"BATTLE FOR LIFE"

 “BATTLE FOR LIFE”

This week marks the 51st anniversary of the fall of Saigon (now Ho Chi Minh City) in what was then South Vietnam in 1975.  It was the final, collapsing ending of the Vietnam War, which cost 58,220 American lives over a ten-year period – two of my friends from Helena were among those lost.   The chaos of the photos associated with the fall of Saigon reminded us of the great chasm that had been opened in American society because of the Vietnam War, a chasm which still permeates our culture.  We gained very little in that war, and we lost, oh so much.  At least the war had been approved by Congress in the Gulf of Tonkin resolution in August, 1964, the same month that the bodies of Chaney, Goodman, and Schwerner were found in shallow graves in Neshoba County, Mississippi.  

Caroline and I were pastors in St. Columba Presbyterian Church in Norfolk, Virginia when Saigon fell.  We had just arrived there as the first clergy couple to serve in a local church in the former Presbyterian Church (US) in the South.  We were not aware that soon several Vietnamese families would be arriving at Robin Hood Apartments, where St. Columba Church was located.  We would get involved with several of those families as they encountered poverty and a new system of family life.  The Vietnam War was also the war which led me to seek conscientious objector status, which I received in the fall of 1970.  I did my alternative service at Opportunity House in Nashville, where I was director of a halfway house for men getting out of prison.  I participated in many protests about the Vietnam War, and I joined millions in those protests.

The Trumpster brought up the Vietnam War last week in talking about his war of choice in Iran.  When he got questions about the length of the Iran war, he noted that it had not nearly been as long as the Vietnam War.  In bringing up the Vietnam War, he also inadvertently reminded many of us that both wars are similar in that there never was any clear motive or objective or even national interest in these wars.  While we were told that the Vietnam War was being fought to protect us from communism, we are being told now that the Iran war is being fought to protect us from a nuclear Iran.  One big difference – with the new technology, we can drop bombs on people without having to use ground troops.  However, like Vietnam, if we want a “victory,” we will need troops on the ground, and if we go there, it will be Vietnam all over again – or, at least the Iraq War all over again.  The Viet Cong were not overwhelmed by our “shock and awe” demonstration of the bombing campaigns, and as we are seeing now, neither are the Iranians.  Let no one hear that I am defending the Iranian government – they are brutal and inhumane.  Yet, they play the long diplomatic game rather than the short, social media game at which we are accustomed in the West.

Like Lyndon Johnson with Vietnam, the Trumpster seems out of his depth with the war in Iran.  It is a war run by political Americans who have never been in a war, and who - because of that – seem to glorify war and the killing culture that it brings.  Like the hubris that brought us down in Vietnam, there is a similar hubris in the Trumpster and in the Secretary of Defense.  Do we have lethal power? Yes.  But will it win us this war? Using Vietnam and Iraq as guides, there is no “winning” this Iran war, and that is why the Trumpster has been so equivocal in his goals on the war.  He did not know what he was getting into, and he does not know what “winning” would look like.  The Vietnam War brought down the great presidency of LBJ, after he had ended neo-slavery in 1965 with the passing of the Voting Rights Act.  Though I am ready for the Iran war to be over, I’m also aware that it may be a turning point in the support for the Trumpster.  As Sweet Honey in the Rock put it in their song “Battle for My Life,”: “Your hunger for war is nothing new, Cowboy.”

The connecting dots are that we believe in the power of death, and we now have a president and a Congress that use this power of death to seek to deepen power and a hold on our hearts.  Let us hear a different song in our battle for life.  And, if you haven’t picked up your implement of resistance which I mentioned a few weeks ago, please do so now.

"EARTH DAY"

 “EARTH DAY”

This year marks the 56th anniversary of the official beginning of Earth Day.  I remember when Earth Day was officially recognized in 1970.  It had been semi-officially started in 1969 by Iowa native and later Californian John McConnell.  Senator Gaylord Nelson of Wisconsin got it going nationally by calling for a country-wide teach-in on the environment on April, 22, 1970, using the model of the teach-ins against the Vietnam war.  It caught on, and I remember that Caroline and I started observing it in worship in our church in Norfolk in 1976.  As we all know now, we are at a crucial point in the earth’s life, and many think that it is already too late. 

And, of course, the Trumpsters are pushing hard to retract all the scientific truths about climate change and the destruction of life on earth as we know it.  The New York Times published an article last week entitled “Climate Change Denial Is Back in Washington.”  The article noted that a conference held in DC hit hard on the idea of climate change, and the article began in this way: “Climate change is a hoax perpetrated by ‘leftist politicians.’  Fossil fuels are the greenest energy sources.  More carbon dioxide in the atmosphere will be harmless.”  We all know that these are deliberate lies, just like the lies told by the tobacco industry in the days before smoking was not as regulated as it is now.  Indeed, in Atlanta we were projected to hit 90 degrees last week, the earliest that we have ever hit 90 since records began to be kept in the 1870’s.  The second earliest was in 1980, that horrible, heat-filled, drought dominated summer when our son David was born.

We are at a crucial time now in the life of the earth, and no matter what the Trumpsters tell us, the climate is warming, and our abuse of the earth is the cause of it.  So, on this Earth Day, we are asked to find ways to lessen our impact on the life of the earth, so that our grandchildren and great-grandchildren will have a chance.  There are many steps and many options, but perhaps the best place to begin is to change our attitude towards the earth and all its inhabitants.  No one better supplies that opportunity to make the change than did Mary Oliver in her poetry.  So, here is one of her many poems about the appreciation of the earth and all its creatures.  It was first published in 1979 in her book “Twelve Moons.” It is called “Sleeping in the Forest.”

Sleeping in the Forest

I thought the earth remembered me,

she took me back so tenderly,

arranging her dark skirts, her pockets

full of lichens and seeds.

I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,

nothing between me and the white fire of the stars

but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths

among the branches of the perfect trees.

All night I heard the small kingdoms

breathing around me, the insects

and the birds who do their work in the darkness.

All night I rose and fell, as if in water

grappling with a luminous doom. By morning

I had vanished at least a dozen times

into something better

Mary Oliver

"THE POWER OF RESURRECTION"

 ‘THE POWER OF RESURRECTION!”

Yesterday’s lectionary Gospel reading was from John 20:19-31, in which the Risen Jesus appears to the disciples on the day of resurrection.  He has already appeared to the disciple Mary Magdalene, and she has shared the great news that Jesus is risen from the dead.  The other disciples do not believe her, and in the reading from John, they are huddled in fear in a locked room, terrified that the religious leaders may come for them, as they did for Jesus.  The risen Jesus appears among them in that room, and they are amazed and full of joy.

Thomas the disciple, however, was not among them for that appearance.  When they tell Thomas that they have seen the Risen Jesus, he does not believe them.  Indeed, he tells them strongly and bluntly that unless he can put his fingers into the wounds on Jesus’ body, he will not believe.  He doesn’t feel the power of resurrection – he feels the power of death.

About a week later, Thomas is with the disciples when the Risen Jesus appears among them again.  Jesus seems to be appearing specifically to confront “Doubting Thomas” and to bring him along, so that he too will know the power of the Resurrection.  Thomas is convinced and responds, “My Lord and my God.”  Jesus is glad to have brought Thomas around, but he also adds some primary words for the rest of us: “Blessed are those who have not seen and who yet believe.” 

I grew up wondering about “Doubting Thomas,” but as I reached adulthood, I began to think of him as “Thank you, Thomas,” rather than “Doubting Thomas.”  I shifted because doubts have often filled my heart and my mind.  If Jesus is risen from the dead, why will 30,000 children die today of hunger around the world?  If Jesus is risen from the dead, why are the bombs still falling from the sky?  How can a mean narcissist like Trump be president of the USA?  Where is God in this crazy and scary world?  So, yes, I understand the doubts of Thomas very well, and I am grateful to the writer of John’s Gospel for including this story – it speaks to the doubts that all of us have. 

As I have written before, Caroline has helped me to understand the power of resurrection in this context of doubt and death.  When I was preparing for ordination exams in 1975, I asked her what she thought about the resurrection of Jesus.  She replied that she was not sure what happened to Jesus of Nazareth in the Resurrection, but that she understood the Resurrection as a doctrine that speaks to us not about what happens to us when we die, but rather what happens to us when we are living.  The power of Resurrection is that it calls to us to help us to find new life now, not in the afterlife.

In hearing this, I felt like the scales had fallen from my eyes, to borrow Paul’s description of his own coming to believe in the power of Resurrection.  I began to see that the power of Resurrection is not so much in our dying, as in our living.  I could begin to experience a new life in the midst of my captivity to racism, and I could begin to find some liberation in which I could see others not as enemies, but as sisters and brothers.  I could begin to experience a new life in relationship to the power of gender identity – women were daughters of God, not property of men.  The power of Resurrection is that the Risen Jesus is always appearing to us, asking us to have eyes to see and ears to hear about a new life, a new life based not in racism or sexism or materialism or militarism, but rather a life based in justice and mercy and equity.

In these Trumpian days, when we are being dragged back into the domination of the Army of the Patriarchy, we are asked to be on the lookout for the Risen Jesus appearing in our midst.  We are asked to open our hearts to the power of the Resurrection.  The Army of the Patriarchy does not define us – the Risen Jesus does.  The power to seek new life, to stand in resistance to the strong wave of white supremacy, the power of speaking up and acting out in solidarity with those on the margins  - these come from the Power of the Resurrection.  May we see it and believe and act on it in these perilous days.

"RESURRECTION AND RESISTANCE"

 “RESURRECTION AND RESISTANCE!”

We are in the season of Resurrection. Easter was yesterday, and whether or not you believe that Jesus of Nazareth was raised from the dead after he was given the death penalty by Rome, the power of Resurrection still speaks to all of us.  The power of the Resurrection is not so much what happens to us when we die.  The power of the Resurrection is that we are offered the opportunity to experience new life now, to see life and ourselves and others in a new way. 

In this sense, Resurrection is always contemporary, because we are always in captivity.  Those of us seeking liberation can use the power of Resurrection as a metaphor for helping us to find new life and new vision.  In this time when Trump would be king, it is sometimes hard to feel and to experience the power of Resurrection.  There is a hopeless malaise hanging over us, like an early morning fog that robs us of our ability to see clearly.  Indeed, that is what Trump wants – for us to give up and give in to his move for imperial power. 

In this kind of time, let us recall those first followers of Jesus, who felt the power and vision of Resurrection.  They lived under the oppressive power of imperial Rome, and they were so unimportant that no Roman historian recorded their names or their actions or their histories.  They could have been crushed at any time by Rome – they had very little agency in regard to political power.  When the word first began to spread about the Resurrection, Rome did not tremble or even notice – another little sect with some weird theory.  

The Empire began to notice these People of the Way when they began to resist the claim of Empire to ultimate authority.  The People of the Way began to deny that their hearts belonged to Rome – they belonged to the God they met in the Risen Jesus.  This worried Rome, and the executions began.  These executions only called forth more resistance.

The Resurrection is a form of resistance, resistance to the power of death.  Jesus proclaimed that death is not the final word in life – rather the final word is the power of love and justice and equity in the name of God.  In these times when The Army of the Patriarchy is on the march in American culture, we are called to join in resistance against that movement.  We are asked to hear God’s call to resistance - a resistance rooted in the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth.  Such resistance takes many forms.  John Brown heard about the resistance of Jesus and picked up a sword in Kansas and a rifle in New York.  Ida B. Wells heard about the resistance and picked up a pen.  Barbara Johns heard about the resistance and picked up her shoe and rapped it on the high school podium, as she led a student boycott until Black education was dramatically improved.  MLK heard about the resistance and picked up the mantle of nonviolence.  

    Our resistance can take many forms, but whatever form we choose, it is time to resist.  The Trumpster may yet implode, but we cannot count on that.  We must be witnesses to a new and different order, a different way of living our lives as People of the Way.  Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, it is time now to pick up your implement of resistance.  This season of the Resurrection demands it – let us be finding our way on the path of Resurrection and Resistance. 

"RIDING INTO THE ARMY OF THE PATRIARCHY IN HOLY WEEK"

 “RIDING INTO THE ARMY OF THE PATRIARCHY IN HOLY WEEK”

Caroline and I received the Spring issue of Ms. Magazine late last week, and on the cover was a photo of Trump’s paramilitary, largely unregulated police.  They are often called “ICE Agents,” but they are basically Trump’s personal, national federalized police, to be used at his discretion, wherever he wants to send them.  On its cover, Ms. Magazine had the best name for them that I have seen: “The Army of the Patriarchy.”  And, indeed, that is what they are.  They are the army of the patriarchal vision as Trump wants it and sees it:  a return to the complete dominance of white, male supremacy.  The establishment of this army of the patriarchy is why Trump has so far refused to support an end to the TSA mess:  he wants no regulation of his personal patriarchal army.  It is the stuff of dictators and empire.  They will be appearing in many places for the rest of the year, especially at the polling places in November.

This week is Holy Week, Christianity’s alternative to the stuff of Empire.  Jesus rides into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, hoping against hope that those who uphold the Roman Empire will catch a glimpse of a different view of the world, a different view of themselves and of other human beings, a different view than the Army of the Patriarchy. It begins with a time of high hopes. Jesus rides into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, and he knows that this is the time when his vision must take hold – this is the critical week.  His followers are fired up, and why shouldn’t they be – he has healed their bodies and their spirits; he has fed the hungry; he has cured the sick; and he has given them a new vision of life and how to live their lives.  This is it – this year, Jerusalem!

Part of the fervor comes from the time of the Jewish calendar – it is the season of Passover, the commemoration of God’s defeat of Pharoah, a defeat that brought the Hebrew people out of slavery in Egypt and into the liberation of the wilderness.  Part of the Seder meal for Passover has the phrase “Next year, Jerusalem!”  And, as Jesus enters Jerusalem on a jackass to celebrate Passover, his followers are ecstatic – the hated Romans will be overthrown, and the corrupt religious leaders of Judaism will be replaced with compassionate and righteous leaders.  “Ride On, King Jesus!”   But, Rome is watching, the Empire is watching.  The Roman governor Pontus Pilate has brought a garrison of soldiers into Jerusalem to make certain that those who would oppose the Empire are quickly squashed.

Jesus enters Jerusalem with a sense of possibility, but the Army of the Patriarchy is waiting for him, just as it waits for us now in Trumpworld.  The powers of domination will not yield easily, and if necessary, they will kill a few “domestic terrorists” in order to keep the visions and the hearts tied down to Empire.  Jesus rides on to the Cross, to his death – he is killed because he is offering an alternative vision to that of Empire, a vision that promises justice and equity and mercy.  Holy Week is a sobering week, especially this year, because it retells our story as humanity in captive to the powers of death and destruction and violence.

    Holy Week shows us the drama of our lives – we long for love, but we believe in death.  We want to believe in this Jesus of Nazareth, but the world seems so much with us, a world dominated by corrupt and egotistical leaders, by the Army of the Patriarchy in a world that believes in the power of violence and death.  Holy Week walks us squarely into the midst of this struggle – no fading away here, no sentimentality allowed.  Holy Week looks squarely at one of the most difficult truths of our lives:  we long for love, but we believe in death.  Holy Week asks us to sit with this uncomfortable truth this week – to think about our visions lost or visions diminished, about our hopes being dashed, to think about our compromises that make us gradually lose hold of our dreams and hopes.  Holy Week asks us to stay with that process in our own lives and in the life of the world.

    There is some good news to be found somewhere in here, but for now, the Army of the Patriarchy is on the march.  Jesus faces it straight up, and his execution reminds us of the cost of such resistance, of the cost of believing in justice and equity in an Empire built on violence and death.  It’s not the end of the story, but it is part of the story:  where is the Army of the Patriarchy marching in my heart and in your heart?

"WOMEN'S HERSTORY MONTH - A DEEPER AND LONGER VISION"

 “WOMEN’S HERSTORY MONTH - A DEEPER AND LONGER VISION”

In the middle of February, Caroline and I made a long weekend trip to see Susan in Baltimore.  She was directing a play in Bethesda, and we wanted to see it.  We rented an Airbnb in Silver Spring to use as a base for the play. The first thing that we noticed was that there was snow everywhere (except the roads), and the roads had been cleared by plowing the snow and placing it in what became tall, grey piles of snow/ice.  I saw more snow on the ground there than I have in the last three winters in the ATL – one of the main reasons that we continue to live in the South.

Besides having a great visit with Susan, our main purpose for the trip was to experience the performance of the play that she was directing.  It was entitled “Silent Sky,” written by Susan’s former classmate at Decatur High, Lauren Gunderson.  Lauren is a well-known playwright, known for centering her plays on the stories of strong women. Often she is the most produced playwright of the year in the USA, and this play did not disappoint.  The play centered on early women astronomers in the USA, centering on a “computer” known as Henrietta Leavitt.  If you are familiar with the movie “Hidden Figures” (and if you are not, go find it immediately), you will recall that people who did long and tedious math work were often called “computers.”  They are tasked with difficult mathematical work, and many times women were the ones doing this work, with only pencil and paper (and later, adding machines).

Henrietta Leavitt was born in Massachusetts in 1868, and early on demonstrated a high level of both mathematical ability and mathematical insights.  Her minister father encouraged her pursuits, and she graduated from Radcliffe College ( because Harvard did not accept women at that time.)  After graduation she found a job at the Harvard College Observatory, and her job was to do math work related to the distances of the stars from Earth and from other stars.  She quickly demonstrated a profound ability to see deeper and further into methods of how to measure the distances between stars.  “Silent Sky” is a play about her struggles as an aspiring astronomer in the midst of the patriarchal demand that she be only a computer, who would just do the calculations requested and demanded by the male astronomers.  “Don’t try to give us your insights, because you don’t have any,” was the usual refrain.

But, she did have extraordinary insights, and though I understand very few of them, the play depicted her stubborn persistence to a commitment to truth and to the capabilities of women in science, especially in astronomy.  Her discovery of how to effectively measure vast astronomical distances led to a shift in the understanding of the scale and nature of the universe.  This work led her to discover the relation between brightness and the positions of the stars.  She worked with Cepheid variables (no, I don’t know what those are – go look it up), and her insight helped her to develop the first standard way to measure the distance between stars and especially between galaxies.  This came to be known as Leavitt’s Law, and it paved the way for our current understanding of an expanding universe.  This is far beyond my understanding, but I do appreciate my granddaughter Zoe’s philosophical (and theological) question on this.  “If the universe is expanding, what is it expanding into?”  But, at the time, her thinking was revolutionary – she posited that there were many galaxies beyond the Milky Way, and most male astronomers scoffed at her thinking.

Leavitt tragically died of stomach cancer in 1921 at age 53, a great loss to her own self and to the scientific community.  Edwin Hubble would come along a few years later and use Leavitt’s Law to begin his own calculations, leading to an acceptance of Leavitt’s insight that there are galaxies beyond the Milky Way and that the universe is expanding.  Since he was a man, his theories were accepted in the astronomy community, but he always gave Leavitt the credit that she was due, suggesting that she should have won a Nobel Prize for her work.   He remembered her and gave thanks for her, but our patriarchal mindset wiped out her memory and her work.  Kudos to Lauren Gunderson and others who have revived her memory and made it come alive.

And, of course, this is what Women’s Herstory Month is about – captured by the demonic power of patriarchy and sexism, we cannot even imagine a person like Henrietta Leavitt.  Women’s Herstory Month gives us the opportunity to recover some of the remarkable human beings who have led us and deepened our lives, and in many cases, saved us.  Let us remember them and savor them in this Women’s Herstory Month.

"THE RESISTANCE TO EQUALITY"

 “THE RESISTANCE TO EQUALITY”

Writing about the Trumpster in Women’s History Month may seem like an oxymoron (and he is that, minus the “oxy”), but his election and terms as President represent the deep resistance to equality for women that runs through American history and world history.  There were several factors that led to Trump’s re-election as President, including Joe Biden’s tragic decision to run again after the headwinds of the 2022 midterm elections, and the spiraling inflation that roared as we recovered from Covid.  But, no factor was stronger in Trump’s re-election (or original election in 2016, for that matter) than his signals that he was running to build on his original platform of white, male supremacy.  From his legal convictions on sexual harassment to his lewd comments about women in his first presidential campaign, Trump has demonstrated a contempt for women and a commitment to keep male supremacy proud and strong.

Let us not think, however, that Trump is an anomaly – his voice echoes the voice of people of all races and classes, a voice indicating that women should step back, keep quiet, and serve men.  We’ve known it in our family as well as in society.  Caroline and I are nearing completion of a book that we are writing on our pioneering work as a clergy couple in the Presbyterian Church.  We each took a chapter to write a bit of background on our individual stories. Caroline remarked on how painful it was to look back and remember how devalued and dismissed she had felt as a woman seeking ordination as a minister in the early 1970’s.  She often was dismissed by male dinosaurs but also by seemingly enlightened males who felt that the ministry was not for women.  I was blessed to know Caroline’s paternal grandmother, Sophie Leach, who was born in 1882.  I remember us asking her about women getting the vote in the 19th Amendment in 1920.  Sophie responded that she did not think that women should get the right to vote, but once they did, she voted in every election just to show the men that women could do it.  

As I wrote last week, I was raised by strong women – my pseudo-grandmother Bernice Higgins (whom we called “Gran”- and actually, she was my great-grandmother’s sister) - and by my mother Mary Stroupe.  My mother had moved in with Gran, who was a widow by that time, after my father had abandoned my mother and me for another woman.  Though there were strong men on the periphery of our lives, our household was headed and managed by women.  Despite the presence and influence of these strong women in my formative years, I still breathed in the poison of patriarchy, of male supremacy.  I never sat down and chose male supremacy – it rather chose me.  That poisonous atmosphere of male supremacy is passed from one generation to another – it is the “power of the prince of the air,” to use St. Paul’s powerful metaphor from the second chapter of the Letter to the Ephesians.  I breathed in patriarchy like I breathed in racism.  I don’t know what I would have chosen, if I had a choice, but in my defense, I did not have a choice in my formative years.

In the early days of the feminist movement, I remember my mother’s resistance to it.  I was a young adult by then, and I had begun to change my thinking and my imagination on the issues of equality and justice for women.  I remember engaging my mother on the women’s movement, and I noted that she was one of the strong, independent women who had laid the groundwork for my ability to be converted from my captivity to the idea of male supremacy.  Since I was her beloved son speaking, she begrudgingly acknowledged that these “new” women might have some valid points in their push for equality for women.  Then we both met Caroline Leach, who blew the doors off our resistance.

So, let us make no mistake here in these Trumpster years.  Though women have made much progress, the resistance to gender equality remains deep and powerful.  Unfortunately, that resistance will remain with us after the Trumpster has gone to his place in the lower chambers.  We may have all kinds of levels of thoughts on the idea of women’s equality, but let us dedicate ourselves and renew our commitment to working for the idea that all people, including women (especially women) are created with equal dignity.  As Sweet Honey in the Rock put it so well in the “Ella’s Song,” based on the remarkable life of Ella Baker, “we who believe in freedom cannot rest until it’s won.”  There are many captives to male supremacy out there – let’s work to help all of us find some liberation.