"ENGAGING DEATH AND LIFE IN THE AGE OF COVID-19"

“ENGAGING DEATH AND LIFE IN THE AGE  OF COVID-19”

            Last week I did my first funeral in the Covid-19 era, and it was surreal.  Jackie Smith, a longtime member at Oakhurst, had died suddenly of a heart attack at age 65.  Her son Johnathon called me to see if I could do the service, and I indicated that he would have to contact the current pastor of Oakhurst, Amantha Barbee, to get her permission for me to do it.  Reverend Barbee graciously agreed, and we set up the service.  Johnathon had grown up at Oakhurst, and his mother Jackie was fiercely dedicated to him.  She knew that his racial classification as “black” meant that he would be seen as less worthy, and she made it her goal as a single mom to raise him up so that he would see himself – and others would see him – as a child of God, with equal dignity to others.

            I was anxious - would I get Covid-19 from someone or something at the funeral?  And I was curious all week as I approached the time for the funeral – how would this work? I checked in with the mortuary where the service would be held, and they indicated that they were obeying all the Covid-19 guidelines.  The funeral could not be at Oakhurst Church because it was closed.  I arrived at the mortuary with gloves and mask on (made by CJ Evans!), hand sanitizer in my robe pocket.  Mr. Kendrick, one of the coordinators of the mortuary, told me that there would only be 10 people in the service, the maximum that the governmental order allowed, and that the congregants would be spaced accordingly.  All other people attending would be allowed to stand outside the open doors of the chapel and look in, listening on the speakers placed out for them.  The service was also live-streamed, so there was a camera near-by.  I forgot all about it, so I’ll undoubtedly need our daughter Susan to give me some tips on doing these kinds of services live and on camera.

            This may sound weird, but I generally like leading funerals as worship services.  In the context of death, the preacher has an unusual opportunity to point all of us to the meaning of life and the meaning of our own lives.  It is much easier to do this when the person who dies had lived into their 80’s rather than when someone in their youth or young adulthood dies and are thus cut down before they went through the cycle of life.  But, even in a tragic circumstance, there is the opportunity to help us all re-focus our energies and our vision about who we are and about what life is. 

In funeral services, my goal has been to emphasize five areas.  First, we are worshipping God, and this occasion to remember the power of death helps us to focus on the meaning of life and the Author of life.  Second, we gather together to give thanks for the life of the one who has passed.  Again, it helps if the person has lived a fine life, but even for those of us who have been rascals, there are redeeming features to be remembered and to be lifted up.  I love using the quote from Psalm 139:14 “For all these mysteries, I thank you, for the wonder of myself, for the wonder of your works.”   

Third, we acknowledge that the power of death has captured our loved one and threatens to capture our hearts.  We acknowledge the power and the necessity of mourning – mourning for the loss of the loved one, mourning for the stark reminder that all of life is under the power of death, mourning for the stark reminder that death will come to our door too.  When Caroline’s dad Herman Leach died in 2011, I led his service in Chattanooga, and I remember our younger granddaughter Zoe telling me after that service: “I don’t want you to die.”  It tore at my heart, and all that I was able to reply was: “I don’t want to die either, but I will.  But, hopefully, it will be a long time from now.” 

Fourth, we affirm that life belongs to God, that we belong to God, and that even walking through the valley of the shadow of death, we can be assured that death is not the final word in the life of our loved one or in our own lives.  Whatever happens to our personal identities after death, we can be assured that we will not be deserted by God.  Again, a Scripture quote pops up from the rascal St. Paul: ”If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord;  whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.”   And, finally we affirm the particular life of the person who has died.  I strongly believe in doing that.  I understand the impetus to be impersonal at a funeral, giving priority to the ritual, but such an approach misses the power of life that brings us together on that occasion.  This person was a living, breathing child of God, with an historical context and many stories evolving out of that context.  Some of those need to be shared to help all of us acknowledge the powerful connections to their humanity and our own humanity, as well as the painful shadow under which we all live our lives, a reality that drives much of artistic impulses in all ages:  we are finite and mortal beings.

All of this was rolling through my heart last week as I led the funeral for Jackie Smith.  In a time of deep loss and painful grief – no touching, no hugging to acknowledge our connections and our loss!  I haven’t been reminded in a long time of the pressure of the Word, as I was at this funeral.  The lack of contact was palpable, leaving me feeling a gaping hole, even though I know that my words were eloquent and comforting.  I could not sing the body electric, to use Whitman’s powerful phrase, and I felt it.  I’m glad that I could do a funeral in the Covid-19 era – I hope that I don’t have to do another one.  But, it feels like we are all going through a funeral together as life shifts so dramatically in Covid -19. 

'50TH ANNIVERSARY OF EARTH DAY"

"50th ANNIVERSARY OF EARTH DAY"

(Rev. Alan Jenkins serves as a parish associate at Oakhurst Presbyterian Church, serving on the CreationWise team. Originally ordained to an eco-justice ministry to the Presbytery of Greater Atlanta, he is now a full-time hospice chaplain with Harbor Grace Hospice’ in-patient unit at Atlanta Medical Center. Find him fishing, riding his bicycle, advocating for the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)’s divesting of oil companies, and at jenkins.alan73@gmail.com or https://www.facebook.com/alan.jenkins.520.)

Earth Day poses a seemingly heretical question to me: Does Christianity have what it takes to live in harmony with God’s Creation? Do our ecclesial traditions lead us to relate to the eco-systems that give us life (air, water, soil, millions of diverse biological species, etc) in such a way to sustain our bodily needs and maintain ecological balance? Does our theology lead us to infinite wonder and awe of God’s Creation enough to not only preserve it, but to savor it? To defend and fight for it from empire-like, ravenous forces? Or even prevent us from simple temptations of modern convenience?

I cannot help but wonder about spirituality of First Nations / Native Americans Peoples. To defend sacred, life-giving water, they put their bodies down in front of bulldozers’ building oil pipelines. They organize to deconstruct hydro-electric dams so salmon can run free. Their spiritual traditions are in synch with the seasons and the cycles of biological life. They refer to other living beings as “all my relations,” as if they were as important and valued as human life. Our Christian liturgical seasons, on the other hand, have little to do with harvest, with soil, with “all our relations,” with fall, winter, summer and spring. [Before I’m labeled a heretic for asking these questions: I do believe that our Creator God, as witnessed in the Old and New Testament, does give what we need for an ecologically sustainable, regenerative, earth-healing livelihood. Yet we must also humble ourselves to learn from other traditions, such as indigenous peoples].

Since the catastrophic El Niño of 1997-1998 (intense floods and droughts throughout the Americas), the climate crisis garnered my theological attention. Lately, the most hopeful theological lens I’ve come across in this realm revolves around a rather ironic theme: apocalypse! Author Theodore Richards’ book The Great Re-imagining: Spirituality in an Age of Apocalypse got me started. He rightly describes apocalypse as both the end and the beginning of the world … as we know it. For example, the Middle Passage of West Africans, ripped from their mother land and enslaved in The New World was apocalyptic. Their world was obliterated, an end. The only way to survive was a beginning, to create a new culture, a new theology, a new language, all in the face of oppression. This example is one of many, from the Holocaust, to mass migrations, to natural catastrophes.

And, today, we find ourselves in the midst of an even larger apocalyptic event, punctuated by a slightly smaller apocalyptic event, COVID 19. The larger one is, of course, the climate crisis: tipping points lead to catastrophes, lead to hurricane Katrina in New Orleans and to ever-intensifying wildfires in California, to failed crops from Guatemala and the Mid-West.

Apocalyptic talk usually instills fear within us, and rightly so. The world as we know it is ending. Normalcy and predictability that many were comfortable with will no longer be. We’re in new territory, and technology alone will not save us. And, yet, if we’re faithful to the journey that apocalyptic times require, we may pass through this threshold transformed, closer to the Beloved Community where new leaders, new ways of being community, and new ways of relating with Earth emerge. Apocalyptic talk, then, is not something to fear. Rather, amidst the world’s evermore revealed injustices, apocalyptic talk opens a window to a new world we can spring towards.

I’m reminded of what I’ve heard about a particularly bold, brutal yet transformative event in the Civil Rights Movement. After a long campaign in April of 1963 in Birmingham, a street march was organized in early May, where even children were allowed to participate. Organizers knew that the dogs and fire hoses might come out, and they knew the cameras would be rolling for a national audience. This intensification of the conflict and the gruesome images splashing front page news across the country forced the power brokers to come to the table, to hear voices long since silenced- voices urgently needed to help this nation become a more democratic, just union.

The COVID 19 pandemic wasn’t as boldly intentional as the planned actions in Birmingham were; nonetheless, the pandemic intensifies the numerous conflicts already ongoing, and thereby opens windows. An apocalyptic opportunity, however painful, is in the making. To name just a few areas: Our privatized, employer-based health care system is now ever more clearly exposed for its inadequacy and inequality. The injustice of mass-incarceration is receiving a much-needed spotlight right now. With dramatic improvement in air quality, a Stanford University study estimates 50,000 – 70,000 lives are being saved in China from absence of air pollution. This is also an opportunity to explore what strengthens our body’s immune system. Clean air is one of them, and Black revolutionary urban farmers like Rashid Nuri in Southwest Atlanta (Truly Living Well Center for Natural Urban Agriculture) are showing that locally grown, organic fruit and vegetables are another. The youth working those garden beds, by the way, are the same youth leading the global climate strikes.

So, it’s the 50^th Anniversary of Earth Day, prompting my question: Does Christianity, do we Christians, have what it takes to live in harmony with God’s Creation? Here in this apocalyptic Eastertide, may we allow God to use us as the new creation in Christ that we are, a creation compatible with all Creation!

"THE RESURRECTION IN THE MIDST OF CRISIS"

“THE RESURRECTION IN THE MIDST OF CRISIS”

            Wow, what does Resurrection mean in the middle of the disaster of coronavirus?  What does Resurrection mean with death, anxiety, and uncertainty all around us?  What dos Resurrection mean when the world seems so crazy?  Well, exactly what it meant on that first Easter morning.  The Resurrection is rooted in this kind of world – a world out of our control, a world filled with anxiety and death and uncertainty.  A small group of women and men caught a vision from a street preacher named Jesus of Nazareth. 

            That vision changed them so much that they began to stand up to the Roman Empire that had executed Jesus.  They began to believe that love and justice were the center of their lives, even when (and especially when) Rome told them that it was the center of all of life.  They began to change their lives. They began to invite those who were poor and sick to come into their homes.  They began to share their property.  They had women who were leaders.  They started living their lives as if God were present with them right then, in a way that they had not experienced before.  Indeed, they began to say that God was revealed in a new and exciting way in the life and death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth.  They started calling him Jesus Christ to say that in his story, life had changed. 

            So, in the rawness and the anxiety and the reshaping of our lives in these coronavirus (c-v)days, we have a chance to touch the reality of those first disciples who followed Jesus.  Let us recall that on the day of Resurrection, the struggles of the disciples are made plain in the Bible.  The men are so scared and defeated that none of them venture to the tomb of Jesus.  The women who do come to the tomb have trouble recognizing the risen Jesus standing right in front of them.  In Mark’s account, the women are too terrified to tell anyone that Jesus is risen.  And when they finally do tell the story, the male disciples dismiss their story as an idle tale.  The story of the Resurrection is rooted in fear and disbelief, and yet, and yet, here he comes, the Risen Jesus coming for them – and for us.

            In that sense, this desolation of the c-v time gives us an opportunity to remember our context and to remember the context.  I’m not saying that c-v is God’s will, though as a Calvinist, I must wonder……I am saying that the depths to which c-v is forcing is to go in our lives offers us an opportunity to see the power of the Resurrection,  a power that is deeper and wider than our Western church’s view that the goal of life is to be middle class.  The c-v reminds us that for most of the world, what we are experiencing now is closer to the routine.

The c-v is beyond much of our control, and it takes us back to that “primitive” zone of the early church, where the early followers of Jesus were all too aware that their lives could be destroyed at the whim of Rome or a virus like c-v.  The life expectancy at the time of Jesus was 35, although if one made it to adulthood, the average age was closer to the early 50’s.   C-v will alter our lives forever – we do not yet know what life will look like once the pandemic calms down – it may never go away.  The c-v is a negative, destructive power which brings fear and death.  The health and economic damage will reach catastrophic levels.  We must face that with a clear sense of reality.  It is changing our lives forever – we won’t be able to go back to “normal.”

Yet, the promise of Resurrection is just as strong on the positive side – it has the potential to come to us in the midst of all the negative forces and offer us a new view of ourselves and of life.  Let us remember what “normal” was before c-v:  the growing gap between rich and poor, a health care system that rationed care but blamed those who were poor for the rationing, a tax system that heavily favored the wealthy, a prison-industrial complex that grinds up people of color and poor people.  Let us resolve in this kind of time we will find a new vision of what our lives can be. In the midst of death, the risen Jesus comes to us, just as he came to those first women and men disciples.  May we be like Mary Magdalene in John 20 – in the midst of the terror that is c-v and death, may we hear our names called: “Mary.”  And may we recognize the risen Jesus and begin to live in a whole new way, as she did. 

"HOLY WEEK AND CORONAVIRUS"

“HOLY WEEK AND CORONAVIRUS”

            Holy Week began yesterday, and I am glad that I am retired and not in charge of worship services anymore.  Here’s a shout-out to all the pastors and other religious leaders having to help communities of faith negotiate this difficult territory of communal worship when the community cannot be present together physically.  It is a fundamental lessening of the meaning of incarnation, and yet it is necessary in these days of Covid-19.

            Holy Week begins with Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem in the last week of his life on earth.  This week will take us through his rejection, his arrest and the scattering of his followers in dismay and despair.  It will also pass through the excruciating execution of Jesus as a dangerous revolutionary by the Roman Empire.  Then, at the start of the next week comes the stunning Resurrection.  If you are a Christian, or if you were raised in the church and have left, the story of these events is familiar.  They are the high holy days for the church.

            Ordinarily, most of us in American culture would pause a moment or two to note this religious week.  In the machinations of our routine worship of materialism and all its benefits, we would usually slow down a moment to acknowledge this week.  We might wish that the religious leaders had accepted the radical vision that Jesus was bringing.  We might sigh and wonder why the women and men who followed Jesus didn’t get it better.  A few of us would take it deadly seriously – the vision that fired Jesus and called him out to find others was a matter of life and death.  At the end of the week, we might revel in the promise of life after death in the Resurrection.

            The context for Holy Week this year, however, is a radical break from our usual tradition.  The coming of Covid-19 has dramatically changed our view of life, of ourselves, and of others.  Those of us who are comfortably middle class and above now have the opportunity to grasp the instability in which the followers of Jesus lived.  We might even catch a glimpse of the vision that Jesus brought to his followers, a vision that we have previously missed because we were blinded by materialism and the neoliberalism that dominate our lives.  Prior to Covid-19, those of us who are comfortable often used our faith as an add-on to our lives.  It was a nice vision to contemplate – especially that part about life after death – but generally we knew that our lives were centered on income, retirement funds, military might and general imperial power.  Many of us still believe that, but in all the madness and suffering of Covid-19, there is a slight opening in the window of our souls for us to consider a new vision, based not on materialism and its benefits, but rather on God’s love, justice and equity.

Though some of his followers were wealthy, the vast majority were not.  They lived their lives under the control of the Roman Empire, of demonic powers, and of a day-to-day existence for survival.  Jesus promised them – and demonstrated to them – a different way of life.  Oh, Rome would still have absolute power over their bodies.  But, Jesus showed them that Rome did not own their souls.  Some of them were hungry enough and visionary enough to begin to receive and believe that vision.  That’s what led them to change their view and change their lives.  It brought many of them to Jerusalem to begin that Holy Week.

Holy Week is not just an occasion to remember our captivity and the cost of that captivity.  It is rather a Holy Drama - offering us a glimpse of the truth of our lives, of the cost of that truth, and of the possible redemption of our lives.  I don’t know if Covid-19 is akin to the Crucifixion in that it will call into question all that we hold dear.  Right now it feels like it, with April looking like a terrible month.  We’re not in control; we don’t know if we are next; we don’t know if we have a future.  All of these terrible emotions and experiences are at the heart of Holy Week, and here we are. 

The promise of the drama of Holy Week is that it is holy.  In this week, and in this time of Covid-19, we are all asked to touch those deep fears and hopes and dreams at our heart of hearts.  God is in our midst, even in terrible times like these. Like those first followers of Jesus on Palm Sunday, we had a vision, and during Holy Week it is shattered.  None of the first followers of Jesus fared very well at the Crucifixion – all the men scattered, and only a few women remained loyal.  And yet, the power of that vision of justice and compassion and equity came through.  We don’t know what the future will be with Covid-19 – Holy Week gives us the opportunity to consider our lives and our souls, no matter what the virus does.  To whom do we belong?  What gives us life?  Let us join those first disciples in considering these fundamental issues in this Holy Week.