An Anthem We All Can Sing

 Lift every voice and sing 

Till earth and heaven ring,

Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;

Let our rejoicing rise

High as the listening skies,

Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.

Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,

Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us.   

Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,

Let us march on till victory is won.

Stony the road we trod,

Bitter the chastening rod,

Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;   

Yet with a steady beat,

Have not our weary feet

Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?

We have come over a way that with tears has been watered,

We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,

Out from the gloomy past,   

Till now we stand at last

Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

God of our weary years,   

God of our silent tears,

Thou who hast brought us thus far on the way;

Thou who hast by Thy might   

Led us into the light,

Keep us forever in the path, we pray.

Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,

Lest, our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee;

Shadowed beneath Thy hand,   

May we forever stand.   

True to our God,

True to our native land.  --  James Weldon Johnson*

Today the church celebrates James Weldon Johnson, a man of many talents and contributions, including writing, speaking, diplomacy, reconciliation,  activism, and teaching. Throughout his life, from his birth in 1871 until he died in 1938, he constantly sought to make the world better for his people and, indeed, for all people. 

He was a gifted writer, as exemplified in sermons such as “The Creation” and poems such as “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” They allowed the world to be exposed to how African Americans saw and understood their world and their faith. Introduced to “The Creation” in high school,  the imagery and the expression of God creating the world in a manner I’d never heard captured me. It was seeing a familiar story through different eyes. It is still one of my favorite works.

I first remember hearing “Lift Every Voice and Sing” as part of a presentation opening the 1991 General Convention of the Episcopal Church. I was still coming to grips with my upbringing in the South and the changes in the country and the world. While I liked the catchy tune, I still saw it as a song I had trouble singing with any real feeling of connection. Over the intervening years, I’ve heard it more and more often. I’ve also changed my world perceptions as I’ve gotten older. I look at things with different eyes, and in the song, I now see a song all of us can join in singing, especially the third verse. 

Examining the words, I’ve learned to see not only Black history in its content but also the struggles of many others. Until there are no more second-class citizens, no more place names, teams, and racial jokes, we won’t genuinely have reached even the edge of equality. I don’t want to co-opt the song or the reasons for its existence and meaning. Still, I appreciate its contribution to understanding and appreciating the struggles and contributions of James Weldon Johnson and the people and their predecessors for whom the poem was originally written.

The struggle for equality has been hard for almost everyone of every race, culture, ethnicity, orientation, and belief. The battle isn’t over by any means. Still, Johnson’s words urge us all to unite in fighting injustice and inequality wherever it occurs. As the prophet Micah put it, “…Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God” (6:8). It’s as necessary today as it was when Micah spoke it. We haven’t gotten nearly as far in following it as we possibly could. Maybe a few more rousing hearings and singing of “Lift Every Voice” might encourage us along a bit.

Shadowed beneath Thy hand,   

May we forever stand.   

True to our God,

True to our native land.

Hear! Hear!

God, the Desert, and Disaster

 I'm looking at maps of our country, weather maps specifically. The other day a friend in Minnesota reported temperatures in his area were above 110°, roughly the same temperatures we were experiencing here in the Phoenix area. Yet, at the same time, Yellowstone National Park had massive rains and snowmelt, causing whole sections of the park to become isolated. It hasn't stopped yet, so repairs haven't even begun, but it will take a lot of time to restore damaged areas if they can be rebuilt or restored.

Living in the desert, I have learned to hate the heat. I know Jesus lived in a warm, if not hot, climate, but things then weren't this bad. Thank goodness for that, anyway. Imagine spending forty days in the wilderness (desert) with no food or water. Even a day without water can be a death sentence. We have news reports every summer about people (including homeless ones) dying of heat stroke and dehydration. Living in air-conditioned comfort can be hard if people can't afford to pay the electric bill to maintain the a/c, lights, refrigerators, and the like. 

When it rains here (we usually average about 9" per year compared to the national average of 38"), the ground is already baked so hard that it can't absorb the rain as fast as it comes down. Then we get flash floods, which are deadly in themselves. Whole families have been wiped out simply from being in a dry wash when a heavy storm hits uphill from them. Trees, rocks, sand, dirt, and, quite often, household items people have dumped rather than disposed of properly speed down even gentle slopes and become torrents. Even the family swimming pool, dangerous as they are to unsupervised children, can become overfilled with water. There's no such thing as being too careful in the desert. What may seem like a gentle dip in the road only an inch or so deep can actually be much deeper. Rescue crews are out frequently to attempt to save those who ignore the "Do not cross when flooded" signs. 

Some folks say that God sends us this sort of thing to test us, to make sure we trust God rather than the local weatherperson or someone hundreds of miles away making projections. There is the old joke about the man sitting on the roof of his house, surrounded by flood waters, waiting for rescue. A man in a boat comes by and offers help, but the man sends him away. God will provide, the man says. A helicopter comes overhead with a line and a life ring attached, so the man simply has to grasp and hold on. He waves it away also, saying that God would provide. He dies and comes before God. "Why didn't you save me?" he said. "I trusted you would provide, and you didn't!" "Oh, but I did," God said. "Who do you think sent the man in the boat and the ones in the helicopter?" 

Individually, we can't always save ourselves when we get into trouble. That's why we depend on people like police, first responders, doctors, nurses, good Samaritans, and the like. We trust that our bridges are safe from collisions with large ships and tons of debris from floods. We depend on fire crews and ambulances to rush to our aid when we have accidents or fires in our homes or offices, and we get angry when they often take several minutes to an hour or more to reach us. We want to be saved, relieved of pain, and put back to normal immediately, regardless of what we did to put ourselves in danger to start with.

I'm far from saying, "Don't trust God. Do it yourself." My reasoning process tells me that God's right there, but that by giving me free will, I have the opportunity to take care of myself and my own needs with God's encouragement. I can't always just depend on myself, though. I need to learn to recognize when I'm out of my depth and need more help than I can muster on my own. A child's smile can help pull me out of a depressive time. A helping hand to steady me when I trip and start to fall can save me broken bones. A call from someone who tells me they were just thinking of me can brighten a gloomy day. A prayer shawl around my shoulders can provide a hug when there aren't any humans around to give me one when I need it. Maybe God doesn't exactly grab me mid-air when I'm about to fall or call me on the phone when I feel down, but I am sure God spurs the actions of those children and adults who give aid and comfort when I need it.

I may live in a desert, but God's there as surely as God is present by my river back home, in the forests of Oregon that I love so much, and the mountains that are so awe-full to me. I can be afraid when disaster strikes, but I never for a moment consider it a test from God, only a chance to trust God and do what I can to help myself and others. 

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, June 18, 2022.

Restoring the Kingdom of God

 ‘… As you go, proclaim the good news, “The kingdom of heaven has come near.” Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment. Take no gold, or silver, or copper in your belts, no bag for your journey, or two tunics, or sandals, or a staff; for labourers deserve their food. Whatever town or village you enter, find out who in it is worthy, and stay there until you leave. As you enter the house, greet it. If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if it is not worthy, let your peace return to you. If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet as you leave that house or town. Truly I tell you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgement than for that town.

‘See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.’  – Matthew 10:7-16 (Eucharistic Gospel reading for the Feast of St. Barnabas)

I hear a lot about various Christian denominations and groups proclaiming their love and obedience to Jesus. Some of these groups seem picky in how they choose verses they use to convince others of their essential Christianity. It looks as if this particular part of Matthew gets ignored somewhat regularly by such groups. I know that Christians are not supposed to judge others. Still, when it comes to neglecting to follow or scoffing at those who try to follow passages such as this one, it is hard not to judge others by the teachings they perpetuate and the ones they ignore.

Take heaven, for instance. For some, heaven is a place where all Christians will go bye-and-bye if they are good and follow the teachings of Jesus (selective ones, that is). Meanwhile, the earth and all its resources are to be used for humankind’s benefit, and the heck with conservation and ecology. For other followers of Jesus, the kingdom of heaven is the Kingdom of God, to whom all creation belongs. It seems God intends for us to recreate the kingdom about on the earth, right here and right now. We can’t do that if we’re causing the depletion of natural resources, the extinction of hundreds of species of creatures, and ignoring ways to halt or prevent further disasters such as climate change. We can’t do it if we overthink about an accumulation of goods for ourselves while others starve, fall ill, are put into any form of slavery, or even die for lack of food, shelter, health care, or justice.

In this passage, Jesus teaches a form of judgement, or perhaps discernment is a better word. The disciples and followers were to go out into the world, taking no more than was absolutely necessary (including money), and seek out those who would be receptive to the teachings of Jesus. If people in the village or town they were visiting were inhospitable or not listening, the preachers and teachers would leave for another place. If, however, the citizens were receptive, their hospitality should be accepted until it was time to go forth again. It was a case of making a judgement – with clear-cut boundaries for those decisions.

We’re still trying to make those judgements, and it seems we often fail to act when we should. Jesus certainly never told us to go out and buy assault rifles and extra-large clips. In fact, he mentioned not even taking even a staff when his followers were going out to spread the word. How God must weep when innocents such as the children of Uvalde, Texas, are mown down by other children with access to high-powered weapons only military personnel should need. Restoring the kingdom of God on earth was likened to taking swords and turning them into plowshares, not forming them into larger and larger caliber weapons to spread more and more destruction.

The kingdom of God on earth means treating all as equals. It means respecting the earth and its resources and protecting them from destruction and waste. The poor should be adequately housed, with plenty of food, access to adequate health care, and safety from bullying and other forms of harassment. The sick should have the ability to receive treatment without worrying about whether their food budget would have to be slashed to pay for medicine or treatment. As for casting out demons, the only exorcism needed is for people to learn to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. 

So there we have it laid out before us – Jesus’s whole teachings in a nutshell. Why then is it so easy to overlook and so hard to bring about? Perhaps it is the verses we choose to pay attention to and the ones we ignore. Maybe we should go back and re-read the gospels, paying attention to all they say, not just familiar or comfortable verses.

It certainly wouldn’t hurt.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, June 11, 2022.

Thinking About Speech

 

It's funny how a song or a story will suddenly pop into the mind and sit there for a while. It almost begs, "Think about me. Why am I important? What is going on in your life that brought me to mind?" Sometimes I can ignore it when it happens to me, but it often gets on the hamster wheel of my brain and takes off, not stopping for anything.

This time I was thinking of the story of the Tower of Babel, the construction project conceived by King Nimrod of Babylon that consisted of a tower that would reach to heaven and, therefore, to the gods (Gen. 11:1-9). It was a project to show the importance, power, and greatness of Nimrod and Babylon. We learned in Sunday School that it was the supreme act of hubris, something that the God of the Hebrews abhorred. As the tower grew in height, God made everybody speak in a different language so that none of them could understand anyone else. The result was confusion and the cessation of all work on the tower since nobody could communicate with anyone else. 

I was reading the story of Pentecost, the church's feast we celebrate tomorrow, the great gathering at Jerusalem to celebrate the Feast of Weeks. The disciples were present, as were followers of The Way (as Jesus's followers called it), and the Jews w0rshipping at the Temple. During the gathering, the Holy Spirit descended on the crowd. Suddenly, people were speaking in languages that they hadn't been able to use a second before.

The two stories, the Tower of Babel and Pentecost, both featured people speaking in other languages. In both, God was the initiator, although the reason for each was quite different. In Babylon, it was to prevent more self-glorification and presumption. In Jerusalem, it seemed to be a way of enabling the message of Jesus to be available for those living outside of Jerusalem or even on the trade routes through the country. One story showed how speech separated people. In contrast, the other showed where diversity of language could bring people together. 

It's no different today, and language can divide us or unite us. Even where diversity is acknowledged (if not universally celebrated), some people and groups hear particular languages spoken and immediately react with fear and anger. I'm somewhat ashamed that I live in a primarily Hispanic city, but I speak only a few words of Spanish. Suppose I were in a more evangelical kind of Christianity. In that case, I might feel even worse since I would probably be expected to evangelize, so I would need Spanish. On the other hand, I  could evangelize without speaking a word in any language. All it would take would be to live as Jesus wants me to and love my neighbors, show mercy, and walk humbly with God. 

Pass the word – no matter how you do it. 

Have a blessed Pentecost.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, June 5, 2022.