“Peaceful racists”

Some words just don’t fit together.  Like “sweet lemon” or “warm ice.”

Or – “peaceful racists.”

That’s how the organizer of the ridiculously named group “Super Happy Fun America” described participants in the abhorrent “Straight Pride” parade that took place in Boston last weekend.

“Peaceful racists” don’t exist.

Racism is, by definition, violent.

Racism excludes, demeans, ostracizes, and belittles.

Racism robs people of opportunities.

Racism denies people a voice.

Racism categorizes people based on their skin color, ethnicity, or nationality.

Racism refuses to recognize the complexity of human experience with all of its pain, experience, and joy.

Racism keeps people out instead of welcoming them in.

Racism hurts.

There are no “peaceful racists.”

 The poorly attended “straight pride” parade was a weak attempt at mimicking the glorious annual Gay Pride parade which celebrates humanity in all of its diversity. The Gay Pride parade is about widening the circle to ensure everyone can participate; it is a celebration of welcome and inclusion and revels in the vibrant richness of God’s people.

Let’s call racism what it is – despicable.

Instead, let’s live out words that go together well: Extravagant welcomer. Radical includer. Heartfelt sharer.  

And let’s share God’s love and welcome.

Lights for Liberty

I had planned to go to a lovely outdoor concert last Friday. I was looking forward to sitting with friends, enjoying a precious summer evening, relaxing under the trees as we listened to toe-tapping music.

But then I heard about the Lights for Liberty vigil.

 Gatherings were being held across the country on July 12th to raise awareness of the horrible conditions endured by refugees in detention camps in our country. Inspired by the light held by the Statue of Liberty, we are called into action by the poem inscribed on the monument’s base.  “The New Colossus” by  Emma Lazarus issues a moving invitation.  “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

            I felt compelled to give up my concert plans so I could heed the call of these inspiring words. I wanted to stand in solidarity with hundreds of families who are waiting at our border to apply for asylum. It is not illegal to ask for help. They are simply waiting to be heard. Parents and children are trying to escape violence, terror, and hunger. They are drawn by Lady Liberty’s light of freedom and the promise of this country founded by immigrants. Yet these tired, poor homeless masses are being treated like criminals.

 So I joined dozens of others in a park in Manchester CT to listen to first-hand accounts of recently-arrived immigrants expressing their gratitude for a fresh start. I heard a speaker compare World War II era Japanese internment camps to the refugee holding areas on our border. I joined in the song “This Land is My Land” that celebrates our country that was “made for you and me.”  

And we lit candles. As dusk fell, people of all ages, faces glowing in the flickering light, promised to carry the beacons of hope and determination into our towns, states, and country. I went to the vigil because I believe that is where Jesus would stand – with the outcast, with the suffering, with those on the margins.

There will be another pleasant outdoor concert to enjoy. But the refugees need us now. I was glad to be surrounded by the compassion and strength of those who gathered to celebrate Lights for Liberty. Now I will continue to do what I can to spread the message of justice and liberty for all.

What CAN you do?

A recent foot injury has led to some frustrating restrictions to my mobility. Standing for more than a few minutes is painful. Some of my favorite pastimes have been temporarily eliminated. My morning walks, which feed my spirit and brighten my mood, have been abandoned. Taking care of my flower gardens and communing with the birds as I feed them are put on hold for now.

            As the list of activities that I can’t do seemed to grow longer and longer, I was becoming annoyed and feeling slightly sorry for myself.

            I was lamenting my inability to exercise and enjoy the improving weather when my wise daughter observed, “Well, you could at least lift weights.” And bingo – a new perspective was introduced.  Instead of focusing on the impossible, I was invited to imagine something new.  Given my limitations, what could I do? It was an opportunity to be creative.  I discovered several activities that worked – not only weight-lifting, but also yoga, swimming, biking, kayaking, and stretching. I didn’t need to curl up on the couch in pathetic defeat; I needed to shift my thinking and recognize what I could do.

            Now I’m starting to expand that thinking to other dilemmas and problems. Often when a situation seems overwhelming, I find it easy or tempting to think, “Well, there’s nothing I can do.”  Prejudice against the LGBT community?  Can’t solve that. Systemic racism?  Where would I even start? Global warming? Oceans polluted by plastic? Children being separated by their parents on the border? There are any number of issues, from personal to global that feel unsolvable. It’s tempting to sink into inaction.

            And yet – my new thinking reminds me that I don’t have to come up with a complete answer. I don’t have to produce the entire solution.  I just need to do what I can do. Maybe I can’t change society’s thinking about the LGBT community, but I can march in a Pride Parade or invite conversation with a bumper sticker. I doubt I will overcome centuries of racism and discrimination single-handedly, but I can accept the challenge to educate myself about the experiences of people of color and pledge to recognize moments of racism in myself and others.

            What can I do?  Pick up trash on the side of the road? Greet surly clerks with compassion? Send a card or email to a long-lost friend? What small action might be part of a larger answer?

There may not be a neat solution for every problem. But that isn’t an invitation to inaction. It’s a call (to quote John Wesley) to “Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, at all times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.”

     

Bumper Sticker Wisdom

My new bumper sticker reads, “Be careful who you hate. It might be someone you love.”

It is a reminder not to categorize people or to assume that “all” of “those people” are somehow the same. As soon as we try to clump a group of people into a tidy category or description, we will miss someone’s amazing individuality.

“Gay people make me uncomfortable,” we might be tempted to say. Until we realize that our neighbor or neighbor’s beloved child fits that description.

 “I don’t understand transgender people,” we might declare. Until we get to know someone who has fought for their identity and who advocates honesty in self-expression.

 Although my bumper sticker has a rainbow stripe on it, I don’t think the concept is limited to LGBTQ issues. When we start talking about “all” people of color or “all” immigrants or “all” women who have had an abortion, we are missing something crucial. We are overlooking the sacred individuality that exists in each person. We are ignoring their personal stories. We are missing the unique child of God, created in God’s image.

 I believe this bumper sticker invites me to look beyond the “packaging” of a person to see the individual. I believe I am urged to have a holy curiosity about each person so I can resist the temptation to dismiss someone as “one of them.”

             It is easy to hate groups of people. A group is faceless. A group doesn’t have parents who love them or children who need them. A group doesn’t have emotions and lacks feelings that can be bruised or rights that can be trampled.

It’s when we look beyond the faceless crowd that we begin to recognize individuals with stories and backgrounds, journeys and struggles that have brought them to this time and place. Perhaps then I will not be as quick to dismiss “them.”

 Instead of disregard, could I offer respect? Instead of turning away, could I listen? Instead of assuming I know their story and circumstances, could I be willing to wonder and learn?

A bumper sticker is such a simple thing – but it can teach an important lesson.

Intentionally Welcoming

“Why do you always say ‘Everyone is welcome’?  It’s everywhere – on your website, on the Facebook page, in the bulletin.  Isn’t that a bit overkill?”

 The answer is simple – we say “Everyone is welcome” because not every church does. When the United Methodist Church voted to ban openly gay clergy and to refuse same-sex marriage, a clear message was sent. Everyone is, actually, not welcome there.

So we’ll say it with symbols – the rainbow wreath on our front door, the rainbow stripe on our church sign out front, and posters throughout our church – and we’ll say it with our actions.

 We need to say out loud what we wish was simply true everywhere. “Everyone is welcome” ranks right up there with the phrase “Black Lives Matter” in terms of expressing important truths.

Yes, we wish it wasn’t necessary to say that “everyone” is welcome, but lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, transgender, and queer folk hear people debating their worth and value every day.

Yes, we wish it was clear that “all lives” matter, but too many people of color have been wounded by unequal treatment and by obstacles in housing, education, and employment.

Our congregation is called to proclaim that everyone is a beloved child of God, created in God’s image, and cherished by God. Every day we need to wonder – What if we treated everyone with grace and forgiveness? What if we took Jesus’ words to heart and really loved our neighbors?

We’re not perfect as a church. We don’t always get it right and there is still much we need to learn and do. But our intention is to be welcoming. Our mission is to learn from those on the margins and to listen to those who often feel overlooked or unheard.

This is not a time to declare our church or denomination “better” or more open than another. It is simply time to redouble our efforts to be even more intentional and more extravagant in our welcome.

May we take these words to heart, “Jesus didn’t turn people away. Neither do we.”

“Excitement” – Part One

On Epiphany Sunday I received my star word – “excitement.”  Everyone in our congregation is invited to reflect on one of 150 words. During the coming year we can ponder what God might be saying to us. How will God’s light be reflected through this simple paper star and how will it encourage us to be more aware of God’s presence in our lives?

I have an entire year to consider what the word “excitement” might be inviting me to do, learn, and experience. I have to admit, I was thrilled when I flipped the star over and “excitement” appeared. Even as a pastor in a small town in the Quiet Corner of Connecticut, it seems to me that the possibilities are endless.  I’m being invited to experience excitement! It may not be heart-pounding, dare-devil activities. I’m not sure sky diving is in my immediate future. But I can choose and seek things that make me laugh or bring me joy. I can take time to discover what brings a smile to my face and offers me a sense of satisfaction and that feeling of  “I’m glad I did that.” 

So far I have tried “bumper boats” (if you’ve never heard of it, I recommend it!  I couldn’t stop laughing!), I helped host a benefit concert in our sanctuary, and attended a talk about bald eagles in Connecticut followed by a thrilling walk where an eagle flew right by us! Last weekend my husband and I ventured out for a frosty walk at our local park and watched the ice fishermen bundled up in the cold. I have to admit, my adventurous spirit stopped at the shoreline, so I didn’t join them out on the ice, but I loved walking through the quiet woods and listening to the dramatic cracking and creaking of the ice responding to sunlight and temperature changes.

Since we worship a Creator with unlimited imagination, I’m looking forward to what the year will hold. Here’s to new adventures!

As fun as that is, I’m not sure that God means to be my tour guide through an endless array of new experiences. This word could also be inviting me to explore the excitement of learning new things. I have set myself a goal to learn more about racism – what it is and how it affects people. I think this will be “exciting” because it will expand my mind and introduce new ideas and thoughts. I suspect it will also be challenging because there is much I do not know; I anticipate that it will be humbling and eye-opening. It can be good to learn just how much I have to learn.

I have not accomplished as much in this part of my “excitement.” So far I signed up for a discussion group about the book Waking up White by Debby Irving which promises to be enlightening. I watched the movie “Green Book,” which I highly recommend; it is both entertaining and educational. Once again, I was astounded by how much of our own country’s history I do not know.

I have a whole year to enjoy “excitement” in whatever form it comes to me. I believe God is always inviting us to be more aware – aware of blessings, of God’s presence, of what we have yet to learn.  I’ll let you know how it’s going.

And – if you have a star word, I’d love to hear what it has meant to you so far this year.

If you would like a star word, just let me know and I’ll send you one.

Who is at the table?

Not many people can say that their Thanksgiving table actually resembled Norman Rockwell’s iconic depiction of the all-American holiday, but I have to admit, the Thanksgiving table from my childhood was pretty similar to the one in his painting. The people who gathered around the table were all white, heterosexual (as far as we knew),  and part of families formed with a mom and a dad, with mother cooking and father presiding over the carving of the bird. Gender roles were clearly defined and not (openly) questioned.

Thanksgiving 3

Just one generation later and our family has evolved. We look a bit different now. As we anticipate gathering with our children, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, we can look forward to racial diversity, hair dyed in startling hues, tattoos galore, and conversations that touch on topics like gender identity, sexual expression and fluidity, and the roles of men and women.

It is not Rockwell’s America any more and perhaps it never was. Many folks reminisce wistfully about “days gone by” while conveniently forgetting that many people in Rockwell’s era were not welcome at the table. Or at many schools, clubs, or businesses. That festive depiction of Thanksgiving only looks “ideal” if you happen to fit into the narrow roles of acceptance.

Thanksgiving 1

These updated versions of Rockwell’s painting, featuring a gay couple and a multi-ethnic gathering,  makes me wonder – who is at our tables?  Who is in our churches, our organizations, and our schools? Do we only gather with people who look like us and think like us?  And if we do, what are we missing? Can we accept the joy and challenge of widening our welcome?

This year, whether your table is filled with relatives or whether you create a family of your own choosing and design, or whether you celebrate a “Friendsgiving,” I hope you pause to give thanks for the blessings those special people offer to you. Let us also remember those who are not with us this year and give thanks for them, as well.

Wishing you a very happy Thanksgiving.