Tag Archives: police brutality

Liberty and Justice for Some – #philandocastile

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God, have mercy! Christ, have mercy!

This poor baby girl! No four year old should have to witness this! No child should have to fear that their parent could get shot by those who are supposed to protect them: for talking to an officer, or having a broken tail light, or driving through a red light, or riding their bike through an alley, or getting out their driver’s license when an officer tells them to, or carrying a registered and licensed gun, etc. etc. etc.

And the thing is: no child who looks like me will have to worry about this. No person who looks like me would get shot (even accidentally) for getting out their driver’s license when the officer asks them to and then telling an officer they have a licensed gun on them. And in the very unlikely case it would happen to someone who looks like me, there is no way the officer would be acquitted. Yet, this happens to my siblings of color ALL. THE. TIME!

Folks: We have a major problem! We have an f-ed up system. And we MUST call it out for what it is! Because this baby girl should should NOT be traumatized like this! She should NOT have lost her soon to be step dad! She should NOT have had to watch him get murdered while she was in the car with him! She should NOT have to live the rest of her life worrying about the safety of her mom and other loved ones who could get shot for being black!

We have an f-Ed up system! One that completely and utterly favors folks who are white and continues to believe and proclaim that black and brown lives don’t matter. This is called systemic racism and white supremacy. And they prevail throughout the institutions of our country.

Folks, we MUST call this out! Fellow white folks, we MUST look at ourselves in this as well. Because we participate in this system. When we look at this news and think it just is what it is, we participate in this system. When we don’t have to worry about this happening to people who look like us, we participate in this system, whether we try to or not. We benefit from it because our lives do matter in this system while the lives of our siblings of color are being disregarded, devalued, and ignored.

We must look at ourselves and the forms of racism (and Islamophobia, homophobia, transphobia, classism, sexism, etc) and all the other forms of hate that we continue to allow to brew within ourselves. Because let’s face it: we all hold within us isms and phobias about people who are different from us, even when we try hard not to. Because these isms and phobias are hundreds of years old and are deeply rooted within all of our systems and institutions. And we have been shaped by them without even being aware of how they have and are affecting us. (And to deny this about systems and ourselves is to be a part of the problem.)

So let’s begin with ourselves and confess our own participation in this! Over and over and over again! And let us call this out for what it is! Let us join together in making this a better world for ALL people, esp. our children!

God, have mercy!!! God, guide us toward a better way!

#blacklivesmatter
#philandocastile and his family matter!

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“A Lament For Times Such As These” – Sermon on the 20th Sunday after Pentecost

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Scripture readings: Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4; 2 Timothy 1:1-14; Luke 17:5-10

 

How long, O Lord, how long!?

Many of us may have spoken these words from this morning’s passage in Habakkuk a lot lately.

Unrest, tension, and the ever-increasing division that’s taking place throughout our country as we get closer and closer to the end of this election season.

How long, O Lord, how Long!?

Devastating state budget cuts to programs and services that many in our community – including many of us – rely on.

How long, O Lord, how long!?

Indigenous communities fighting desperately to protect their water and sacred burial sites. More police shootings of unarmed persons of color. The continuous bombings of innocent families in Aleppo, Syria.

How long, O Lord, how long!?

Financial strain. The death of a loved one. A debilitating illness…The loss of a job. Broken relationships. Depression and anxiety.

Too often in times such as these, it can be easy to just check out. We often feel so overwhelmed with grief, anger, and pain. The needs around us seem too great, and we feel lost and defeated by a sense of helplessness. We fear the kind of backlash we might receive if we do speak out against injustice. We wonder where God is in the midst of all of this suffering, and we worry that if we express our real emotions and if we are honest about our doubts, others – and maybe even we – ourselves – will start to think we have lost our faith.

And so it becomes much easier to just shut our eyes and to ignore the cries around us – and within us. To just allow ourselves to become numb to the world’s afflictions.

And yet, we hear the author of 2 Timothy this morning urging us not to give up hope, even and especially in times such as these… For we have been saved – the author reminds us – and therefore we have been called to a holy calling, that does not allow us to shut our eyes to the pain around us.

“I recall your many tears,” the author writes from behind prison doors to Timothy, likely referring to the tears Timothy had shed over the suffering of many under the Roman Empire and over the persecution that the early Christians were facing. “I understand your sense of helplessness and why you seem to be at a loss of faith. And yet,” he continues, “I remember your sincere faith, one that has been passed on through your ancestors. One that I am sure still remains deep within you. Therefore, I urge you to remember that faith. Remember why you have that faith and who walked alongside you, helping to shape and inform your faith.  Rekindle that gift of God that is – indeed – with you, no matter how much you might feel it has been lost. For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice,” he urges, “but rather God gave us a spirit of love and self-discipline.”

Yes, it is in times such as these, when we must hold onto our faith the most – even when we feel we may have lost it. It is in times such as these when we must open our eyes to the suffering in our midst and cry out to God in our anguish. Because we don’t just encounter God in the times that are easy, comfortable, and joyous, and we don’t just encounter God when we feel most confident in our faith. We also encounter God in our anger, in our suffering, and in our strongest of doubts. We encounter God when we step out of our comfort zones and when we face our biggest fears. Because God actually meets us right there in all of the messiness – even when we don’t see God and even when we refuse to let God in.

God is right there with us.

I love what one author shared in her lectionary devotion this week: “When I am in the midst of a tough time, I don’t always see God at work,” she explains. “Looking back on those tough times though, I can often see God in hindsight. When I was a senior in high school, my family was having a lot of trouble. God gave me good friends to support me and an outlet in music with my choir teacher and my class to express my emotions. I remember praying and begging God for resolution while I waited. What I couldn’t see until looking back, though, was how God was present in the midst of that tough time. Now I see that God provided the right people at the right time. I also see that one can’t go around pain, or over it, but we have to go through it.”

How long, O Lord, how long?!

Yes, it is in times such as these when we must go through the pain. It is in times such as these, when we need to join our voices with the voices of our siblings around our city, our country, and throughout the world in lamenting the suffering, violence, and injustice that surrounds us. 

And yet, when we just can’t find the words to say, we can look to the words of those who have paved the way for us.

“How long, o Lord!?” – We cry out with Habakkuk this morning.

“How long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen? Or cry to you ‘Violence!’ and you will not save? Why do you make me see wrong-doing and look at trouble? Destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise. So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous— therefore judgment comes forth perverted.”

How long, o Lord, how long!?

Now sometimes, we might need to stop right here with these words because we might not be quite ready to move beyond this place of lament. And that is okay. For a bit. Because there are times when we need to sit for a while in this place. There are times when we need to do our grief work. For we cannot go through the pain without first actually taking time to express it and process it.

And yet, after some time we will eventually need to move forward. Because our lament cannot just end here. It must move us to act.

And so we can look to the rest of our passage in Habakkuk this morning for guidance as we begin to move through. When we are ready, we – like Habakkuk, must take a stand at our watch-posts, and station ourselves, keeping watch: waiting with our eyes open to see God in our midst and with our ears open to hear how God is calling us to let our laments move us to action.

And when our inadequacies and sense of helplessness in times such as these get the best of us and when we feel like our faith is just not big or strong enough for us to make a difference, we can look to our Gospel text in Luke today. For, Jesus’ message to the disciples when they asked him to increase their faith in the face of such great suffering – is the same message that is intended for us. “If you have faith even the size of a teeny tiny mustard seed,” Jesus says, “you can say to a mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.’”

In other words: “Your faith is enough to make an incredible impact in the world.”

There’s a story I often think about when I feel overwhelmed with feelings of helplessness in the midst of so much suffering throughout the world.

One day a wise man was walking on the beach when he noticed a younger man, who was throwing things into the ocean. As he got closer to the young man, he asked him: “what are do doing?” The young man answered him: “well, I’m throwing starfish into the ocean.” “Why, might I ask, are you doing this,” the wise man asked him. “Well, the sun is up and the tide is going out.” The young man said. “If I don’t throw them in, they’ll all die.” Upon hearing this, the wise man said, “Don’t you realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can’t possibly make a difference!” Just then, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he looked at the wise man and said: “Well, it made a difference for that one.”

Amen.

 

Guest post at Presbyterian Outlook: “It’s Time to Talk with Youth in the Church about Racism”

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Today I am guest blogging over at Presbyterian Outlook: “It’s Time to Talk with Youth in the Church About Racism”

“Last October, I returned home to Chicago after marching with hundreds of other clergy and community members in Ferguson, Missouri, and sat down with my youth (who are mostly youth of color) to discuss what was going on in Ferguson and around the country.

Toward the end of the discussion, I asked if any of them had experienced racial profiling or knew someone who had. Whether it was a story about how a family member gets pulled over in his car even when he isn’t speeding, how a neighbor was stopped and frisked while she walked to the soccer field, or how a mom begs her son not to wear a hoodie on his head when he leaves the house – almost every youth of color in the group had something to say.

While it was difficult to listen as they shared their experiences and fears, these stories are not new to me. As a youth pastor in Chicago, I’ve heard many like them throughout the past several years…”

To read the rest, click here.

“Racism, Repentance, and a Commission that Leads to Opposition” – Sermon on Mark 6:1-13

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He left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief.

Then he went about among the villages teaching. He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them. – Mark 6:1-13

I’ve always loved homecomings. When I was in high school, I looked forward to homecoming games – where I would reunite with my classmates who had already graduated and had moved away. When I – myself – moved away for college, homecomings were exciting times when I got to return to my hometown and would be welcomed by my family, former teachers, and friends as if nothing had ever changed. I especially loved homecomings while I was in seminary, when I would go back to my home church to preach and would receive so much encouragement and love from my church family.

Homecomings have always been positive and loving experiences for me.

This is not – however – the case for Jesus in our Gospel text for today.

Here in Mark, Jesus has returned to his hometown – along with his disciples – and has begun teaching in his home synagogue. And yet, while this synagogue is filled with people who knew Jesus’ family, had played games with Jesus when he was a boy, or had watched him grow up, they did not exactly respond to his homecoming with welcoming arms.

When the Nazarenes hear him teaching in the synagogue on the Sabbath day, many soon become astounded… And if there was any good sense of this word, it doesn’t last very long… as the Nazarenes soon take offense at him. “Where did this man get all of this?” They soon cry out.

“Isn’t this the poor carpenter we’ve known all these years? Isn’t he the brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? Aren’t these his sisters sitting right here? Isn’t he the son of Mary?” they sneer as they remind each other of Jesus’ shameful origin: that he had been conceived by an unwed teenager. “How could this guy – this poor, carpenter with ordinary siblings and a mother with a disgraceful past teach us with authority? How could his teachings and his actions have any sort of power at all?”

Now our text does not say what it was about Jesus and his teachings that offended this crowd in his hometown synagogue so much that they discredited and insulted him. However, if we look back at the preceding chapters in Mark, we could probably take a wild guess.

In the first several chapters of Mark’s gospel, we see that even from the very beginning, Jesus’ ministry is not what would have been seen as ordinary.

He’s cast out demons and stilled a storm. He’s performed miracles… on the Sabbath day. He’s touched and healed the “untouchables”: the sick, a leper, a haemorraging woman. He’s called twelve disciples to follow him – most of whom are just common fishermen and one who is a tax collector. He proclaims that the kingdom of God has come near and tells those who follow him not to keep anything hidden, but to bring all their dark secrets into the light. He eats with the sinners and the tax collectors and then tells the religious – the righteous ones – to confess and repent of their sins.

He was already seen as such an offensive radical rule-breaker that by the time we get to Mark chapter 3, many of his followers say he is “out of his mind,” some of the religious leaders accuse him of being in line with Satan, himself, and even his very own family questions his abilities and rush to where he is teaching and try to restrain him.

And now here we are a few chapters and several radical teachings, actions, and miracles later. Jesus has definitely shaken things up a bit, and it’s only the sixth chapter in Mark.

And here in our text for today, after all the backlash he’s already gotten, Jesus has the nerve to come back to his hometown and to his home synagogue. And here – in the midst of the ones who’ve watched him grow up, he comes preaching this same kind of message. This same message that treats the outcasts and the untouchables as if they are equals and calls the religious and righteous to bring their dark secrets to light and confess and repent of their sins. This same message that Jesus proclaims at the beginning of his ministry in the Gospel of Luke: “I have come to bring good news to the poor, to bring release to the captives, to give sight to the blind and to let the oppressed go free.”

And then he says he is a prophet!? One who speaks for God… And some say he even claims he is the Son of God? Who does this ordinary carpenter with a shameful family past think he is?

But the insults don’t stop Jesus. “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, among their kin, and in their own house,” he boldly proclaims. Then he lays his hands on a few more of the untouchables and cures them.

And then – as he and his disciples leave Nazareth and go out into the villages, he gives his disciples authority and commissions them to go out into the world vulnerably – two by two – with nothing but a staff, the clothes on their backs, and the sandals on their feet. They must rely on the people they meet to feed them and to provide them with a place to sleep. And yet Jesus tells them they must go out boldly, proclaiming that all should repent, and they must cast out demons, anoint the untouchables with oil, and heal the sick.

*****

Now, I don’t know about you, but if I were one of the disciples – who had just watched Jesus get opposed, insulted, and publicly shamed in his hometown synagogue, I would have probably thought quite hard about picking up all of my belongings and running in the opposite direction.

Because I’m sure it would have been very difficult for these disciples to give up their food and clothing and social status – the things they were privileged to have and could rely on for their safety, comfort, and well being. And it would have been very difficult for them to go out vulnerability and proclaim Jesus’ radical good news, with no confirmation that they could find people who would accept them and provide for them.

And I’m sure these disciples knew this event in Jesus’ hometown was not the only time this ministry of proclaiming the good news Jesus proclaimed would lead to rejection and opposition.

Because the good news Jesus brings – that God’s love, healing, and justice is for ALL, especially the most vulnerable and the outcasts – is not always good news to everyone.

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Sometimes I wonder how these disciples had the courage to follow Jesus and to go out risking so much, when it would have been much easier for them to just turn away when Jesus calls out to them, ignore the cries of those around them, and just go on living their normal every day lives, without having to face the suffering and injustice around them.

I think I wonder this about the disciples because sometimes I wonder this about myself. To be quite honest, there have been many times – particularly as I have recently become more aware of how much systemic racism still prevails throughout our country today – when I just want to pick up all of my belongings and hold tight to my own privilege. There have been many times lately when I have wanted to turn away when I hear Jesus calling me to boldly proclaim his good news and the repentance of the evil sins of racism and just pretend that it doesn’t exist.

Because this is the easier way. Because this way allows me to live in my comfortable bubble that I have the privilege of living in, it allows me to avoid any kind of shaming and opposition that those who speak out often face, it allows me to deny my own participation in and benefits from the racialized systems in our country that still privilege those who look like me while deeming those who don’t as “less than.”

Because as a white, educated, middleclass woman, I have the privilege of being able to just shut everything around me out and to live my life without fear… I can just go to my safe home – without ever being pulled over in my car and without ever being stopped and frisked on my walk home because of the color of my skin. I can come to church without fear because there isn’t a 400 year old history of people terrorizing others with my color of skin in places of worship. I have the privilege of just getting to turn off the news and going about living my own comfortable life without having to think about those around this country who have to live in fear every day.

And yet, this is not a privilege I get to have when I follow Jesus. Because this is not Jesus’ way.

Because just as Jesus called out to the twelve disciples and commissioned them to denounce their privilege and go out into the world boldly, he commissions ALL of his disciples to do so, as well. He commissions each one of us to proclaim repentance of the evil sins of systemic racism and to confess and repent of our own participation in and benefits from it. He commissions each one of us to cast out the demons of these unjust systems that privilege some while marginalizing others and to provide care for and offer healing to those who are victims of these racist systems by standing with them in solidarity.

Because those nine people who lost their lives in the middle of a prayer service at Mother Emanuel AME church on June 17th are not just any nine people who live on the other side of the country. They are nine beloved children of God, and they are nine of OUR brothers and sisters. And those members of at least 4 historic black churches that were burnt down and have been deemed victims of arson since the shooting two weeks ago, are not just those “other” church members who live across the country. They are part of the same body of Christ we are a part of. They are members of OUR church family, and we are members of THEIRS. And those black and brown children and youth in Baltimore, Cleveland, McKinney, Texas, right here in the neighborhood of Edgewater in Chicago who get stopped and frisked and incarcerated at higher rates, who get shot and killed in a park while playing with a toy gun or violently pushed to the ground and sat on by a police officer during a pool party are not just those “other” kids and teens. They are beloved children of God and they are OUR children and youth.

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Many of you have probably already read or heard the statement from the ELCA’s presiding Bishop Elizabeth Eaton in response to the shooting at Mother Emanuel AME Church. However, no matter how many times we may have read or heard it, I think all of us need to hear this message over and over again. And so – while it is a long letter, I want to read it in it’s entirety. Bishop Easton says:

“It has been a long season of disquiet in our country. From Ferguson to Baltimore, simmering racial tensions have boiled over into violence. But this … the fatal shooting of nine African Americans in a church is a stark, raw manifestation of the sin that is racism. The church was desecrated. The people of that congregation were desecrated. The aspiration voiced in the Pledge of Allegiance that we are “one nation under God” was desecrated.

Mother Emanuel AME’s pastor, the Rev. Clementa Pinckney, was a graduate of the Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary, as was the Rev. Daniel Simmons, associate pastor at Mother Emanuel. The suspected shooter is a member of an ELCA congregation. All of a sudden and for all of us, this is an intensely personal tragedy. One of our own is alleged to have shot and killed two who adopted us as their own.

We might say that this was an isolated act by a deeply disturbed man. But we know that is not the whole truth. It is not an isolated event. And even if the shooter was unstable, the framework upon which he built his vision of race is not. Racism is a fact in American culture.

Denial and avoidance of this fact are deadly. The Rev. Mr. Pinckney leaves a wife and children. The other eight victims leave grieving families. The family of the suspected killer and two congregations are broken. When will this end?

The nine dead in Charleston are not the first innocent victims killed by violence. Our only hope rests in the innocent One, who was violently executed on Good Friday. Emmanuel, God with us, carried our grief and sorrow – the grief and sorrow of Mother Emanuel AME church – and he was wounded for our transgressions – the deadly sin of racism.

I urge all of us to spend a day in repentance and mourning. And then we need to get to work. Each of us and all of us need to examine ourselves, our church and our communities. We need to be honest about the reality of racism within us and around us. We need to talk and we need to listen, but we also need to act. No stereotype or racial slur is justified. Speak out against inequity. Look with newly opened eyes at the many subtle and overt ways that we and our communities see people of color as being of less worth. Above all pray – for insight, for forgiveness, for courage. Kyrie Eleison.”

As followers of Jesus, we are all commissioned to go out spreading Jesus’ good news boldly, denouncing the evil around us and within us, and proclaiming the repentance of systemic sins until our country does in fact provide liberty and justice for ALL of our brothers, sisters, and children: Whether rich or poor. Whether Christian, Muslim, Jewish, or atheist. Whether white, black, or brown.

And we are all commissioned to do this even though in doing so, we will face opposition.

While following Jesus in this liberative and prophetic work is not easy, the good news is that even when we face opposition, Jesus will not leave us alone.

This season of Pentecost reminds us that we have been gifted with the Holy Spirit, who is with us always, comforting us and guiding us along the way. And that no matter what, when others – even those who are closest to us – take offense at Jesus’ good news and shame and hurl even the harshest of insults at us, we are not left without a family. We have a family right here in the body of Christ. One who will hold us, who will listen to us, who will encourage us, and who will walk alongside us as we discern how Jesus is calling us to go out boldly into the world.

So, may we have the courage to be the body of Christ. May we follow Jesus together, proclaiming his good news for ALL of our brothers, sisters, children and youth.

Amen.

Arrested In Ferguson

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On Monday, I was one of hundreds to march and one of about 50 (most of whom were seminarians and clergy of different faiths) who was arrested at the Ferguson Police Department for ironically “disturbing the peace” while peacefully protesting the “justice” system that allows for racial policing and brutality and has led to the death of Michael Brown, Vonderrick Myers, and so many other children of God.

As a former St. Louisan who – in my 4 years there – had seen only a glimpse of the incredibly deep systemic racial inequalities that prevail in that city; as a pastor of youth who has heard too many stories from my own about their or their friends’ experiences of racial profiling by Chicago police; as one who deeply cares for the young people of St. Louis, Chicago, and the rest of this world; as a leader and member of the faith community – who has been called to follow the Way of Jesus, One who risked much while calling out systemic injustice and radically proclaiming that no human lives are more worthy than others; and as a member of the human race: I felt called to go to Ferguson and was willing to be arrested.

There, seminarians and clergy of different faiths joined the brave and bold young people of St. Louis who have been organizing their communities to stand up – many of whom have risked being tear gassed, hit by rubber bullets, and arrest, and have sacrificed their jobs or schooling as they have stood in the streets for 65+ nights since the killing of Mike Brown.

While 50 clergy/seminarians/people of faith were arrested on Monday at the Ferguson Police Department for “disturbing the peace” during a protest that included prayers, calling Ferguson Police Department to repent and turn from their ways, and singing hymns to God, Darren Wilson and many others who have killed young men and women are still free.

Clergy, people of faith, and members of the human race cannot stand for this and must boldly speak out until this injustice ends. But this is not just a Ferguson or St. Louis issue. This is a national and international problem. These protesters are not just calling out the sins of St. Louis and Ferguson Police Departments. They are calling out the sins of the systems that allow for racial profiling and brutality in New York, Chicago, Dallas, Bethlehem. They are calling out the sins of the entire justice system.

And as people of faith and/or members of the human race, we must join them in radically and boldly calling out these sins until the walls of injustice are torn down.

Because ALL of God’s children are human and deserve life.