Saturday, September 11, 2021

Never Forget

 Never Forget, they say. 


But we need to interrogate our memory and ask ourselves, Just what is it that we should never forget?

Twenty years ago, today, on a Tuesday morning, my roommate and I walked from our house on College Street, through Tattnall Square Park, to the beautiful and historic campus of Mercer University's College of Liberal Arts, only to find that classes had been canceled. And so we walked across the Quad to the Student Center, where we learned from CNN what had happened.

We stayed there for a while, talking and processing, but it seemed clear to us that these were symbolic targets, attacking symbols of Western capitalism and American military. It also seemed clear that there would be no reflection on those symbols, just bloodthirsty calls for war.

We also knew that we would be in the minority in opposing those calls.


We were unfortunately correct, as the response from the mainstream media, as well as both political parties, was universal. We would be going to war - but not, importantly, against any particular nation. The enemy was an idea, Terror, and anyone at home or abroad who our leaders told us embodied this idea. That, it seemed, included those of us who opposed war.

And although we predicted this, it represented a new America to me. I grew up in a military town in the Deep South, but I had never seen such hatred or bloodlust. In an instant, peaceful and loving people I had known my entire life were driven by vengeance and xenophobia into rage and fury. That was when I knew that home was no longer home.

Back at our apartment, a creative spark hit. We began collaborating and sketching out ideas for political artwork.

The spark that did not come, however, was the one that would have led me to call my then-fiancee, seven hours away in Memphis. Those were the pre-cell phone days, but honestly I just didn't think it was necessary. In my mind, there was no doubt that we were both safe.

Needless to say, she thought differently. And she was not too happy with me when we finally spoke.

Lesson learned. I now call and text her more than she calls or texts me.

Within a few weeks, Jono and I had opened White Sands Art Gallery. Our first monthly show included a couple of the political collaboration pieces we did together, paintings of bodies by Sara, and photography by Logan White.


Logan is now an accomplished photographer, published in the New York Times and Vogue. But her first show was at White Sands. At the time, she was one of Jono's high school students, and she happened to be on a business trip with her dad to New York City on September 11. She had brought her camera, of course, so she ventured out to document the day. Her photo of a man, alone, playing the trumpet in Central Park, hangs in my office.


White Sands was a big success. We would host monthly shows for local artists until we graduated in May. We even ventured outside of the visual arts when the English Department asked us to host their senior poetry reading. But I'm most proud of the benefit show we did for the battered women's shelter, where all the artists donated their commissions, netting the shelter's largest donation of the year.

We were less successful, though, in fighting what would become the War On Terror.

And over the past two decades, nearly 1-Million people have died as a result - in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, Syria, Somalia, and elsewhere - including 15,000 American soldiers and contractors. At least 387,000 civilians have been killed, representing over one-third of all deaths, as well as hundreds of journalists and humanitarian aid workers.

This doesn't even take into account the indirect deaths. Nor is death the only bad outcome.

The price for this war: $5.8-Trillion so far. But medical care for the tens of thousands of American soldiers who have returned with deep trauma and disabilities will bring the total up to to $8-Trillion in the next thirty years.

And what do we have to show for it?

We have our memory. That's what we have. But what and how we remember is what really matters.

I hope that we never forget our failed foreign policy. Twenty years later, the Taliban are back in charge. And we spent trillions of dollars in what seems like a direct effort to make more people hate America.

I hope we never forget that invading a country and trying to force it to adopt Western democracy...just does not work.

Is democracy good? Yes, of course. But we are not good at spreading it - at least not through military might. Our military costs more than that of the next seven nations, combined. Money's not the issue. As hard as it might be to admit, we're just not very good at this.

And so we should stop doing things we aren't good at.

We should, instead, do things we are good at. Things we know how to do.

Things that spread good throughout the world. Things that make people hate us less. Things that make people want to like us more.

Things like essentially ending infant mortality and maternal mortality. Things like ensuring everyone in the world has access to immunizations. Things like ending the TB and HIV epidemics. Things like fighting malaria and parasitic diseases. Things like ensuring that everyone has access to food and clean water.

These things are all possible. These are all things we are good at. These are things we know how to do.

Imagine the world we could create if, over the next two decades, we spent $8-Trillion on these humanitarian efforts. 

Wouldn't that be a wonderful world to pass on to our children?

That's the lesson - or at least a lesson - we should all take from September 11.

But it's a lesson I fear we will never forget...because it's a lesson we never learned to begin with.

And so, rather than singing out with pride, "God Bless America," we might do well to cover ourselves with sackcloth and ashes, bow down on our knees, and plead humbly, "Lord, Have Mercy On Us."

Tuesday, January 5, 2021

The Twelfth Day of Christmas: The Politics of Jesus The Politics of Jesus


The Politics of Jesus

The Twelfth Day of Christmas

Tuesday, January 5, 2021

Luke 6:27-31 


But I say to you who are willing to hear…


The gospel is not for everyone. It’s just not, for not everyone is willing to hear the teachings

of Jesus, truly hear, and follow. 


Very often, in churches, we hear about the “secularization” of America, about the “decline”

of Christianity, and about how awful this all is.


Will Willimon and Stanley Hauerwas would beg to differ. 


“Sometime between 1960 and 1980,” they argue, “an old, inadequately conceived world

ended, and a fresh, new world began.”


They point to one Sunday in 1963 in Greenville, South Carolina, as a key turning point.

That’s when the Fox Theater defied the state’s blue laws by opening its doors on a Sunday,

going “head to head with the church over who would provide the world view for the young.”


As you can imagine, the Fox Theater won. 


But Willimon and Hauerwas don’t lament the loss. In fact, the facade of so-called “Christian

America” allowed so many (white) Christians to overlook the incredible wrongs (“it was a

racially segregated world,” they remind us). And so the common view was that “People grew

up Christian simply by being lucky enough to be born in places like Greenville.”


Of course, no one believes that anymore.


“All sorts of Christians are waking up and realizing that it is no longer ‘our world,’” they

observe, “if it ever was.”


And this shift has revealed a truth: “Christians are not naturally born in places like Greenville

or anywhere else. Christians are intentionally made by an adventuresome church.”


This may sound strange, especially given that many (most?) churches have turned towards

a generic spirituality (don’t call it religion!) that tries to convince seekers that they are already

believers.


Maybe we are all spiritual, even if not religious. And maybe we all naturally seek the divine. In

fact, I would not disagree. But this is not what the message of Jesus is about.


“The Bible’s concern,” argue Willimon and Hauerwas, “is not if we shall believe but what we

shall believe.”


As for the content of our belief, they point to the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew, but since

our gospel reading today is from Luke, we’ll look at the Sermon on the Plain. (I’ll bet most

people didn’t realize that Luke has Jesus come down from the mountain before beginning

his sermon.)


Willimon and Hauerwas note that Jesus begins his sermon with the Beatitudes and “does

not ask the disciples to do anything. The Beatitudes are in the indicative, not the imperative,

mood. First we are told what God has done before anything is suggested about what we are

to do.”


I’m not sure about you, but every sermon I’ve ever heard on Jesus’s sermon has been about

what Willimon and Hauerwas call “moralistic imperatives.”


“Of course,” they say, “we are forever getting confused into thinking that scripture is mainly

about what we are supposed to do rather than a picture of who God is.”


Then we get to our reading for today:


        But I say to you who are willing to hear:

Love your enemies.

   Do good to those who hate you.

Bless those who curse you.

   Pray for those who mistreat you.

If someone slaps you on the cheek,

   offer the other one as well.

If someone takes your coat,

   don’t withhold even your shirt.

Give to everyone who asks;

   and don’t demand your things back

      from those who take them.

Do unto others

   as you would have them do unto you.


This can be seen as “ethical naivete,” Willimon and Hauerwas accept. “But the basis for the

ethics of the Sermon on the [Plain] is not what works but rather the way God is.”


I remember how mindblowing this was when I first read it. I mean, we’re not supposed to be

concerned with outcomes, with effectiveness?


Nope. Faithfulness, holiness, not effectiveness.


“Cheek-turning,” they explain, “is not advocated as what works (it usually does not), but

advocated because this is the way God is - God is kind to the ungrateful and the selfish.

This is not a strategem for getting what we want but the only manner of life available, now

that, in Jesus, we have seen what God wants. We seek reconciliation with the neighbor, not

because we will feel so much better afterward, but because reconciliation is what God is

doing in the world in the Christ.”


This is all very political. Not red and blue political, not donkeys and elephants, but political as

in how we live together. 


First, “we.” Willimon and Hauerwas argue that the sermon “is not about how to be better

individual Christians.” If we’re honest, it’s a recipe for becoming a dead Christian...unless

you have a community that will nurse you back to health after you’ve turned your cheek

and received a beating. You can’t follow this teaching on your own.


And the specific “we” here is important too, for this teaching is not for just everyone. It doesn’t

make sense to just anyone. It never did, really, which is why, after the Fox Theater won the

battle for the youth, those youth left the church and never came back.


But it’s also why Willimon and Hauerwas argue that Jesus’s sermon “is a picture of the way

the church is to look.”


Not a picture of how the world is to look, but how the church is to look.


“Our ethical positions arise out of our theological claims.” And not everyone shares our

theological claims.


The biblical story is clear about this, by the way, for Jesus is not speaking to a general

audience: “Jesus raised his eyes to his disciples and said…”


This is a teaching for the disciples. But this teaching “is not primarily addressed to

individuals, because it is precisely as individuals that we are most apt to fail as Christians.” 


And the kicker: “Only through membership in a nonviolent community can violent individuals

do better…,” for “it is as isolated individuals that we lack the ethical and theological resources

to be faithful disciples.”


Hauerwas has famously said, “I’m a pacifist because I’m a violent son of a bitch. I’m a Texan.

I can feel it in every bone I’ve got.” And so he has to keep saying it, to hold himself accountable.

“I create expectations in others that hopefully will help me live faithfully to what I know is true but

that I have no confidence in my own ability to live it at all.”


And so the point of the Christian community is not just being together; that’s just a nice benefit.


“The Christian ethical question,” according to Willimon and Hauerwas, “is, What sort of community

would be required to support an ethic of nonviolence, marital fidelity, forgiveness, and hope such

as the one sketched by Jesus in the Sermon on the [Plain]?”


May we be just such a community.


May we practice the politics of the kingdom.


May we follow the politics of Jesus.





Monday, January 4, 2021

The Eleventh Day of Christmas: Trust

Trust

The Eleventh Day of Christmas

Monday, January 4, 2021

Proverbs 3:1-12


My son, do not forget my teaching,

   and let your heart keep my commands.

For length of days and years of life

   and peace they will add for you.

Kindness and truth will not forsake you.

   Bind them round your neck,

      write them on your heart’s tablet,

and find favor and good regard

   in the eyes of God and man.

Trust in the LORD with all your heart,

   and do not lean on your discernment.

Through all your ways know him,

   and he will make your paths straight.

Do not be wise in your own eyes,

   fear the LORD and swerve from evil.

Let it be healing for your flesh

   and a balm to your bones.

Honor the LORD more than your wealth

   and than the first fruits of your crop,

and your barns will be filled with abundance,

   your vats will burst with new wine.

The LORD’s reproof, my son, do not spurn,

   and do not despise his rebuke.

For whom the LORD loves he rebukes

   and like a father his son, regards him kindly.


translation: Robert Alter





Sunday, January 3, 2021

Prayers of the People: January 3, 2021

Prayers of the People

January 3, 2021

Second Sunday of Christmastide

Epiphany Sunday


Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Praise God, all creatures here below.
Praise God above, ye heavenly host.
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.



O Lord, our souls rise up to meet you
as the day rises to meet the sun.

The heavens shine with your glory,
showing us the way.
It has not felt like Christmas this year.
But on this Epiphany Sunday,
give us eyes to see,
like the Magi before us,
and the courage to follow.

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayers.

We lift up...
Dorothy Baker
Ginger Bethany
Valerie Brenner
Brant Butler
The Chatham Family
Cathy Dickey
Linda Haywood
Jan Jones
Madison Martin
Kelly Mynatt
Tamala Nail
Joyce Simpson
Helen Ruth Bourgoyne
Nancy Burch
Ellen Edens
Hettie & James Lutts
Marie Ray
Lois Sandusky
Lela Wallbaum
Naida Wright
and the family of Vera Hankins

Lord, hear our prayers.

Shine all around us,
by day and by night,
Jesus, the light of the world.

When we walk in darkness,
Lord, carry us through.

Light of the world,
shine in our darkness,
and illuminate the way of peace.

And let us pray, together, the prayer you taught us:

Our Father,

who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come,

thy will be done,

on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day

our daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom,

and the power,

and the glory,

forever and ever.

Amen.


The Tenth Day of Christmas: And The Word Became Flesh

And The Word Became Flesh

The Tenth Day of Christmas

Sunday, January 3, 2021

John 1.1-18


In the beginning.


That is how John’s gospel opens, mirroring the opening of Genesis. And so, on this Second Sunday of Christmas, we are invited to see Christmas as the beginning of a new creation.


In the beginning was the Word.


And Frederick Buechner reminds us that, in Hebrew, “word” and “deed” are the same word, dabar.


“Thus to say something,” Buechner explains, “is to do something.”


He speaks about the power of words, both God’s words and our own: “When God said, ‘Let there be light,’ there was light where before there was only darkness. When I say I love you, there is love where before there was only ambiguous silence. In a sense I do not love you first and then speak it, but only by speaking it give it reality.


In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.


And through the Word came life and light. “By uttering himself,” says Buechner, “God makes God heard and makes God hearers.”


But the world didn’t recognize the light.


Even still, says Buechner, “God never seems to weary of trying to get across to us. Word after word God tries in search of the right word.”


And then “God tries flesh and blood.”


Buechner lists some of the failed experiments: “God tried saying it in Noah, but…. God tried saying it in Abraham, but…. God tried Moses, but....; tried David…. Toward the end of his rope, God tried saying it in John the Baptist....’’


“So God tried once more.”


And the Word became flesh.