From the UCC Network: 01/27/2012 "Appointed and Authorized"

Appointed and Authorized

Excerpt from Mark 3:13-19a

"And he appointed twelve, whom he also named to be apostles . . . to have authority to cast out the demons."

Reflection by Donna Schaper

Appointment and authorization are words usually associated with a new job or job description. We get our credentials, we get our keys, and we get our security pass. We are sent. Jesus appointed and authorized twelve whom he then called by name to go out and speak his message and cast out demons. They mostly had on-the-job training for a very new job, called being "Apostles."

We, too, are called to be disciples become apostles. We, too, are sent out to do things we don't know how to do. We are appointed and authorized in the same way the original untutored and uneducated disciples were turned into apostles. You only have to remember the word "apostate" to understand the word "apostle."  An apostate is one who gets it all wrong. An apostle is one who gets it kind of right. Imagine the trust of Jesus in his people, which is to say us. He imagines we can get it right. He imagines we can do things we don't know how to do. He imagines we can de-demonize the world. He imagines we can find the clumsy words to speak his gorgeous message. We are appointed and authorized. Our names have been called.

Prayer

May the courage of the original apostles be ours. May we accept the appointment to speak of Jesus with all we have and whatever we have. Amen.

About the Author Donna Schaper is the Senior Minister of Judson Memorial Church in New York City. Her latest work is 20 Ways to Keep Sabbath, from The Pilgrim Press. Check out her work at www.judson.org.

"DO-OVERS" [cross-post]

DO-OVERS

Even if you're not from Washington D.C. you may have heard of former Mayor Anthony Williams. He has a remarkable story. Williams was born to an unwed teen who gave him up. He was known as a "problem child" in foster care. By age three, little Anthony had still never spoken a word. It seemed that a pattern for his life was set, that is, until two warm and caring people took a chance on him.

Anthony was taken in by an opera-singing postal clerk and her equally generous-hearted husband. He soon began to speak and eventually thrived in their home. He excelled academically and later attended both Harvard and Yale Universities.

In 1998, he came from obscurity to win 66% of the vote to become mayor in one of the world's major cities. In his inaugural address, Williams said: "Forty-four years ago, my parents adopted me and gave
me a second chance. I feel this city has now adopted me and I will give to it everything my parents taught me about love, service, commitment."

It's no doubt that, had he never been adopted into his particular family, his life would have been wholly different. He was saved by a second chance. And haven't each of us been given second chances? He
got a do-over on his birth family. Haven't we been given do-overs on relationships, jobs, blown opportunities and the like? Quite often second chances are the result of the generosity of someone who cares a great deal. And sometimes we are saved by those second chances.

Author Dr. Seuss says in his book THE LORAX, "Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."

I recently came across a story of a young American woman who was saved by a do-over. During the second World War, she lost her husband. He died in India of a tropical disease and she became despondent. In time, despair turned into depression and she lost all interest in living. She just didn't care anymore.

She booked passage on a ship back to America. On the voyage, she became acquainted with a seven-year-old boy who, like her, was all alone. His parents had died in the fighting in Burma. He seemed to want to be with the young woman, but her pain would not allow it. She wanted nothing to do with him and avoided him whenever possible. She felt so ravaged by loss, that she was unable to get outside of herself and care about anyone else. And she certainly did not have the energy to take on someone else's problems.

Then one night the ship was torpedoed. The young woman made her way to the deck and prepared herself to go down with the doomed vessel. Some part of her actually welcomed it as an escape from her pain. The child, too, came on deck. He shivered with cold and fright. When he spotted the woman, he came over and clung to her.

That was when a lump of ice melted somewhere deep inside her. She put her arms around the child and led him to one of the lifeboats. For several days, as they waited to be rescued, she held him and he held her. Years later her friends would say that they didn't know whether the woman saved the boy, or the boy saved the woman. They each gave the other a second chance at life and a do-over on love.

"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."

But it's the people who give do-overs who truly change the world.

-- Steve Goodier

A Call for Transformation. My Occupy Seattle Port Arrest [cross-post from Progressive Christianity]

A Call for Transformation. My Occupy Seattle Port Arrest

By John Helmiere 

Yesterday evening, I was brutally beaten by my brothers on the Seattle Police force as I stood before an entrance to Pier 18 of the Seattle Port in my clergy garb bellowing, “Keep the Peace! Keep the Peace!”  An officer pulled me down from behind and threw me to the asphalt.  Between my cries of pain and shouts of “I’m a man of peace!” he pressed a knee to my spine and immobilized my arms behind my back, crushing me against the ground.  With the right side of my face pressed to the street, he repeatedly punched the left side of my face for long enough that I had time to pray that the crunching sounds I heard were not damaging my brain.  I was cuffed and pulled off the ground by a different officer who seemed genuinely appalled when he saw my face and clerical collar. He asked who I was and why I was here, to which I replied, “I’m a minister of the gospel of Jesus Christ, I believe another world is possible.”  He led me shaking to a police van where began a 12-hour journey of incarcerated misery. 

How did this happen?

The afternoon of Monday December 12 began with a march from downtown Seattle to the Port in a coordinated attempt by West Coast Occupy movements to expose exploitation of workers and interrupt business as usual at major Pacific ports.  Upon arrival, the crowd spread out to picket or blockade entrances.  I joined a small group of about 40 to picket a side entrance (we did not stop anyone from walking in or out).  Several hours later, word came that business had been canceled for the day and our group dispersed in high spirits.  My wife, Freddie, and I considered going home after a long, chilly day of standing up for what we believed in, but decided to see if there was an important need we might fill at other locations before departing.  

As we neared a major entrance, Pier 18, the tension was almost palpable. Hundreds of people had been occupying the blockaded road for hours while police kept their distance.  But night was falling, mounted officers arrived on the scene, and the police began to maneuver into position and adopt menacing expressions.  Shortly before they pounced, I began to feel a great fear ballooning in my chest and seriously considered leaving.  I sensed that the police would be ruthless under the cover of darkness. This fear was particularly strong because although my Christian convictions call me to non-violence, I had only practiced this by intervening in street fights, and never in the face of a militarized force that believes they can act with legal and social impunity.  But in my spiritual core, the place where conscience prevails over fear and self-interest, I knew that I could not run away when the situation desperately called for disciplined non-violent voices and presence.  

Utterly terrified, I made my way to the line between the occupiers and the police, held my arms out, and began shouting to my occupation brothers and sisters: “Peaceful Protest Everyone,” “Keep the Peace,” “Do not respond with violence.”  My brothers and sisters on the police force began advancing behind a wall of horses and heavy bicycles.  I linked arms with a young man in dark clothing on my left and a gnarled grandfather on my right.  We stood still until the officers approached us and began throwing their bikes into our bodies, shoving us toward the sidewalk.  I stared into the eyes of the most aggressive officer, who was seething, and shouted above the noise, “Why are you causing violence to peaceful people?  Think about your actions! Think about your humanity!”  With an open hand he rammed my throat.  The old man to my left was attacked similarly and reached back with a cocked fist, but I yanked him back.

A minute later, an officer threw me to the ground and punched me numerous times.  With hands cuffed behind my back, I was led into a police van and caged alone for a half hour.  In the dim light and cramped space, I sang “This Little Light of Mine” and recited Psalm 23 to stave off a gnawing fear.  Eventually, a few more occupiers joined me and we were transported to a holding facility where they split us into pairs and left us in tiny concrete rooms for several hours.   The rooms were voids in every way: windowless, empty (no facilities, no benches), lit with glaring fluorescent bulbs, gray and white.  My void-mate was a terrified kid who had gotten in over his head.  He gave me heart by singing protest songs while I shared some meditation techniques for maintaining self-possession in trying moments.  Eventually we were hauled off to the county jail and had our handcuffs removed after four long hours of immobility.  As I walked through the metal detector at the jail, a fellow occupier I hadn’t spoken with yet looked at me in my collar and said, “You’ve just been baptized.”   They outfitted us in thin cotton jail uniforms, and proceeded to move us from cell to freezing cold cell for the next eight hours without any clear purpose or explanation.  During that time, the adrenaline wore off and my bruises and lacerations began aching intensely.  I asked officers and staff at least six times to see a nurse and was consistently denied that, as well as water and food.  During the final hour a nurse took pity on me and found an ice pack for my face.   Not all the staff, it seemed, had contempt for their charges.  Finally, at 5:00am we were released to the street after obligating ourselves to appear before a judge at a future date.

Why was I there in the first place?

First, I participated in the port occupation at the behest of some of the most exploited and underpaid laborers in our city—the men and women who truck containers in and out of the port.  Over the past nine months, the spiritual community that I convene, Valley & Mountain, has stood in solidarity with these drayage workers in their struggle for dignity in the workplace.  We have listened to the truckers’ stories, held a focused study of the issues, attended a Port Commissioners meeting to demand justice from elected officials, and participated in a major rally in support of the workers’ simple requests for access to bathrooms, less toxic trucks, and basic workplace protections (to learn more about their plight, read their open letter in support of the port occupation).  I participated to stand alongside them.

Second, I participated because I have witnessed overwhelming evidence that the economic and political systems of my country stand against those people who the God I worship stands for.  My conception of God, inadequate as it may be, is better described as the Love that generates creativity and community, than as a super-man judging us from a heavenly skybox.  Such a God cannot be exclusively claimed by a political party, a religion, or even a movement like Occupy.   Such a Love contrasts with everything that reserves power, dignity, wealth, and the status of full humanity for some while depriving it from others.  My commitment to Love requires me to challenge the increasing consolidation of all these good things in the hands of a few, and to collaborate for the creation of something that Love would recognize as kin. 

A call to transformation

Here is what I am asking of anyone who will hear it: 

· Listen deeply.   

· Get upset.  

· Generate Love.   

By listening deeply, I mean allowing the experiences of others to alter your own worldview.  It might mean allowing my story to challenge assumptions you may have about the reliability of police discipline or mainstream media impartiality (reports of the activity by the Seattle Times, for example, are significantly skewed thus far).  It may mean allowing the stories of exploited people, like the port truckers, to challenge your assumptions about the American narrative of equal opportunity.  Whatever it means, it will require humility and proactive encounters with those you tend to avoid. 

By getting upset, I mean being appalled at the dehumanizing forces operating in our world—forces unveiled by deep listening.  Nothing changes just because you become aware that port truckers have to defecate in plastic bags because their unjust classification as “independent contractors” bars them from using the employee bathrooms.  Nothing changes just because you know that some cities have police cultures that encourage brutality, particularly against people of color.  We must have the tenderness of heart to become upset when human beings are violated and oppressed.

By generating love, I mean channeling that passion into creative and liberating action.  There are so many excuses to avoid it: “The issues are so complex,” “There are two sides to everything,” “I don’t want to alienate anyone and lose a chance at making an impact later.”  But as the great preacher/activist William Sloane Coffin once said, “Not taking sides is effectively to weigh in on the side of the stronger.”  As finite creatures, we cannot fight every worthy battle.  But refusing to participate in any struggle for a more loving world is a nihilistic rejection of even our very finite power.  Right now I am praying for the courage to transform the molecules of my anger and the raw material of my frustration into the greatest, most indestructible, most transformative power on earth: unconditional love in action.

"The Quest for Peace and Justice" [cross-post from Bread for the World]

Martin Luther King Jr.: ‘The Quest for Peace and Justice’

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., speaking at the Civil Rights March on Washington on August 28, 1963. 

Photo fromU.S. National Archives.

This blog post is excerpted from Dr. Martin Luther King's Nobel Lecture from Dec. 11, 1964, entitled "The Quest for Peace and Justice." Read the full speech here.

Almost two-thirds of the peoples of the world go to bed hungry at night. They are undernourished, ill-housed, and shabbily clad ... . This problem of poverty is not only seen in the class division between the highly developed industrial nations and the so-called underdeveloped nations; it is seen in the great economic gaps within the rich nations themselves ... . There is nothing new about poverty. What is new, however, is that we have the resources to get rid of it ... . There is no deficit in human resources; the deficit is in human will ... . Just as nonviolence exposed the ugliness of racial injustice, so must the infection and sickness of poverty be exposed and healed -- not only in its symptoms, but its basic causes. this, too, will be a fierce struggle. But we must not be afraid to pursue the remedy no matter how formidable the task ... .

This is in reality a call for an all-embracing and unconditional love for all men [and women] ... . I am speaking of that force which all of the great religions have seen as the supreme unifying principle of life. Love is somehow the key that unlocks the door which leads to ultimate reality. This Hindu-Moslem-Christian-Jewish-Buddhist belief about ultimate reality is beautifully summed up in the First Epistle of Saint John:

Let us love one another: for love is of God; and everyone
that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God.
He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love.
If we love one another, God dwelleth in us, and His
love is perfected in us.

Let me close by saying that I have the personal faith that mankind will somehow rise up to the occasion and give new directions to an age drifting rapidly to its doom. In spite of the tensions and uncertainties of this period something profoundly meaningful is taking place. Old systems of exploitation and oppression are passing away, and out of the womb of a frail world new systems of justice and equality are being born. Doors of opportunity are gradually being opened to those at the bottom of society. The shirtless and barefoot people of the land are developing a new sense of "some-bodiness" and carving a tunnel of hope through the dark mountain of despair. "The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light." Here and there an individual or group dares to love, and rises to the majestic heights of moral maturity. So in a real sense this is a great time to be alive.

Therefore, I am not yet discouraged about the future. Granted that the easygoing optimism of yesterday is impossible. Granted that those who pioneer in the struggle for peace and freedom will still face uncomfortable jail terms, painful threats of death; they will still be battered by the storms of persecution, leading them to the nagging feeling that they can no longer bear such a heavy burden, and the temptation of wanting to retreat to a more quiet and serene life. Granted that we face a world crisis which leaves us standing so often amid the surging murmur of life's restless sea. But every crisis has both its dangers and its opportunities. It can spell either salvation or doom. In a dark confused world the kingdom of God may yet reign in the hearts of men [and women].

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., delivered this lecture in the Auditorium of the University of Oslo. This text is taken from Les Prix Nobel en 1964.

From the UCC Network: 01/11/2012 "For Those Who Are Doing Just Fine"

For Those Who Are Doing Just Fine

January 11, 2012
Excerpt from Psalm 86

"Lord, listen to me and answer me.  I am poor and helpless….You, Lord, have helped me and comforted me."   

Reflection by Quinn G. Caldwell

Psalm 86 is the kind of prayer usually reserved for when things go really bad.  A prayer for when it has all fallen apart and you're at the end of your rope.  If that’s where you are today, then pray it, hard.

But it'[s also the perfect prayer to pray when things are going just fine, a prayer for those who have enough money, health, and power to get them through the day.  Praying it when you're feeling broke down and no 'count is a no-brainer.  Prayed when you're flush and feeling good, it takes on a different cast.  Then, it becomes something like a call to humility, a reminder that all you have is nothing without God.

Only the dead are invulnerable.  When all is well in your world, Psalm 86 becomes a proclamation of this fact, an acknowledgement that all life is precarious.  It is an affirmation that, ultimately, all your hope lies in God.

So, to you who are in a good place, who are having a pretty good day: praise God and congratulations.  The world could use a few more of those.  Enjoy it.  Enjoy it, and pray this prayer to remind yourself that even if things weren't going so well, still you would have the only thing that will finally matter: the love of the God who made you.  It's a belief worth cultivating.

Prayer

God, things are going pretty well right now.  Even so, all my hope is in you.  Amen.

About the Author Quinn G. Caldwell, a United Church of Christ minister, is the co-author, with Curtis J. Preston, of the Unofficial Handbook of the United Church of Christ, published by The Pilgrim Press.

From the UCC Network: 01/09/2012 "Touchdown Theology"

Touchdown Theology

January 9, 2012
Micah 6:8

"And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." 

Reflection by Lillian Daniel

A few weeks ago, Tim Tebow's pastor, Wayne Hanson, said he knew why the Denver Broncos were 7-1 since installing Tebow as quarterback. "It's not luck," Hanson said. "Luck isn't winning six games in a row. It's favor. God's favor."

To be fair, the player himself made no such outrageous claims. But his pastor seems to have skipped a few theology classes. Surely there are other Christians praying just as hard on other teams. And what about the players of other religions?

Does that pastor really think God is sitting up in Heaven on a Barcalounger, with a beer, a bratwurst and a Bronco's jersey, handing out touchdowns? Do God and Jesus support the same team? And if not, then which team does the Holy Spirit work through?

Does Mary, the sports fan, sit glued to the heavenly television set while resentful Martha makes chicken wings and guacamole in the kitchen for the Disciples? During commercial breaks, does Jacob wrestle the angel for the remote?

My guess is that God delights in prayers of all kinds, whether they come from the cathedral, the mosque, the meeting house, the exam room, the doctor's office, the traffic jam, the homecoming dance or the football field. All prayers and praise are welcome.

But as for touchdowns, skillful surgeons, happy first dates and fast lanes, those are human affairs. God doesn't reward one player with a touchdown and curse another. God gives us the instructions on how to withstand the hard times, and how to withstand the good times, with these wise words from Micah:  do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with your God.

Prayer

God, let my successes bring glory to you and to others. Let my failures prepare me for whatever is next. Don't allow either one to define me. Or you, for that matter. Amen.

About the Author Lillian Daniel is the senior minister of the First Congregational Church, UCC, Glen Ellyn, Illinois. She is the author, with Martin Copenhaver, of This Odd and Wondrous Calling: the Public and Private Lives of Two Ministers.

From the UCC Network: 01/04/2012 "Steve Jobs and the Bible"

Steve Jobs and the Bible

Excerpt from Proverbs 3:1-12 (The Message) 

"Trust the Lord from the bottom of your heart; don't try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God's voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; God's the one who will keep you on track."

Reflection by William C. Green

Why worry about the future? We can't do anything about it anyway. Few can get away with this attitude anymore. Too much is at stake with our children's future, our financial well-being, and our national and personal safety and security, not to mention that of those far less fortunate than we are.

These are the circumstances God's people often faced. Resignation was unnerving and optimism was no option under the dominion of Pharaoh, Babylonia, and Rome and their recent counterparts in systems of slavery and ongoing discrimination.

What keeps God's people on track, or gets them back on track, is trust. This is something like what Steve Jobs meant when he said, "You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards and trust that the dots will connect again. This approach has never let me down."  The trust the Bible commends is based on "looking backwards." Memory is the basis of hope.

Overwhelmed right now it's easy to forget what our own life shows us. How many times have we faced hard times, hard feeling, or loss; how many times has the world itself been on the brink of one disaster or another?

There's no guarantee that somehow things will work out. We're not spared responsibility to help make sure they do. But the memory of God's faithfulness in the past is also the promise of God's faithfulness in the future, whatever it holds. It's our "strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow."

Prayer

God, our trust and hope are in you. When our faith falters may your faithfulness make us strong. Amen.

About the Author William C. Green is Vice-President for Strategy and Development, Moral Courage Project, NYU Wagner Graduate School of Public Service, and the author of 52 Ways to Ignite Your Congregation: Generous Giving.

from the UCC Network: 01/03/2012 "Wisdom Bites"

Wisdom Bites

January 3, 2012
Excerpt from Proverbs 1: 20-33    

"Wisdom begins with the fear of the Lord, but fools despise wisdom and instruction."

Reflection by Anthony B. Robinson

When I think of wisdom I think of my grandmother, Victoria Moon Robinson. Orphaned as a child, she was raised by a kind family in Ohio. As a young woman she became a licensed pharmacist, not all that common for women in the World War I era. She also played the organ at church and for services at my other grandparents’ funeral home there in the remote but beautiful town in northeastern Oregon where they all lived.

In her later years, she was crippled by arthritis. Nevertheless, she presided, with love and wisdom, from a large chair in her living room.

One day, I was probably about twenty at the time, I must have said something that struck my grandmother as arrogant or callow or too full of myself--perhaps all of the above. She fixed me with a stern look and said, "Mister, don't you ever think that you are any better than anyone else."

Her words had a bite to them, which in my experience, real wisdom often does. In the Book of Proverbs, what separates the wise from the foolish is not that the wise have no need of correction, but that when they get it they listen and pay attention, even if it bites. The foolish, on the other hand, neither listen nor pay heed. The foolish can't handle correction.

Part of what made me pay attention when my grandmother spoke sharply to me was that I knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she loved me. I knew she was and always would be in my corner. But she loved me enough to challenge me. We’re blessed when we have such people in our lives. Is there someone like that in your life?

Share your appreciation for your "Grandma Victoria's" on Facebook. . . .

And we're blessed when we listen and pay attention, even when wisdom bites.

Prayer

Holy One, grant me the grace to hear and heed your wisdom, even, or perhaps especially, when it bites a little. Amen.

About the Author Anthony B. Robinson, a United Church of Christ minister, is a speaker, teacher and writer. His newest book is Stewardship for Vital Congregations, published by The Pilgrim Press. Read his weekly reflections on the current lectionary texts atwww.anthonybrobinson.com/ by clicking on Weekly Reading