"EARTH DAY"

 “EARTH DAY”

This year marks the 55th 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.  I prefer to think that we still have a chance, and in that mindset, I’m sharing a poem by Mary Oliver that may us shift our way of thinking about the earth and all of creation.  It’s called “The Sun.”  The last lines describe Trump and his transactional henchpeople.

“THE SUN”

Have you ever seen

anything

in your life

more wonderful

than the way the sun,

every evening,

relaxed and easy,

floats toward the horizon

and into the clouds or the hills,

or the rumpled sea,

and is gone–

and how it slides again

out of the blackness,

every morning,

on the other side of the world,

like a red flower

streaming upward on its heavenly oils,

say, on a morning in early summer,

at its perfect imperial distance–

and have you ever felt for anything

such wild love–

do you think there is anywhere, in any

language,

a word billowing enough

for the pleasure

that fills you,

as the sun

reaches out,

as it warms you

as you stand there,

empty-handed–

or have you too

turned from this world–

or have you too

gone crazy

for power,

for things?

"RESURRECTION!"

 “RESURRECTION!”

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.  

    Yet, even Rome would yield to the power of Resurrection.  Several hundred years later, Emperor Constantine adopted Christianity as the religion of the Empire.  This was not a good development for Christianity, but it did show the lasting power of Resurrection, once it takes hold.  Many Christians were tortured and executed by Rome, but still they kept coming – they still were driven by the power of Resurrection.  It’s sort of like the Freedom Riders on the buses into the South in the early 1960’s.  Even after all the violence and deals and orders to stop the Freedom Rides, they kept coming – no one could stop them.  They were inspired and fired by Resurrection, and they grabbed hold of that vision and kept riding it.

    In John’s version of the Resurrection in John 20, Mary Magdalene comes alone to the tomb of Jesus to anoint his dead body for burial.  The body is gone, however, and she thinks that the body is stolen.  Later in the passage, she sees the risen Jesus standing right in front of her, but she does not recognize him.  She sees him and talks with him, but she does not recognize him, because she is captured by the power of death.  She is not looking for life because her perceptual apparatus belongs to death.  She finally recognizes the risen Jesus when he calls her name:  “Mary.”  Then her eyes are opened, and her heart leaps.  She runs to tell the other disciples: “I have seen the Lord!”  Rome and men still rule over her body, but now she has a new vision of herself and of life.  She is fired up – she has seen the Lord!  Indeed, Mary Magdalene is the primary witness to the Resurrection – she is the only witness mentioned in all four Gospel accounts.

    Her witness now seeks viability in our time, too.  We live in a scary and dangerous time, and for many of us, the great experiment in democracy (flaws and all) now seems in deep peril.  We don’t know what the longing-to-be-king Trumpster will do next, but Resurrection gives us promises about our lives and about life itself.  We are promised that the final word in each of our lives and in all of our lives is not death, but rather life and love.  We are also promised that the Spirit will not fail us, that even in these dismal days, God is moving and shaping possibilities for life and love and justice.  

    Our calling in this season of Resurrection is to acknowledge that like Mary Magdalene, we are captured by the power of death – in these Trumpian days, that acknowledgment is not a far stretch.  Despair has us in its grip, and it is difficult to recognize the work of God that is moving among us.  Like Mary, let us listen for our names being called, and let us hear them and respond as Mary did.  Let us be witnesses for a different view of life, a different understanding of what it means to be a human being.  And, let us join Mary in sharing the stunning news of Resurrection: “We have seen the Lord!”

"LONGING FOR LOVE, BUT BELIEVING IN DEATH"

 “LONGING FOR LOVE, BUT BELIEVING IN DEATH”

On Palm Sunday, 1865 (April 9 that year), General Robert E. Lee surrendered the Army of Northern Virginia to Union General Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox, Virginia, and the Civil War, which began in April of 1861, began to come to a close. There was relief and celebration in DC and in the North (and to some in the South), but by Good Friday, that relief would turn to shock and horror when President Abraham Lincoln was assassinated – he would die the next day.  It was a stunning Holy Week that year.

The biblical Holy Week begins on a note of triumph and expectation.  Jesus of Nazareth, the great healer and wise teacher, is entering Jerusalem during Passover in a politically charged atmosphere.  His followers celebrate him – they have experienced love and healing and a new vision of what life can be.  They are fired up, and who can blame them?  Can this be the time that Jesus will overthrow Rome and reform the Temple? 

           The Roman governor Pontus Pilate has left his comfort in the villa on the Mediterranean Sea and has paraded into Jerusalem with his imperial army – coming to quell any thoughts of seeking liberation by Jewish folk during the Festival of Passover.  These two leaders of very different parades do not know each other, when Jesus enters Jerusalem on the first day of the week.  Their paths will intersect soon, however, and things have never been the same since their engagement with one another.

       These early days of April seem to justify why T.S. Eliot called April “the cruelest month” – so many assassinations and executions.  Jesus, killed on Good Friday.  Abraham Lincoln, shot on Good Friday and dying the next day.  Martin Luther King, Jr., assassinated in Memphis 57 years ago on April 4.  The death that closes out Holy Week seems to abide in all places and in all ages.  The followers of Jesus enter Jerusalem longing for love, believing in love, but finding death.  Jesus executed, Lincoln shot down, MLK shot down, children shot down, women disappeared.  Holy Week begins in excitement and anticipation but ends in death, despair and flight – the world indeed seems dominated by death.

    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, 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.

    This belief in death, this yielding to death is so powerful, and it even enters into the incredible story of God with us.  Holy Week asks us to remember that process, to acknowledge it even now.  This power of death is not the end of the story, but it is a central pivoting point of The Story and of our story.  We won’t be left wailing at the Cross, but we are asked to acknowledge that we are, indeed, there when they give Jesus the death penalty.

"THE RESISTANCE"

 “THE RESISTANCE”

Caroline and I were privileged to be among the 30,000+ people who marched through Atlanta on Saturday and gathered at Liberty Plaza across the street from the Capitol to join in the “Hands Off” protest against the Trumpster tricks and his move to crush history and dissent.  As we got on MARTA at the East Lake station, we were glad to see longtime friends gathering too.  When the MARTA train pulled into the station, it was almost full, burgeoning with protesters going down to the rally.  We saw that repeated at the next stations.  It was reminiscent of our going to the Obama inauguration in 2009.  We got on the Red line at Siver Springs at 5:30 AM, and as we came to various train stops, people were pouring in to go to the inauguration in 20 degree weather.  One big difference, though – at the 2009 gathering, there was excitement and hope and joy.  Yesterday, there was excitement that so many people were showing up, but we were fueled mostly by anger, disgust and determination.

There were many great speakers at the “Hands Off” rally.  Some made the contrast between wanting to tell the Trumpsters to keep their hands off the hard-earned rights that we have, while urging us at the same time to be “hands on” in engaging and resisting the movement to repress, oppress, and suppress that the Trumpster is leading.  As I wrote in an earlier blog about Lenten practices, we are called to engage, to resist, and to work to regain the vision of justice and equity in our culture. If you don’t remember those practices, go back to the March 3rd Blog on “Lent and Trumpism” to review them.

As the speakers wove their stories of anger and determined resistance, one thread stood out to me.  Andrea Young, director of the ACLU of Georgia, spoke of who we should be listening to.  She also added this line:  “And of course I will not be listening to or bowing down to a white man who grew up in South Africa under apartheid.”  And, yes, Elon Musk did grow up in the apartheid regime, and with that background, he is rooted in the white supremacy that he and the Trumpster are trying to restore in its inglorious dimensions.

There was energy, passion, longing, and deep anger in those who marched and rallied and spoke yesterday.  It looks like this was repeated all over the country, with estimates of 5 million people turning throughout the country.  And, we will need that energy and passion to be able to provide resistance to the Trumpster’s move to reinstate white, male supremacy in every corner of the USA.  He has the power, and he is using it as much like a king as we will let him.

It was heartening to see so many people, so many different ages, so many different skin colors, so many different orientations – the “Hands Off” rally was good for that.  As Caroline noted, there were older folks like us who had clearly been marching for a long while, and there middle and high school students and other younger folk who were just starting out their marching career. Caroline remembered that her first march was against the Vietnam War in downtown Atlanta in May, 1970, after the USA had invaded Laos and Cambodia.  My first march was in the fall of 1966, when I marched against the Vietnam War while I was a junior in college.  That next spring I would help to organize a march against Gammons Steakhouse because they would not admit a Black student from Southwestern.  So, think back in your own life – what was your first march for justice?  If you’ve never been on a march, why not?  This, especially, is the time to do it!  We must all find ways to resist this current administration and its anti-democratic work.  It is time to speak up and act up before that too becomes illegal.