Celebrate 50 Years of Pride: sermon

June is Pride month; a month set aside to both celebrate how far we have come and advocate for all those who have not and do not enjoy the freedom to express fully who they are regardless of who they love. But this is a June like no other. We are living in the midst of a world-wide pandemic and whether we are out and proud or still in the closet, all of us queer or straight, we have all been locked down for the better part of the last three months. Closeted away in our respective homes, our fear of COVID-19 has been matched by the horror of the even more insidious infection of racism, a disease which has for centuries infected the hearts and minds of white privileged people and robbed Black, Indigenous and People of Colour of their liberty, dignity, and all too often their very lives. So, as June 28th, the 50th anniversary of the very first Pride Parade drew closer and closer, I wondered how we can celebrate Pride in the midst of so much suffering. Forget the fact that we can’t celebrate with a party, let alone a parade. How do we say, “Happy Pride!” on a day like today.

I must confess that I was sorely tempted to skip any mention of Pride celebrations this year. That is until, I was struck by an ear-worm.  You know those annoying ear-worms, pieces of songs that pop into your heard, over and over again. This particular ear-worm is a song from my misbegotten youth; a popular song which is actually based upon a piece of scripture. Rather than sing my earworm to you, let me share it with you: …..

there you have Psalm 137,  adapted and interpreted, but Psalm 137 indeed. “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, Yeah we wept, when we remembered Zion. When the wicked carried us away in captivity Required of us a song Now how shall we sing the LORD’s son in a strange land.”

I know that this is not Babylon, and we haven’t been carried away into captivity by our enemies. But who among us can doubt that so much of what we have taken for granted has changed and right now we are living in a very strange place indeed? So how can we celebrate today of all days, when so many people are suffering?

Perhaps we should go down by the river, or the lake and just sit and weep. Alas, here where I live, the beaches remain closed, because we are afraid of what might happen should too many people rush to the shore. So, how do we celebrate Pride in these strange times? I’m not sure that we can begin our celebrations without weeping. The duelling pandemics of the virus and racism have caused so very much pain. Strange thing about weeping, as we weep, we remember. Weeping can be such a catharsis. As we weep for the victims of the pandemic and for the ravages of racism, memories of other pains often join our tears. 

Memory is a marvellous, miraculous gift which can bring with it pain even while it sooths our pain. As I weep, I can’t help but marvel at how very much has changed since I first began to become aware of who I am. I was only ten years old in 1967, when Pierre Trudeau declared that, “There’s no place for the state in the bedrooms of the nation.” I was too young to understand the news in 1968, when Canada decriminalized homosexual acts. I don’t remember being aware of the Stonewall riots which erupted in 1969. As a teen-ager in the 1970’s, what went on between consenting adults was something seldom talked about. It wasn’t until the early 80’s when the reality of the AID’s epidemic drove conversations about homosexuality into the public square, that I began to pay attention to the cause of gay rights. Living in Vancouver and working in the travel industry, I lost friends, good friends, to a disease which devastated the gay community.

Later as I began to allow myself to understand who I am, I remember trying and failing to find the courage to march in Vancouver’s Gay Pride parade. I don’t know what frightened me more, being seen at the parade or seeing myself for who I am. Fear is a long, long way, from pride. So, it took me longer than I care to admit, to summon up the courage to participate in the pride parade in 1986.

Later as I was preparing myself to become a pastor, I had the very good fortune to fall in love. Falling in LOVE is a very empowering experience. But falling in LOVE in 1997, when your church says things like “love the sinner, hate the sin”, well let’s just say, that when I was called here to Holy Cross in 1999, it wasn’t just fear that kept Carol and I quiet on the subject of our relationship, it was the reality that if I said anything at all, I wouldn’t survive as a pastor for very long.  “Don’t ask don’t tell,” was the unofficial policy of the ELCIC. So, you didn’t ask, and I didn’t tell. 

Newmarket, I was told was a conservative town. Well a lot has changed over the years. Many of us worked for a very long time at considerable cost to change the policies of our government and of our church. The benefits of equal marriage in Canada, and full inclusion in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada are life changing and I confess that there are days when I still feel like pinching myself. “Can it actually be true? Can I actually be married to the woman I love and still be a pastor?”

The relief and the joy of being who I am without fear of persecution, makes me proud not only of who I am, but of who you are as a church, who we are as a community and who we are as a country. My pride runs deep and so it is a joy to see how very far we have come. This week as I continued to wonder how to celebrate in these strange times, I couldn’t help but marvel at the courage of so many people who paved the way for us. As I recall their stories filled with struggle and pain, my tears give way to resolve. Today, my question has become:  How can we NOT celebrate? So many people struggled for so very long. Surely, they deserve our thanks and praise as we celebrate how far we have come, even as we contemplate how much farther we still need to go? 

Today, I dry my tears and I give thanks to all those brave folks who marched these past 50 years.  Today, I celebrate all the brave pride-goers who risked so much, so that we can be all that we are created to be without fear. It has been a long and difficult struggle, and our pride celebrations inspire such joy. So, we sing, we dance, we make noise and yeah, we flaunt our sexuality when we can in public!  As the saying goes, “Next year in Jerusalem.” or “Next year in the promised land!” But for now, let us celebrate, how we can, where we can.  Next year in public! Because we know that the gay rights movement has liberated more than just the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, questioning, intersex, pansexual, two-spirit, androgynous, and asexual communities. I know that our straight sisters and brothers have learned a great deal about who they are. I’m pretty sure that liberation and freedom from sexual repression is indeed a blessing that more than just a few of us are grateful for.

The reality that we a wonderfully and beautifully made creatures of mysterious and sublime wonder is a blessing of unfathomable joy. So today, we celebrate who we are! But with each and every utterance of, the words “Happy Pride!” we cannot forget that our joy is tinged with sadness for all our sisters and brothers around the world who continue to live and die in fear. The Pride movement is still in its infancy. We have come a long way. We are blessed to live in a place where we can be who we are and love one another without fear of the state. Sadly, there are still places here where some of us are afraid to hold hands. There are places where some of us fear to go. We will need to do a whole lot more marching. We will also need to make a great deal of noise so that our communities become safe havens for all people, regardless of how they identify themselves or how they are identified by others because of the colour of their skin. We will need to make a great deal more noise so that the lives of Black, Indigenous. and People of Colour MATTER.

Those of us who remain in the Church must continue to make a whole lot of noise so that our institutions repent of the abuses of our past and stop the abuses which continue to be perpetrated in the name of Jesus.  We have been richly blessed.  We follow ONE who continues to teach us the importance of offering and receiving even what seems the smallest of kindnesses.  So, let our celebrations refresh us and let us offer welcome refreshment in the LOVE we share with our neighbours. 

Happy Pride EVERYONE! May this time of celebration feel like a cool drink of water, which refreshes you, so that you can refresh all who are thirsty for the freedom to love and to be loved. May the LOVE which is DIVINITY continue to empower all of us to be all that we are created to be. Sing LOVE’s song in these strange times! Happy Pride EVERYONE!

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National Indigenous Peoples Day: In this storm, Jesus is not asleep in the back of the boat! We are!

The raging storms are all around us! The tumultuous winds are churning up the waters and tossing us about in treacherous seas. Our small boats are tossed to and fro as massive waves heave us left and right. The roaring winds create upheavals, which leave us cowering in fear, trembling as we struggle to meet each wave which carries with it the potential to destroy the few planks of wood that we have hewn together to carry us upon the ever changing sea, which holds both the promise of sustenance and the threat of oblivion within the darkness of its depths. With each crash upon the hull our fear rises, and the ferocity of the storms intensifies. Frightened, clinging to life as we are tossed from one danger to the next, we cry out into the storm, convinced that only some power more intense, bigger, stronger, beyond our abilities to even imagine, only a power such as this can save us from being swamped in our small boats. We fear that left to our own devices, without the meager security offered by our small boats, we will be overcome by the waves and drown in the very sea that we must rely upon to sustain us.

Racism, poverty, disease, and violence; four winds that howl so ferociously that all we can hear is the sound of people’s fear. As the storms rage all around us, we see the very real possibility that the bottom might just fall out of the small craft we have fashioned to navigate the troubled waters which lie before us. Racism, poverty, disease, and violence; four winds that drive us ever closer to wrecking our small boats. Boats hastily designed without thought to the perils which threaten to consume us, as monsters from below depths below, surface all around us.

The weather forecast looks bleak as one storm after another rolls our way.  We are so very tired. Tired of the winds of racism, which continue to blow despite our efforts to quell their intensity. We have seen the power of racism which over and over again rises up in our midst. Some of us have learned to live in the almost silent breezes which are generated by our fear of the “other.”  We have figured out mechanisms to quell the intensity of racism’s loathsome impacts. We built lifeboats to carry us beyond the pain of the hatred which wafts in and around us, blown about by racism’s destructive currents. We are afraid that there aren’t enough lifeboats to save us all, so we jettison lives and simply turn away as “others” drown.  We’ve grown accustomed to systems designed to allow us to deny the suffering of “others” as they flail about. We trust the designs of our lifeboats to protect us. Different seas have different “others.” But the lifeboats are crafted from the same materials.

As racist breezes churn up the waters, poverty, disease and violence continue to howl, while we are tossed upon the waves, trusting that sleeping in the back of our lifeboat lies a power who IF roused will protect us, save us, carry us safely to better shores. Today, many of us are feeling more than just a little seasick. Many of us believed that we’d managed to quell the racism that once again howls in our midst. It’s Fathers’ Day after all and we were looking forward to calm waters so that we could celebrate the love of fathers for their children and children for their fathers. Our treasured memories were to be hauled up on deck, so that we could all admire the virtues of loving fathers and loving children, treasured memories, hopes for the future, gentle embraces, good wishes, and happy families. Surely, the ill winds can be quelled long enough for us to celebrate Father’s Day in peace. But the winds of racism and violence have joined forces and blown about the pain of too many atrocities which threaten the stability of our lifeboats. Our boats are weighed down with the pain of First Nations martyrs, Inuit martyrs, Metis martyrs, black, brown, and Asian martyrs; the pain of those “othered” by white privilege, slaughtered in the places we believed the winds could not, and did not penetrate.

Not even our beloved Canada, all dressed up in the history of the underground railway and multiculturalism, not even the mythical Canada, can protect us from the harsh winds of racism and violence. We recognize the power of racism and violence to stir up the waters and so we comfort ourselves with the thought that the destructive winds blow only in the south, as if we here in the north are immune to the dangers which are blowing in the wind. We point to our American cousins as if they alone, with their lifeboats weighed down by their shoot-em-up culture, are at risk of sinking. But we have our own baggage stowed deep within our holds which has the power to sink us.

National Indigenous Peoples Day: a day scarcely etched in our calendars for the sake of First Nations, Inuit, and Metis peoples. Not even a day set aside to reveal what lies in the bowels of our own lifeboats can convince us to jettison the baggage of imperialism or forgo legacies of colonialism, which we are hell-bent upon preserving even if it means that Indigenous women and girls are thrown overboard, indigenous men beaten and incarcerated, while families and indeed whole nations are denied safe drinking water; water: water, water, everywhere and not a drop to drink.

We breathe deeply of the winds of racism, while denying that the very air we breathe is polluted by systems designed to ensure that the white privileged few continue to enjoy the benefits so many of us have grown to love and to horde, convinced that if the first inhabitants of these shores would only learn from us how to swim, all would be well. The winds of racism carry with them abuse, while poverty howls, dis-ease wipes out family after family, and violence destroys, and we turn away, continuing to deny that we have the power to save them all. So, we don’t save anyone of “them,” because they are “them” and not us. Let them, those people, the “others,” save themselves, there is only so much that we can do. Besides, they don’t want our help anyway. They would rather be left to their own ways. So, we narrow our gaze, trim our sails and hope for calmer seas. Relieved whenever we hear one of them, one of the “others,” condemn us for our delusions of grandeur, which allow us to imagine ourselves as “their” saviours.

Friends, the powerful metaphor offered to us by the anonymous gospel storyteller we call Mark is designed to open us to the reality of the relentless storms which rage all around us. Using familiar symbols designed to conjure up images of the fears we all harbour deep inside the very fibers of our being, the gospel storyteller wants us to feel the lashing winds which threaten to separate us from one another, as we desperately seek to survive. We have been distracted for too long now, arguing about whether or not this miracle story actually happened exactly the way it was written. It simply doesn’t matter whether or not Jesus of Nazareth preformed miracles.In fact, a miracle worker living 2000 years ago doesn’t matter at all when people are dying and being killed here and now. What matters to those who are threatened by storms or who are perishing in storms, or who are mourning the death of victims of storms, is not whether or not some guy living 2000 years ago had the power to change the course of nature. What matters to those in peril on the sea is what you and I and they are going to do in the face of the howling winds of racism, disease, poverty and violence. For this miraculous story to be worth anything at all, it needs to be able to carry us away from the realities of the ordinary into the dream of a future where miracles are actually possible.

It has always annoyed me that Jesus lies sleeping in the back of the boat, lying on a cushion no less, while his followers are in fear for their lives. I know that according to the story, Jesus was tired. He’d spent the whole day, saving those around him. The crowds had gathered and were pressing in on him and the only way to get away from their incessant demands was to get in a boat and sail away. Who among us hasn’t needed to get away from the incessant demands of others? We get it. Jesus was tired. We’re tired. I don’t want to hear about one more killing. I’m sick of hearing about racism. I’m smart enough to know that I’m one of the privileged. I know that the systems of power and control favour me and mine. What can I do about? Besides, I don’t hate black people or indigenous people. I wasn’t raised to think I’m better than anybody else. Yeah, I know the system ensures that I remain one of the privileged. But I didn’t ask to be born white and powerful, any more than they asked to be born poor and powerless. I can’t save them all. Besides they don’t want a white saviour. We keep hearing that white privileged people need to shut-up, listen, and learn because our solutions are not “their” solutions. So, I just sail on, sparing only a prayer and some small change for those who are flailing about in stormy waters.

It sure would be nice if Jesus was the answer to every question. If not Jesus then that big something more than me, that God fella, the old bearded white man in the sky, sure has a lot to answer for, leaving us alone to flail about, letting untold millions sink to the bottom. No wonder, I read this story and I want to scream at the god of my dreams, “Wake up. Don’t you care that so many people are drowning?” Wake up we need you to do something.    Help us!    Save us! I’d really like to believe that if we shout loudly enough that God will hear us and that God is powerful enough to make a difference, to save us, and to save “them.” I’d sure like to believe that there’s a master mariner powerful enough to still the winds and calm the seas. Peace! Be still!

Like many people, I am reeling from the onslaught of the news and I too, am trying to make sense out of what I do and don’t believe. Over and over again the familiar words we at Holy Cross, use to close our worship services each Sunday ring in my ears: “Go in peace. Be LOVE in the world.” Be LOVE in the world! It would be so much easier to rely on a force more powerful that I to quell this storm. And yet, we profess to follow a saviour who taught that God is LOVE; a saviour who embodied the LOVE that IS God.

Be LOVE in the world? Be God in the world? God in the world? We are part of a church which teaches that Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, the ONE in whom the LOVE that IS God was embodied. I smile every time I remember, Dom Crossan saying, “Do you want to know what God looks like in the first century?  Well, Jesus is what God looks like in sandals.”  Jesus is what LOVE looked like in the first century. Jesus is the Christ precisely because he was LOVE in the world. Christ is God in the world. The Church teaches us that we are the body of Christ. In the words of Teresa of Avila: “Christ has no body now but yours.” “Christ has no hands now but yours.” Being Christ in the world means being LOVE in the world.

Being LOVE in the world means to stop seeing ourselves as disciples cowering in fear, terrified that the storm is going to cause the seas to rise up and drown us. It is time for us to see ourselves sleeping in the back of the boat, resting on a cushion. For all those who are afraid shouting for a saviour to wake up, we, you and I the followers of Jesus, we are the body of Christ. It is time for us to wake up, speak-up, and calm the storm which is raging. We have the power together as the body of Christ to command the winds of racism, disease, poverty, and violence to cease. Together we are the Body of Christ and together we are so much more powerful than any storm. If it really does matter to us that our sisters and brothers are going to drown, if we really do care, then it is time to wake up and speak up. It is time to put an end to the power of white privilege to in-spire or to give breath to the winds of racism, disease, poverty and violence. There is work for each one of us to speak up. We all know the power of racism. We have all, at one time or another remained silent in the face of racism so as not to rock the boat. We all have relatives and friends who are trapped in delusions of superiority and have spouted racist comments and we have let them pass. We all know or have been those people who deny that our systems are rigged so that one race, the white race, maintains its power. It is time for each of us to speak up and to take some risks, we have to rock the boat even in the midst of a storm. If our particular part of the sea appears quiet, we have to have the courage to see our reflection in those calm waters and take a long hard look at the way we live our lives. We need to examine the systems that we are engaged in to seek out injustice and to do our part to create peace through justice. Together, we are a power which is stronger than the raging storms or the treacherous waters. In the past we have used, or allowed our power to be used, to save ourselves along with those few we have deemed worthy of our rescue.

Slowly, some of us are learning that the ways in which we have exercised power from positions of privilege have only increased the ferocity of the winds of racism, poverty, disease, and violence. It is long past time for white privilege to remember the ONE so many of us profess to follow. Jesus may have rocked that boat when he spoke up, but he very quickly turned his attention to calming the seas. Together we, the Body of Christ must use our power to calm the seas. In the open letter to Canadians, the Chiefs of Ontario asked Canadians to: “Make a personal commitment to change the narrative by listening, challenging racism, educating yourself and sharing your power, space and platforms.”

The storms raging around us will not end until the winds of racism, poverty, disease, and violence are deprived of breath. So, what might being LOVE in the world look like for those of us who are privileged? Well, we may not need to put on sandals, but we will surely need to take off the trappings of wanna-be-saviours. To be LOVE in the world will mean taking off our capes of privilege, by listening to those who are drowning outside the boats we have crafted. We can begin by taking onboard the Chiefs wisdom:  listen, challenge racism, educate ourselves, and share our power, space and platforms. It’s time for us to wake up to the power of LOVE which lives in, with, through, and beyond us; the power which is the LOVE we call God.

Peace…be still….peace….be still…..peace….be still.

It all begins when we are awakened to the power which lies sleeping within us all. Together we can command the winds to cease, so that as the seas are stilled, peace can be restored.   It is long past time for us to wake up, speak-up, to risk rocking the boat, and begin the difficult work of stilling the storms raging around us, by listening to those who are drowning in the turbulent waters of white privilege, challenging racism whenever and wherever we find it, educating ourselves, and sharing our power, space and platforms.

It is time for us to be LOVE in the world. The seas will only be calmed when we work with and for one another to put an end to racism, an end to disease, an end to poverty, and an end to violence. Wake up, there is no miraculous saviour who is going to do this for us. We are the body of Christ. We are in God, and God is in us! God is not a caped crusader. God IS LOVE. In the LOVE which we call God, we live and move and have our being.” Wake up, speak up, rock the boat and be LOVE in the world. Be LOVE in the world so that peace may begin to break out on these turbulent of seas. Peace…be still….peace….be still…..peace….be still. Let it be so, dear ones. Let it be so here and now, be LOVE in the world.  Amen.

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“The Great Commission” Birthed White Supremacy! – Trinity Sunday sermon

How did we get here? All over the world people are marching in the streets proclaiming, “Black lives matter.” Millions have defied the fear of the corona virus, and taken their lives into their hands to venture out into the streets to protest the systemic racism that permeates institutions all over this planet. Even in Canada, where it takes a colossal effort to turn people out into the streets, even in Canada hundreds of thousands of people have defied public health orders to march against racism.

By now we are all familiar with the recent murders which ignited the powder keg of outrage which continues to propel people into the streets. As horrific as these current murders are, it is not enough for those of us who benefit daily from our white privilege to simply look to the most horrific consequences of racism in order to understand the inherent depths of systemic racism which infect our world. If we are to begin to untangle ourselves from our own participation in the proliferation of racism, we must begin to understand the role of Christianity in the creation and maintenance of white supremacy.  For the same Christianity which gave us these words from Galatians which I just read as today’s Gospel, also gave us the words which are actually prescribed as the Gospel reading for this Trinity Sunday.

“All of you who have been baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. In Christ there is no Jew or Greek, slave or citizen, male or female.  All are ONE in Christ Jesus.” This is the Gospel as it was professed in the first century, by the followers of the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth. But this is not the gospel reading which is prescribed for this Trinity Sunday. The prescribed reading for this day comes from the end of the Gospel According to Matthew, which was written by an anonymous gospel-storyteller that we call Matthew. This prescribed reading is known by the Church as “The Great Commission.” I deliberately, did not read “The Great Commission” and indeed, I doubt that I will ever again read The Great Commission and publicly claim it as “Gospel.” Over the course of many years of study, I have come to believe that the so-called “Great Commission” is anything but the “Gospel.” Indeed, I have come to believe that this particular ending to the Gospel According to Matthew may be the source of the systemic racism which permeates, not just the Church, but also, all of the Western cultures and institutions which arose out of what history has dubbed the Holy Roman Empire.

Hear the words, prescribed for this Trinity Sunday, they come from the end of the Gospel According to Matthew, and as I said before this reading is known as Jesus’ “Great Commission.” Matthew 28:16-20

“The Eleven made their way to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had summoned them. At the sight of the risen Christ they fell down in homage, though some doubted what they were seeing. Jesus came forward and addressed them in these words: “All authority has been given me both in heaven and on earth; go, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations. Baptize them in the name of Abba God, and of the Only Begotten, and of the Holy Spirit. Teach them to carry out everything I have commanded you. And know that I AM with you always, even until the end of the world!”

Here ends the gospel, not according to the anonymous gospel-storyteller which we call Matthew. No, no, I could not get out of a first year New Testament class and without learning about Eusebius, (265-339) an early Christian historian who quoted this text from Matthew and the trinitarian clause does not appear, suggesting to some that the text was altered. Could, the so-called “great commission” have been added to the gospel by the Christian community sometime around 325 – to bring it into line with the brand spanking new Creed which you know as the Nicene Creed? Now whether or not you agree with the preponderance of evidence unearthed by New Testament scholars, about the very real possibility that Jesus never actually said everything he is propertied to have said in the New Testament, you must begin to understand that these words, whether Jesus said them or not, these words became the justification for The Doctrine of Discovery. In 1493, Pope Alexander VI (6th) issued the Papal Bull which would give license to European Christians to colonize the world.  The Church granted white European Christians the authority to claim, seize, conquer, and “Christianize” any and all lands inhabited by people who were not Christian.

Colonizing became Europe’s preferred method of evangelizing and in Jesus’ name indigenous people were slaughtered or subjugated. The Doctrine of Discovery not only justified the dehumanization of those peoples who lived in lands beyond Europe, the Doctrine of Discovery, birthed by the Great Commission, solidified the notion of white supremacy in the so-called “civilizing” of North and South America, Australia, New Zealand, Africa, Asia, and far too many points in-between to enumerate here.

The roots of today’s civil unrest run deep into the very bible the colonizers used to ensure the privileged status  their descendants, that’s you and me, and all the other white privileged folk who continue to thrive as settlers, on lands stolen from indigenous peoples.

I am only beginning to learn the contours of my own white privilege.  While there is so much more for me to learn, one thing is becoming clear, it is long past time for me to listen to the cries of all those who have felt the knee of my privilege pressing down upon their necks. It is time for me and my privileged sisters and brothers to learn about the ways in which the institutions, in which we have thrived, have perpetuated systemic racism.

It is long past time, for us to set aside our defensive denials of our own white privilege and accept the truth of our participation in the racism which is perpetrated on our black, brown, red, and yellow sisters and brothers. All lives will not matter unless and until black lives matter, brown lives matter, indigenous lives matter, and Asian lives matter.

No place is our white privilege more evident than in the church which has fostered us, nourished us, grounded and sustained us in our white privilege, while all the while claiming authority from none other than Jesus himself to baptize all nations in his name. So, on this Trinity Sunday, when the Church celebrates its creeds, let us not look to the Apostles’ Creed, the Nicene Creed, nor God-forbid, the Athanasian Creed. But let us look to the very first creed; the creed quoted by the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Church in Galatia

Paul’s letter to the Galatians was written long before the second, third, or fourth century when the Great Commission was added to the Gospel according to Matthew. Paul’s letter to the Galatians was written in some 20 to 30 years after the life of Jesus of Nazareth. Many scholars now believe that the Apostle Paul did not actually write the words of the first Creed, but rather quoted them from the well-known liturgical practices of the first followers of the teachings of Jesus. The Apostle Paul borrowed and adapted the words, which were the earliest attempts to capture in words the meaning of the Jesus movement.

This nascent Jesus movement understood well the tendency of humans to resort to tribalism and in the teachings of Jesus they came to understand “that race, class, and gender are typically used to divide the human race into us and them to the advantage of us.” This evolving Jesus movement declared in their creed that there is no us, no them.  We are all children of God. The Jesus movement was about solidarity, not cultural obliteration.

New Testament scholar Stephen J. Patterson has studied the early manuscripts in an attempt to uncover the words which the Apostle Paul quoted and adapted.  His unearthed version of that first christian creed reads like this:

“You are all children of God. There is no Jew or Greek, there is no slave or free, there is no male and female, for you are all ONE.”

Imagine a subjugated and oppressed people hearing that they too are “Children of God” for in the DIVINE MYSTERY we call GOD there is “no Jew or Greek” no race; there is “no slave or free,” no class; there is “no male or female,” no gender. In the eyes of the DIVINE all are equal. Please do not hear this as a denial of race, class or gender, but rather a denial that race, class and gender can be parleyed into a first-class ticket to the Kin-dom of God. Now imagine a misguided white privileged member of a racist system hearing, “your race, class and gender” are of no account for all are equal, all are children of the DIVINE.

Just how different would our world be if the Church in which we were nourished, grounded and sustained had not have become “a citadel of patriarchy” and enforced a regime prioritizing race, class and gender? Even the very Trinity, which we are called by the Church to celebrate today, even this doctrine carefully designed to depict the very nature of the DIVINE MYSTERY has for generations portrayed the institution’s preference for a white, male, god who quite naturally bestows riches upon those created in the image of its white, male deity. “You are all children of God. There is no Jew or Greek, there is no slave or free, there is no male and female, for you are all ONE.” In the Kin-dom of the DIVINE, race, class, and gender do not bring with them privilege.

So, now what? What are we, the benefactors of church’s institutional racism, to do, now that we know the nature of our white privilege? Well, we might begin with the difficult work of confession. We have a lot to learn and a lot to confess. Denial is no longer an option. As the contours of our privilege become clearer, we need to learn to repent; to turn around, and to cease and desist. Some of us will need to just shut up and listen. Once confession and repentance begin to lead us beyond our tribalism, then the really difficult work of reconciliation will begin. This means many of us will need to look in the mirror and see the things that are actually there, not the things we hope to see, but the actual truths that are reflected back to us. It means having the intellectual courage to confess that Jesus didn’t say all the things we would have liked for him to say. It means moving beyond our cherished notions about the nature of the DIVINE MYSTERY, even the blessed trinity! It means having the courage to learn at the feet of others, silently, reverently, and respectfully.   It may even mean having the honesty to give back what was never ours in the first place.

There is an old spiritual which I have always loved, the refrain speaks of the troubled waters in which we find ourselves, Wade in the water, wade in the water children
Wade in the water, God’s gonna trouble the waters. The waters are indeed troubled. May all that is HOLY, grant to each of us the courage to wade into the troubled waters, trusting that we are all created in the image of the ONE who IS, BEYOND the BEYOND, and BEYOND that also. Amen.

View the Full Worship Service below – click here for the Order of Service

 

 

May Someday Come Soon!

I work on Sundays, so I tend to worship on Monday mornings. Modern technology affords me the opportunity to visit various churches in order to hear the gospel proclaimed by some incredibly talented preachers. For about five years now, one of my first stops on a Monday morning is at Trinity United Church of Christ, in Chicago, so that I can listen to one of the finest preachers I have ever had the privilege of being challenged by. To say that the Rev. Dr. Otis Moss III is simply a great preacher, is to do him a disservice. Dr. Moss is a disturbingly gifted challenger of the status quo, whose words have the potential to move mountains. 

Two Mondays ago, as I listened to Dr. Moss’ disturbing sermon entitled, “The Cross and the Lynching Tree: A Requiem for Amaud Arbery,” I found it difficult to breathe. Trained in the style of the American Black Church, Dr. Moss moves from swift insight, to provocative challenge without missing a beat.  So, it was not unusual for me to return to his sermon again on Tuesday in order to capture more pearls of wisdom. On Wednesday, the  news of George Floyd’s murder at the hands of those sworn to protect, sent me back to Dr. Moss’ all to prescient proclamation of the Gospel. I did not want to be placated by nice, comforting words. I wanted to hear an expression of outrage. I wanted to be inspired to tap into my own outrage to find the courage to do something. So, over and over again I returned to Dr. Moss and found the courage to dig deep into my own being to discover the roots of my own complicit role in the systemic racism which permeates our world. 

By Sunday I was exhausted by the horrors playing themselves out on various screens and devices   So, rather than wait until Monday to worship, I went back to Dr. Moss’ pulpit to discover how he was responding to yet another murder of a young black person. I am forever grateful for the fortitude of Dr. Moss who did not, despite my fondest wishes, offer me comfort, but continued to challenge me.

I know that there are many Canadians and indeed Americans who are unfamiliar with Dr. Moss. So, allow me to introduce you to a preachers’ preacher, who has the ability to articulate the horrendous realities of the violence which continues to be perpetrated by systems founded and upheld by white privilege.  His articulations may cause you to squirm as you reach for words to deny your own complicity. But he may also inspire you to move beyond your comfort zones in order to take the risk of learning from and working with those who are struggling to achieve justice.

Below are the two sermons which demonstrate my own need to repent of my white privilege, so that I may quietly sit at the feet of those who are struggling in the thick of this battle to usher in the DIVINE KIN-DOM of peace through justice. May someday come soon!

“I Pray God, Rid Me of God” – sermons for Trinity Sunday

Eckhart rid me of GodMeister Eckhart’s fervent plea: “I pray God, rid me of God” becomes a sort of mantra for me whenever the task of contemplating the Trinity rolls around on the liturgical calendar.  I offer some previous Trinity sermons to my fellow preachers as my way of saying, “I pray God, rid me of God!!!” Shalom…

click on the sermon title

If I Could Explain the Trinity to you, I would, but I cannot.

I’m not that good a preacher!

While Preachers Dutifully Ponder the Doctrine of the Trinity,

Our Congregations Shrink???

“Trinity: Image of the Community that is God” Desmond Tutu

The Athanasian Creed and an Unholy Trinity

Wolf Blitzer Learned that there are Indeed Atheists in Fox-holes

Poor Old Nicodemus – Doomed to Play the Fool – John 3:1-17

Like Nicodemus we have blinders on! Our focus upon preserving the church gets in the way of our rebirth!