago, I wrote in this space about Muammar Qadaffi's death: there are as many prayers to say as questions to ask. The important thing is to engage.
Here's what the Book of Common Prayer gives us-appropriate for Christmas, too-the coming of the Dream of God, the birth of Christ, in our midst. May our own hands and feet work for this dream in this season of hope.
Eternal God, in whose perfect kingdom no sword is drawn but the sword of righteousness, no strength known but the strength of love: So mightily spread abroad your Spirit, that all peoples may be gathered under the banner of the Prince of Peace, as children of one Father; to whom be dominion and glory, now and for ever. Amen.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, I find myself puzzling over-if I can use that light a word for something so big-the end of the Iraq war. I have probably told the story in this space before of how my husband and I got married in New York City in 2003, about six weeks before it started. February 15 was a world-wide day of action against George W Bush's plan to invade Iraq, and it also happened to be our wedding day. The BBC says that between 6 and 10 million people in up to 60 countries participated in protests that weekend-organizers put the figure at closer to 30 million. Even the Guinness Book of World Records agreed that 3 million turned out in Rome-the biggest anti war protest in history. Our wedding date was chosen because of the bishop's schedule, not our own, but when we knew about the protests planned for the day, we encouraged our guests to go uptown after the reception to march. Archbishop Desmond Tutu spoke: "President Bush, listen to the voice of the people, for many times the voice of the people is the voice of God. Listen to the voice of the people saying, 'Give peace a chance.'"
Not long after, on March 20, we were in a roadside café in Rhodes, Greece, and saw the news-the war had started. Now, almost eight years later-a big 8 years for me, it's seen me get ordained to the priesthood, get called rector of Christ Church, and give birth to two children-it's done, with President Obama speaking to troops at Fort Bragg and saying, simply, "Welcome Home." This week Time Magazine also announced that their Person of the Year is "The Protestor." I'm not an avid reader of the magazine, but I appreciated their question:
Is there a global tipping point for frustration? Everywhere, it seems, people said they'd had enough. They dissented; they demanded; they did not despair, even when the answers came back in a cloud of tear gas or a hail of bullets. They literally embodied the idea that individual action can bring collective, colossal change (Rick Stengel, Time Magazine).
It's the literal embodiment of protest that's moving; putting your body where your heart is. In my sermon on Sunday I talked about a book I read recently, by Leymah Gbowee, one of the three women awarded the Nobel Peace Prize this year. Gbowee was one of the architects of a women's peace movement that ended the brutal regime of dictator Charles Taylor. Coming to grips with their own fear and pain, they showed up day after day in the public square and organized across their own differences. Muslims and Christians, women of all tribes, working together. They even held a sex strike! But it took 14 years.
I don't know what impact those global protests had 8 years ago. I am certainly thankful for Waltham's faithful witnesses for peace who have stood on the common in Vigil on Saturdays since then, and who will still be there in witness for Afghanistan. For my own part in 2003, sending a few wedding guests on the subway is not much of a contribution (I confess that we took a cab in the opposite direction and went to a fancy hotel before coming back to Church History class on Monday). After so much of my own anger about this war-undertaken, after all, ostensibly on my behalf as an American (and a New York City resident on 9/11/01)-I long for a deeper sense of resolution or satisfaction. Instead, it's vague sadness and resignation. It is also true that a large part of the complete pull out at this time is due to the fact that the military would not tolerate losing immunity to prosecution by Iraqi law. That doesn't sound like much to celebrate.
Still, we are in the third week of Advent-the pink candle week-when we hear St Paul write to the Thessalonians in his first letter:
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you (5:16-18).
The will of God in Christ for us is to rejoice; to hold fast to even the smallest shred of good that we can find, not to be blinded by so much evil. And the end of a war is surely more than a shred of goodness. Theologically, too, there is in the Christian faith the strong tradition of lament; lament for the more than 100,000 Iraqis killed, and prayers for the one million widows and two million orphans that will have to rebuild their country. Maybe penance is appropriate, too-hopefully a chastened America will move more deliberately. I also take comfort in a Christian faith in which I don't have to have the answer; two months ago, I wrote in this space about Muammar Qadaffi's death: there are as many prayers to say as questions to ask. The important thing is to engage.
Here's what the Book of Common Prayer gives us-appropriate for Christmas, too-the coming of the Dream of God, the birth of Christ, in our midst. May our own hands and feet work for this dream in this season of hope.
Eternal God, in whose perfect kingdom no sword is drawn but the sword of righteousness, no strength known but the strength of love: So mightily spread abroad your Spirit, that all peoples may be gathered under the banner of the Prince of Peace, as children of one Father; to whom be dominion and glory, now and for ever. Amen.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, May 5, 2011
On Killing Osama Bin Laden
This week, I’ve found myself uneasily watching and listening for news of the responses around our country—and the world—to Osama bin Laden’s death. The images of people celebrating and dancing, hailing “victory” and “USA, USA” frankly just make me uncomfortable. I was living in New York City at the time of the terrorist attacks of 2001, and remember at that time as well feeling strangely out of sync with the rest of the country’s response; military retaliation at that time felt like the wrong decision. So, too, now jubilation at bin Laden’s death feels wrong as well.
At the same time, I cannot say that I can imagine another outcome. I can’t imagine a trial, a prison cell, a conclusion, to the nightmare of violence and bloodshed that has happened over the last 10 years (and before, given bin Laden’s previous attacks). There is no conclusion; those who are dead will not come back to life. We won’t get back that serene life we lived before “the war on terror,” (whatever that means now). I will not forget the sense of extreme anxiety and panic of being in New York in those days after the attack—neither will I forget the palpable sense of relief I felt six weeks later, leaving the city for a weekend in Vermont. But I went back, and lived in New York for another three years. That uneasy feeling did subside, but the sense of out-of-sync-ness never quite did. I still grieve that something that felt at the time like “my tragedy” (which of course, it wasn’t) had been used to justify bringing tragedy on others.
Tragedy is the word here—it’s tragic on all fronts. Tragic, so many lives lost; tragic, the failure of imagination; tragic, this whole web of violence we are stuck in. Bin Laden himself was one face of violence; a teenager caught in gang crossfire is another—as is his killer. But it is never good news when someone is killed. It is good news that the military works courageously. It is good news that intelligence agents figured out where he was. It is good news that people love this country and want to serve. But there is no justice in killing, even those who perpetrate terrible, terrible acts. Last Sunday I was talking with Gene and Jose at coffee hour and learned of the killing of Muammar Qadaffi’s son and grandchildren—again and again, more tragedy. We become immune to it. Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya. Where next?
As Christians, we try to reach for another truth. Not “might makes right,” but “forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” The resurrection is the result of God’s sacrificial love, Christ’s unwillingness to trade evil for evil. The resurrection says that death never has the last word. The crucifixion was not the end for Jesus, and it wasn’t the end for the Christian story. Christ was raised for all—not just for those who “deserve” him.
At the end of the day, it may be that how we feel doesn’t matter much. And I’m certainly not going to tell anyone else how to feel. Feelings are just that—feelings. They’re information. We don’t, exactly, control them. You’re not a bad person if you’re happy about bin Laden’s death. You’re not a paragon of moral restraint and virtue of you aren’t. But we can pay attention to what they are, and consider how we respond to them. How do we pray about our feelings? How do we ask that “holy angels may us in “paths of peace and goodwill,” as the prayers in the evening office say? How can we reach out, in love, to those who suffer? To Muslims, against whom hate crimes have increased dramatically in the last few days? To those who serve in the military, who sacrifice so much? To those who dedicate themselves to peace, giving us the imagination to see a different way of life?
O God, the Father of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from prejudice to truth; deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us al to stand reconciled before you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen
At the same time, I cannot say that I can imagine another outcome. I can’t imagine a trial, a prison cell, a conclusion, to the nightmare of violence and bloodshed that has happened over the last 10 years (and before, given bin Laden’s previous attacks). There is no conclusion; those who are dead will not come back to life. We won’t get back that serene life we lived before “the war on terror,” (whatever that means now). I will not forget the sense of extreme anxiety and panic of being in New York in those days after the attack—neither will I forget the palpable sense of relief I felt six weeks later, leaving the city for a weekend in Vermont. But I went back, and lived in New York for another three years. That uneasy feeling did subside, but the sense of out-of-sync-ness never quite did. I still grieve that something that felt at the time like “my tragedy” (which of course, it wasn’t) had been used to justify bringing tragedy on others.
Tragedy is the word here—it’s tragic on all fronts. Tragic, so many lives lost; tragic, the failure of imagination; tragic, this whole web of violence we are stuck in. Bin Laden himself was one face of violence; a teenager caught in gang crossfire is another—as is his killer. But it is never good news when someone is killed. It is good news that the military works courageously. It is good news that intelligence agents figured out where he was. It is good news that people love this country and want to serve. But there is no justice in killing, even those who perpetrate terrible, terrible acts. Last Sunday I was talking with Gene and Jose at coffee hour and learned of the killing of Muammar Qadaffi’s son and grandchildren—again and again, more tragedy. We become immune to it. Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya. Where next?
As Christians, we try to reach for another truth. Not “might makes right,” but “forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” The resurrection is the result of God’s sacrificial love, Christ’s unwillingness to trade evil for evil. The resurrection says that death never has the last word. The crucifixion was not the end for Jesus, and it wasn’t the end for the Christian story. Christ was raised for all—not just for those who “deserve” him.
At the end of the day, it may be that how we feel doesn’t matter much. And I’m certainly not going to tell anyone else how to feel. Feelings are just that—feelings. They’re information. We don’t, exactly, control them. You’re not a bad person if you’re happy about bin Laden’s death. You’re not a paragon of moral restraint and virtue of you aren’t. But we can pay attention to what they are, and consider how we respond to them. How do we pray about our feelings? How do we ask that “holy angels may us in “paths of peace and goodwill,” as the prayers in the evening office say? How can we reach out, in love, to those who suffer? To Muslims, against whom hate crimes have increased dramatically in the last few days? To those who serve in the military, who sacrifice so much? To those who dedicate themselves to peace, giving us the imagination to see a different way of life?
O God, the Father of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from prejudice to truth; deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us al to stand reconciled before you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen
Thursday, January 20, 2011
On Violence: Response to Tucson Shootings
This week, my thoughts have been in Tucson, where a gunman attacked Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords (still in critical condition) and killed six people. I've been puzzling over the national debate about the event-where the debate has become focused, and about how different poles of the political spectrum have dealt with it.
So far, it seems like the debate has been in two varieties; one: we need to "tone down" the political debate. That people of goodwill can disagree, that we can put aside our differences and work for the common good. The other side would say that an isolated act of violence by someone who apparently has a tenuous connection to reality is not a commentary on anything in society at all. Of course, there are different varieties of both arguments; some on the one side say that it's the especially contentious nature of the debate in Arizona itself, particularly the debate about immigration. Apart fromgeneral anti-government rambling, the assailant doesn't seem particularly allied with one side or the other. He clearly meant to attack Congresswoman Giffords, but what was it about her politics in particular? We don't really know yet. What both of these views don't examine, though, is the wider picture of language and culture. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel said "Words make worlds." It's not just how we talk about politics--it's how we talk, period.
We use violent imagery without even thinking about it-without even realizing what we are saying. We are "up in arms" at something, "bombarded" with images, "shooting down" each other's opinions. Violence is so intertwined with our existence in the world we don't even realize it. The problem isn't just with our political debate. Being polite is really nice, but what's going on is deeper than that. Our "dialogue" (if that word isn't too charitable) is the symptom, not the real issue. It's not just about how we speak to each other, it's about what we believe about each other. Being cruel doesn't mean that you hold your opinion any more fervently, but listening to our political life, it would seem that way. Listening to myself, I realize just how the imagery of force is part of my thinking. Recalling how I felt some days during the last presidency, I think I know what it's like for those now on the opposite side of the spectrum.
The issue isn't the culture of a particular state. The problem is with the endemic nature of deep, ingrained violence in human interaction. As a person of faith, I know that God's reality is so much wider than what I see. There is much to be lament in this moment in our national culture, but the goodnews is that there is Good News-we are still reading the prophet Isaiah, still hearing that vision as we did in Advent of those brilliant reversals and restorations that are possible with God's help.
At Finn's baptism on Sunday, we were reminded of the baptismal covenant promise "to renounce the evil powers that corrupt and destroy the creatures of this world." Those powers are out there. They're "in here," too--we've all internalized them. But God's power is bigger. In the life of Jesus and his forgiving response to the violence he suffered, we don't just have an abstract example of what is possible. It's not that somebody wrote a story about a new way to live. We have evidence of new life and new possibility in the resurrection. Violence doesn't get the last word. Freedom wins--not a freedom that says "I'm right and you're wrong," but a freedom of abundance that holds all of us secure in love and lets us know there is nothing to fear.
This week, as all of this continues to swirl, pray for all the victims of the shooting. Pray, too, for the country of Haiti on this year anniversary of the earthquake there. Pray, pray, pray. Pray and give thanks for all that you have and all that is possible in Christ. Then pray that all of our hands and hearts will be strong and compassionate enough to be those of Christ in this world.
So far, it seems like the debate has been in two varieties; one: we need to "tone down" the political debate. That people of goodwill can disagree, that we can put aside our differences and work for the common good. The other side would say that an isolated act of violence by someone who apparently has a tenuous connection to reality is not a commentary on anything in society at all. Of course, there are different varieties of both arguments; some on the one side say that it's the especially contentious nature of the debate in Arizona itself, particularly the debate about immigration. Apart fromgeneral anti-government rambling, the assailant doesn't seem particularly allied with one side or the other. He clearly meant to attack Congresswoman Giffords, but what was it about her politics in particular? We don't really know yet. What both of these views don't examine, though, is the wider picture of language and culture. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel said "Words make worlds." It's not just how we talk about politics--it's how we talk, period.
We use violent imagery without even thinking about it-without even realizing what we are saying. We are "up in arms" at something, "bombarded" with images, "shooting down" each other's opinions. Violence is so intertwined with our existence in the world we don't even realize it. The problem isn't just with our political debate. Being polite is really nice, but what's going on is deeper than that. Our "dialogue" (if that word isn't too charitable) is the symptom, not the real issue. It's not just about how we speak to each other, it's about what we believe about each other. Being cruel doesn't mean that you hold your opinion any more fervently, but listening to our political life, it would seem that way. Listening to myself, I realize just how the imagery of force is part of my thinking. Recalling how I felt some days during the last presidency, I think I know what it's like for those now on the opposite side of the spectrum.
The issue isn't the culture of a particular state. The problem is with the endemic nature of deep, ingrained violence in human interaction. As a person of faith, I know that God's reality is so much wider than what I see. There is much to be lament in this moment in our national culture, but the goodnews is that there is Good News-we are still reading the prophet Isaiah, still hearing that vision as we did in Advent of those brilliant reversals and restorations that are possible with God's help.
At Finn's baptism on Sunday, we were reminded of the baptismal covenant promise "to renounce the evil powers that corrupt and destroy the creatures of this world." Those powers are out there. They're "in here," too--we've all internalized them. But God's power is bigger. In the life of Jesus and his forgiving response to the violence he suffered, we don't just have an abstract example of what is possible. It's not that somebody wrote a story about a new way to live. We have evidence of new life and new possibility in the resurrection. Violence doesn't get the last word. Freedom wins--not a freedom that says "I'm right and you're wrong," but a freedom of abundance that holds all of us secure in love and lets us know there is nothing to fear.
This week, as all of this continues to swirl, pray for all the victims of the shooting. Pray, too, for the country of Haiti on this year anniversary of the earthquake there. Pray, pray, pray. Pray and give thanks for all that you have and all that is possible in Christ. Then pray that all of our hands and hearts will be strong and compassionate enough to be those of Christ in this world.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
September 11: Pray for Peace
This morning, as you did, I woke up not particularly aware of the date. As I drove into church, though, I noticed the flag at the Plympton School at half mast, and remembered—it’s September 11. Seven years ago, I was in my first week of school as a student at General Seminary in New York City, about a mile and a half from the World Trade Center. I was sitting in class when the chapel bells started to ring, summoning the community to come together.
There is so much violence: the violence of seemingly endless war, of course, the violence of hatred, the violence of greed. It seems that there is no way out. But we are Christians.
Many Sundays, our service ends with this blessing: “the Peace of God which passes all our understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of God’s Son Jesus Christ.” God’s peace may pass our understanding, but does not escape our grasp. Pray for the grace, and the guidance, to reach for it.
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