Sermon for December 9, 2018 | Advent 2

The Journey: Preparing the Way

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah,

‘The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

“Prepare the way of the Lord,make his paths straight.

Every valley shall be filled,and every mountain and hill shall be made low,

and the crooked shall be made straight,and the rough ways made smooth;

and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”’

Something’s going on between the lines of today’s scripture. I’m going to read it again, and paraphrase what I think is being said by not being said.

It was the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, and the word of God did not come to the ruler of the Roman Empire. Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and the word of God did not come to him. Herod and his brothers presided over the Eastern Mediterranean world, and the word of God did not come to them. It was during the time when Annas and Caiaphas were the high priests of the Jewish Temple, and the word of God didn’t even come to them. The word of God came to John, son of Zechariah, in the wilderness.

After giving us the names and offices of the most powerful people of the day, Luke says the word of God bypasses the centers of power. The word comes to a hairy, cave-dwelling hermit who outside the thrones of power. It’s kind of a Luke thing. In the previous chapter, our well-known Christmas story of Luke 2, Mary and Joseph are told there is no room in the Inn. They must go to the barn to have the baby. The Word of God incarnate comes to the world from the outside. Luke tells us, “There were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night … And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid” (2:9). The first ones to hear about the birth of the new Kinge are sheep herders, a marginalized peasant class who experienced the oppression and exploitation of the Empire. Rejected and outside, they hear the Good News of the coming incarnate Word.

Thomas Merton has a classic essay from 1966 called “The Time of the End Is the Time of No Room.” Merton insists we must understand the severity of our present time. We need to understand that we are in a world inhospitable to God Incarnate, the Prince of Peace. The Inn was too crowded and there was no room for Jesus. Merton says that we live in the time of the Crowd: where there is a “vast indefinite roar of armies on the move and the restlessness of turbulent mobs.” It is a time of “the display of power, hubris, and destruction;” a time of “suspicion, hatred, and distrust.” He goes on to say that this is the time when, “…everyone is obsessed with lack of time, lack of space, with saving time, conquering space, projecting into time and place the anguish produced within them by technological furies of size, volume, quantity, speed, number, price, power, and acceleration … We are numbered in the billions, and massed together, marshaled, numbered, marched here and there, taxed, drilled, armed, worked to the point of insensibility, dazed by information, drugged by entertainment … nauseated with the human race and with ourselves, nauseated with life.”

He says, “There is no room for quiet. There is no room for solitude. There is no room for thought. There is no room for attention. There is no room for the Good News because it is drowned out with all of the noise.

And we want it so badly, don’t we. When I read the news, or thumb through my social media feeds, I want some good news. I want the powerful, the rich, the famous … the insiders … to finally offer me some inspiration. My attention yearns for the insiders to give me something more than distraction and entertainment.

I expect the word of God to visit the powerful. I noticed it in some of my reactions to Mr. Trump during the funeral for President George H.W. Bush. Much was made of how Mr. Trump did not really participate in the service – he did not sing the hymns or recite the Apostle’s Creed with other worshippers. He looked out of place and uncomfortable in the high church setting of the National Cathedral. He took a lot of teasing. I suspect some people thought that if he was in church, maybe God would speak to him. Maybe God did speak to Mr. Trump. But if Luke’s gospel is right, we should never expect it in the first place.

Consider how immigration legislation is discussed in the corridors of power. Immigrants are trotted out like figure heads, but the primary groups at the table are chambers of commerce, industry and defense contractor lobby groups, and a handful of DC-based immigration lobby groups vying with one another for a place at the table. The arguments always boil down to political realities and NEVER about what is best for immigrants as defined by immigrants. So, the decisions lack empathy. There is no room in the inn, so to speak, for the word of God to become alive and show us a better way.
The word of God comes to those who live and work outside the crowded inns of power and wealth and influence. The Gospel comes to those who can find no room in the Inn – the drowned-out, the crowded-out, the missed-out, the worn-out, and the left-out – like John the Baptist. The outsider is the one who hears the word, the outsider is the one preaches the word of repentance and forgiveness of sin. Would John have heard if he lived within the power and noise?

I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but here it comes – churches are notalways  the best places to hear the word of God. If it’s true that God’s word is best received on the outside, then maybe church isn’t the first place to go. Yes, church attendance has many benefits. And I like to think I offer some Good News each week. And, even though we complain a lot about how the church is losing influence and interest, the church still thrives on the inside. Even here at CCC, we can afford to make close to a million dollars of capital improvements to our properties. Yes, it seems necessary. Yes, I support the costs. And, I wonder if it all distracts us from hearing the word of God. Knowing the word of God. Living the word of God. I’m becoming more convinced that we will only experience it on the outside. The word of God comes when we can say ‘no’ to the way the world is and begin to create a new world built not on injustice, greed, individualism and passivity, but rather a world based on justice, community, solidarity, action and love of the other. I’m not sure how to get there, yet – how to abandon and reject the current power structures and social practices — how to become part of a spirituality that is much bigger, more intelligent and rational, and certainly more real, necessary and true than anything the insiders can offer.

Who will prepare the way? We prepare the way for God to live among us – at least that’s what we’ve been told. But let’s not overlook my key point. Those on the outside have heard the Good News. We need to prepare the way to hear from them. How do we receive the word of God from those who live outside? How can we allow some wildness and wilderness to enter our tame, predictable institutions? When the word of God comes, who will straighten our crooked paths and smooth our rough ways?
The poor, the displaced, those in the shadows of depression, the residents of nursing homes, migrants tear gassed on the border and refugees caught in  war by powerful armies, those without homes living on streets of the wealthiest nation in the world, and all those overwhelmed with grief … Women who talk about their sexual abuse publicly and protest men’s abuse of power,  African-Americans who call out the killing of the on innocent by police … The Good News comes to all who suffer, who search, who are outside. I have no doubt these are John the Baptist’s spiritual relatives, living outside, in the wilderness, hearing the word and call us to repentance. How will we listen?

Sources:

http://www.ekklesiaproject. org/blog/2012/12/outside-the-inn-siders/

Sermon for December 2, 2018 | Advent 1

The Leafy Branch of Winter

The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which it will be called: “The Lord is our righteousness.” — Jeremiah 33:14-16

“My primary strategy for living through the 21st century and beyond is not to die,” Those are the words of Ray Kurzweil, the futurologist and Google engineer who opted to have his body cryogenically preserved at the Alcor Life Extension Foundation in Scottsdale, Arizona. The central idea is simple: preserve the body in a pristine condition until medicine develops a cure for whatever brought about death in the first place – at which point one’s corpse is thawed and reanimated. Alcor charges $200,000 for the full body and $80,000 for head-only preservation and offers the option of clients taking out a life insurance policy that will pay out to the company. Forget about the fact that as soon as a frozen body is re-animated, there is likely to major damage that the freezing was supposed to avoid like ruptured membranes and lost neural connections. I wonder what happens to the soul? What happens to the thinking, feeling, connecting, remembering part of a person who is cryogenically preserved? Does the soul live suspended in some heavenly realm, like taking a long vacation to the Bahamas, and then reluctantly return? Do people who get re-animated become zombies? Maybe the Seventh-Day Adventists are right — maybe the soul just goes to sleep, lying dormant until the fullness of time.

Too bad freezing bodies can’t be more like planting seeds in the late Winter. I’m a New Englander, and we never think about planting before Memorial Day. Tomatoes grown indoors get too leggy. Early spring crops, like peas, do best in the warmed ground to begin. Winter is a time of stillness and relative inactivity. Yet beneath the surface of the ground, there is activity invisible to the human eye. Bulbs planted in the fall are dormant, but that dormancy is crucial to their coming to bloom the following spring. When the bulbs are planted, they immediately soak up all the moisture and nutrients from the soil that they can get and begin to put out shoots. When the deep freeze comes, their growth is halted. The coldness, the dormancy, is necessary if the bulb is to last more than one season. A period of rest allows the plant to grow in a more robust way in the longer term.

God works like that sometimes. Yes, in our tradition we have stories about God miraculously re-animating corpses, no corporate life insurance policy needed. My experience with God is less like that, and more like a dormant bulb waiting to come to life. We can experience times of relative quiet and inactivity where significant growth is happening beneath the surface. I remember going through a period of dryness for several years. When I meditated and prayed, I didn’t feel anything. I went through my routines, but the Spirit felt … I don’t know … not absent, but not present either; real but unavailable. I hit a low point where I felt defeated, helpless, and unhappy. I felt suspicious, closed off, and hardened. I felt like a victim to other people’s poor decisions. I was physically unhealthy. My coping mechanisms were not good. My spiritual life felt lifeless. I was dissatisfied with feeling dissatisfied. Looking back, I realize it was a time of preparation.

I now know that in when it felt like nothing was happening in my spiritual life, God was active in a way that was imperceptible. After the wintry latency ended, my prayer life shifted from less begging to more contemplation and imagination. I found motivation to reach new goals. I felt happier. I can’t quite say what God was doing during the time of quiet, but what followed was like the blossoming of a flower after dormancy. Signs of new life appeared, holding new surprises. Parts of my life are still growing, beckoning to flower with hope. And I’m now able to prune some of the old growth and deadwood that does not serve me anymore. I can let go of old ways and worn obligations. I can give energy to the commitments and covenants God invites me to now. The season of dormancy was necessary to re-focus my growing season.

Jeremiah alludes to these dormant promises in the life of his people. To people in the dormancy of exile, he says a time is coming when a promise will be fulfilled. A shoot will grow out of that which seemed dead. In the stark and barren winter of life, a green tendril will grow into a leafy branch. The promise is not dead, just dormant. God is still getting it ready, preparing and nourishing imperceptivity. When the promise comes, it will be a season for growth and newness. A season of justice and righteousness. A season of safety and salvation. Until then, until the fulness of time, it is a season of hope. Oh. Hope. Advent. A Savior. A baby. God born anew in human form. God with us. Emmanuel.

Perhaps you have felt absorbed in confusion and self-doubt for a season. Perhaps you feel alone, abandoned, and neglected by God and others. I don’t know when this season will break for you, but I do know that God is with us. Emmanuel, God is with us. Do not lose hope. When the promise comes, it will be a season for growth and newness.

Some say that hope is silent suffering through difficult times awaiting future righteousness. I think hope is here. We find hope in each other’s eyes, in a parent making lunch for a child, and in a medic’s night shift saving lives. Hope is in refugees seeking asylum and in neighbors taking care of each other. Hope is in the ordinary, mundane ways we keep going each day without giving in to cynicism. Hope is in the 4-week-old baby I held in my arms last week. Hope is the eyes of the person standing in the mirror before us every day. In hope, we press on and take care of each other, especially in the wintery seasons of our lives.

Hope is in a 2000-year-old story that we can’t stop telling. We can’t let it go, because it reminds us that there is greatness in the ordinary and newness from the dormant times of life. The light shines. The desert blooms. The righteous branch grows from a sleeping stump. The Divine comes to as a baby in a manager, and we keep remembering God understands what it means to come alive. God is with us. Emmanuel.

Sources:

https://www.theguardian.com/science/2016/nov/18/the-cryonics-dilemma-will-deep-frozen-bodies-be-fit-for-new-life

https://www.ignatianspirituality. com/18647/winter-dormancy

https://www.ignatianspirituality. com/19578/two-necessary-seasons-of-life-pruning-and-dormancy.

Sermon for November 18, 2018

The Way of Graciousness

“That is why I say to you, don’t worry about living—wondering what you are going to eat or drink, or what you are going to wear. Surely life is more important than food, and the body more important than the clothes you wear. Look at the birds in the sky. They never sow nor reap nor store away in barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Aren’t you much more valuable to him than they are? Can any of you, however much he worries, make himself an inch taller? And why do you worry about clothes? Consider how the wild flowers grow. They neither work nor weave, but I tell you that even Solomon in all his glory was never arrayed like one of these! Now if God so clothes the flowers of the field, which are alive today and burnt in the stove tomorrow, is he not much more likely to clothe you, you ‘little-faiths’? So don’t worry and don’t keep saying, ‘What shall we eat, what shall we drink or what shall we wear?! That is what pagans are always looking for; your Heavenly Father knows that you need them all. Set your heart on the kingdom and his goodness, and all these things will come to you as a matter of course. Don’t worry at all then about tomorrow. Tomorrow can take care of itself! One day’s trouble is enough for one day.” Matthew 6:25-34 J.B. Phillips New Testament

Hi, my name is Matt and I am a constant worrier. I know, I know, it’s hard to believe that under this calm, cool exterior there is a bubbling tar pit of anxiety. But it’s true. I’m a worrier. This is the season of worry, is it not? Oh, right – its supposed to be the season of thanks. But the time between Thanksgiving and the New Year is a period for perfectly reasonable, and possibly obsessive, perturbation. There are gifts to buy, meals to plan, gatherings to attend. In our house, there are birthdays and anniversaries to plan on top of it all. Another round of multiple college tuition payment is coming up, along with all the other holiday purchases we put on our credit cards. The New Year begins with an avalanche of debt.

I am a worrier. One worry leads to another.

I worry about my kid’s safety.

I worry about having enough money.

I worry about email.

I worry if I have hurt someone's feelings.

I worry about whether the US will extradite Gulen to Turkey as a trade-off for information against Saudi Arabia.

I worry about wearing the right thing.

I worry about whether I turned the stove off before I left home.

I worry about the fluid levels in my car, because I keep meaning to refill the washer fluid, but then I forget until I the next time I use my windshield washer, and the fluid that dribbles out isn’t enough to do the job, and it just leaves white streaks on the window that pick up the sun’s glare, and it’s already hard enough drive around here as it is, forget about having the added obstruction of a dirty windshield.

I worry if my breath stinks.

I worry about Homeland Security.

I worry about America

I worry about Brexit

I worry that Conspiracy Theories might be correct

I worry about the Big Earthquake scientists tell us to expect

Since we already had snow this past week, I worry that there will be too many snow days this year and the kids will be home too much.

I worry that I’m not going to be able to live up to the selfies I just posted online.

I worry that the dream I had last night might come true and be a premonition of an unbearable dystopian future.

I’m worried that mobile phones are taking over our lives.

I worry that Alexa is really listening in on everything we say at home, even though she keeps insisting she is not.

My house smells funny, sometimes. Should I be worried?

My car was broken into a few weeks ago, in my own driveway. Well, technically, someone just opened the door because I left the car unlocked in my driveway overnight. Nothing was taken, but now I worry about my car, and my wife’s car, and our doors, and our locks, and whether we need video cameras.

You get the idea. It’s not just enough to worry. I feel guilty when I worry too much. I feel guilty that I’m spending time worrying when I should be living my life. And when that starts …

I feel guilty over how much water I use in the shower.

I feel guilty for making mistakes.

I feel guilty for not being a better father.

I feel guilty for getting so angry at other drivers during my commute.

I feel guilty for what my ancestors may have done to others.

I feel guilty when I don't instantly help someone the minute I feel that nudge.

I feel guilty for running a hot yellow traffic light.

I feel horribly guilty for running a red Light.

I feel guilty for not stopping for pedestrians.

I feel guilty for judging others harshly.

I feel guilty for not calling my Parents, my brother, and children more often.

I feel guilty for having enough, when so many around the world don't, but still finding a way to complain about what I don’t have, even though I am blessed in so many ways.

I feel guilty for unanswered emails (I told you it was a problem).

I feel guilty for posting those selfies online in the first place, as if I’m that desperate for validation from others.

I feel guilty for stuff I don't even do!

I feel guilty about worrying because Jesus says don’t worry.  Seriously, Jesus? Isn't your advice a little naive? I do need to plan and know where my next meal is coming from and make sure my family is clothed. I just hear him now.

Jesus: "Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap, nor gather into barns, and yet God feeds them. Are you not of more value than they. Can you add a single hour to your span of life by worrying?"

Me: No, I guess not, but . . .

Jesus: “So why do you worry about clothing?”

Me: Well, because I need to be appropriately dressed for various occasions and at least try to be somewhat up to date. And I don’t like to smell bad.

Jesus: "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. If God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, you of little faith?”

Me: Why do you keep making these nature analogies? And, maybe worry serves a useful function sometimes? I mean, maybe I worry because I care.

Jesus: "Therefore do not worry, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear?'”

Me: All right. I get that you're not going to budge on the worry issue. But tell me this: What am I to do with all that mental free time I used to spend worrying?

Jesus: “Set your heart on the kingdom and God’s goodness, and all the rest of these things will come to you as a matter of course.”

I resist this advice. Jesus’s sounds so immoderate, absolute, and extreme in his guidance about how to live. He says give up all the worry and serve God. I think that’s one of the things you are NOT supposed to say to someone who is having an anxiety attack.

I’ve thought about this passage. I’ve prayed about it and meditated on it. For weeks. I sought after God’s goodness as I prepared for today. One word keeps coming back to me for some reason: graciousness. Be gracious.

At first, the word doesn’t make sense. Why gracious? It conjures up ideas of Victorian-era manners – you know, having a stiff upper lip, being polite so as not to embarrass others unduly, letting trifles go with dignified poise. Graciousness is much more than refined manners, though. The word graciousness, after all, comes from the word grace.

In Judaism and Christianity, grace is the spontaneous gift of affection, mercy and compassion. God shows mercy, even to those who do not deserve it. God consoles the afflicted and raises up the oppressed. That is graciousness. In Chinese philosophy, when the heart feels empathy, in especially for the oppressed, a person has been touched by grace.

Nelson Mandela is often mentioned as a person who showed graciousness towards people, including his former captors. He is often quoted as saying,

“As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still be in prison.”

Gracious people are kind. Grace believes the best of people and draws it out of them. There is nothing cowardly about a gracious person. Grace helps a person face up to ridicule, slander, unforgiveness, and hatred … and even worry.

When worry sloshes around in my head like dirty laundry in my washing machine, grace helps me get out of the spin cycle.  How? By tending to the needs of other people instead of worrying about my own. Oh wait – that’s what Jesus was talking about! Seek first God’s kingdom. Seek first God’s goodness! God’s kindness. God’s graciousness. Gracious people love without condition; despite our political preferences or doctrinal differences; no matter who we love or how we identify ourselves; regardless of our taste in music, clothes, movies, or hobbies; and beyond all our faults and weaknesses. Perhaps we are never more like God than when we give grace to someone else.

The next time I stand on the brink of the sinkhole of worry, I can start to become more aware. By the way, did you know last Friday, New Hampshire Avenue was closed between Chalmers Road and Powder Mill Road due to a sinkhole? Traffic was snarled and school busses were rerouted. With all of this rain, sinkholes can appear anywhere … aaaaand there I go again with the worry. Breathe deeply. Become aware. All shall be well. All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. Now, who needs me to show them some grace today? Some graciousness? Let’s start there. Actually, let’s start with me offering some graciousness to myself. And then, in this season of worry, maybe I can seek God by connecting to Irresistible Grace. Perhaps I can offer acceptance with less conditions. Love without apprehension. More mercy with less worry. Just for today. And then I can let tomorrow take care of itself.

Sources:

https://www.patheos.  com/resources/additional-resources/2011/02/no-easy-answers-reflections-on-matthew-alyce-mckenzie-02-21-2011.aspx?p=2

https://www.bustle. com/p/11-things-to-never-say-to-someone-who-has-anxiety-61031

Sermon for November 11, 2018

The Way of Giving and Receiving

How many of us can remember a November when we haven’t shared in a food drive, or helped serve dinners for those struggling with homelessness, or invited a lonely neighbor over for dinner? How many of us have given money for food or assembled food baskets for those in need? For most of us, this I the time of year when we remember our responsibility to those who live at the edges of society. It says a lot about our character as people of faith that we have an impulse to share with those whose needs are greater than our own; that we share with those who so often feel forgotten.

It is a season of great generosity. But is it also a time of justice? Let’s turn to the example of Jesus to look for some answers. This is from Mark 12:38ff.

Jesus taught: “Beware of these teachers of religious law! For they like to parade around in flowing robes and receive respectful greetings as they walk in the marketplaces.  And how they love the seats of honor in the synagogues and the head table at banquets. Yet they shamelessly cheat widows out of their property and then pretend to be pious by making long prayers in public. Because of this, they will be more severely punished.”

Let’s stop there for a moment. Notice how Jesus describes the Scribes. A Scribe’s primary occupation was writing out copies of the Jewish Scriptures and teaching people about the details of following Jewish religious law. In Mark’s gospel, Jesus makes the point repeatedly that the Scribes, these leaders and law experts, expect privilege and status. Jesus wants those who follow his Way to be last and “servants of all.” But the Scribes use religion as a veil for economic opportunism. Let’s see how this scene plays out.

Jesus sat down near the collection box in the Temple and watched as the crowds dropped in their money. Many rich people put in large amounts. Then a poor widow came and dropped in two small coins. Jesus called his disciples to him and said, “I tell you the truth, this poor widow has given more than all the others who are making contributions. For they gave a tiny part of their surplus, but she, poor as she is, has given everything she had to live on.”

I was always taught that Jesus wants his followers to see the contrast between the religious hypocrisy of the scribes and the genuine piety of the poor woman. The interpretation comes straight from John Calvin, granddaddy of our Reformed tradition. Calvin says the poor should not hesitate to express their devotion to God cheerfully out of their slender means, “for if they consecrate themselves, their offering, which appears to be mean and worthless” is not insignificant to God. According to Calvin, God wants self-denial, and the poor are the prime example. He wrote that around the year 1560. It is part of a long tradition in Christianity. Our exemplars embrace poverty, give their last pennies away to find happiness, boast of sufferings, and befriend suffering in order to find peace.

But here’s the thing: I don’t think Jesus holds the poor widow’s ultimate financial sacrifice up as a model for self-denial. Let’s rethink this.

The Way of Jesus has taken him and his followers to Jerusalem. They may feel a little out of step with the hustle and bustle of urban life. Think about how it feels to visit New York City on a crowded day during the holidays. For me it’s amazing and scary all at the same time. The full array of humanity is there to see: rich and poor, greedy and generous, with religion and commercialism mixed into one onslaught for the senses. Imagine it’s the same in Jerusalem. Swarms of people are there, rich and poor, powerful and powerless. Jesus makes his way to the Temple treasury. The Temple has 13 trumpet-shaped chests along the walls of a space called The Court of Women. Worshippers toss their financial offerings into these chests. Some of the donors are rich people who give from their abundance. But Jesus singles out one woman. We know two things about her. She is poor, and she is a widow. In Jewish law, she is a member of a protected class. Hebrew Scripture clearly calls people to care for widows because they have no support net (Deut. 14.29). Jewish faith understands God’s creation has enough for everyone to flourish. If there is poverty, it’s because some have filled their pockets first. So, instead of being a recipient of Temple funds, the poor widow donates two little coins. She gives all that is left of her whole life.

Jesus says, “She just gave everything she had to live on! She gives from her destitution!” His words are not praise, but a lament for the disgusting injustice that creates the condition for this scene. He watches a woman give her last coins to support the oppressors who keep her in poverty. She helps finance the system designed to keep her poor. Jesus does not admire the poor widow’s generous spirit of self-denial. Jesus is horrified by a religion-supported economic system that creates classes of haves and have-nots. Instead of protecting widows, the Scribes exploit them in order to feed their self-important status. For Jesus, the Temple becomes a symbol of that which preys upon and then devours the resources of the poor. And Jesus objects.

We see the equivalent of the poor widow in our communities. We have lots of cultural stereotypes that go with the word “poor.” One stereotype is poor people are lazy, unintelligent, inarticulate, and overly emotional. Another stereotype is poor people spend money on frivolous things. If poor people just gave up on cigarettes, lottery tickets, and IPhones, they would pop up into the middle class. Have you ever wondered where these stereotypes come from?

The poor are not some lump of people at the bottom of society who are just there as the underclass, permanently outside the mainstream of American life. In today’s American life, the poor are working people. Poverty happens to working-class Americans. In America, we are not just divided by economic status. Economic status is all tied up with social status. I hear a lot about how we are living in a divided nation politically. But politics is all tied up with social status, too. America’s class system is the elephant in the room of our schools, our justice system, our county council meetings, and yes, class is the elephant in the room of our churches. So let’s talk about it.

Martin Luther King Jr. identified three elements working together to cause oppression in America. Each element works separately but in tandem with the other two to create a storm of lost opportunity for millions of Americans. The first element is racism. Racism puts white American men in control of a system that has keeps non-whites, and especially women of color, out of positions of power and opportunities for advancement.

The second part of the triangle of oppression is classism. As he peeled back the layers of American oppression, Dr. King realized racism was not operating alone. How could it be that people of the racially dominant group could be oppressed with a power equal to that of racism? For instance, poverty is not just a problem for African-Americans living in blighted inner cities. We know part of Trump’s rise to power came from expectant, working-class, rural, white, Coal and Rust Belt voters living in poverty. They believed the promise that their jobs and their prosperity would return. A poor white person has a parallel struggle to a poor person of color regardless of white privilege. But, the white working class continues to sink into deep poverty and the white middle class continues to disappear. The oppression and resentment of poorer white Americans is real. How can that be? And how can be that people of color can reach the highest levels in business, education, and government, despite their ethnic and cultural background? King linked it to classism -- the belief that people from certain social or economic classes are superior to others.

Let’s stop here to reflect on how race and class are related. Most of the American lower class is white. Most of the American prison population is white. White privilege does not always overcome classism. However, a lower-class white person still has more opportunities handed to them than a fellow lower-class black person simply on the basis of skin color. The working-class white person may still feel superior and resent non-white groups including black and brown immigrants and Muslims. It is a divide-and-conquer tactic used by those in power to turn marginalized groups against each other to protect the upper class.

The third part of the triangle is poverty. If poverty alone were alleviated, if each person truly had enough food, wealth, healthcare, and a good job, it would ease the oppression caused by racism and classism. But it would not end that oppression. Dr. King said, “In the final analysis, the rich must not ignore the poor because both rich and poor are tied in a single garment of destiny. All life is interrelated, and all [people] are interdependent. The agony of the poor diminishes the rich, and the salvation of the poor enlarges the rich. We are inevitably our brothers'[and sister’s] keeper because of the interrelated structure of reality.”

As I said earlier, I think most Americans are generous people. We want to help. We want to heal. But how do we achieve and maintain equality and embrace diversity? The idea of offering charity for the poor is part of who we are. Charity is an attractive quality. But Generosity is not enough. Charity is not justice. The way for the poor to have a better life is for them to have more power. We stand for generosity with justice. Generosity with justice means we aren’t just charitable toward the poor. Charity can be given in a way that’s deeply hurtful and in the long run counterproductive. Generosity with justice means we offer help that says, "Let’s work together, let’s stand together, in ways that make us fully and equally powerful as we seek to fulfill our common interests and individual needs.” Where inequity exists, we will not accept the widely-held perspective that blames the victims. Generosity with justice allows us to feel the pain of these oppressive and unbalanced social, religious, and economic systems, regardless of our privileged or unprivileged position.

Our generous outreach at this time of year is awesome. It’s good to share our food those who are hungry. It’s even better when we share food and fix that causes of hunger. We feed the hungry and work to make food available to all. We offer a drink to the thirsty, and make sure that water everyone has the right to clean, abundant water. We clothe the naked and remember that only when the necessities of life are met, only then have we all experienced what it means to be fully human. We work for the dawning of a new world in which the powers of domination and inequity are toppled, where the poor are not asked to subsidize their own oppression, where power and equality are restored to the dispossessed. This is the true Way of Giving and Receiving. We dream it. We pray for it. We breathe it. We live it.

 

Sources:

“Classism and Economic Injustice,” http://www.uucr. org/sermons/classismandeconomic.html

Ched Myers, Binding the Strongman, pp.318-323.

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Nobel Prize Speech,  http://evergreenuu. org/LinkClick.aspx?fileticket=CMZGEPaRv9o%3D&tabid=192

“Don’t be charitable to the poor...” http://thewitness. org/archive/oct2001/zweiginterview.html

“Deep Interrelatedness and Transformation,” http://www.classism. org/human-arising

"Thanksgiving 2011” http://spsmw. org/2011/11/16/thanksgiving-2011/

Richard W. Swanson, Provoking the Gospel of Mark.

https://www.therutgersreview.  com/2018/02/10/classism-americas-overlooked-problem

The Politics of Jesús: A Hispanic Political Theology By Miguel A. De La Torre