In Silence We Await

Holy Saturday

We sit in the pain of death.
We sit in the sorrow of loss.
We sit in the stillness of sorrow.
We sit in the uncertainty of the future.

Black Saturday

We stand in the midst of grief.
We stand in the shadow of the cross.
We stand in the midst of betrayers.
We stand in the fear of the empire.

Easter Saturday

We walk near the tomb hoping for any sign.
We walk in the solitude of loneliness.
We walk in the shadow of loss.
We walk in the hope of the resurrection.

But for now we sit and stand and walk in darkness.

Jesus has died. The world sits in that loss.

Holy Saturday

Today we wait in sadness. 
Today we sit in darkness.
Today we honor the death of Jesus.

And in silence we await.

Karyn L. Wiseman, 2017

Bent But Not Broken

This has been an impossible week of tragedy and triumph, brokenness and bravery, gory injuries and graciousness, terror and tenacity, angry words and awakenings, betrayal and blessing.

We started the week with the horror of the bombings at the Boston Marathon. The tragedy unfolded to reveal the deaths of three beautiful souls and the maiming of so many others. The losses will affect these victims, survivors, and their families for the rest of their lives. But out of it we also witnessed the triumph of the human spirit as first responders and regular citizens rushed toward the blasts to help others in need. The number of injuries and the gruesomeness of the injuries was devastating. The reality that humans did this to others was alarming and disheartening.

We moved quickly into learning that our elected officials refused to vote the will of 90% of the American people to extend the reach of background checks for gun purchases. It was a devastating loss for sensible legislation to curb gun violence. It was a crushing blow to many who have worked tirelessly for this goal. The refusal by the Senate to say NO to the NRA was painful.

This week was also marred by the mailing of ricin filled letters to a US Senator and to the President of the United States by an angry, bitter man bent on hurting others. The depth of hatred and destruction some will stoop to saddened us.

We entered into a wave of destruction once again as a fertilizer plant in West, Texas caught fire and the very firefighters who answered the call were trapped in the blaze. The explosion filled the earth with fire and fear. Fourteen persons were killed – ten of them first responders – and hundreds were injured. The loss of life and the destruction of homes and businesses will reshape and affect that community for decades to come.

The manhunt for the bombing suspects continued in the city of Boston and the surrounding communities as we moved into the later part of the week.  Word of gunfights, a carjacking, and tossed IEDs and grenades sent a wave of fear once again racing through those in the area. When word came that the first suspect was dead and later that the second had been arrested - cries of relief and gratitude poured forth from the people of Boston and around the country.

In the midst of this we learned of a massive earthquake that struck China. Hundreds are likely dead and thousands injured. The loss is tremendous and gut-wrenching. We are left to watch rescue workers rush into collapsed building debris to find survivors and everyday heroes are lending a hand. Once again we cried out in anguish.

And we are left to wonder ... Did this week suck or what?

Yes. It did. There was destruction, brutality, tragedy, terror, and betrayal. And it saddened us beyond words.

But there was also amazing heroism, bravery, tenacity, unity, and love. Bostonians opened their homes to people needing a place to stay. People in Texas rushed to help and supported the families of the firefighters killed and injured and helped persons who lost their homes. Citizens in Boston and China with no medical training came to the aid of their brothers and sisters in need and made us proud. Law Enforcement officers did their jobs with amazing tenacity and professionalism that made a city want to collectively hug them all. And a determined and brave former congresswoman, Gabby Giffords, vowed to not give up the fight on guns and tens of thousands of new folks joined her in the quest.

This week bent us - but it did not break us. It did not break us because in all of these situations people of good will banded together to react positively and to respond together. It did not break us because we joined forces regardless of gender or sexuality or age or faith or other differences.

But we did bend folks - some used the actions of a few to lump an entire religion’s followers into the role of "bad guy." Some used coded language about "brown skinned people” and "not being American enough." Some blamed gays or the government or conspiracies or each other for the danger and fear. Some assumed evil intent too quickly. Some made statements on social media that all "foreigners should be kicked out now." Some in the news media failed on so many levels.  And so did some of our leaders.

We bent. But we did not break - we are a strong people. And we are stronger together. We are better when we reach out to help and when we hold each other accountable. We are better when we understand that we are all children of God.

Our brothers and sisters in China, Boston, Texas, and around the world deserve our prayers. The victims, survivors, first responders, and those affected by these events are due our respect.

The circumstances of this week needed quiet respect and honor instead of politics, protests, and positioning. The events of this week were worthy of our best and in so many ways we rose to the occasion. But we need to be better. We need to work harder at keeping the hate, distrust, and anger at bay. We need to be more willing to wait for the right answer and not the quick one.

We bent this week folks – and we need to learn from that. But we did not break – and we need to celebrate that.

Preaching in the Midst of Evil

This past weekend, we experienced yet another mass shooting of innocents. We saw the pictures on TV of the theater in Aurora, CO and were once again dismayed and bewildered by the horror we inflict upon each other in this world.

One man - a mentally ill person, a modern day terrorist, a bad man, or just a mixed up guy - used the guns he had acquired to rain terror on a group of innocents at a midnight showing of The Dark Knight Rises. It was evil and violent. It was tragic and horrific.

So what happened on Sunday in worship services around the country?

Some preachers discussed the shooting only in their prayer time, some had a moment of silence for the families involved, some addressed it fully in their sermons, and some avoided it because they did not know how to address the evil from the pulpit.

The truth is - we as preachers of the Gospel - must address the evil around us. We must name the bad stuff and acknowledge that these acts are not God's will for our world. We have to be willing to speak the truth. We have to be willing to preach a Word of grace and love in the midst of violence.

We have to state clearly that God does not punish people with hurricanes and earthquakes. We have to be firm in our conviction that God does not want us to inflict harm on one another. We have to speak the truth that violence is not the way we are to live.

Sometimes there is serendipity in the chosen text for the day. Sometimes the text speaks a word we need to hear, as the lectionary did the week after September 11, 2001. Sometimes, though, the text for the day does not speak to the events happening around us. When this is the case, we need to consider changing the text of the day to find a word of grace more appropriate to the events and emotions to which we need to minister.

Speaking truth in these circumstances means acknowledging that God does not wish evil for us, but God is certainly present with us in the midst of evil - holding us, calling us, challenging us, and leading us out of the dark.

So let’s preach the Gospel of grace, love and hope to the people in our pews, folding chairs, park benches, couches, and everywhere else we encounter folks who need to hear the Word.

Preach it, people. Preach it.

Creating a World According to Micah 6:8

When I was growing up – I learned a passage from Micah from my grandfather.  The passage has been important to me ever since then.  This passage is the core of my faith. I recite it often.   I used it as the basis of my final Credo Paper for my Master of Divinity degree at Saint Paul School of Theology.  I have preached on it a number of times and it never ceases to bring me great joy and reminds me of who God calls us to be.

The passage says this, 

He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
   and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
   and to walk humbly with your God? (NRSV)

There is no small reason why this passage is vital to my faith – it is about justice, love and faithfulness.  Justice is part of me.  I breathe justice.  I work for it.  I pray for it.  I march for it.  I write my political leaders calling for it.  I teach it to my son.  I preach it in my sermons.  I teach it in my classes.  I try to live a just life in all I do.

But justice is sometimes hard to define in our society.  Some want justice only as they see it.  Some want justice for only a select group.  Some see a rush to justice without cause or evidence.  Others see justice denied by inaction.  There are multiple issues related to justice.  And it is hard to make folks see eye to eye on the issues.

But justice is justice for me – it is pretty clear.  Martin Luther King, Jr. said once, “Justice denied anywhere diminishes justice everywhere.”  I believe that.  We have to advocate for justice for all.  Regardless of who they are – their race, attire, gender, faith tradition, sexual orientation, age, size, creed, denomination, physical disabilities, or other element of their being.

I want to be clear – we may disagree on how justice is expressed – but justice must come.  For me it means justice for Trayvon Martin, for Shaima Alawadi, for thousands of named and unnamed persons killed every year by guns, for gays and lesbians struggling with inequality, and for persons kept in poverty by a system that makes it almost impossible to rise out of its depths.  It means advocating for an end of systemic racism, for an end to bullying for any reason, for an end of sexist practices in the church and workplace, and for so many more situations.

It is unjust that I can wear a hoodie anywhere and no one sees me as suspicious.  But it is even more unjust that a person of color is seen that way regardless of what they are wearing.

It is unjust that so many are denied rights afforded others because of their gender or orientation.  It is unjust that people are beaten or killed because of their faith.  It is unjust that many are treated differently because of their physical disabilities or abilities.

So we may disagree on how and when justice is present.  But let’s all agree to this -- to work toward a more just world … a world where no one is mistreated or hurt because they are different from us.

That is justice.

Saying Goodbye to Granny P

I am traveling with my family this week to the funeral of my son's great grandmother, Granny P.  She was 93 when she passed away and had been in an assisted living facility for some years due to Alzheimer's Disease.  The last few times we visited she did not really respond to us, but my son was convinced she smiled at him.

I believe him.  Because that is what she always did with him.  She would watch him when he was little and say over and over, "perpetual motion, he's perpetual motion." And she would smile.  She was part of his life and he adored going to visit Baba, one of his grandmothers, and her mom, Granny P, his great grandmother. 

While there - anytime we visited - she would ask him about his puppy, go for walks with him, and they would play on the floor with red puppy and a toy train for hours.

On one visit when he was a toddler, she became convinced that his little red puppy (a stuffed animal he took everywhere with him) was in fact hers.  The entire time we were there she would secret it away and we would have to go retrieve it for him.  She was not aware of what she was doing but he knew she was taking something that was his.  He was confused, but trusted us to rescue it for him. 

When we got ready to leave one time, she once again had gotten red puppy away from him.  We distracted her the best we could and searched her room until we rescued red puppy from behind some blankets in her closet.  She had hidden it extremely deeply in the closet.  But we were not about to leave without it.  We still tell the story and he knows it well.

This weekend at the memorial service, grandkids and great grandkids were asked to bring pictures or other items to remember Granny P.  My son brought red puppy (yes, we still have it even though he is now 13 years old).  He will tell the story of her thinking it was hers and taking it several times.  Some will laugh and some will wonder what the story means.  For him it is a memory of being with her.  It is a memory of her interaction with him - despite her disease.  He does not know her from her prime.  He remembers a funny lady in a hat who took his red puppy and called him "perpetual motion."

But he still remembers her.  He wanted to be here to say goodbye.  And he wanted to share his wonderful memory of her.

That is what memorial services and funerals are all about.  They are about remembering the roles our loved ones play in our lives - whether briefly or over an extended period of time.  It is a chance to compare memories with others and to say thank you for the roles our beloved family members played on our journey.  It is a time to laugh as much as cry.  It is a time to drink deeply from the family well.  It is a time to remember.

Yes, my son still has red puppy.  He keeps it in his keepsake box.  He keeps it because he got it from his aunt and uncle for his first birthday and it reminds him of Clifford, the Big Red Dog, who his Baba introduced him to.  And he keeps it because Granny P took it from him and his parents rescued it for him.

Sharing that memory makes him happy.  Remembering Granny P makes him smile.  Remembering those who have walked this life journey with us is important.  This weekend is all about that. 

Drink deeply from that well, my friends.