Earth Day

Showing posts with label Angela Davis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Angela Davis. Show all posts

Monday, March 22, 2021

Sermon: B Lent 1, February 21, 2021, "Wild Hearts"

 

B Lent 1 BFC 2021
Mark 1:9-15; Mark 4:24-25
February 21, 2021

We belong to one another.  This is one of the fundamental assertions made by the Christian tradition and Scripture.  In the Lakota tradition, it is comprehended by the phrase, Mitakuye oyasin, (Mee-tah-koo-yay Oy-yah-seen) , “we are all related,” that truth which stretches out beyond humankind to embrace animals, plants, the wider world.   And it would seem that we are in a time whether we affirm that truth, live out of that reality, or we perish protesting that we are not our sister’s keeper, the Grand River, or that we do not belong to our siblings struggling for full rights and to be without fear in the Trans-community. 

And we are in an extraordinary moment.  Activist, scholar, and author, Angela Davis, recently said,

 

This is an extraordinary moment. I have never experienced anything like the conditions we are currently experiencing, the conjuncture created by the COVID-19 pandemic and the recognition of the systemic racism that has been rendered visible under these conditions because of the disproportionate deaths in Black and Latinx communities. And this is a moment I don’t know whether I ever expected to experience.[1]

 

We belong to one another.  If this pandemic is not a time of the wilderness, I’m not sure what is.  In this extraordinary moment, when many of us long for normal, we have too often failed to recognize that “church” was born out of a time that was far from normal.  For this blessed church, if this interim time has not been an opportunity to train our attention on what is important, then maybe we have given up on what it means to be church.  Because my concern for you all is that what this wilderness has become is just a waiting time—a waiting time until we can get back to “normal”—with each of you having a different idea of what “normal” means.  We belong to one another. 

Research professor, wisdom-giver, and author, Brené Brown, shares what she considers to be the elements of what it means to remember that we belong to one another—a strong back, a soft front, and a wild heart.  Having a strong back is to speak truth to b.s. while at the same time being civil.  We remain self-differentiated while also remaining connected.  Having a soft front has to do with our deepest need—to be seen by other people, to really be seen and known by someone else.  But we’re all so armored up these days, armored up to the point where there is not a chance on God’s green earth that we can be seen.  We need a soft front to be seen.  Finally, to remember that we belong to one another, we need a wild heart, a heart that lives in the landscape of the paradoxes and the tensions of grit and grace, tough and tender, excited and scared.   In our wildness, we have such possibility to choose from--a diversity of responses that come with nuance and precision.

In Christian spirituality, the three basic values are intention, balance, and freedom.  These values reflect what it means to be wild at heart.  For we are not caught slavishly reacting to whatever the world throws at us.  Rather, we intentionally and creatively choose the right amount of grit or grace, toughness or tenderness, excitement or fear for the present moment.[2]  Our balance between those tensions does not allow us to get knocked off our pins.  We use these paradoxes as tools, with a freedom that calls for just the right amount in any given situation.    

           We all have that fundamental need to belong.  And to remember that we belong is to be wild at heart.  “Wild” comes from that word “wilderness.”   Lent is the invitation to walk in the wilderness, to put down the extra baggage, because it just might kill us, if we try to lug it around.  The wilderness is the place where the sources of life and sustenance are foreign to us.  So we will have to whittle down, figure out what our core values are, liberate our attention to discern what really matters.  We will have to develop mantras to repeat over and over, as a contrast to what the world tells us about who we are and to remember that we do belong.    

Every year the Revised Common Lectionary has us reading the follow up to Jesus’s baptism by John the Baptist.  Every year, on the First Sunday of Lent, Jesus walks out into the wilderness for 40 days.  This is a not-so-disguised replay of the Children of Israel walking out into the wilderness 40 years after they left bondage in Egypt.  In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus is thrown out into the wilderness by the Spirit.  The Greek word[3] is the same one used to describe Jesus throwing out demons from the occupied and colonized Jewish people throughout Mark. 

Seemingly, by the spiritual force of the Spirit, Jesus has no choice.  As we all do, Jesus must make his way through the wilderness.  It is a divine journey.  For in the wilderness, we learn the rules for how we are to live in the Promised Land.  Every year Lent comes around and we practice living in this stark landscape, this extreme place, to learn of God’s presence and our own power.  What are those mantras we will repeat over and against the imperial narrative? 

Three mantras are found in Jesus’s wilderness story in Matthew and Luke.

 

·       God is beyond just making sure my needs are satisfied through displays of power and status.

·       God is not about the flash and the show and has nothing to prove.  So don’t go around trying to prove God.

·       Do not worship power-over and all of its trappings..  Serve the God who works with power from below and across the table. 

 

We may believe we walk in the wilderness alone, but the wilderness is not loneliness.  Loneliness is driven by our lack of authenticity, and our authenticity sometimes requires that we jeopardize our connection with other people to say, “I disagree.  That’s not funny.  I’m not on board.”  Those who have the highest levels of belonging in the world show up, knowing that we stand alone in our values at times.  For when we stand up against something we do not think is right or for something we know to be right, we are connected to every other person who has made the journey through the wilderness.[4]  In the wilderness, we learn to imitate the wild heart of God, unbound, unfettered, and unattached to the imperial narrative.

The wilderness creates a moment of beholding.  Beholding is where we learn to pay attention for the first time.  The wilderness forces us to take account of our lives.  Instead of being caught up in schedules, rushing around, and deadlines, we come into the present moment and stop.  And now we look.  What is the opportunity in the given moment?  Now with this beholding, we see the opportunity in the given moment.  We are called to do something with this opportunity.  We avail ourselves of the opportunity and we go.[5]   

The wilderness is the call to fast from anything that is not rooted in love.  In Lent, we are to develop our spiritual practice of fasting.   What we give attention to grows.  What we pay attention to grows.  Let our self-imposed wilderness be a spiritual practice of not giving our attention to those things, as author and community organizer, Adrienne Maree Brown writes, that are “other people’s cycles, their mistakes, lies, or ignorant projections, or the domination cycles of those who measure their humanity in false supremacy.”[6]  Brown believes we are caught up in cycles where our attention is caught up in cycles of crises and commercialism.  Our attention is drawn to stories that keep us on a string like puppets.  We pay attention to those stories that leave us furious or helpless—without power.  And then the next scandal or controversy comes along and, “Squirrel!” our attention is once again diverted and we are manipulated away from what brings power in the wilderness to the next thing we will buy, the next scandal or controversy, the path that splits us in 40 different directions.

Let us fast from those things.  Let us liberate our attention, let us shine sunlight on everything we want to see grow.  Imagine bringing our attention to rhythms of gratitude, collective power, experimentation, curiosity and celebration and doing that together as a congregation?  Imagine bringing our attention to those rhythms and watching them grow?

Right now our world requires “a shift from individual, interpersonal and inter-organizational anger towards a viable, generative, sustainable systemic change.”[7]  Anger, violence, and outrage and how we have been wronged or gypped by what did not go our way . . . .seem to be the only tools we have as we walk into the wilderness.  And we need something more.  We need to remember that the wilderness is about training our attention, helping us to discern what is important. 

If this pandemic is not a time of the wilderness, I’m not sure what is.  For this blessed church, if this interim time has not been an opportunity to train our attention on what is important, then maybe we have given up on what it means to be church.  Because my concern for you all is that what this wilderness has become is just a waiting time until we can get back to “normal”—with each of you having a different idea of what “normal” means.  Adrienne Maree Brown writes that when she trains her attention to rhythms of gratitude, collective power, experimentation, curiosity, and celebration, sheexperience(s) a lot of days where [she is] full of awe, laughter, work that induces pride, noticing the small and massive miracles that are part of each day.”

How do we get there?  How do we start with ourselves and this community of faith in Jackson, Michigan, so that we might all have a strong back, soft front, wild heart, and remember that we belong to each other?  I believe it starts when we see this place of pandemic, this wilderness, as a way to discern our rhythms to decide, what we will leave behind, what we will no longer lug around to our own detriment, and what we will grow with our attention. 

I pray that you have heard me encouraging you to see this interim and pandemic time as an opportunity.  And that you, with a strong backs, soft fronts, and wild hearts bring attention to the rhythms that will grow you.  May it be so.  Amen. 

         



[1] Angela Davis, “Uprising & Abolition: Angela Davis on Movement Building, “Defund the Police” & Where We Go from Here,” Democracy Now!, June 12, 2020, https://www.democracynow.org/2020/6/12/angela_davis_historic_moment

[2] “strong back, soft front, wild heart:  conversation with Brené Brown,” OnBeing, February 8, 2018, https://onbeing.org/programs/brene-brown-strong-back-soft-front-wild-heart-feb2018/.

[3] ekballw (ekballw)

[4] “strong back,” Brown.

[5] “The Anatomy of Gratitude:  Interview with David Steindl Rast,” On Being, January 21, 2016, https://onbeing.org/programs/david-steindl-rast-anatomy-of-gratitude/.

[6] Adrienne Maree Brown, “attention liberation, attention reparations,” October 28, 2017, http://adriennemareebrown.net/2017/10/28/attention-liberation-attention-reparations/.

[7] Adrienne Maree Brown, “what is/isn’t transformative justice?”  July 9, 2015, http://adriennemareebrown.net/2015/07/09/what-isisnt-transformative-justice/.

Monday, July 6, 2020

An extraordinary moment


Praying the News
Once again you place before us the opportunity for transformation.  Can we see it?  Help us to see it!  This portal, this apocalypse--make it plain so that all of us pass through to a more perfect union.  Help me to find my place in it.  You see me bristling against private prayer, my lack of institutional pulpit, and checking my own privilege.  Are these checks on my self-destruction or are they mirages that provide me with safe escape from my own responsibility?  I cannot tell.  I do not know.  Make plain my role, my part.  Find me Sabbath.  Find me work.

There are remnants, scraps inside this country’s history and inside and outside the church which make me believe the impossible.  Might we be ready for transformation?  I cannot tell.  I do not know.  This portal, this apocalypse—may it register finally that we cannot escape our interconnection.  Now teach us like the life that flows on the Missouri, that great vein that courses through our Mother, that all our work is intersectional.  Your hand touches it all in hope that we will finally awaken to our call and solve for pattern. 

As mothers make their way to borders seeking safety, do not let them be forgotten by mothers who wonder if they can afford food and the rent and, oh, damn it, “I forgot to register her for school!”  We are kept so busy, so a-part.  Teach us how to find a more perfect union.  Move in and around us to remind us what is possible.  Please, Mother of Lovingkindness, this time may it be revealed.  This time . . . walk with us through the portal.  Amen. 

Soundtrack:  The The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

One of the ways the imperial narrative gets into our brains is to make us think we are not moving the dime, making progress, or participating in transformation.  That may be one of the hardest things about working in a white, middle to upper class church—no matter how progressive it is.  Race, the insidious evil it is, makes us white folk think that if it doesn’t happen tomorrow, if I can’t tell I’m making a difference after the first meeting or first event, then I’m out.  We get used to our power carrying the day so that when it doesn’t, when Jericho’s wall doesn’t fall in the first go round, we lose hope, shrug our shoulders, and move on to the next bright, shiny movement. 

I can’t tell you the number of times someone has wanted to part of a particular movement only to bow out after one or two meetings because the glory they had seen in a presentation (after years of work) did not happen in two boring meetings that were required for relationship or clarification or just to hold space.

Some folks are part of the movement because their very lives depend on it so that when the boring, and the slog, and the defeat comes their way, they don’t worry about hope.  The struggle must always be joined.  Something I love is at stake.  And love doesn’t necessarily win.  Love endures. 

It has been an amazing several weeks.  Movement leaders as prominent as Angela Davis have said that this movement feels “very different” and that this is “an extraordinary moment.”[1]  I feel that too.  But it should not be forgotten that this moment was cultivated and made ripe by years of work by people simply talking to their families, pounding the pavement in community organizing, or people developing skills over long periods of time in activism.  From below, God has been at work to remind us of our interconnection and intersectionality—like an everflowing stream. 

We were reminded of that this week when both he Atlantic Coast Pipeline and the Dakota Access Pipeline were shut down.  Winona LaDuke and Honor the Earth have been working for years and reminding us that we are close.  Winona has long said that the time for fossil fuels is coming to an end and it will soon no longer be profitable to go forward.  That day is arriving!  I hope when you saw those headlines over the last two days, you remembered the years of work of Honor the Earth, Oceti Šakowin, and so many other indigenous leaders across the world who have made this day possible.  Mitakuye oyasin. 

The revolution will not be televised.  I pray that we will still join hands with it as Creator walks with us through that portal to a new day. 



[1] Angela Davis, “'An Extraordinary Moment': Angela Davis Says Protests Recognize Long Overdue Anti-Racist Work,” Here and Now, WBUR, June 19, 2020, https://www.wbur.org/hereandnow/2020/06/19/angela-davis-protests-anti-racism. 

Sermon, Year A, Second Sunday of Advent, "We need a story that saves us"

A Advent 2 ColPaul AL 2025 Matthew 1:1-17 December 7, 2025           I wanted to offer a trigger warning this morning knowing that we...