Spokane Friends Meeting

Reading of Mark 16: 1- 8

My sermon this morning begins with one fact – human beings have been gifted by God (and/or by nature) with this wonderful instrument that rests above our two eyes….. the brain.  Specifically we have this large region called the cerebral cortex…. the part of our brain that thinks, analyzes, and imagines.  It is the place where stories are formed.  This gift of the imaginative storytelling is both a blessing and a curse….depending upon what stories we choose to cultivate.  We either create stories that give life, or we gravitate to stories that lead to death.   In fact, my thesis this morning suggests that we live and die by the stories we tell ourselves.

Theologians call these stories “metanarratives”.  Big stories.   Archetypal stories.   Stories that shape and inform us in how we view the world and thus respond within the context of our own unique “small” stories.  These archetypal stories map out how we imagine the world and in return guide us in how we behave and act in this world.

All religious traditions have metanarratives around which they organize. The central metanarrative around which the Christian faith is formed is the narrative of the Resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth.  To clarify, let me say that the term resurrection from a Christian perspective is the idea that Jesus, after being tried, convicted, crucified, and laid to rest in a tomb, was, after three days dead, raised to a new life and appeared physically to his disciples and others before being taken up to heaven.  (A matter of legend, or history – you decide.)   Whatever was made of the event of Jesus life, the story of the resurrection is told in all four gospels … Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.  (And when a story is repeated in all four gospel versions, it says something was central about this story that requires our attention.  Something extraordinary occurred.  And the fact that all four gospels tell the story in basically the same way, yet with recollection of differing details is further evidence of the story’s authenticity).

Mark, the oldest of the gospels, in the earliest intact manuscripts ends abruptly with vs. 8 where it says, the women who discovered the empty tomb “were afraid, and told no one.”  I like this earliest version because it leaves the story open-ended, as if to say, “now you (the listener) go and finish the story.”  “You take ownership and run with it.  Continue it on into your world.”

Matthew gives us the post-resurrection marching orders where Jesus’ last words on this earth are, “go out into the world and make disciples throughout the world, teaching them all I have commanded you.”

Luke tells of how the resurrected Jesus opened the minds of his disciples in the breaking of the bread while on the road to Emmaus.  Jesus is seen and known in the coming together of conversation and the breaking of the bread.

John seems to want us to know that the resurrection was physical.  The physicality of post-crucified Jesus is important to John’s telling.  In John’s gospel the disciple Thomas, upon hearing that Jesus is alive must first touch the wounds before he can believe.  Later in John’s gospel Jesus appears on the lake shore and sits down to eat fish with his friends, as if to say to us, “mere ghosts or spiritual concepts do not eat fish and break bread.”

Every Easter Sunday I preach on this central resurrection narrative of the Christian tradition.  And every Easter Sunday I recognize that my audience consists of a broad spectrum of beliefs regarding this story.  To some the story is purely metaphorical.  To others, including the apostle Paul, it makes no sense unless it historically and literally happened.  In saying this I am recognize the fact that people come out in different places in how they relate to the Jesus story.   I am fond of a poem written by the poet Denise Levertov.  The poem is entitled “On Belief in the Physical Resurrection of Jesus”

“It is for all, “literalist of the imagination,” poets or not, that miracle is possible, possible and essential.  Are some intricate minds nourished on concept, as epiphytes flourish high in the canopy?  Can they subsist on the light, on the half of metaphor that’s not grounded in dust, grit, heavy carnal clay?  Do signs contain and utter for them all the reality that they need?  Resurrection, for them, an internal power, but not a matter of flesh?  For others, of whom I am one, miracles (ultimate need, bread of life) are miracles just because people so tuned to the humdrum laws: gravity, mortality – can’t open to symbol’s power unless convinced of its ground, its roots in bone and blood.  We must feel the pulse in the wound to believe that ‘with God all things are possible,’  taste bread at Emmaus that warm hands broke and blessed.”

 For myself I choose (on most days) be in Levertov’s camp.  But whether one believes in Resurrection as metaphor, or as historical reality that points to metaphor, the issue still is always one of meaning.  The Big Cosmic…So What!  Regardless of where one falls on the question of literal historicity, one is still required ask the question “So what?  What does it mean?  How does Jesus rising from death make a difference to me?”

I suppose I state the absurdly obvious when I say that all of us are here this morning because we are alive. That said, many of us have aches and pains and challenges we suffer with.  And I know some of you have had close brushes with death through circumstances of illness and accident.  When I too experienced one of those near death experiences, I had the opportunity to consider in a new way the story of Christ’s resurrection.  At Sacred Heart, a Catholic hospital in Spokane, in every room is an icon of the resurrected Jesus transcendently resurrected upon the cross. (Not crucified… but resurrected).  As a Christian I’ve always valued this image – the ultimate victory of life over death.  The message….Jesus, alive!  Death is powerless before the power of Life.  To me the message is clear …. God is not mocked and life is not defeated by any cruelty we humans may cast upon others.

But none of this translated to me as I lay in the hospital.  The central symbol of my faith did not speak to me when you might think it would speak the loudest.  But then everything else was pretty flat and speechless too.  I had little to no interest in food.  People brought me books to read or would read to me, but I had no interest.  Everything on T.V. was absurd…..every other channel was some story involving a gun, or explosion, or fear, tension and conflict.   Or there would be channels dedicated to some silly “reality” show where people were constantly competing or squabbling, or some family of hillbillies who sell duck calls were discussing the best way to blow up a beaver dam.  All of this seemed so empty and absurd.

But when I couldn’t conceive of the resurrection or when it did not bring me comfort as a theological / metanarrative image – it did come to me.  It came to me in the care and love of my family who were there in the most profound ways.  It came in the form of prayers, and gestures, and mindfulness of many, many friends.  Through them and their good thoughts and prayers God was there in profound and mysterious ways.  Resurrection came in the nurses, doctors, aids, technicians, chaplains, and other caring folks who focused their best skills and energy toward keeping this one privileged, middle aged white guy on this planet for another few decades (at best).

We don’t have to be in a medical or existential crisis to realize that the story of resurrection is a powerful narrative.  This narrative declares to the world that the very force of the cosmos is within, is before, is around, and is much bigger than us.  Yet it is a part of us.  Resurrection calls us out and calls us back again.  Resurrection never lets death and suffering have the last word.  Jesus lived it, Jesus taught it, and Jesus proved it.  Resurrection is a powerful thing, and that is why Jesus didn’t stay on the cross.  That is why the tomb was empty.  That is why the angel says, “Go and find him.  He has risen.”

Most summers I work with Mennonite youth at our Northwest Mennonite camps. (I especially enjoy working with the junior high levels).  At one of the campfire talks I shared how a number of years past at one of the camps, Roger, the camp manager, had a good quality telescope.  And with some help from his phone’s app Roger was able to zero in on two separate spiraling galaxies visible through the one lens.  Galaxies containing billions of stars and planets.  I reminded the kids that the nearest spiral galaxy (the Andromeda Galaxy) is over 3 million light years away.  Furthermore there are reported to be billions of these galaxies within the known universe.  Furthermore some cosmologists believe there are multiple dimensions of realities we cannot perceive.  As if this were not enough to grab our attention and strike our hearts with awe, it is said that only four percent of the matter in the universe is perceivable, leaving ninety-six percent to be labeled as something called “dark matter,” which cannot yet be directly perceived.

In light of these and other observations of science it would seem that the resurrection of Christ might not be so hard to consider.

My point of considering the vast and mysterious universe we live in, to the junior high kids at summer camp (as well as to you this morning), is to get us to believe and celebrate and find courage in the reality that we are part of a very, very, large and mysterious God-ruled, God-centered story.

The story (metanarrative) of the Christian tradition is one of mystery and the victorious power of love and life.  It is one of life over death.  It is one of hope and the embrace of a God who cannot be defeated and will not let go….ever.

And how, you may ask, can one judge whether one’s story / narrative is one of resurrection?  You may consider this…..  Resurrection stories are always about hope and never about fear.  Resurrection stories are about thriving and not just surviving.  They are about sharing as opposed to accumulating and consuming.  Resurrection stories are always about creativity and risk taking.  When you hear stories about cooperation, unity, compassion and tolerance you are hearing stories that point to resurrection.  Resurrection always defies the world’s tired old dysfunctional stories of win/lose; dog-eat-dog; us vs. them; and everyone for themselves.  When you read the Gospels through the lens of resurrection, you begin to see the world through the lens that God sees through..

I recently listened to someone I know and respect relay to me a story from her work.  She was working in a year- long volunteer program (kind of like the Service Adventure program) and was asking of her “employer” (with whom she was a volunteer) for a little flex time for one afternoon a week in order to do some more “hands on” work related to her vocational pursuits.  Her boss, who already had displayed little respect or appreciation in her management style, said in response to this modest request, “That’s not how things work in the real world.”

To that banal reply I say as one who believes in the truth of the resurrection….phooey!  Much of what we call “the real world” is a construct of our own making.  Resurrection says other worlds are possible. Other ways of relating to this world are possible.  Stories of the devil are often the ones that resign us to believe that “That’s just not the way it works in the real world!”

As one who identifies as a pastor, a husband, a father, and most fundamentally as a human being who has the privilege of taking up space on this planet for this momentary period of time, I’ll  tell you about the real world I live in…..  I live in a world of inconsistency, context, nuance, paradox, mystery, and yes, hypocrisy and sin.  And with none of these conditions should we rest easy — especially the sin and hypocrisy.  Nevertheless, this is the real world I live in, and the only effective and honest and humble way I can move through it is by trusting in the victory, power, and grace of the resurrection story.  There is no room for fear and pettiness in this story.  In God’s story, (the only one that ultimately counts) resurrection rules!

A friend of mine was facing a long engagement with cancer.  I’m sure many of you have had similar engagements. And you may have been given this poem (and I apologize if you have and it now seems a bit banal).  But to me it was powerful and it relates to my message.  Instead of using the word “cancer” I will insert the word crucifixion.

Crucifixion is so limited…. It cannot cripple love, It cannot shatter hope, It cannot corrode faith, It cannot destroy peace, It cannot kill friendship, It cannot suppress memories, It cannot invade the soul, It cannot steal eternal life, It cannot conquer the Spirit.  Crucifixion is so limited.

If there is any message to be taken away when we consider this story of the resurrection, may it be a message that informs us that death, be it spiritual death or literal death, is never the last word.  Life is!

This message was delivered by Gary Jewell at Spokane Friends Church on March 10, 2019

Good morning! My name is Lauren Taylor. I’m a campus pastor up at Whitworth – but we just moved here to take that job this summer. I’m originally from Chicago. So I’m a big fan of the Chicago Cubs, of hot dogs with only mustard, and complaining about winters that don’t ever seem to end. I think we share at least one of those things in common.

Derek and I have been married for about 6 years. We bought a dog a short while into our marriage, and when we were able to keep her alive and happy – we added a baby to the mix who is now 2.5 years old. Our little Theo – or Theomonster depending on the day.

Derek and I were both battling a little bit of a cough/cold last weekend. Not enough to keep us home from work or anything, but enough to suck the energy out of us. I was pretty exhausted after working all day and then chasing Theo around trying to convince him to eat, and pee on the toilette, and stay alive and go to bed. So last weekend, I really looking forward to sleeping hard. And I really enjoyed not setting my alarm for Saturday morning when I went to bed Friday night.

Well, the sun had not yet made it’s way through our bedroom window Saturday morning when I heard Theo’s first little squawks. He’s 2, and we haven’t moved into a real bed yet; he’s still in the crib. So when he wakes up, we have to go into his room and pull him up and out of the crib. And when I heard his first little cries, I blearily opened one eye to peek over at Derek. He wasn’t moving yet, but he wasn’t snoring anymore. I bet he’s awake. Theo cried out again. And I closed my eye and tried very hard to lay as still as I could so Derek would think I was still sleeping. The unspoken rule is that whoever moves first has to get up and get Theo. And so we were both laying at still as we possibly could. We were playing toddler-duty chicken.

You see, I love Derek, but I really wanted to sleep a bit longer. And sometimes my desire to sleep trumps my love for Derek, and I think “he should really get him up today.” I think of all the reasons in my head that he should be the one serving me this time, not me serving him this time. You can pray for us.

But I want to talk about this idea this morning. This idea of serving and humility in relationship and in community. And I want to start with Jesus and the twelve disciples.

The first time the disciples all got together, I can imagine there was an electrifying energy in the room. Can you picture that moment? They looked around the group gathered together for first time — at one another, and felt excited…

There was Matthew, who had wealth. There was Peter, who was loud. There was Thomas who was the realist. There was James and John. And they were brothers with a good chemistry. It just seemed, as they looked around, each person had a place. Had a role to play. They were like the first century dream team. And so they set out with Jesus to do ministry together and they were excited. They felt important. I imagine perhaps they even felt unstoppable as the crowds that followed them got larger.

But after living together, and working together and traveling together for three extraordinary years full of ordinary days… some of that magic began to fade in the realities of life. Personalities got in the way. Agendas clashed. Relationships got complicated. Pride swelled. And at the end of the gospels, we see in the disciples an ugly competitive spirit slowly creeping.

James and John pull Jesus aside and whisper to him, “Jesus, let us two be the ones who sit closest to you in glory. Let us be the ones who sit at your right and at your left.” But when the rest of the disciples heard this, Scripture says they were angry with James and John. You are not the most important one.

A few days later, Mary breaks open an expensive bottle of perfume to anoint Jesus. And in front of everyone, Judas shouts, “What are you doing?! That was worth so much money and now its just pooling on the floor! What a terrible idea, Mary.” You are not the smartest one.

 Later, Jesus sitting with his disciples predicts, out loud, that one of them is going to hurt Jesus — is going to betray him. And so each disciple’s first reaction is to turn in on themselves. To protect themselves – “Not me!” They each say. And they cast the blame on the other disciple. You must be it. You must be the unfaithful one.

Fast forward a few days, and the crew was all meeting up for dinner. And when Jesus walked in, the disciples were gathering around the table – The text doesn’t say this, but I can imagine that there was some tension in the room. Jesus looked at each one. He looked at their faces, and then he looked at their feet. Dirty. Still? Their feet were dirty –they had not washed their feet yet. No one had made provisions for the foot washing.

Streets in the ancient Near East were unpaved. They were dirt roads, full of trash and horses and cows and pigs and all the nasty that those animals leave behind. In this age before modern plumbing, they were manure-mixed mud streets with the occasional mystery puddle that’s there even on sunny days. So when people got home, after walking to work in their sandals or walking to the market in their sandals, they always washed their dirty feet. It was sanitary. It was culture. It was normal. And especially when you got together with other people for a meal, it was custom to have your feet washed. To have a servant wash the nasty off your feet. It wasn’t a fun job – it was a menial job, reserved for someone who had a low position in the house. But it was needed.

And so when Jesus came to this dinner, and looked around at his disciples and saw – and probably smelled — that they each still had dirty feet … That no one was willing to wash the feet and to submit themselves to the others in the group in this way… I can imagine Jesus was disappointed.

It was just a few days before that Jesus taught his disciples about greatness. That if they really wanted to be great, they had to become a servant to one another. Whoever wanted to be first had to learn to be last. Not a single one of them seemed to remember those words at this moment. Instead, they all sat passively at the table, maybe stewing in their resentment; maybe feeling paralyzed by the tension; maybe playing foot-washing chicken. Whatever the case, the feet remained unwashed

And so Jesus gets up, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He takes off his clothes, stands in front of them vulnerable and derobed, and wraps himself with a servants towel. He kneels down and begins to wash their dirty, prideful, arrogant feet himself. The room is caught in a deadening silence as Jesus moves from person to person. The only sound is that of water trickling from the pitcher into the basin. The only movement is that of Jesus bowed head and shoulders as he carefully washes the grime from the street out from under their feet.

The story continues as John’s gospel explains:

¹² After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? ¹³ You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. ¹⁴ So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. ¹⁵ For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.    John

Our passage this morning is from Philippians, Chapter 2. So why am I telling a story about the disciples? I wonder… and this is just my wondering. . . I wonder if when Paul wrote this hymn in the letter to the Philippians, I wonder if he had this gospel story in mind. I wonder if when he wrote that Christ took the form of the servant (vs 7), he pictured Jesus taking up the servant’s towel to wash the feet of the feet of the disciples. Because to me, if this foot washing is the story illustrated in John’s gospel, then this poem in Philippians is the theological commentary to it. It illuminates what Paul is singing about in our passage. The narrative that’s bringing this hymn to life.

This passage in Philippians is pretty famous. We call it the “Christ Hymn,” because it’s not written like a normal part of the letter. Even if you look down at your Bible, you’ll see that verses 6-11 look different than all the other verses, and really most of the other verses in the New Testament. It’s written with indentations and spaces and lines… it’s aesthetic appearance tells us that it’s special. The way the words are on the page tell us that these words are really important!

And so in it Paul says, “Let your mind be like Christ’s mind.”  And he begins to paint in beautiful Greek poetry a picture of what God is like. He gives us the image of God in Christ that we are to reflect with our lives.

Christ, who even though he was God, even though he had power, even though he was privileged, he didn’t exploit it or use it to separate himself from others – quite the opposite. Instead, Christ emptied himself – and became like one of us. Took on our humanness. Washed our dirty feet. Jesus was faithful in this – in his life, but also to the point of death, for the purpose of – saving the world. So that the world might have a way back to God. This, theologians say, is the wonderful exchange – God was humbled that we might be lifted up. God became poor that we might become rich. God came to us that we might come to God.

Oh, how phenomenal and convicting that this is what God is like! One scholar named Jurgen Multmann, in his book The Crucified God, said this:

God is not greater than he is in this humiliation. God is not more glorious than he is in this self-surrender. God is not more powerful than he is in this helplessness. God is not more divine than he is in this humanity. The wonderful exchange.

Three reasons this is important for us:

• First: We should feel loved by God. As always, we are the disciples in this story and we can know that Jesus washes our feet, no matter attitude or what posture or what mindset we bring to the table. Let this sink in: the God of the Universe gets down on hands and knees and in a posture of wanting to love and serve you, washes your feet. Your feet caked in manure and arrogance, covered in dust and shame, Jesus washes your feet. God so loved the world, that no matter how dirty your feet are, God sent his only son to wash your feet and to die for you. In the Words of Charles Wesley, “Amazing Love, how can it be? That you, my Lord, should die for me?” We should feel deeply loved by God as we ponder this Scripture.
• Second: This passage shows us what genuine Christian community should look like. That’s the context for this letter after all, right? Paul writing to a community of Christians, reminding them of the way things are supposed to work. This community’s foundation is Christ, Paul says, and it’s bedrock is real, genuine humility. The world is marked by communities and structures that clamor for power and authority and celebrity and followers. But that is not how Christian community works. Our community is marked by Christ and ought to reflect Christ’s humility in taking on flesh and living among us.
• Last – A Personal Challenge – where do you need to be more of a foot washer? Where are you being called to let go of your pride and humble yourself? Where are you clamoring for power? If we let this passage really challenge us, we can see that this is hard work.
  • It’s easy to be humble with the crowds. It’s hard to wash the feet of your fellow disciple.
  • It’s easy to show humility with your acquaintances. It’s hard to show humility with your family.
  • Its easy to be humble with the people on your side. It’s hard to be humble with people on the other side.
  • It’s easy to fill your time serving others. It’s hard to remember that its not about you.

What we believe about God helps us know how to act. Orthodoxy informs orthopraxis. Meditating on Christ, meditating on this hymn, praying this prayer, reading this gospel should always lead us to transformation.  So how will you let this Christ hymn transform us?

2 If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, ² make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. ³ Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. ⁴ Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. ⁵ Let the same mind be in you that was^[a] in Christ Jesus,

⁶ who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,
⁷ but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
⁸     he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death—
even death on a cross.

⁹ Therefore God also highly exalted him
and gave him the name
that is above every name,
¹⁰ so that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
¹¹ and every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.                                Philippians 2:1-11

I am honored to be here to speak to you in worship.  I am excited about it being today.  You see, I am a church reader board junkie.   I drive by your building multiple times during each week, and I have appreciated seeing your reader board: TWEET OTHERS AS YOU WOULD HAVE THEM TWEET YOU.  Every time I read it, I think, “You get this!”

Let me read to you the Gospel passage assigned to today from the Revised Common Lectionary.  Jesus has come down to the plain to teach the multitudes about kingdom living. This “Sermon on the Plain” is Luke’s version of the “Sermon on the Mount” in Matthew: 

Luke 6:27-38 – ²⁷“But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, ²⁸bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. ²⁹If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. ³⁰Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. ³¹Do to others as you would have them do to you. ³²“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. ³³If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. ³⁴If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. ³⁵But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. ³⁶Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

³⁷“Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven; ³⁸give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”

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Long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away….Okay, so it was really only about 16 years ago, but Eastern Kentucky is in its own little galaxy…I was called to do a graveside service for a family that I had not ever met.  The deceased’s last name was Hatfield.  He was a Mason, and this was to be my first Mason funeral service, so I was intrigued.  I was escorted to a rural cemetery that was located next to the Big Sandy River – West Virginia lay within view just across the river.  As we waited for family members to show up, one of the daughters of the deceased showed me around the cemetery.  We were apparently in a family area of this cemetery because there were a lot of relatives…all named Hatfield.  There seemed to be a lot of family pride in her voice. 

Now, you may have a clue as to where I am going with this, but at the time, I was still intrigued with the idea of Mason ritual during the service, and I wasn’t cluing into what I was seeing and hearing at all.  Then suddenly it hit me.  I was in the heart of Appalachian.  I was walking among deceased Hatfields….So I flippantly asked (thinking I was making a joke), “So, I don’t suppose there are any McCoys buried here, are there?” And she firmly responded, “No way.  They wouldn’t be caught dead here.  They are across the river in West Virginia” 

You can probably imagine the look of surprise on the face of this naïve native North Westerner. “You mean…that feud is real?” I asked in shocked surprise.  I had honestly thought it was a made-up dispute.  But she affirmed my question.

“Is it still going on?”  I asked, still in a state of disbelief.  Again, she affirmed the question.

“So, why don’t Hatfields and McCoys like each other? Why did the feud start?”  She didn’t have an answer.  I don’t quite remember if I said this or just thought it, but knowing me, the words were most likely bluntly vocalized, “Then, why don’t they just get over it?”  Again, she had no answer.  At this point, I figured I didn’t want to start another feud so I dropped the subject and did the graveside service, asking questions about Mason ritual and avoiding any other discussion on feuds.  Yet, I left that cemetery dumbfounded thinking that there really must be another way of dealing with differences than hating each other – and possibly hurting each other.

How we treat (and tweet) others matters.  We get this. I believe it safe to say that the majority of us have known this, this Golden Rule as laid out by Jesus, for the majority of our lives.  “Do to others as you would have them do to you.” (Luke 6:31). Every major religion, and even religions you may not even heard of, has their own version of the same.  For example:

Judaism: “What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow: this is the whole Torah; the rest is the explanation; go and learn.”   — Shabbath folio:31a, Babylonian Talmud

Islam: “Pay, Oh Children of Adam, as you would love to be paid, and be just as you would love to have justice!” and “As you would have people do to you, do to them; and what you dislike to be done to you, don’t do to them.”

Hinduism: “Those acts that you consider good when done to you, do those to others, none else.”

Buddhism: “Hurt not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful.”  — Udanavarga 5:18

Confucianism: “What you do not wish for yourself, do not do to others.”

And many others….

We try to practice this in our lives, and we teach our children to do the same. We teach them to be kind and polite to others, to return your shopping cart, to tip your server, to hold the door open for another, to offer your seat in a crowd, to pick up the piece of trash that is blowing away.  We teach our children that small acts of kindness, like the many and growing rings that form when a small pebble is dropped into a still pool, can have a ripple effect.  

How we treat others matters.  We get this.

But if we get it, and if the majority of humanity has heard this, why is there so much negativity and anger and fear and division in our lives?  In our communities?  In our country?  In our world?

The problem is, what Jesus is asking us to do is downright difficult. It is relatively simple to love a stranger we know nothing about, to donate food to people we haven’t met, to open a door for someone who looks pretty harmless, to have a decent conversation with someone we agree with, to maintain a pleasant relationship with the neighbor whose yard is well-kept and whose dogs don’t bark at 5:30 in the morning. 

But what about the guy on the street who is panhandling at the very same corner for months on end?  What about the parent who has abused and then lost her children because of drug addiction?  What about the neighbor who parties and plays loud music until the wee hours of the morning?  What about that guy who cut you off in traffic and almost caused you to have an accident?  What about the “friend” who has strong differing opinions that you and is not afraid to let you know?  How about the one who belongs to a different religious or political affiliation than you? What about the ones that our culture or our groups of belonging have taught us to hate? What about the white-supremist? The terrorist?  The bigot?  The one who has harmed your family and has wronged you?  The McCoy?  How do we love them?  And why do we even have to?

Why do we have to love our enemies when anger punishment, retaliation, and revenge seem so much safer and so much more satisfying? Well…at least for the present.

The answer to that is two-fold: First of all, Jesus tells us to. Period.  And if that is not enough for you, the second reason is the ripple effect.  How we treat others matters.  Just as a small pebble dropped into a pool causes ripples that reach the furthest shore, what we do to or for others, what we throw into the pool of human relationships, can make an entire world of difference.

There is a lot of anger, hatred, mistrust and division in the world.  There is a lot in our own country.  Angry tweets, disregard for the humanity of others, divisive rhetoric, misleading promises or commitments, and the desire of power and revenge coming from a few at the top have had a negative affect on the dynamic of many of our personal relationships.  Hate crimes have been on the rise.  And many have been moved to a sense of hopelessness.  In this state of hopelessness, what can we who have no fame, no platform, no powerful voice, no twitter account do to change this downward course?

Jesus tells us, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, ²⁸bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. ²⁹If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. ³⁰Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. ³¹Do to others [not as they do to you, but] as you would have them do to you.” 

The Dali Lama says, “Our prime purpose in this life is to help others.  And if you can’t help them, at least don’t hurt them.”  

The Rev. Dr. MLK says, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.  Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

How we treat others matters.  What we throw into the pool, ripples to ends of the earth.  And, just imagine: “If we could spread love as quickly as we spread hate and negativity, what an amazing world we would live in.”

This message was given at Spokane Friends Church by Lauri Clark-Strait on February 24, 2019

As I thought about this morning’s sermon and the Scripture I might use, I chose this text because it focuses our minds on a relevant word that is often heard today in our current culturally anxious times…. “tribalism.”  Paul, in writing to the church in Corinth, is talking to the force of tribalism that is tearing the church apart.

Tribalism….the natural human tendency (indeed, the vital evolutionary human need) is how we break into distinct, identifiable human clusters which share a common set of values, rituals, rules, history and, in some cases, genetics. Along with this group identification come definitions of “who is in, and who is out.” We humans have evolved this way as a means of survival.  By belonging to an inside group which cares for us and protects us, our individual survival is greatly enhanced.  And so we identify ourselves with specific nations, or schools, or sports teams, or political parties, or clubs, or…. yes, even churches.  We, as the church, see ourselves as a Christian tribe.  More specifically, you are the tribe none as “Friends”.  And even more specifically you are the “Friends of Spokane” tribe.  (And please hear me… no judgment here….all churches are tribal to various degrees.)

Within this tribe you have certain rules (some written down, but often unwritten and unspoken); you have a specific history (some of which is written down, and much which is not ….it fact it may be quite private); and you have certain expectations (oftentimes unarticulated). And, as with all tribes, if you are to be a member in good standing, you are expected to conform.  This may be OK.- – provided you know what those expectations and stories are.  But without that knowledge, entry into the tribe is daunting to someone from outside the tribe.  And this is where entry becomes difficult.  (It’s really important, especially for a family- connected, small community-oriented church like Menno Mennonite to be keenly aware of this reality.  Why? Because new people will find it hard to easily integrate if you aren’t aware of this dynamic and seek to address it).

Now let us consider what Paul is dealing with in the Corinthian church.  It seems that in the case of the Corinthian church the tribal mentality is causing a bit of an issue amongst the gathered saints.  The church in Corinth, among its many other problems and dysfunctions, is struggling with “factionalism” (i.e. tribalism).

“I belong to the tribe of Cephas.  I belong to the party of Paul.  Well, I belong to the faction of Apollos.

“Oh yeah (someone says)….Well, I belong to Christ!”  (By the way, I think that guy or gal got it right!)

Now remember, Paul is a church planter and he had spent a year and a half living in Corinth and getting this church off the ground.  And it is sometime later, after he had left to establish churches in places like Philippi and Ephesus, that he got wind that things weren’t going so well back with the fledgling church in Corinth.   And so he sends this letter back to the community.  And in typical fashion, Paul’s letter is filled with a mix of praise, encouragement, admonition, practical advice, and even a bit of sarcasm….(Imagine that?….Sarcastic!?  Paul?)

In chapter one Paul asks in rhetorical, and sarcastic, tones, “Is Christ divided?  Was Paul crucified for you?  Were you baptized into the (air quotes) “name of Paul”?  I’m just thankful I didn’t baptize any of you least you claim that you were baptized into my name!”

Now, I have to admit…honestly, as I have read Paul’s letters over the years I have actually come to appreciate more of the complexity of the man….especially his sarcastic wit.  I hear it hear in this section of 1 Cor. And I encourage you to read 2 Cor. with this tone in mind.  His humorous…albeit sarcastic humor…. Is, in my opinion, brilliant!

Now in light of what we know about our own human nature, and in light of the tribal conflicts within the church in Corinth, and especially in light of our current cultural and church conflicts, “How should we deal with this human, tribal impulse?”

Certainly we would all agree that the church is a wonderful and legitimate place where humans can, and should, flourish and find safety, acceptance, belonging, and identity centered around a very particular sacred narrative…..something we call “the gospel of redemptive love known in Christ Jesus.”  And entry into this tribe shouldn’t be difficult.  This tribe should be a place where people are accepted for who they are? And along with that, this tribe should be a place where folks “can be real?”

There’s an interesting book entitled, “Church Refugees” by Christian sociologist, Josh Pachard.  In this book he asks a timely question “Why are people leaving the church?”  Through his interviews with people who have left the church, he comes up with basically four reasons why people leave.  Interestingly enough, it’s not because they stopped loving and believing in Jesus, and it’s not even that they stopped loving the people in the church.

Based on extensive interviews with people who have given up on church, there are the four basic reasons ….

• They hungered for a loving, accepting community, and instead experienced judgment.
• They longed to apply their energy toward meaningful, socially transformative action for healing in a broken world, and instead had to fight through cumbersome church bureaucracy / committees. (In short, their enthusiasm to enact exciting ideas for ministry were smothered by the institution’s need to control.)
• They desired authentic and honest conversations about real questions and real issues that applied directly to their lives, and instead got one-sided, dogmatic “answers.”
• They wanted personal growth for where they were at, and instead found shallow moral prescriptions.

These are things for any church to consider if it wants to be relevant and growing and meeting people’s needs in our complicated, yet spiritually shallow, world.

As a pastor, I think one of the most important traits of people looking for a “place in the Christian tribe” is… “People WANT A PLACE WHERE THEY CAN BE REAL’.  I.e., they want a place where they can ask real question about real issues without the worry of being shamed into silence.

(Let me give one example….I had a brief glimpse of “being real” when I convened some summer time evening men’s groups.  One time the topic was “sexuality and how we understood it as we grew up and how that understanding had changed over the years”.  In the course of our sharing someone in that group had the guts to talk about a certain older male issue of  dysfunction in the bedroom and how it effected his marital relationship…..O.K….this was a moment of “getting real.”  Even though not all the men there had that issue, it was a radical, transformative moment.  Finally, we were talking, and listening, and sharing about something that was a real, relational issue.  Now that might not be an appropriate topic for a sermon, but it certainly is valid topic for those men in the church. It was an opportunity for them to become vulnerable and caring!

I share this as just one simple example of “getting real”.  I.e. sharing of things that we struggle with (without fear of being shamed).

Another time we met and had an honest conversation about salvation and what we had been taught about “hell” and what salvation really meant to people.  Many had been spiritually damaged by deeply negative fear-based teaching and we found healing in talking about it.

The chances are, if there is an issue you struggle with or a question you wonder about, most likely someone else in the church is dealing with that also.  And just knowing that you are not alone makes all the difference in the world.  The Christian tribe/congregation ought to be a safe place where honest expressions of real struggles and real questions (be they theological or personal, heretical or orthodox, ethical or practical) are not deal breakers for belonging.  If anything, the church should be the one place where we can be honest about our lives, and find positive outlets for action!

Another way of saying this is perhaps to say that the church needs to be a community (again, tribe, if you will) of hospitality.  One of the big problems with the church in Corinth was that it wasn’t a hospitable or safe place.  Not only were people dividing into cult-like following and factions (I belong to Paul!  I belong to Apollos! etc.), but it was also becoming a place where rich and poor were being distinguished and separated from one another.  Power differences were played out over who sat where, and who decided what.  Communion had degenerated into more of a gorging and drinking fest rather than a beautiful, symbolic enactment of sharing, provision, invitation, caring, and fellowship.  Sexual boundaries were disregarded – in some cases to such a degree that even the “pagans” were scandalized.  People were judging others for what they ate or didn’t eat, depending on how kosher one was or wasn’t.  Some people were behaving without sensitivity to where others were in their spiritual understanding and development.  In short, the church was fracturing from within.  And rather than being a beautiful tribe centered around the teachings of Christ, it was morphing into a cultic tribe of pain and strife.  That’s not the church!  That’s hell.   And there’s plenty of that these days.

I don’t have to tell any of you that we live in dangerously divided times.  We have allowed ourselves to be divided into ridiculous tribes of conservative vs. liberal, and rural vs. urban.   And we have been “played” by those with the largest “microphones.”  Worst amongst us are AM talk show hosts, TV preachers, and politicians at all levels… chief amongst them, the man at the top.  (That itself, I admit, might be a divisive, “tribal” statement.  And I will refrain from saying any more.)

But the church, of all places, should be a place of sanctuary from our divisive “tribalism.”

In Shakespeare’s great play, The Merchant of Venice, the ostracized “villain” Shylock, the Jewish money lender, makes a great speech were in response to the prejudice of his tormentors. Shylock says,

“I am a Jew!  Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions?  Fed with the same food, hurt by the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is?  If you prick us, do we not bleed?  If you tickle us, do we not laugh?  If you poison us, do we not die?  And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?  If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that?”

When it comes down to it, you see, whether we’re talking about religious tribes, or political tribes, or national tribes, or denominational tribes, or really any tribe, the fictional Shylock, as well as the real apostle Paul, and most assuredly Jesus, reminds us that there is really only one tribe for us…. that is the tribe of humanity.  And for me, here’s the kicker, I don’t care so much about small tribal identification any more.  (Oh sure. I may consider myself an urban person, or a liberal, or whatever…. But that’s not really who I am.  And I certainly value my identity as a Christian).  But over and above anything else, I belong to the same “tribe” of God we all belong to: “The Child of God Tribe” to which all created beings belong.

And I have come to believe that the tribe of Christ (what we call the church)…. Is really just the call to become the best and most honest human beings we can be.  As those words from Shakespeare remind us, we all have the same basic human desires, hopes, vulnerabilities, dreams, flaws, struggles, nobility.  We all want to live fulfilled lives.  We all need to find love and discover the joy of our unique gifts and to do the unique work we were called into this life to do.  We all crave kindness.  We all need to know we belong.  We all need to feel safe.  We all need to be encouraged.  And we all need to be held when we have our hearts broken. The tribe we call the church is where we can safely hold all that for our membership….and carry that same desire for the world at large. 

Wherever we see division being fostered, wherever we see “us vs. them,” I can never forget that the “them” (regardless of nation, or sexuality, or skin color, or world view or whatever other “tribe” someone may hail from), all are precious children from the same infinitely loving Creator who desires that no one perish but that all be saved.

Jesus, the fully human one, the one who referred to himself repeatedly as “the Son of Man” summed it up (and it’s ridiculously simple really) …“Love God with everything you’ve got.  And love your brothers and sisters as you must come to love yourself.”  (Think about…. at its core, it’s not that hard, yet paradoxically it is!  (As I sometimes say to folks, “God is found in the details!”)  We have a hard time with this, but for me the gospel is this….the only tribe, the only “church,” that matters is the one that calls people to fulfill Jesus’ great commandment:  Love.

In these tribally divided times, that’s a “church” that people are truly hungry for.  That’s the nation we all belong to and many have not yet found!

May that be the vision that invites people in…. be a follower of Jesus, and to more fully discover, with the help and guidance of the Holy Spirit,  what it is to be the human being that God has called us to be!  May the church fulfill this mission.

Amen.

This message was given by Gary Jewell at Spokane Friends Church on February 17, 2019

To start our time together, I would like us each to take a moment to consider conversations we have had in the past. Recall a moment when you were trying to share something important but you knew the other person was not listening. It seemed like the person on the receiving end of your story did not understand you. Ponder this for a moment.

I will not ask you to share those stories, but they are important for our comparison. Now consider a time when you felt heard. When you knew the person receiving your story was really listening.

How did you know they were listening? How did it feel to be heard?

 In second Corinthians, Paul explains that part of our new creation in Christ is that we are now ministers of reconciliation. This is perhaps the greatest appeal of the Christian life to me, that we are called to be active-peacemakers in the world. It is the aspect of the Friends tradition that most pulled me in when I was 19 and searching for a relationship with both Church and God that resonated with this call to peacemaking I felt.

2 Corinthians 5:18-20:   ¹⁸ All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; ¹⁹ that is, in Christ God was reconciling^[b] the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. ²⁰ Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making God’s appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.

In wanting to take this call of reconciliation seriously, I want to understand it. I want to know what it takes to start the process of reconciliation between individuals and groups. I think this reconciliation gives space and motivation for people to reconcile themselves to God.

What I have learned through studying conflict resolution is that the foundation of reconciliation is listening to each other. This month I spent 32 hours over two weekends in an advanced mediation class. The entire method is asking clarifying questions, repeating what the parties say and summarizing until both sides start to hear each other. We were not allowed to do anything else. No advice giving, no suggestions, no affirmations, nothing. It is called transformational mediation and the goal is to remain invisible. If I do my job well as a mediator, I am invisible because the parties are listening to each other.

In my first counseling class in college, the only class Jon and I took together, we read Michael Nichols, The Lost Art of Listening. I read this quote to my student leaders every year.

Genuine listening means suspending memory, desire and judgement – and, for a few moments at least, existing for the other person. –Michael P. Nichols

True listening is exhausting. So exhausting that I will only plan three individual meetings a day with students, because if I add a fourth within those eight hours, I cannot actually listen to them. I do not have the mental energy to fight off distraction, to remove my self-interest and to focus on hearing what the student has to say. If I am truly listening to someone, I do not exist for myself.

I am not speaking of every conversation I have, I am not talking about every dinnertime chat or phone call to a friend. What I mean is when I know someone needs to be heard. When someone says, “I need to talk. I need to process this.” Or when I know someone just received challenging news or experienced a personal failure. Those are the moments I believe listening needs to be selfless.

This selfless listening is active listening. Listening that takes work. The best way to listen to someone is to employ a few simple tools.

1. Repeat what you hear. It is robotic and tedious, but effective. When someone says, “Yesterday I argued with my mom about how much money I owe her.” You respond with “so you’re in an argument with your mom about how much money you owe her.” This feels redundant but this is how you know you are paying attention. If you can do this consistently in a conversation, you actually have to intently follow the words being spoken to you. Your mind cannot be drifting to the next thing to say.
2. Ask clarifying questions. To understand someone’s story, you must demonstrate curiosity. Open-ended questions that bring more understanding to what someone ALREADY SAID, not to what you assume they have said. The best way to do this is avoid yes and no questions. Ideally, a question would have specific words repeated or a synthesis of what someone has said. “I noticed you said frustrated few times. What did you find most frustrating about your situation?” This type of question demonstrates that you were paying attention and that you are curious about their full experience.
3. Pay attention to nonverbals and affirm emotional responses. When someone is displaying emotions, addressing this is helpful. Pay attention to the whole person. “You seem nervous to tell me this. I notice you tear up when you talk about your friend. Wow this seems like it was really hard for you.” These observations do not impose your own judgment or assumption, they just acknowledge how someone feels and bring that into your understanding.

Knowing what you should be doing is helpful. Perhaps more helpful is knowing what to avoid. I refer to these as Pink Flags. They are not red flags, but not quite white.

1. Giving advice. Advice is best received when it is asked for, and especially the first time you hear a story it is important to really understand it. Ironically, good listening will often be enough for a person to understand more of what they want to do next, no advice needed.
2. Relating a story to yourself. When someone shares something that happens to him or her, it is tempting to try to understand his or her experience through a similar one you have had or someone close to you has had. “That’s hard, when MY mother was diagnosed with cancer, this is how I coped…” but this is not listening. This takes the focus of the story from the person sharing and puts it back on you as the listener. This is natural but not usually helpful. Put this in the advice category and wait until someone asks if you have been through this experience before you share.
3. Filling the silence. Even as a Quaker, silence can feel awkward. My temptation is to fill it. When you feel the need to interject with a thought or idea, try to give someone 30 seconds of silence. This silence is gold for those people who need a little more time to form their thoughts. Often we are not listened to well and when we actually find someone willing to do the work of listening, it takes time to share all we need to.

From my perspective, active listening might just solve all of our problems. Conflict exists, but when we stop to understand a person’s story, it makes a huge difference in how we interact moving forward. When I take the time to listen to a student, hear their experience, their perspectives and what they are learning about themselves, they are more willing to respond well to critical feedback I give them. They are more willing to be corrected. It is easy to dismiss someone who does not listen to you, much harder to ignore someone who has put energy into understanding you.

When I think of Christ blessing the peacemakers, I picture great listeners. Listeners who understand people so well that they can enact change because they get it. They have willing followers because people feel understood.

May we be those listeners. May we be peacemakers. I’ll leave us with Michael Nichols’ quote.

Genuine listening means suspending memory, desire and judgement – and, for a few moments at least, existing for the other person.                                    –Michael P. Nichols

Consider what it means for you as a listener. How can we listen to those around us in an effort to be active peacemakers?

This message by Krista Maroni was given at Spokane Friends Church on 13 February 2019.

Good Morning.  This morning I have prepared to present Martin Luther King’s Speech “I have been to the Mountaintop.”  He delivered this speech to a Memphis, Tennessee, audience on April 3^rd 1968.  I have also prepared some questions for us to ponder.  More on that later.

King had traveled to Memphis to take part in a protest for the almost exclusively black sanitation workers of the city who he believed were being treated unfairly in their contract negotiation.  I have severely cut his words so that I could fit this 45-minute speech into a Quaker sermon time slot.  I hope that I have captured the essence of what he was trying to say.  I invite you to read or listen to the speech in it entirety by searching it out on line.

King’s words:

If I were standing at the beginning of time, with the possibility of taking a panoramic view of the whole of human history up to now, and the Almighty said to me, “Martin Luther King, which age would you like to live in?”

I would take my mental flight by Egypt and I would watch God’s children in their magnificent trek from the dark dungeons of Egypt across the Red Sea, through the wilderness toward the promised land. And in spite of its magnificence, I wouldn’t stop there.

King goes on the mention the Greeks, Romans, the renaissance era, His name sake, Martin Luther’s list of ninety-five theses nailed to the Wittenberg door, Abraham Lincoln signing the Emancipation Proclamation, the depression era and FDR’s bold claim “that we have nothing to fear but fear itself”.

Each time he described a period he repeated the phrase I wouldn’t stop there.  He then goes on to say:

Strangely enough, I would turn to the Almighty, and say, “If you allow me to live just a few years in the second half of the 20th century, I will be happy.”

Martin continues: 

Now that’s a strange statement to make, because the world is all messed up. The nation is sick. Trouble is in the land; confusion all around. But I know, that only when it is dark enough, can you see the stars. And I see God working in this period of the twentieth century in a way that men, are responding.

Something is happening in our world. The masses of people are rising up. And wherever they are assembled today, whether they are in Johannesburg, South Africa; Nairobi, Kenya; Accra, Ghana; New York City; Atlanta, Georgia; Jackson, Mississippi; or Memphis, Tennessee — the cry is always the same: “We want to be free.”

Another reason that I’m happy to live in this period is that we have been forced to a point where we are going to have to grapple with the problems that men have been trying to grapple with through history, but the demands didn’t force them to do it. Survival demands that we grapple with them, now.

Men, for years have been talking about war and peace. But now, no longer can they just talk about it. It is no longer a choice between violence and nonviolence in this world; it’s nonviolence or nonexistence. That is where we are today.

And also in the human rights revolution, if something isn’t done, and done in a hurry, to bring the colored peoples of the world out of their long years of poverty, their long years of hurt and neglect, the whole world is doomed. Now, I’m just happy that God has allowed me to live in this period to see what is unfolding. And I’m happy that He’s allowed me to be in Memphis.
What does all of this mean in this great period of history? It means that we’ve got to stay together. We’ve got to stay together and maintain unity. whenever Pharaoh wanted to prolong the period of slavery in Egypt, he had a  formula He kept the slaves fighting among themselves.  whenever the slaves get together, they cannot hold the slaves in slavery. So let us maintain unity.

Secondly, let us keep the issues where they are. The issue is injustice.  we’ve got to keep attention on that and force everybody to see that there are hundreds of God’s children here suffering, sometimes going hungry, going through dark and dreary nights wondering how this thing is going to come out. That’s the issue. And we’ve got to say to the nation: We know how it’s coming out. For when people get caught up with that which is right and they are willing to sacrifice for it, there is no stopping point,  short of victory.

In this next paragraphs King references Bull Connor, For those of you who don’t know Bull Connor He was in charge of both the police and the fire departments in Birmingham Alabama and fought the civil rights movement using all the power of his office.

We aren’t going to let any mace stop us. We are masters in our nonviolent movement in disarming police forces; they don’t know what to do. Bull Connor would tell them to send the dogs forth, but we just went before the dogs singing, “Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me around.”

Bull Connor next would say, “Turn the fire hoses on,” but we knew water couldn’t stop us, and we would look at it, and go on singing “Over my head I see freedom in the air.”

And we would be thrown in the paddy wagons, and we would just go in the paddy wagon singing, “We Shall Overcome.”

Then we’d get in jail, and we’d see the jailers looking through the windows being moved by our prayers and being moved by our words and our songs. And there was a power there which Bull Connor couldn’t adjust to; and so we ended up transforming Bull into a steer, and we won our struggle in Birmingham. Now we’ve got to go on in Memphis just like that.

We have an injunction and we’re going into court tomorrow morning to fight this illegal, unconstitutional injunction. All we say to America is, “Be true to what you said on paper.” If I lived in any totalitarian country, maybe I could understand some of these illegal injunctions. Maybe I could understand the denial of certain basic First Amendment privileges, because they hadn’t committed themselves to that.  But somewhere I read of the freedom of assembly. Somewhere I read of the freedom of speech. Somewhere I read of the freedom of press. Somewhere I read that the greatness of America is the right to protest for what is right. And so just as I say, we aren’t going to let dogs or water hoses turn us around, we aren’t going to let any injunction turn us around. We are going on.

King then thanks the preachers who have joined the cause and brings up a critical point about a focus of working here against injustice instead of focusing on the afterlife.

It’s all right to talk about “long white robes over yonder,” in all its symbolism. But ultimately people want some suits and dresses and shoes to wear down here! It’s all right to talk about “streets of flowing with milk and honey,” but God has commanded us to be concerned about the slums down here, and his children who can’t eat three square meals a day. It’s all right to talk about the new Jerusalem, but one day, God’s preacher must talk about the new New York, the new Atlanta, the new Philadelphia, the new Los Angeles, the new Memphis, Tennessee. This is what we have to do.

We don’t have to argue with anybody. We don’t have to curse and go around acting bad with our words. We don’t need any bricks and bottles. We don’t need any Molotov cocktails. We just need to say,

“God sent us by here, to say to you that you’re not treating his children right. And we’ve come by here to ask you to make the first item on your agenda fair treatment, where God’s children are concerned. Now, if you are not prepared to do that, we do have an agenda that we must follow. And our agenda calls for withdrawing economic support from you.”

Now these are some practical things that we can do. We begin the process of building a greater economic base. And at the same time, we are putting pressure where it really hurts.

Now, let me say as I move to my conclusion that we’ve got to give ourselves to this struggle until the end. Nothing would be more tragic than to stop at this point We’ve got to see it through. Be concerned about your brother; we go up together, or we go down together.

Let us develop a kind of dangerous unselfishness.  Jesus talked about a man, who fell among thieves. A Levite and a priest passed by on the other side. They didn’t stop to help him.  And finally a man of another race came by. He got down from his beast, administered first aid, and helped the man in need. Jesus ended up saying, this was the good man, because he had the capacity to be concerned about his brother.

We use our imagination to try to determine why the priest and the Levite didn’t stop. busy going to a church meeting, an ecclesiastical gathering, and they had to get down to Jerusalem so they wouldn’t be late? We might speculate that there was a religious law that “One who was engaged in religious ceremonials was not to touch a human body twenty-four hours before the ceremony.”

But I’m going to tell you what my imagination tells me.  It’s possible that those men were afraid. You see, the Jericho road is a dangerous road.  I remember when Mrs. King and I were first in Jerusalem. We drove from Jerusalem down to Jericho.  And as soon as we got on that road, I said to my wife, “I can see why Jesus used this as the setting for his parable.” It’s a winding, meandering road. It’s really conducive for ambushing. That’s a dangerous road. In the days of Jesus, it came to be known as the “Bloody Pass.” And you know, it’s possible that the priest and the Levite looked over that man on the ground and wondered if the robbers were still around.  Or it’s possible that they felt that the man on the ground was merely faking.  And he was acting like he had been robbed and hurt, in order to lure them there for quick and easy seizure. And so the first question that the priest asked — the first question that the Levite asked was, “If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?” But then the Good Samaritan reversed the question: “If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?”

That’s the question before you tonight. Not, “If I stop to help the sanitation workers, what will happen to my job?  Not, “If I stop to help the sanitation workers what will happen to all of the hours that I usually spend in my office every day and every week as a pastor?”  The question is not, “If I stop to help this man in need, what will happen to me?”  The question is, “If I do not stop to help the sanitation workers, what will happen to them?” That’s the question.

Let us rise up tonight with a greater readiness.  Let us stand with a greater determination.  And let us move on in these powerful days, these days of challenge to make America what it ought to be. We have an opportunity to make America a better nation. And I want to thank God, once more, for allowing me to be here with you.

You know, several years ago, I was in New York City autographing the first book that I had written. And while sitting there a demented black woman came up. Before I knew it, I had been stabbed by this demented woman. I was rushed to Harlem Hospital, and the X-rays revealed that the tip of the blade was on the edge of my aorta, the main artery. And once that’s punctured, you drown in your own blood.

It came out in the New York Times the next morning, that if I had merely sneezed, I would have died. Well, about four days later, they allowed me to read some of the mail that came in, from all over the states and the world.  I read a few, but one of them I will never forget. It said simply,

“Dear Dr. King,

I am a ninth-grade student at the White Plains High School.”

“While it should not matter, I would like to mention that I’m a white girl. I read in the paper of your misfortune, and of your suffering. And I read that if you had sneezed, you would have died. And I’m simply writing you to say that I’m so happy that you didn’t sneeze.”

And I want to say tonight — I want to say tonight that I, too, am happy that I didn’t sneeze.  Because if I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been around here in 1960, when students all over the South started sitting-in at lunch counters.

If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been around here in 1961, when we decided to take a ride for freedom and ended segregation in inter-state travel.

If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been around here in 1962, when Negroes in Albany, Georgia, decided to straighten their backs up.

If I had sneezed — If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been here in 1963, when the black people of Birmingham, Alabama, aroused the conscience of this nation, and brought into being the Civil Rights Bill.

If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have had a chance later that year, in August, to try to tell America about a dream that I had had.

If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been down in Selma, Alabama, to see the great Movement there.

If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been in Memphis to see a community rally around those brothers and sisters who are suffering.

I’m so happy that I didn’t sneeze.

Now, it doesn’t matter, it really doesn’t matter what happens now. I left Atlanta this morning, and as we got started on the plane. The pilot said over the public address system, “We are sorry for the delay, but we have Dr. Martin Luther King on the plane. And to be sure that all of the bags were checked, and to be sure that nothing would be wrong with on the plane, we had to check out everything carefully. And we’ve had the plane protected and guarded all night.”

And then I got into Memphis. And some began to say the threats, or talk about the threats that were out. What would happen to me from some of our sick white brothers?

Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop.

Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!

And so I’m happy, tonight.

I’m not worried about anything.

I’m not fearing any man!

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!!

The next day Thursday, April 4, 1968 King was killed, murdered by a single round fired from a 30-06 rile as he stood on the balcony of room 306 of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis Tennessee.

Tomorrow is Martin Luther King Day.  A holiday we established as a country to honor his legacy.  We tend on this day to look back at his work, look back at the things he, with the help of many others accomplished.  I’m not sure he would have wanted that.

Looking back, it is easy to see ourselves on the right side of the issues.  Is it comfortable to make a stand with Martin because it is accepted by our society that he was right?  The civil rights movement was just.  History has told us what is correct, and we merely nod approval and identify with the movement.  But King’s focus was not the rear view mirror.  His description of living in the current struggle is a point we cannot afford to miss if we are to stand for justice.

Blacks are 5 times more likely to go to prison in our country than whites.

¼ of the black population of Kentucky can’t vote because of a felony conviction.

Black people comprise 38 percent of all Americans who have been stripped of their voting rights due to felony convictions, though they are only 13 percent of the country’s population.

There are huge racial disparities in how police use force resulting in far more black deaths than the % of the population indicates.

Huge racial disparity in poverty rates

Capital punishment rates.

Economic opportunity

The list goes on and on

King said that he had been to the mountaintop.  And seen the Promised Land.  He promised that we, as a people, would get to the Promised Land!

But please notice that his focus was on the future.  It has been 50 years since his death.  Have we reached the Promised Land?  Have we reached racial equality? Do we have a just nation?   Or have we lost the critical unity he was describing?  Have we given up the struggle?  Do we live in fear?  Fear about will happen to us if we join the struggle instead of what will happen to the less fortunate children of God if we do not?

From his view on the mountaintop Martin warned us about all these things.

On this MLK day let us not look back at what he accomplished but rather consider what issues he would be fighting for today if he were still with us.

I believe that he would encourage us to look for and join the efforts of those who are working for racial equality.  Others who have filled the void left by King’s death.  Others who continue the struggle, continue to build unity and keep us moving as a people toward the promised land.

This message was given by Jonas Cox at Spokane Friends Church on January 20, 2019.

HAPPY NEW YEAR to you all, and welcome to the season which can seem the gloomiest time of year –The Christmas star is gone from the sky, the wise men have returned to their own countries, the Holy Family has fled to Egypt to remain there as refugees until King Herod is dead. And in our time, we face the long stretch between Christmas and Easter when the days are short, the sunlight is less direct, and the weather is cold.   Perhaps we find ourselves a bit let-down, a bit depressed, and in need of comfort.

When have you felt like you are stuck in the wilderness, the scenery around you has changed.  You don’t fit in any more.  One such time for me was when I knew retirement was near; we had hired a new faculty member, and I said to myself :  His star must rise and mine must set, and that was strange indeed.  I had been responsible for many years for the health of my Department, and of others areas on campus where I held positions of responsibility.  Now what?  Where do I go from here?

Can you remember a time in your life – long enough ago that you can look back on it and say, Yes, I remember that.  Share, just briefly in a sentence or two, a time like that in your life.

(Congregation shares)

Death of a spouse or a family member can do that.  Now what?  This is not where I want to be?   All those questions, all that regret, all that guilt.  If only I had . . .     What if I had done that differently. . .

We are turning our attention today to something the prophet Isaiah said.  You may ask:

What could anyone say in the 6th century BC that would be relevant to us today?  Quite a bit, as it turns out.  Because it is not hard to find people in discomfort, lives in exile, and a world in turmoil. God’s words ring true in every age, place, and life because exile happens in every age, place, and life.

The prophets in Old Testament times had more than one responsibility.  The one that comes to mind first is that they were told to warn the people when they were straying from God.  So their message would be “Repent of your wrongdoing and turn back to God.”

But there are times when the prophet’s message was one of comfort, and this passage in Isaiah is one of them

The setting here refers to the Babylonian captivity.  Remember, the Israelites were told that they were special, that God was going to make a great nation of them, and they would move toward the establishment of God’s Kingdom on earth —  and now they find themselves defeated in war and carried off to a strange country with a strange culture.  What about all those promises of God?  Can God be defeated by the Babylonians?  What are they supposed to think?

Prophet tries to address 3 questions that the people have:  Does God want to deliver us?  Is God able to deliver us?     WILL he deliver us?

Isaiah 40: 1-5

Comfort, comfort my people,
says your God.
² Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
and proclaim to her
that her hard service has been completed,
that her sin has been paid for,
that she has received from the Lord’s hand
double for all her sins.

³ A voice of one calling:
“In the wilderness prepare
the way for the Lord^[a];
make straight in the desert
a highway for our God.^[b]
4 Every valley shall be raised up,
every mountain and hill made low;
the rough ground shall become level,
the rugged places a plain.
⁵ And the glory of the Lord will be revealed,
and all people will see it together.
For the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”

The theme of this message arose when a good friend of mine began adding a note at the end of her e-mails which said “For comfort at all times” followed by a web address.  During the midterm elections I went to the link and it DID comfort me, so I want to share it.  The song is  “Comfort, Comfort Now My People” and it’s in our hymnbook, so you can look it up and follow along with the words, since our sound system doesn’t amplify the computer output very much.

“Comfort” is not the best of words here – to us, comfort is soft and fuzzy – the Hebrew word is better translated as “encourage” my people, “strengthen” my people.  I am on my way to rescue them.

Handel’s Messiah includes this passage, set to music– in picking out from the whole Bible what the most important messages are, this is one of them.

Then further along we come to vs.10-11  and they are also chosen by Handel for The Messiah:

¹⁰See, the Sovereign Lord comes with power,
and he rules with a mighty arm.
See, his reward is with him,
and his recompense accompanies him.
¹¹ He tends his flock like a shepherd:
He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young.

The Prophet tries to address 3 questions that the people have:  Does God want to deliver us?  Is God able to deliver us?     WILL he deliver us?

And God answers these questions.   Yes, God wants to rescue us.  You are forgiven.  Can God deliver us? Yes, God can  deliver us and comes to us a shepherd. Will God deliver us?  Yes, God says, I have NOT given up on you.  I’m on my way to rescue you right now.

Exile can happen in every age, at any place, and at any time in our life.  Exile takes us to the wilderness. In the wilderness the mountains are high, the valleys are low, and the ground is rough and uneven. Many of us have climbed the mountains of arrogance, ego, and pride. Likewise we have descended into the valleys of despair, depression, and fear. We have travelled the rough and uneven ground of sorrow, loss, and pain. The wilderness is not so much about the geography around us as it about the landscape within us.

Every one of us could tell a story about a time when we were in exile, alienated from life, ourself, those we love, and our God. Some of us may be in exile now. Exiles live in a foreign land: a land of guilt and regret, fear, sorrow, despair. That is never where God intended us to live. It is not our true home, but sometimes that is where we are

God sends Isaiah to carry his words of comfort to Israel and to us. “Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,” he instructs Isaiah. God knows that life in the wilderness is fragile. This is not a time for condemnation, judgment, or ridicule. Sometimes exiles are holding on by a thread. They need words of comfort, encouragement, and hope. Isaiah is to speak softly to their heart. He is to call them home. That is after all what repentance is about. It is about coming home. When John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness proclaiming a baptism of repentance, he was echoing Isaiah’s words. “It is time to come home.” Repentance prepares the way of the Lord. It prepares the way home.

God’s promise is that the mountains will be made low, the valleys will be lifted up, and the rough and uneven ground will become a level plain. The way will be prepared. This is not so that we might get out but so that God in Christ might get in. God is always coming to us. There is no situation in which God cannot come to you. Isaiah (sounding a lot like Diana Ross) reminds us that there is no mountain high enough, no valley low enough, no ground rough enough to keep God from coming to you.

“Here is your God,” Isaiah exclaims to Israel. In the foreign land of exile “here is your God.” God comes to us in the worst places imaginable. He gathers us in his arms and carries us next to his heart. God’s words of comfort come to us in our exile. Our wilderness is the geography of new beginnings, reconciled relationships, and salvation. It all starts with repentance.

Repentance is not so much about the guilt of our past but a present hope that reveals a new future. Love and new life cannot be sustained by the same old ways, the ways that took us into exile. There must be a conversion, a change of heart. If new life and love are to last, we must call into question our usual ways of being and doing. We must be willing to grow and change. We need to orient our life in a different direction and live at a new level of consciousness. We must face the truth of our life; not as the final judgment of our life but as the foundation for our hope, expectation, and longing for the one who is can save us.

Name the places of alienation and exile in your life, and you will also name the opportunities for repentance and homecoming. Repentance happens when exile and words of comfort meet. We do not repent so that we can hear God’s words of comfort. God speaks words of comfort so that we might repent. “Comfort, O Comfort my People”

This message was given by Lois Kieffaber at Spokane Friends Church on January 6, 2018.

This morning’s message comes from a Sunday school lesson I taught to my high school youth group way back in July of 2012. This would have been when I was living in Newberg, Krista and I would have been married for just over a year and I thought I would be in pastoral ministry forever. It was a time that was defined by simplicity in our lives, which is my topic for today.

Things change don’t they, and often in wonderful ways. One of the practices I had from that time was each week I would ask a check in question for my students, so I’ll do that with us today.

Your check-in question this morning is at what age or stage of life does someone become an adult?  and follow up to that, when did you personally consider yourself an adult? For those of us who are already adults at one point did you first consider yourself an adult? When you were able to look around and say “I feel grown up now.”

(Congregation responds)

Worship through scripture:

In 2012 the NWYM office produced one of the best short education curriculums that I still reference today. I called it the S.P.I.C.E. teachings, and each focused on a different aspect of Quaker distinctives.

Simplicity

Peace

Integrity

Community

Equality

This morning we are going to talk about the E of the S.P.I.C.E acronym, which stands for equality. This is one of the most important things that we believe as Quakers, and it is foundation upon which many of our other beliefs are built. We as Quakers believe that God has made all people equal, and that God loves each of us equally. In the kingdom of God there is not to be a division among people based upon money, possessions, gender, or anything else.

We live in a very hierarchical society, and it has become even more stratified than in 2012 when I first penned this message. We are living in a time where the powerful and wealthy have even more influence and control even more of the world’s wealth. We even have specific terms with which we categorize whole families based upon any number of factors.

My question for you is by what characteristics do we classify people? Also what are the different classes or levels that people are put in within those categories? I’ll give you an example of what I mean. One of the most common ways in which families are categorized is based upon how much money their household makes. There are 4 standard classes within society; they are the lower class, the working class, the middle class, and the upper class. According to this model the lower class usually consists of people who make very little money or are unemployed, they don’t often have health insurance, they may or may not have finished high school, and they usually struggle to make ends meet with their finances. The working class consists of those people who usually have manual labor type jobs for which little education is required, they are usually underpaid and often have jobs that are physically demanding or taxing. The middle class consists of people who have completed college, and work in fields that often don’t require their physical labor. This might include people who work as small business owners, teachers, managers, doctors, lawyers etc.

Finally the upper class includes those who are ridiculously wealthy.  When I first wrote this message in 2012 the top 1% owned 25% of the world’s wealth. They now control over half of the world’s wealth.

So given this example, what are some other ways in which people are categorized in our society, and what are the classes into which they are categorized?

What feels wrong about this? Or the fact that we are so concerned with putting people in their place? Have you yourself experienced inequality in some form? Have you worked against it?

This morning we are going to look at what scripture and Jesus have to say about equality.

Jesus lived in a time where people weren’t treated equally, and the concept of having individual rights didn’t exist for most people. In the time when Jesus lived the concept of treating people equally didn’t exist. The most striking example of this was the vast difference that existed between men and women. For example when a census was taken in Israel during Jesus’ time, women weren’t counted. The population of Israel was considered all men who were of the age where they could serve in the military. Women in most cases couldn’t be land owners; they couldn’t file for divorce from their husbands (a right which men retained). Think even of the story of Jesus and “The woman caught in adultery.” Adultery takes two people to commit, the man isn’t mentioned in the story, isn’t reprimanded or even contained within the title.

The unfortunate reality is that even though we have progressed as people, there are still tons of examples of how we don’t see everyone equally both within our own culture and worldwide.

I’m going to read a few portions of scripture that speak to the significance of equality.

Genesis 1:26-27-God created humans in His image. We equally represent the image of God, which means that God is expressed in women just as much as in men. It takes both to fully represent God’s image.

Romans 8:14-17-We have been adopted into the family of God and co heirs with Christ. God treats us as full sons and daughters. All Christians are equal because we are co heirs with Christ. God looks at each of us and loves us the same.

Galatians 3:23-28-This scripture breaks through our categories, In Christ we are the same regardless of race, gender, ethnicity, etc. I love this scripture.

John 8:1-11-Jesus and the woman caught in adultery. Jesus didn’t choose to judge this women based upon her sin (which she had been caught committing) or because of her gender. Jesus offered her forgiveness, just as he had done to all people. Jesus was so radical in his time because he rejected the distinction between men and women. Men and women can both be pastors, missionaries, anything that God calls you to do you can do. Jesus viewed men and women equally and

Matthew 22:34-40-If we are to love others as ourselves, how is that an example of treating people with equality.

How can we be people who promote equality in our families, in our workplaces, in our community?

This message was given by Jon Maroni at Spokane Friends Church on December 30, 2018

John 21:15

“When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter: ‘Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?’ He said to him, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my lambs.’

M

Mary’s forehead is dried blood. “He did this to me,” she says. John Jacob is uneasy. He’s not on his game. It’s getting late and he hasn’t sold a paper for an hour. “I bet she told the police,” he says. He is speaking to me but looking at her. I try not to look at her. I look instead at the ground. In my mind, however, I can’t look away. He pauses. A woman in a business suit nears. “Street Sheet tonight, mam?” No luck. Her eyes close and she walks on.

“I told her not to smoke that stuff around me. It’s her own damn fault.” Under her breath Mary protests. This makes him angrier. “You know what I’ll do? I’ll find out where she sleeps and have someone light her on fire.” I think he might be serious. He slams the papers on the concrete planter we’re sitting on. Mary pulls out a pocketknife and says she’ll cut his throat open if he tries to. “And I don’t care if the police see me do it,” she says. “See, honey,” she says, looking at me, “I can stick up for myself. Let me help you with your studies.”

“Tell me something good, honey. I need to hear something good tonight.” Steady, like cars on the highway, people walk past us. We are shrubs. There is nothing good to say. I see no daffodils; I have lost their defense. She begins to cry. She falls down. Her knees blanket the concrete. “There is no love on the streets,” she tells me. “There is no love here, honey. Let me help you with your studies.”

“Honey, do you want some tea?” Mary reaches into her bag. Gently her fingers wade through McDonald’s napkins and blue cursive on torn pages of white paper and a half-eaten bag of potato chips. She finds two bags of tea. I cringe as she pulls them out of her purse. I fear the germs in her purse and on the teabags and what might happen to me if I ingest them. I fear this fear and am ashamed of who it makes me. “Let’s see. I have green and chamomile. Which do one you want? No, have them both. Honey you take both of them, for your studies.”

I haven’t seen Mary for four years, but she remains present to me. She seared my soul. Her affliction called out to me like it was the voice of God. I left Berkeley for Seattle a few months later to continue doing ethnographic research with people like Mary experiencing homelessness. I thought it my Christian duty to understand how to share God’s love with them.

John 21:16

“A second time he said to him, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ He said to him, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Tend my sheep.’”

 S

 University Avenue Northeast is a popular street in Seattle. Locals call it “the Ave.” Situated a few blocks from the University of Washington’s idyllic campus, it stretches a mile long. In days gone one could ride a street car on the Ave to a mom and pop shop. Today it is lined mostly with commercial restaurants, bars, and retail stores. Mom and pop are going out of business. Many locals lament that the Ave has fallen as prey to gentrification. You’d be lucky to get a smile on the Ave today.

At the north end of the Ave are Cowen and Ravenna parks. In these parks there are 60 acres of Bigleaf Maples, Douglas Firs, and Western Hemlocks. Daffodils bloom there in the summer. There is a creek that flows between the trees and which you can hear through the sound of your footsteps if you are quiet. At the entrance of Cowen park is plaque. Inscribed on the plaque is a line from the book of Deuteronomy, which Jesus quoted in Matthew 8: “Man shall not live by bread alone.” It is an apt teaching to consider after walking through all the avarice on the Ave. It gets under your skin. You can’t help but ingest it. You could go to the parks and imagine that you will become like Henry David Thoreau in Walden.

I met Rebecca on a warm summer afternoon. Her and some of her friends, all of whom were living homeless, were sitting in front of Kroger’s on the Ave. They’d hangout and do business there all day and, when they could, walk to one of the parks to sleep under the stars.

When Rebecca found out I was trying to understand life on the streets of Seattle, she invited me to sit down and hangout. She said it would be the best way for me to understand. I accepted her hospitality and returned often. One of the first things that really struck me, sitting on the sidewalk with Rebecca, is how she spoke to the complete strangers who’d walk past her. She’d say things like, “have a nice day” and “enjoy the sunshine” and “smile, it’s a beautiful day.” She’d thank people enthusiastically when they gave her their spare change or leftovers.

Here, I must make my first confession. I can be more like Holden Caulfield than Henry David Thoreau. What I mean is that the whole thing seemed Goddamn phony at first. Like a charade. Like Rebecca’s kindness was really just a shrewd way to trick “yuppies” into giving her free food and money. It didn’t take long for me to realize who was being phony, however: me. This yuppie here. Not that tricking yuppies isn’t entertaining. I learned that it can be rather fun to wake someone with means from a materialistic stupor. But let me tell you: Rebecca’s kindness is no charade; she is not for want but she is generous to the bone.

Rebecca became my teacher. She taught me that the universe is like a delicate “love web” that we are all suspended in. It is governed by a natural law, she thinks: “love multiples when it’s spread, and it diminishes when it’s ignored.” Love came forward to her on the streets, she said, because she came forward to Love. Love did not let her down; She did not abandon her. Her kind gestures and genuine smiles activated the inherent goodness in our universe and in our species; it carved for her a kind and inhabitable space in the radical pain and suffering that is constitutive of life for a person experiencing homelessness. All the better that it rendered material possessions, but that’s not the point. The point is not to possess love but to share it. Love is sharing.

I came to the streets thinking I knew what love was and that I was the one who needed to share it. In Rebecca I discovered a love that dwarfed my own. She is not religious, but she has more faith than I do. I don’t have the trust in the goodness of the universe and in our species that she does. I am too afraid. This is my second confession.

John 21:17

“He said to him a third time, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, ‘Do you love me?’ And he said to him, ‘Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my sheep.’

H                                                                                               

Hank sat alone in the afternoons on a park bench in the middle of Seattle’s historic Pioneer Place Park. A controversial homage to Chief Seattle, whose name and lands the city took and made its own, stands erect at the cusp of the park. One day, walking through the park, I waved at Hank and smiled awkwardly. He asked if I wanted to hear a song. “Oh, I’d love to.” He brought his guitar out of its case and pulled a black composition book from his backpack. “Pick a song,” he said. I picked “Soul Love” by David Bowie. He baulked at my choice; he said that the song has a special meaning for him. I got the sense that it would be hard to play. Hank played it anyway. On five strings he strummed and sang:

“Soul-love, the priest that tastes the word and

Told of love, and how my God on high is

All love, though reaching up my loneliness evolves by the blindness that surrounds him.”

He sang some more:

“All I have is my love of love,

And love is not loving.”

I thanked Hank for the song and left Pioneer Square in nascent despair. What did Bowie mean about love being unloving? Did Hank feel that way too? I stopped hanging around Hank’s neighborhood and so, regrettably, I never follow up with him about it.

A few months later, in May 2018, I came across an absurd headline in the Seattle Times: “Homeless man probably crushed to death after sleeping in recycling container.” In the article there is a question underneath a picture: “Have you seen this man?” The man’s sister was contacted by the paper for an interview. Her brother had been running from the past, she said. From pain. She said he liked to play guitar and that his favorite song was “Free Bird” by Leonard Skinner. I don’t know for sure—my memory is hazier than the picture in the newspaper—but it sure looks like Hank.

R

This message is about love. It is meant to stir and evoke that most sacred energy in your soul. I shared a few confessions from my research with people experiencing homelessness so that we each might spend time, in each our own way, together, with Jesus’ question to Peter in the Gospel of John. “Do you love me more than these?”

May the queries I have for us not become immaterial debates and religious abstractions. May they lead us into tender kindness with one another. May they lead us to change the cultural conditions that negatively impact the most vulnerable amongst us. May our religion be pure and lasting. People are buckling under the weight of an affliction that smiles won’t fix. I smile too much and not enough. This is my final confession. By God’s grace may we come to understand how our love might become more loving.

Here is the first of our three queries. I will give the query and allow a few minutes for silence and response before going to the next one.

What do I love?

The second:

Is my love loving? Is there a practical way the Light might be inviting me to understand whether my love is actually loving?

The third:

How might God be inviting me to become more loving? Is there something concrete I can do this week to respond to this invitation?

This message was given by Paul Blankenship at Spokane Friends Church on December 16, 2018.