Many things matter to me, and I am vocal in several spheres. But it is articulating and uplifting the moral voice in the care of Creation that makes up most of my work. I believe that we who live in that world are ideally placed to help us transform and shift as a culture into one that can thrive in a world of radical global change.
I grew up on the Mississippi River, in Memphis, TN. Water does not only form our western border, water is all over the city itself. The Wolf River winds its way into the Mississippi here, and small streams and creeks are woven throughout the neighborhoods. Much of the city’s storm runoff system is made up of these water channels reinforced with structure and drains.
Right before Earth Day last week, someone - no one yet knows who conclusively - took a chainsaw to 200 yards of trees on the Mississippi River bluff in Memphis, TN. This is in an area so sensitive, the US Corps of Engineers is the permitting agency for anything done there. The bluffs are held in place partially by the roots systems of the trees and other vegetation. These bluffs are what separate Memphis from the Mississippi River.
Furiously searching news sites for other incidents of such crimes, I found many. It is apparently common for the wealthy to fell trees and clear land with no regard for anyone else, future generations, or the environmental impact of their actions. It should not surprise me, this arrogance and self-centeredness, but it always does. Especially when these people could pay to do it right, with some care and respect. When the wife of the famous entertainer Steve Harvey had 2 magnolia trees illegally removed from their Bluff home in March, she at least paid professionals to do it properly.
I find the hubris of the rich shocking. Mudslides will take their ten million dollar homes as quickly as they will take a shack. Their grandchildren won’t have special air to breathe. I have no illusions that I will be able to imbue the wealthy and privileged with a sense of common cause or obligation. Frankly, I’ve spent decades trying to do that in a variety of systems and I’m done with it for now. Those who think they know best simply believe this so deeply that little evidence to the contrary is effective.
But they got what they wanted, as the wealthy usually do - the trees are gone. For now, we’re left with the aftermath of their destruction, the need to replant, and the sense that all of us are doomed if we can’t somehow get these people to see that we are all dependent on each other.
You can read the article in the Daily Memphian here: https://dailymemphian.com/article/21490/200-yards-of-trees-below-martyrs-park-cut-without-permission?utm_campaign=trueAnthem%3A%20Trending%20Content&utm_medium=trueAnthem&utm_source=facebook&fbclid=IwAR3XI_Hzfgy9Bt-G2MR3ovmJeg9BUoU5sFUhTK4LYFu_c5nW4L_7T8y7Lmk
Happy Arbor Day, National Tree-planting Day!
Tomorrow is Arbor Day in the United States, but Arbor Day is marked all over the planet on different dates. Since the early 1800s, communities have set aside a special time to plant and nurture trees, a civic action of the public sphere for a modern era. But tree planting is an ancient practice, sometimes a sacred one -groves come to mind- and sometimes a civil one such as planting a line of trees to control the path of fire. My hometown of Memphis hosts an old-growth forest, one of the only urban remnants of these 10,000 year old oases.
Last week was Earth Day, also a global celebration, but a new one, and one that was made for the express purpose of celebration and declaring that our planet matters to us. I believe that common intent can have an impact on what is possible, and so I tend to give my nod to Earth Day, and move on from it.
I have heard it said that the best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago and the second best time is today. To plant a tree is an action of hope. It is a blessing to those who will benefit from it as it grows.
Many faith traditions hold trees to be sacred, or imbued with the holy. Some Buddhists ordain the trees themselves. In the Judeo-Christian tradition, trees are often an image of God’s vision of bounty and healing for all nations. Islam holds haram the cutting of trees that provide shade and shelter. Famous environmentalist John Muir called nature God’s cathedral, and one need not claim a faith tradition at all to feel the resonance of majesty and the fullness of life in the presence of trees.
We know that our planet is in crisis, and going through massive changes due to the human effect, the impact we have had on earth and its ecosystems. We are desperate for a science-based fix to our climate crisis but a single mature tree sequesters nearly 50 pounds of carbon a year, and produces over 250 pounds of oxygen. One tree. Forests are essential for global health, and trees are crucial for us to thrive.
But we see trees as ultimately expendable, a reasonable sacrifice.
At least, that’s how we treat trees here in the US. Want to build a new parking lot? It’ll only cost a few trees. Need a home expansion? That 150 year oak has to go. Want to improve your view? Just clear out all that annoying foliage.
Globally, things are getting rough as well. Fossil fuel industry expansion has led to rapid deforestation of the Amazon, for example, and with the massive fires there in 2019, the region produces more heat now than it removes. Forests are disappearing. The change is stark over the last few decades, as you can see on this Google Earth timelapse compilation.
I grieve when a community allows trees to die, but I am trained as a city planner. I get it. Sometimes, trees have to come down. It would make these decisions less stark and dangerous if a complementary policy required municipalities and other jurisdictions to replace those trees elsewhere. Trees are also good for public safety, and many studies have shown that the presence of vegetation and trees reduces certain types of crime.
But I rage when individual property owners kill trees on commonly held land, especially when they desecrate deeply environmentally sensitive land. This happened last week on the Mississippi River bluff in Memphis. It happened in early April in Arkansas. It happened in Santa Barbara last month. This wanton destruction of trees by wealthy unaccountable homeowners is a symptom of a society that simply does not honor trees as we should.
And so it’s up to the rest of us.
Working together for our common life, for that is the only way any one of us can survive.
Doing the hard work of change, for that is the only way we can forge a different path.
Planting trees side by side, for that is the only way the future has shade.
Honestly, I haven’t always celebrated Earth Day in such a joyous or communal way as is usually done. Oftentimes, I have chosen to be on my own with Creation, either on the banks of some body of water, or riding a train. I grew up on the Mississippi River, so water will always soothe my soul. But ride a train?
I am a member of the Southern diaspora, but do not appear so at first glance. Many people I know in Memphis work ceaselessly for justice and equity, and I love the meme that asks us to “Consider the South to be large communities of people of color and small resistance cells held hostage by fascist governments.” I am not alone in my belief that the American South is key to shifting how we live, to teaching us how to work together, to building the world we need to survive crisis and change.
July 4, 2020
We’ve recently passed the sixth anniversary of the Hobby Lobby decision, which has evolved as having marked anti-worker and anti-rights effects. It has codified as acceptable a deeply perverted stance of holding morality and purity thresholds as barriers to full employment benefits and healthcare. This is the sermon I preached immediately after the decision was announced in June of 2014. Because this was a preached sermon, the post is a little bit longer than usual.
From Citizen Christian: A Book of Sermons (2016), a collection of sermons I’d preached over the previous decade.
The Heresy of a Christian Nation
Original delivery: July 6, 2014, at First Baptist Church of Denver
Opening note: A few days before this Fourth of July holiday weekend, the U.S. Supreme Court released its decision that Hobby Lobby had a right to deny insurance coverage for certain types of medical care to its employees based on religious grounds. “Closely-held corporations” would be given the right to deny certain benefits to particular employees. This decision changed our legal landscape on many levels, and I am not a lawyer. But it also changed the moral landscape, and that very much is my realm.
The notion that America is a Christian nation is a bad historical interpretation of the facts of our country’s founding. The idea itself is unconstitutional; it also doesn’t hold up to biblical or theological scrutiny. I don’t know why Paul’s jeremiad against a dependence on the Law isn’t heeded by more Paul-quoting Christians.
The heresy of a Christian Nation stands against the Gospel of Jesus, and its message of liberation. I imagine here what an epistle to America could sound like now. This must be include allegiance to a different Kingdom, the Kingdom of God.
I tend to surprise people with my love for Paul. Paul is often misunderstood in who he was and what he was saying. Many churches seem to give their interpretations of Paul the weight of the Gospel. Sometimes I wonder whether these folks are following Christ or Paul, a question that would horrify Paul himself.
One of the things I love about Paul is how willing he is to let his humanity show. His letters are often full of confusion, pain, and struggle. Shortly after the passage we just heard in Romans, Paul encourages us with the knowledge that God’s Spirit dwells within us. But Paul also talks openly about our inner sin, our human capacity for evil and apathy, anger and judgment, as he does here. And through it all, Paul reminds us to lean on one another as we learn to turn toward God, as we are continually remade as Christians.
It’s easy to assume that Paul is talking to the individual Christian. So much of it sounds personal. I do this all of the time, taking guidance and inspiration from Paul’s words personally.
But nearly always, and certainly here, Paul is talking to communities, to the new church, to small groups struggling with how to live as a newly made people. The letter he wrote to the new Christians in Rome is different from his other letters because this was not a community he had founded, visited, or knew well at all. Some scholars surmise, in fact, that Romans is the most ‘essay-esque’ of the Pauline books, the least personal and most corporate.*1
Paul is speaking to a mixed community of new Christians. Some are Jews, some Gentiles, some Hebrew, some Greek, and always there is the foreign Other, as you find in any major city. And even 2,000 years ago, Rome was a significant urban space.
So out of these disparate backgrounds, what has bound them together as Romans? The law. Who you were as a Roman citizen, or as a resident alien, was codified, laid out, known, and understood. Jews, and still some Jewish Christians, had their own religious laws, but if they were Roman citizens, that was the shared law, ensuring the common good.
Rules abounded in the world of Paul’s context. Rome had its own law. Greek culture and Jewish culture had values, expectations, and rules. Keeping the law was how one lived both as a unique people and as a member of a pluralistic society.
What Paul isn’t saying is something simple like: The old way was sinful. Or: The secular world, or the worlds of previous faith systems, are bad or evil and have now been replaced by Jesus.
No. What Paul is saying in our passage today and throughout the letter to the Romans is that sin insidiously uses what is good and holy to its own selfish and perverting ends. Did you catch that in our reading?
Sin simply did what sin is so famous for doing: using the good as a cover to tempt me to do what would finally destroy me. (Romans 7:13)
And that’s what I kept finding myself saying in myriad ways this week in hundreds of conversations, both face-to-face and throughout social media. Today, being Christian means using secular and civic law as a weapon, as a means of control. It is now deemed legal to punish employees if their behavior is not within an arbitrary set of religious rules. Our common and civic law itself should be used to ensure a public good, but it is instead providing the means to harm and control others.
This is not new, of course. Our own Baptist forefather Roger Williams was expelled from Massachusetts in the 17th century because he would not conform to the laws requiring a puritanical Christianity. Williams believed that his faith required him to nurture a place where not only could he worship in his Baptist ways, but also where others could meet God how they would or would not. Freedom of religion. Freedom of worship.
Paul obviously thought it important to emphasize the point about our relationship with the law being a breeding ground for sin. He brings it up again and again in various ways, and I believe it’s a needed message for our churches today.
What might a new epistle to the Christians of America say? It might say that the law has created space for sin to eat away at our identity as followers of Christ. It has become a wedge into our hearts so that sin slips in and flourishes. Self-righteousness, judgment, anger, exclusion, revenge, punishment, and greed pass as Christian action in this, our sin-sick soul.
The community behavior that stands against the reign of God, the fruitful soil for sin here is the notion that America is a Christian nation.
Oh, how I wish we acted as Christian nation in our civic policies. The U.S. Constitution states that we will have no establishment of a national religion. But what if we took that notion of Christian nationhood seriously as an ethical guide? What if we determined that for those of us who call ourselves Christians, we would behave as though this were a Christian nation?
We would have treated the native peoples we found when we arrived with respect and honor, and we would continually be moving to honor treaties forged with tribal leaders. We would never have enslaved fellow human beings to fuel our national appetites and growth, and we would reconcile this horror in all ways possible. We would feed all of the hungry without exception. Prisons, if needed at all, would be places of reconciliation and healing.
No one would go without safety and shelter. All would be fed in the many ways that we are starving.
Clearly, we fall short of this Gospel call. We also fall short of any Hebrew traditions of debt forgiveness, caring for the stranger, the alien, the widow and orphan. So banish any belief that we as American people adhere to broad Judeo-Christian ethics.
A nation based on Judeo-Christian ethics seems like a pretty good idea. I mean, even Jesus said that He has sheep we know nothing about (John 10:16) so I guess this Christian nation would need to be religiously tolerant, as well.
Seems like a great idea. To a point.
As Paul would say, it’s not following the law that is the root of sin. It’s when the law enables sinful actions that we must repent and turn back toward God. We’re in trouble when adhering to any law or set of rules becomes more important than acting out of love. The law itself is not the problem. It’s what we let the law do to our hearts that nurtures sin.
I used to consider Hobby Lobby to be an ethical option if I needed craft supplies and the overtly gay-friendly Michael’s was closed or not nearby. Hobby Lobby may close on Sundays, taking a corporate Christian Sabbath, but it was at least unofficial policy that any Jewish employees could be exempt from Saturday shifts. We all need more Sabbath time in our lives, and to me that policy felt like a healthy manifestation of faith lived out in a corporate way. Hobby Lobby paid its employees a living wage and offered a generous benefits package. This kind of just labor practice is another way our faith can reach into the public sphere.
But when the law is used as a weapon to exclude and to name people in or out of anyone’s definition of Christian righteousness, law has become an idol and a tool of sin. Christians who work for any of the other recent court plaintiffs or ANY business or organization and who want to follow their own version of Christian law and righteousness should feel free to do so. Yet while technically now legal via Supreme Court decision, threatening or harming another person in the name of that freedom is wrong.
I might disagree with their biblical interpretations of those who don’t want to pay for select medical treatment or procedures, and probably do, but I know we all reach God in different ways. But this recent debacle in our common civic life is a timely example of what Paul called sin doing what sin does, using the good to do its own destructive mischief.
Examples of sin hiding within the law are all around us. For example, it seems perfectly righteous to deny services to those who do not pay for them – in the eyes of the law, anyway. But when hundreds of impoverished households in one of the most economically depressed cities in our country have had their water shut off, as is happening this very moment in Detroit, we have strayed far from the core of our call as Christians. When children fleeing violence and persecution in their native countries are corralled and jailed like livestock, we have strayed far.
Christ is the only remedy for this, Paul would say. Something new now binds us as a people, something new guides our hearts and our actions. Paul would remind us that this struggle for Christian identity is ongoing.
We so desperately want the law to save us. We so desperately want to do what is right and to have a set list of behaviors to follow in order to be aligned with God. But when this struggle is our overwhelming goal and mission, we have been misled.
A new letter to the Christians of America would assert that many of us are doing the wrong work in an attempt to fulfill what we believe is God’s law. Our real work is to live out Christ’s commandments to love God and one another with all that we are. Our real work is to throw open our arms and our doors and our hearts in celebration of the abundance around us, in gratitude for the example of Christ’s faith and devotion to this deeper law.
This is much more difficult than following set rules, than being led by law. Christ knows that’s true. Paul knows that’s true. You and I know that’s true.
Let us pray.
1) Joseph A. Fitzmyer S.J., Romans: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, vol. 33, Anchor Yale Bible (New Haven; London: Yale University Press, 2008), 77.
This year is the 50th anniversary of Earth Day, now a global marking of our common planet Earth. Earth Day started as a response to an oil spill off the California coast in 1969. The following Spring, the first Earth Day was ‘celebrated’ on April 22nd as a National holiday in the United States. According to Wikipedia, 193 countries now regularly honor Earth Day in some way. Many credit the institution of Earth Day itself as the beginning of our contemporary environmental movement.
I set aside the word ‘celebrated’ in my description of the first Earth Day because our usual images of a big festival leave out a huge part of the reality for Earth Day #1: these were protests and disruptions, as much as anything else. The Santa Barbara oil spill was really bad and Americans were angry. Labor was involved, and teach-ins and nonviolent direct action were part of the program across the country, but especially on college campuses. These things are a foundational, fundamental part of the landscape for Earth Day in America.
Like many social justice movements of the 60s and 70s, faith leaders were front and present in the environmental justice fights as well as in others. And like much of the religious voice in public policy, this presence was co-opted in the 1980’s by the “Religious Right” and “Moral Majority” constructs. The Judeo-Christian understanding of a Stewardship or Caretaking ethic in Genesis was replaced by pure Dominion theology, that is, humanity rules all created things in the name of God. Science and faith drifted further apart in our common rhetoric and public conversations.
A “Secular Festival” like Earth Day affords new opportunities for action and movement by people of faith, no matter how that is defined. Earth Day provides a unique intersection of community-action, public policy, adoration and celebration of Creation, education and activities, and solemnity. Those of us immersed in ritual and engaged in thoughtful questions of meaning have a place at this crossroads.
The big picture of EARTH DAY has its pitfalls. A glaring example is the frequent use of Earth Day to engage in what is called “GreenWashing” -either economic or policy based actions. GreenWashing is the practice of pretending to an ecological effort, or the temporary or contingent support of a Green initiative or the presentation of an environmentally sensitive policy, candidate or initiative that is in fact neutral or even detrimental. The first Bush White House famously did this on the 20th anniversary of Earth Day in 1990 by publicly saying all the right things to portray participation in Earth Day while quietly circulating counter points to undermine each effort.
This year, Earth Day is stripped of its political theatre, no speeches, no parades. Those of us who mark it, honor it, face an Earth different than anyone on 49 prior Earth Days has faced. And we do it alone, or with a small group. Perhaps we are among the essential workforce, and blessings be upon you if so, but even they will not march in any upcoming parades. We are all faced head-on with the impact of our individual choices. Our staying home, or our not being able to -it all matters in the life of this disease. Every choice. Each mask and washed hand.
We who do environmental work believe that individual and small community behavior will significantly drive the changes necessary to avert climate apocalypse. And we are seeing right now how very real it is that every choice and small action -or inaction - has great potential effect.
What could it also mean for us to lean fully into an Earth Day we choose, especially as people of faith? An annual renewal of vows to protect Earth and all beings? Adoption of new personal disciplines that serve rather than exploit Creation? Earth Day has become by necessity a more personal observance this year, and this can be a great gift.
May it be so for another 50 years.
This has been a frightening week in America.
Now, that’s a loaded statement, I know. It has been a frightening week in America many times. And it is often a frightening week in America for those among us. It may frequently be for you.
But for the first time since 9/11, we are having a collective experience that will change us forever. Many more people will die in the next month than died on that day. And the numbers could be staggering if we do not radically change every one of our patterns, our regular day-to-day activities, right now.
Right. Now.
And that is scary enough. Can I really remember to not touch my face? It seems not. I am apparently enslaved by my itchy eyeballs, buzzy ears, and dry lips. But I am determined to change this behavior. Can I really not see my loved ones? I must not. Can you really wash your hands that much? As long as you have soap, get to it. Can we all truly just stay home? We must end the cycles of transmission and extreme isolation is the best way to do that. The final step is quarantine so just do it now by choice. Stay. Home. Self-quarantine, people.
I’ve been calling it quasi-quarantine. Until this week, when I plan to stay home altogether, I and my spouse have gone out some to grocery shop, and I have seen my best friend and a few others. We began household changes of “home-only-clothes” and no shoes inside 2 weeks ago. And now we plan to hunker down.
But I know many of us also carry the looming doubts about our inaction. How am I going to pay rent? Or that damn phone bill? Did I get homebound soon enough? Did we wait too long? Who chooses what media we’re absorbing, whose fear and projections wash over it all, which interpretations should reign? Does any of it even matter if so many other people are endangering others at each moment?
Yes. Yes, it does. Every single choice matters right now and yet it is also true that there is no precisely right way to do this. There are things we must all be aware of, yes, but we are each going to develop our own patterns as we live into this time. Every child is experiencing this –there’s no need to worry yours will fall behind, even if tests are missed and trips untaken. Every workplace is affected –somehow, we will make decisions that bring reconciliation, even if all business will not survive.
And like climate change, whether someone believes a global pandemic is happening or not, it is. Which brings to bear a much greater burden on those of us who are aware. We must stay put. Stay home. Isolate and quarantine. Clean and sanitize. If you have the resources to do this, you must.
On our own so much, the fear, anxiety, and boredom can be overwhelming. Well, I’m a GenXer. We’re never bored. But the rest of you… We can begin to feel alone and small, or manic and panicked. But we are not alone. In fact, we are all here in some way.
And that is the truth: We are connected in the midst of this. Some in fear, yes. But also in generative, connective ways.
Connective action –and inaction- is the key.
At some point, this connective action must begin with the internal. Even if we’re isolated with family, there will be solitude. There will be silence. There will be time to count breaths, to listen to heartbeats. Sometimes, I don’t know myself well or see myself clearly, and I could spend more time being with me. We are also deeply connected to each other at this ground level of being. And to Creation, to Earth and all beings. To find this rhythm, to rest on that ground, requires a radical connective inaction of simply being still.
And yes, this time is opening up all sorts of new ways to connect externally. Begin with reaching out to your separated family and friends. Are you part of a church or social group? Send an email or message. Just check in. There are also Mutual Aid systems developing everywhere, communities of assistance and help in response to need. Many of these require that you have an internet connection or a presence in any of the social media platforms to at least find out about them. (And I mean any platform. Mutual Aid groups are forming and posting across the country on Instagram, Pinterest, FaceBook, Twitter, Meet-up.)
Any and all of the ways that we have developed to connect online are being used in this way. Searches might include keywords “COVID19, Your region or city, Help, Assistance, Mutual Aid, Resources” or could be hosted by non-profits or Houses of Worship. Several municipal jurisdictions have coordinated volunteers as well. If you cannot find anything in your area, please send us a message on our contact us page.
If you don’t have a solid internet connection or any social media presence and are not sure of anything to do, may I suggest notes and letters? Of course to friends and family but also consider writing to soldiers and prisoners. They always need mail, and real connections can be made. At the very least, these who are so often alone and isolated will be reminded that they are in fact not.
I am not suggesting that you find a bundle of good works to do or that you establish a new set of personal spiritual disciplines. What I am suggesting is that you reach.
I ask you reach in, and connect with yourself, with God if that’s your bag, with your family if they are with you. You don’t need a revelation, or to find any state of mind. But we are all human beings who have always needed to settle into what that means.
I ask you to reach out in some way. You don’t have to fix anything. But pick up the phone and call a distant family member. Text your friends. Maybe end up cutting old curtains into mask patterns or running errands for the elderly –who knows? Please know that you aren’t the only one unsure what to say, or even if your overture will be wanted, or enough. It will be. You are. And you will.
Be well. Be at peace.
Breathe and be still.
Many among all of us live in fear daily. Generally. All the time, not just when we are on lock-down due to global pandemic protocols. The undocumented fear ICE. The beaten spouse fears date night. Women walking alone at night fear rape. The young black scholar fears trigger happy police. And those with acute climate awareness fear the coming crisis.
For those of us deeply immersed in the environmental worlds, we fear in part this we are experiencing right now -global pandemics, as they are a known part of a predictable climate apocalypse. But we also fear many things, or if we do not actively FEAR them, for that is part of this whole issue itself, we do know they are coming. We have acknowledged the fear along with its cousins despair and grief and integrated them into our world views. Hopefully. And I do mean both that I hope many of us have been able to do that integration itself, and that we have done so with hope.
Fear can be a good thing, as a sign and a signal for action. Fear can also lead quickly to very bad things, of course. We see those things easily. Fear is the rationale for far too many dangerous, violent, and divisive actions. But fear can also be the only alert to true danger. It can be an alarm, although it’s never a place to stay, with its constant bells and lights and their never-ending stimulus assaults. Neither fear nor anger is grounds on which permanent action can stand, although they have been the catalysts for much.
The fear to look out for is the creeping fear, that which is backbone of so many thrillers and horror stories. Creeping fear gains power when it is not faced. And some of our creeping fears are smacking us upside the head at the moment. For instance, many of us have long had a creeping fear that the integrity of news outlets had become too compromised by financial ties. When that creeping fear intersects with the worry that vetting be impossible and fact-checking a doomed endeavor, who the hell do you turn to in a global crisis?
Yes. Creeping fear is what feeds our uncertainty, what makes the air feel eerie as our cities slowly shut down. And thankfully, it is this kind of creeping fear that is combated effectively by what is most needed right now. Individual action (or in this case radical inaction) coupled with extreme mutual aid and assistance will transform this pandemic crisis.
This is a time when individual action has great community impact. Right now, the actions of each person will affect the whole in very tangible ways. We will be able to see it nationally when the virus runs its course, in colorful maps with real data. Where people flattened the curve and where they didn’t. Where deaths were in the hundreds and where they were in the thousands. Where systems of aid and support developed and where they didn’t. But those are the aggregate effects of each person, and much more easily seen.
I’ve never seen a more direct example of the small affecting the large as this right here. Many of us believe that we must embody the changes, the attitudes, the perceptions that we want to see in the world –we are the agents of change. In my Christian language, I am acting as the hands and feet of God and what I bind and name here in that work has deep and real impact.
The fear is real, because the danger is. But the hope is very real, too. The external mimics the internal, the outer world reflects the inner. The small things each one of us does or does not do can be felt around the world. And as we have all had stabs and waves of fear, if we’re honest, we can also be open to this hope. That we will shift. That we can change. For we must. But for now…
Be still. Breathe. Be grateful.
Last week I wrote a little bit about the political scene where I live, about the interesting coalitions and fluid communities of those affecting change in their worlds. The post wasn’t mostly about that, just a wee bit, but I have been thinking deeply about it since. In light of the current Presidential race, I have also been musing on deep entrenchments, on divides that seem insurmountable, and whose interests are really served by these systems. I’ve been pondering the damage of purity tests and conformity covenants and how they are affecting our political discourse, our search for a common civic life.
I live near the state Capitol and we have a part time legislature here in Colorado. The lawmakers are only in session from early January to early May. So a lot needs to occur quickly while it’s all happening concurrently. This timing makes the Fall an interesting period of coalition building and information gathering. The flurry they are immersed in now is palpable in my neighborhood; the atmospheric political speech isn’t all NOV2020. Or even mostly.
I took a sabbatical in January, and am just now back to work full time. I have been catching up of what’s going on and noting where the quiet and effective work is being done. I have been eyeing the committee schedule for likely testimony opportunities, and reflecting back on my impressions and insights from previous years’ experience. That’s mostly what is in the last blog post, Part I.
Now, remember that unusual coalition building I keep mentioning? If you’ve not read other posts of mine, I have been struggling with how to describe the Tables and Coalitions that function here. The work is slow and deliberate and difficult and can be frustrating, especially from the outside. It requires putting aside one’s agenda for the whole at times, and paradoxically also requires full participation from one’s own point of view to function.
One of the most effective techniques to stop, slow, or manipulate change is to set factions against each other. The last 40 years of environmental policy throughout this country has been a primary battleground for this kind of conflict manipulation. Labor fights for jobs over owl habitats as farmers fight for their water rights over those of trout and Green interests sacrifice the daily concerns of the vulnerable populations on the ground for a bigger picture all time, or at least it can all be framed that way. Or Industry props up Labor as an obstruction to progress as Agribusiness sucks our rivers dry and fears over the end of the month are engulfed by fear for the end of the world, or at least it can all be framed that way.
Adversarial. Combative. Us vs Them.
Without real relationships, or at least open and authentic exchange providing counterweight to all the conflict, entrenchments get deeper and assumptions run wild. What is possible is constrained and money (economic development) will nearly always win the day. But with real relationships, deep listening, faithful solidarity, and a common purpose based in respect, what is possible is opened up and other values become priorities. New leadership emerges, voices from marginalized and vulnerable communities guide the conversation, and policy itself shifts.
For several years, a group of unusual allies has met around the issue of how Colorado will move forward in addressing the pending Climate Crisis. Environmental groups, community groups, representatives from Labor, and faith-based communities gathered to learn from each other, listen, create community and move forward together. This group has focused on the Just Transition of workers from industries based in or supported by Oil and Gas and many of its original members now serve on a statewide Advisory Council whose concerns include the Colorado Office of Just Transition.
New to Colorado, and indeed unique in the entire country, is the Office of Just Transition, founded out of the 2019 legislative work. A Director for the Office has just been named, and a general operating budget was appropriated. Housed under the Department of Labor and Employment, this statewide Office will facilitate the movement of coal industry employees out of that world through the distribution of benefits such as pensions and insurance and grants for education or new initiatives. In time, the Office of Just Transition will expand to assist the workers of more oil and gas sectors, and indeed may aid the workforce of subsidiary and supporting industries like agriculture and logistics.
This is the right thing to do for many reasons. From a practical standpoint regarding what I learned from statehouse testimony and speeches (see Part I), this kind of action undercuts the exploitation of people and resources by the oil and gas industry. From a practical standpoint in real progress to create a more sustainable world for all, this type of intervention provides common goals and shared work across sectors. It primes us for the tasks ahead, both the great and majestic works and the small important actions through which we must rebuild how we live. This will be –is– hard and slow, frustrating and empowering, accommodating and steadfast work.
The only way forward is together, for the common liberation and health of all.
Last week I wrote a little bit about the political scene where I live, about the interesting coalitions and fluid communities of those affecting change in their worlds. The post wasn’t mostly about that, just a wee bit, but I have been thinking deeply about it since. In light of the current Presidential race, I have also been musing on deep entrenchments, on divides that seem insurmountable, and whose interests are really served by these systems. I’ve been pondering the damage of purity tests and conformity covenants and how they are affecting our political discourse, our search for a common civic life.
I live near the state Capitol and we have a part time legislature here in Colorado. The lawmakers are only in session from early January to early May. So a lot needs to occur quickly while it’s all happening concurrently. This timing makes the Fall an interesting period of coalition building and information gathering. The flurry they are immersed in now is palpable in my neighborhood; the atmospheric political speech isn’t all NOV2020. Or even mostly.
I took a sabbatical in January, and am not yet back to work full time. I have been catching up of what’s going on with the crafting of laws and the volleying of influence, and noting where the quiet and effective work is being done. I have been eyeing the committee schedule for likely testimony opportunities, and reflecting back on my impressions and insights from previous years’ experience.
I am feeling grateful for testimony from those on the opposing side from me. Generally, I have been for things, and these other folks against them. Occasionally that is reversed. Regardless, it is from these opposing witnesses, from those folks begging the legislature to keep the status quo just a little bit longer, that I learn the most.
It was from them that I learned farmers lease their water rights to oil and gas interests in order to pay their mortgages, thus remaining farmers. No one else is offering. It was from them that I learned the fossil fuel industry has fed its workforce a diet of persecution stories and anger sprinkled liberally through with denial. I learned that this denial isn’t real, and fear and anxiety crept into most testimonials. It was nearly tangible. It was from them that I learned they already know their industry is dying, and that some of them are fine with that, but that they are all uncertain what the future holds.
And it was from them that I learned about the vast diversity of industries and workforces that anticipate major shifts in their near futures due to both climate change in fact and climate regulation in action. Coalition members, testimony givers, and lobbyists all shared some knowledge that change is imminent, and represented a broad spectrum: railroad unions and trucking interests, farmers and ranchers, faith-based organizations, and indigenous and native communities were all speaking out in new ways.
One of the unmentioned truths of life in Colorado is that we are an oil and gas state, regardless of the image we like project of being environmentally aware. Significant changes to the fossil fuel industry WILL ripple impacts throughout the state. That is no hyperbole. Truckers who haul gas, rail workers moving coal, field workers tending pipelines and wells –all will experience loss as their jobs disappear. Entire towns’ economies will falter if dependent on oil and gas for survival. But all of it WILL disappear –all these jobs will shift by necessity. As well they must, for our (ab)use of fossil fuels is why the world is on fire.
The oil and gas industry likes to say that they built the Denver skyline. And in part, that is true. But thousands were displaced by this development. The oil and gas industry likes to say it employs a significant part of the state’s workforce, but these are the men who die in refinery fires and the women who daily breathe toxic fumes in extraction fields. And yet… even the oil and gas industry is a part of the picture. I am planning on at least a couple of these companies to be around to clean up the messes and manage the ongoing waste issues. As we move towards hemp fuel and plastics, wind and solar power generation, and geothermal heating –all possible here as WELL as the fossil based production –everything will change.
As things have been going, the backlash against these changes could be huge, the propaganda virulent and fear based, the divisions fed by those who intend to fight the movement towards fossil independence. We intend to change how we power our lives, for what we have been doing is toxic, unsustainable, exploitative and has in truth only benefited few. Fossil fuel industry subsidies and profits reveal a picture I won’t paint here, but one I find obscene. We intend to be a place of generative, sustainable work, a region that builds industries to support Earth and all beings.
By deeply listening to each other, we learn. We grow. We adapt. By being present and remaining around the table, by building bigger and different tables, more are heard. HOW to do that? And where is this working? Happening now? My initial responses to those questions are for next week. Tune in. The answers are intimately entangled with the building of these tables, with the coalitions and alliances.
Community is a word I've heard often. It's a word I embrace as theological, spiritual, and political. I was mostly raised in smaller congregations of less than 75 people. Church often included Sunday mornings, Wednesday evenings, music rehearsals, and then plenty of potlucks and play dates throughout the year. As a young adult I started my search for the "perfect" church. Often that was simply boiled down to theology. I thoroughly enjoyed college classes, and being part of four different churches into my twenties that each had their own theological identity and sense of community. However, in my 30's it's been harder to get the sense of community that I long for.
For most of my adult years starting in college, I belonged to (liberal) Mennonite churches in Kansas, Oregon and Denver. I was drawn to their commitment to social justice and a Jesus-centered understanding of the Bible. As a pastor, I enjoyed the camaraderie I felt with other youth pastors, and clergy in general. But as I worked in an urban setting for 7 years, I became a bit disillusioned with the word "community." To be clear, I do not think this is a Mennonite shortcoming, nor a shortcoming of the congregation that employed me. I think it is a growing conversation with most congregations and denominations, even if they proclaim community as a priority.
Simply put, it can be challenging for some people to feel the depth of community and belonging they seek. Too often in my one congregation, I heard stories of long-time congregants (over 10 years at one church) feeling a lack of community, or that community was disappearing. I spent much of my last three years in that church trying to put my finger on the causes and answers to the community question.
One of the hardest things to do is to answer a question with a singular answer. Here's a list of singular answers I've heard, and probably even believed at one point along the way:
People don't care anymore. This is sometimes as specific as the young people don't care about community as much as we do.
People are lazy, usually in reference to Sunday morning attendance and/or volunteer opportunities.
We need to recapture what I had growing up. This usually indicates some time before the year 2000.
People have more money, so they're traveling too much to build community.
People have more options now, so they're skiing, camping, etc.
Families care more about sports than they do community.
If you want it/community bad enough, you'll make changes to "show up".
The preaching/music/Sunday School isn't good enough to bring people back every week
I'm torn writing this post, because I probably agree AND disagree with a part of each of these statements. As paid staff/clergy, I was also told that a pastor was THE determining factor, and each church needed to find the "perfect" pastor in order to build and maintain community (8). The truth of the matter is, all of these have a bit of truth. It takes a bit of work to define community. If nothing else, I am certain that people in the same church have different definitions of community.
Not-caring (1) Some people don't care anymore, and the "young" people are included. But I don't think this stems from ill-will. I think it stems from changing expectations. I know people who long for community around conversation instead of liturgy. Who long for community around activities that take place beyond a church building. (And this includes some of the "older" people too!)
Laziness (2) People are lazy. But I don't think it stems from laziness as a bad word, but from the work ethic of long hours, let alone parenting that often includes hours of activities beyond school and church. When church maintains and community identity of work, some people are looking for a respit from work, and a church life that is a healthy piece of their lifestyle. Some people need a church with limited/specific volunteering. Some people need a more casual and slow approach to church. Others need a bit more "play," amidst church cultures that often feel more like work.
Nostalgia (3) People are nostalgic, and many long to recapture "the good old days" (I got used to saying, "Make Church Great Again"). Just as some people long for the USA of the 50s, the same can be for church before 2000. But many of those same people enjoy what is fracturing community - automobiles, internet, wifi, increased discretionary spending, etc. Would we give up the advances we enjoy, for the old style of community?
Choice & Options (4-5) People are traveling and taking advantage of other options. Whether it's retired people taking long breaks from church to travel out of the country, or adults and families taking day or weekend trips to rest and play. Some people simply enjoy sleeping in, spending time with neighbors (who are not part of their church), and enjoying the houses that have grown in size over the past century.
Another reality, is the economic privilege of having Sundays away from work. There are many jobs that require a Sunday morning workforce - one of which is the restaurants where many of our neighbors, youth, and young adults work. While some people are traveling, many do not have the time nor money to travel - an economic question the church of Sunday mornings has done little to address.
Sports (6) Sports and other activities also get a bad reputation in some circles, as they take more of the weekends and evenings that used to be designated for churches. However, it has also been a way to integrate and build community! People might look different, vote different, and believe different - but they can still wear the same jersey and play the same sport. I'm not sure these relationships will help you through life's hardships as church have done throughout time, but they do offer community that churches still struggle to build.
Desire vs Access (7) People may not want the "old" style of community as much. It's not necessarily a question of good or bad, but it does represent a change in culture. Churches are still overwhelming segregated. Sports offer opportunities to integrate, and in Denver I see more diversity in my childrens' activities than I ever do at the churches we've visited and been part of. Sports can still segregate, but I think their percentages are still far better than churches. Churches are also becoming less multi-generational, while sports and activities are often at least as intergenerational, if not more so. Finally, sports and activities bridge the religion gaps. Atheists, Jews, Muslims, and Christians are with my children on a weekly basis - to be part of a multi-faith country and community, I thoroughly enjoy the community of parents I spend time with each week.
So where does this leave church and my search for community? To be honest, I'm still figuring it out. But at the very least, I am willing to admit that community is changing, and that the church is no longer the epi-center for community that it used to be for people. It might still be quite important for identity, major moments in life, and a certain kind of community. But the 21st century is showing that church does not have the capacity to build the beloved community that is truly diverse and integrated.
For now, my family is content building relationships beyond one congregation, and realizing that our neighbors and teammates are providing the community that feels good and healthy right now. It's hard, and comes after a decade of slowly grieving the community I grew up with. But I can't see myself ever going back after experiencing the beloved community offered by those who believe and look different than I do.
I have been doing community development work and political advocacy all my adult life. I have advanced degrees in the topics, and have lived and worked in several American cities. But I have settled in Denver, CO, and notice some trends here that amplify an issue I’ve been mulling for a while, the heresy of alignment.
Where I live is an unusual place, socio-politically. Very different types of coalitions and tables exist here. Alliances shift and new circles are drawn. Some councils and such have expectations of permanency or requirements of confidentiality, but these are fewer in number than I’ve encountered in other places. Essentially, I have found it to be a place where if you can show up in any of a variety of ways, it’s noticed and appreciated. Showing up matters, actions speak, and first impressions are regularly adapted. It’s possible that these characteristics be appropriately claimed for more of the state as well; I suspect this to be true. I just don’t know yet for sure. #ComingSoon.
But one of the as of yet unchallenged realities of political life here can be a dizzying array of authenticity tests and purity warrants. These proscriptions are especially strong in the social media realms. I think one reason coalitions and communities are formed here more easily than in other places is that schism is also a matter of course.
We know that a significant obstacle to quality broad conversation in current American culture is our siloing, our thought-segregation, our echo chambers. A major engine of this inward movement is our desire to find for others who think like us, and who agree with our basic sense of ethics. There’s nothing wrong with this, not really. But alone, it’s dangerous. Drawn lines -which may or may not ever be put aside- are often present but invisible and unspoken until transgressed. Sometimes, a desire for conformity and alignment supersedes the need to act.
Even the “search for common ground” can become fuel for growing and nurturing only like minded conversations when common belief dominates common action in whom we ask to the next table, in who is deemed worthy. Our larger works would benefit if we sought out differentiation among stakeholders, if this were an ethic for all collaborative work, if we formed coalitions with a high value on difference instead of an insistence on alignment. What if we sought out varying assets, skills, mindsets in an attempt to build something new from the intersections of where these things meet?
It’s not that finding like-minded allies is a bad thing. In fact, doing this is necessary for any movement or endeavor. We each need peers and colleagues and our organizations and programs need a wider community. But even within a themed or wholly aligned circle, different bodies do different things, have varying specialities and opinions. Clearly, there is no collaboration where all parties can have completely the same function, nor any group of people wherein all members believe precisely the same thing.
We also seek like-minded groups because they make us more comfortable. And again, nothing wrong with comfort in and of itself -we all need it at times. Yet an underlying tension to comfortableness as a goal is always the reality that growth, development, and change only happen when we are at least slightly uncomfortable, where there is conflict of some kind.
We also seek ‘alignment’ when at some level, we honestly believe we know best, have the best solutions, or the most appropriate resources. When we believe these things, we confuse understanding with agreement. When alignment or agreement are not immediately forthcoming, we reiterate our facts (or process, or model, or rationale) again and again, ensuring even further the inability to hear each other. There is also a fundamentally toxic miasma of paternalism, colonialism, privilege, and hubris enshrouding arguments for alignment. It takes a certain amount of arrogance to assume YOU are the one with whom others must align.
It is also incredibly frustrating to be the one who believes you yourself have failed to communicate well or thoroughly or in just the right way. This is happens easily when agreement from others is your goal. Understanding is deeper, requires acceptance, and doesn’t always lead to consensus. You can truly understand a thing you don’t agree with, and may never align with. On the basis of understanding and acceptance can come respect, and an increased capacity for common work.
Behaving like any heresy, alignment taken too far perverts the concepts of solidarity themselves. If the betrayal of an idea -a heresy- be, as my first spiritual director proposed, simply a good idea taken too far, I would agree and add an important second. Presence of perversion. I know a heresy for truly dangerous when this twisting of a core concept or tenet happens. The search for alignment is pushing all my buttons pressed by other deadly heretics of our age: Joel Osteen and the Heresy of the Prosperity Gospel, Franklin Graham and the Heresy of Male Exceptionalism. We know them, these figures who preach such abominations. I don’t have a primary heretic on whom to hang this obsession with alignment.
Instead of establishing impossible vows of alignment, we must establish undeniable areas of common good, common work, and common appreciation. A friend recently told me a story of playing in a long established orchestra in the only urban area within a large consevative section of the state. These musicians have been playing together for decades, and know each other well. They are also all over the political and religious spectrum -Trump voters, Green party advocates, the apolitical, churchgoers, and atheists all sharing scores, rehearsing and performing. These orchestra players have done the common work of showing up and making something transformative and generative. They are aligned only by purpose and intent and not belief or opinion. They make music.
We undermine the Heresy of Alignment by leaning into a theology of difference, a celebration of the wild diversity of Creation. We must adopt those unlike us into our ranks, seek out divergent models that overlap ours but aren’t contiguous, find entities and voices far too long left out or dismissed. We must put aside the seduction of being “right” or “better” in any competition and instead focus on what can be built. This does not mean abandoning any principles of justice or discernment. Not everyone will be able to be a part of every collaboration; not every entity can sit down with every other. Sometimes, the divide might be too wide, damage done too deep. Not only is this alright but it is to be honored and heeded.
But like any orchestra, we all have voice, and we can never really tell how our voices will blend with an instrument completely foreign to our usual repertoire. The Heresy of Alignment crowds out the difficult and uncomfortable, and sabotages the deep and sustainable change our world requires.
This is Part 4 in a series on change within a congregation. The focus is continued from Part 3 and hones in on power brokers. As previously discussed, power brokers can provide blind spots for official leaders. Unclear and open-ended mission statements can enable power brokers. Also, even long-time members can be unaware of power brokers and their influence. This post will specifically discuss the challenge and opportunity that power brokers present.
I try to be grateful for my Christian privilege, grateful that I have mostly had my high holy days, my feasts, off of work, for example. If I have a last minute present to get, the giving of gifts on 12/25 being normal in most Christian traditions, the likelihood of finding an open store is high, of finding an appropriate card, certain and of shipping it in time, decent.
One of the clearest stories I have is of an official leader, that is in an elected position, who had been part of the congregation for over 15 years. Yet when he was part of making a decision that he had been tasked with, a power broker at that church, a community elder, asked him why they were not included in the decision. The official leader was shocked - there was nothing specific for checking in with this “power broker.”
In this time, I have discovered lines and boundaries in my life that I could not cross, much to my surprise. I have found that things I have always believed about myself are utterly false. I have re-written parts of my personal narrative, pieces of my childhood and memory, that had seemed insurmountable in their pain, helpless searches for redemption now settled and grounded. Ties have been broken and re-forged, a new structure slowly building from deconstruction.
I haven't written anything publicly for the last few months. I started back at school last semester and haven't had the time or head space that I thought I might. But out of this has come many good things and perhaps for the first time, I am enjoying school.
This poem is from the first day of my first english class last semester. The professor stood at the front of class and gave us all a Langston Hughes poem. She told us to write our own page in response. This is my response to “Theme for English B” by Langston Hughes.
Inexplicable Irrational Honesty
You said
“Read this poem and write a page of your own”
Is it really that simple?
Is this a trap?
I guess I’ll tell you I was born in Denver, schooled here after a fashion
I guess I don't need to tell you I’m a white man
I've never been the only white man in my class
I've always blended right in
Maybe I shouldn’t tell you that I’ve dropped out of every school I’ve been in since 2008
Maybe I shouldn't pull back that curtain
Yet I sit here in front of you with only a middle school graduation to my name
Would you have guessed?
Could you tell?
Did something give me away?
The truth is blending in has been its own trap
Truth is I've never been the “average white guy” I try so hard to affect
Truth is I’m white trash with a polished suburban facade
Truth is I feel like “my people” will turn on me the second they see me for what I am
I can’t reveal myself I might lose what privilege it affords me
You’re a black woman and please know this is not writing for your sympathy or as an attack
I can't help but reveal myself in this writing
Will this be enough?
Will you read and reject this?
Will my words fail me in this attempt?
As the author mused
Will my page be white that I write
I don't see how it couldn't be
But will it also not be somehow?
If I’m honest will I not be white enough somehow?
Will it somehow let slip that i'm not what i'm supposed to be?
That I’ve been pretending this hole time
What would that even mean
What would I do next
Inexplicable irrational fear
Is this why my “people” haven’t stopped
Haven’t looked
Haven’t learned
Do we all feel this?
Does that even matter?
I have no answers only questions
I can feel my strength running into this page
My anger and my fear
But I can also feel this page sapping my will to write it
Even I can only face this truth for two pages
Even now I feel the fire leaving
Being drowned in shame and sadness
Why am I so afraid to reveal myself on this page?
If I reveal myself will I lose the security of being just another white guy?
No that is afforded me by the skin I inhabit
And the violence of my “people” before me
If I’m not honest on this page will I ever be more?
What more is there I can be?
Where will I stand after honesty?
Will it even matter?
It's too late now I've already done it
This trap is my life lived and the lives of others
The world that offers to make me free at your expense
That protects me if I blend in
That would divide me from you
Truth is the trap that I feel so bound by is just a shadow
Of the same system that has bound you who I am “so better than”
This is the second part of a series on change in church. While change can happen in many ways for many reasons, this blog series focuses on the relationships in churches, and especially the power dynamics that are often unseen, unknown and/or unrecognized. Again, there are many resources that point to these dynamics, but unfortunately too few of the “people in the pew” have the time to read and engage them.
I truly believe that one of the keys to creating lasting and healthy change in a congregation is acknowledging the power brokers in the congregation. They are NOT necessarily the pastor, paid staff, and board/elders/deacons/council (or whatever other name for the leadership group a congregation may have). All too often, these official roles are believed to have power and authority to make decisions in the best interests of the group/congregation, and specifically to fulfill the specified mission of the group/congregation.
However, churches are notorious for having beautifully written mission statements that are a bit removed from the actual actions of the church. If nothing else I think of all the church signs that read “all are welcome.” I think there needs to be a disclaimer next to that statement. In my snarkier mood it should read something like: “all are welcome to come inside the sanctuary 9am-noon, give as much money to church as you want, and to believe and act like the majority of this group.” If you don’t look like us, act like us, show up at other times, and forget to give money, you are less welcome. If you are LGBTQ inclusive, you will not be welcome in most conversative churches. If you do not believe women should be pastors, you will not be welcome in most liberal churches.
The mission statement is often filled with wonderful words and theology, but I do not think many of them are accurately describe the actions of the congregation. I appreciate the humility and honesty of any church statement that says we are “working towards,” or “aspire to be.” I personally know of too many specific liberal churches where people of color, with less education and/or low income are not welcomed in any meaningful way. Their dignity and belonging are questioned in multiple small instances, and few of the congregations I know can be proactive at empowering and including people. They do not know how. To do this takes effort and intentionally. If the mission statement of inclusion does not have a vision statement that shows how the mission statement is enacted in specific ways, the mission will disappear into lofty theology without any actual actions.
When the mission statement is NOT clear and specific, then the congregation relies on (defaults to) different leaders to fill in the specifics of the mission statement. This can work well enough, but all too often it actually provides room for the leaders to interpret (enact) the mission statement on their own. Furthermore, the people that “feel” the mission of the church, rather than know the intellectual words, are the power brokers. They don’t spend/waste time on defining who/what they are with words. To them, the church has become a system of relationships and a routine of habits that they have been cultivating and investing in for years, if not decades and generations. Any mission statement that disrupts their system of relationships and routine of habits is foreign at best, and destructive at worst.
So if a Christian church is to include some mission of hospitality, inclusion and evangelicalism, then how do you incorporate people who are different just by being new? I’ll dig more into the challenges and hope that power brokers offer in my next post, that gives an example comparing official roles and power brokers.
