First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS
Ordinary Time - July 9, 2017
Psalm 46
It is good to be back home with all of you. After a week of vacation with my family in Washington, D.C. and another week with 2,500 people from all over the nation gathered in Baltimore for the 31st General Synod of the United Church of Christ, I am glad to be home. Glad to be worshiping together in this particular corner of the world.
And glad that my travels both directions went smoothly! Last week, as I blearily made my way to the light rail in Baltimore with all my luggage to return to the airport, I stood on the platform waiting for the train to arrive. I heard the announcement come over the loudspeakers, as I had so many times in the past two weeks, using public transit - “We are all responsible for keeping Baltimore safe. So if you see something, say something.”
I journeyed to the airport. I dumped out my water bottle and considered whether I should remove my Black Lives Matter and Malcolm X buttons from the outside of my bag to avoid the potential for extra screening. I carefully removed my baggie of liquids from my carry on, took off my shoes (not because it was holy ground but because the TSA agents told me to). I stepped into that machine - whatever it’s called - and assumed the screening position. And, as I always do, I had a little moment where I thought, how odd. How odd that this all seems normal now.
I wasn’t selected for extra screening, of course. Despite my “radical” buttons. I’ve never been selected for extra screening, unlike many of my other friends and colleagues who occupy brown bodies or have “unusual” last names.
As I wandered through the airport, I glanced up at a TV screen that was anxiously blaring news of North Korea and missiles. And I looked away from the screen and there was again - that message that seems ubiquitous these days - a giant floor to ceiling billboard just outside the airport bathroom, “IF YOU SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING.”
Well, maybe it’s just that I’ve had that little saying drilled into my head the last few weeks. I don’t know. But today I do want to say something. And what I want to say is this: like Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb, I have seen the Lord!
In Washington, D.C., where I had a chance to visit the new National Museum of African American History and Culture. We journeyed down, down, down to a basement three stories underground. Together with hundreds who crowded those darkened rooms, eager to hear stories that give life, I walked slowly up from that low basement - hearing whispers from the past. Stories of people who were always striving for freedom. Stories of those who knew their worth as beloved children of God and would not rest until liberty and justice for all is truly manifest for ALL. I have seen the Lord in the relentless quest for liberation….and it makes me glad.
In Baltimore, gathered at the feet of the Rev. Dr. William Barber, who began his keynote address with these words: “I’ve come recruiting.” He read the story of Pentecost to us and said that he’s come recruiting for a new Pentecost - that a new wind must blow and a new fire must be kindled. He said, “We gotta learn to speak in tongues if we’re going to challenge the lies of Caesar” and urged us that this is “no time for polite conversations about alternative facts. We need moral clarity.” He ended with an altar call for the new Poor Peoples’ Campaign he is launching and you’ve never seen a group of UCCers so fired up, ready to commit their lives to the work ahead. It was practically….well, Pentecostal. I have seen the Lord in the conviction and leadership of Rev. Barber….and it makes me glad.
In the work of the Synod itself, I saw the Holy. Together we stood outside the federal building in Baltimore and demanded justice for Guillermo Recinos Morales, an Annapolis resident, grandfather, and artist, currently detained by ICE. I watched as the Synod voted overwhelmingly to affirm the Rev. Traci Blackmon as our Executive Minister for Justice & Witness, to become an immigrant welcoming denomination, to affirm the fight for $15 and a living wage for all, to remind us that the earth belongs to God and that we must work together to combat climate change. We worshiped together, shared stories together. We lifted up the young people of Standing Rock and gave thanks for their bold witness. We were led by our youth delegates during times of difficult deliberation. In a windowless room in a convention center, I saw the Lord in the movement of the United Church of Christ….and it makes me glad.
Christ arrived in the words of the Rev. Lori Walke, who pastors at Mayflower Congregational UCC in Oklahoma City and was the closing preacher at one of the banquets I attended. She reflected on the timeless functions of the Church. What is it that makes the Church the Church?
Rev. Walke says that one of the timeless functions of the Church is to RESIST. She marched us through the Bible, showing the threads of resistance woven throughout our holy text. Rev. Walke said, “From the Book of Revelation, resist. To use the specific words of the Book of Revelation, resist the claim ’Caesar is Lord’ by proclaiming,’Jesus is Lord.’ In our words, resist the claim that the Donald is Lord, that Barack is Lord, that Bernie or Hillary is Lord, that Wall Street is Lord, that the NRA is Lord, that Oil & Gas is Lord. Resist. This is why we say, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ so that we resist our tendency to give power to anyone or anything else. ’Jesus is Lord,’ otherwise the church becomes the Spirit-crushing, bootstrap worshiping Religious Right or the less effective but just as idolatrous Democratic Party at Prayer. Resist.”
I have seen the Lord - and it is not Caesar or Donald or Barack. It is Jesus. And it makes me glad.
Sixteen months ago, the national church announced that the theme of General Synod 31 would be “Make Glad.” I thought, what now? MAKE GLAD? The world at the time seemed, frankly, teetering on the edge of disaster. In the midst of 21st century anxieties - rising waters, bullet-riddled bodies, overt racism, sexism, islamophobia, xenophobia, heterosexist, and transphobia….in the midst of all those phobias, fears, anxieties the chipper MAKE GLAD! seemed, quite honestly, hollow and ridiculous.
But my presence was required at General Synod, so I packed my bags and traveled to Baltimore - all the while absorbing the anxieties of this particular time in history. And there, gathered, with 2,500 others, I heard and sang the words of this ancient psalm, “There is a river. There is a river. There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God.”
I listened as the Rev. Traci Blackmon preached about this ancient prayer. Rev. Blackmon told the story of Charles Blondin who, 100-years ago, crossed the Niagara Falls on a tightrope in front of a crowd. Again and again, he crossed the falls. He even stopped one time to make a sandwich in the middle and ate it. And after the crowd had oohed and aahed enough times, he brought out a wheelbarrow and said, “Who believes I can cross the falls with this wheelbarrow?” The crowd cheered, “We do! We believe you can do anything!” And he said, “Who believes I can cross the falls with someone riding IN this wheelbarrow?” “Oh, YES!” They replied, “We believe you can do ANYTHING?”
“Who volunteers to ride in the wheelbarrow?”
(Crickets.)
Rev. Blackmon laughed a bit as she reminded us that it’s all well and good to come and cheer for those who lead the way and to say that they can do anything. But when the time comes to put our own bodies, minds, souls, and selves on the line in the struggle to bring about God’s realm of perfect peace with justice….well, most of us are just like that crowd gathered at Niagara Falls a hundred years ago.
But the psalmist reaches out to us across the centuries with words filled with ancient truths:
God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change,
though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;
though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble with its tumult.
And suddenly it occurred to me. We don’t “make glad” because everything is okay. We make glad because despite it being very much NOT okay, we know who we are and whose we are.
It’s kind of like how we being many of our worship services together by saying “Happy Sunday!” Not because we’re always happy, but because we know that when we are together in this particular place - when we are reminded of the very presence of the Most High in our lives through shared prayer, song, story - when we gather together at the table, at the font - when we see the face of Christ on our neighbor here at 700 Poyntz - our souls are filled with the kind of joy that can exist even in the midst of pain and fear.
Because:
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy habitation of the Most High.
God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved;
God will help it when the morning dawns.
The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter;
he utters his voice, the earth melts.
The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our refuge.
We make glad because even when it is not alright - there is a river. There is a river in the midst of God’s holy city. And GOD is in the midst of the city and it shall not be moved. No matter what evils befall us, the river continues to flow - bringing life and sustenance to all who dwell along its banks.
Though the world sings to us never ending songs of anxiety - on the slow crawl at the bottom of the cable news, on the big billboards screaming at us at the airport - we tune our hearts to the words of ancient prayers passed down to us from our ancestors:
God makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
She breaks the bow, and shatters the spear;
She burns the shields with fire.
‘Be still, and know that I am God!
We make glad not because all is well. We make glad because we have a deeper sense of peace that prevails through the anxieties of these days. We make glad because we know there is a river that continues to flow - around us and in us and through us.
And we are a part of that river - the wider river of the United Church of Christ, the wider river of the Church universal, the wider river of our all kindred who keep the stories of goodness and hope and resurrection alive.
Who we can be together is beyond our wildest imaginings. Each of us is but a drop in a wider stream. Tributaries join and flow to the city. A small trickle becomes a massive river whose waters roar and foam.
"If you see something say something,” the signs say. What I see is that the Church is on the move and cannot be stopped. What I see is that God is our refuge and strength - a very present help in times of trouble. What I see is that God is in the midst of the city, and it shall not be moved.
There is a river. And we are made glad. Amen.
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