This Land is NOT "our" Land

Offered at St. Paul's Episcopal Church St Louis on the 25^th Sunday after Pentecost November 14, 2021                                                                                                          

In 1990 President George H. W. Bush declared November as Native American Heritage Month. Just like Women’s History, Black History, Pride, and many more, these designations are meant to bring attention to those groups of people who have suffered from indignities and prejudices. It is to offer us a new perspective. So it is today an opportunity to see from a different view.

The way Indigenous people have been and are treated is the first of many United States of America horror stories that show how race determines who is considered less human and therefore expendable. The transgressions against the native people who first lived with the lands and the settlers who took the land is just beginning to be truthfully explored.

Richard Rohr's Meditation “Living with the Land” speaks to the differences in how the Settlers and the Indigenous people saw the land. I am paraphrasing some of his words today.

Most Christians in the Western World have been shaped by a culture and faith that tells us that land acquisition is a normal thing regardless of the cost to others, ourselves, or to the land itself. God made humans stewards of creation therefore it is ours to use. Rohr writes “… our lack of attention to the Christ Mystery can be seen in the way we continue to pollute and ravage Planet Earth, the very thing we all stand on and live from.” Our relationship with the land is in direct correlation to our lack of respect for one other.

Theologian, scholar, and Cherokee descendant Randy Woodley points out that the land itself meant something quite different to those who settled it than it did to those who first lived here. The failure of the settlers to tread lightly, with humility and respect, for the land was the problem. The settlers lived on the land, taking what they wanted when they wanted it regardless of what might be needed in the future. The native people lived with the land, always respecting the natural balance, never taking more than was necessary. It was a sacred understanding.

This is important because this land we are on – actually, not only the land that Saint Louis is on but the broad expanse of land from the Ohio River Valley west to the Red River – is the ancestral lands of the Osage Nation. The Osage history is important to the history of Missouri.

In a 2014 PBS special, Osage Elder Eddy Red Eagle Jr., Drum Keeper and Osage history, cultural, and spirituality expert talked about when the French and French-Canadians arrived in this area of Saint Louis. They “had very little money but they had intelligence, and a strong family life, communal life.” This meant a good deal to the Osage because they had common intentions. Not only did they trade together, but old Cathedral records show that there was intermarriage and that leaders of both groups supported their mutual grandchildren. They were community.

The Louisiana Purchase in 1803 changed everything.

As we all know, the US government regarded Native Americans as “savages”, fully expendable, and moved them from their ancestral homelands whenever more land was wanted. In addition to the forced migration, epidemics of European illnesses ravaged Native American populations. In 1808, to maintain peace and care for their people, Osage leaders handed over their Missouri lands and hunting grounds to the U.S. government at the Fort Osage Treaty.

A little bit of history: We all know of Cahokia Mounds in Illinois. Yet, did you know that the area of St Louis was home to at least 25 mounds, 14 of which were in the area we know as the Great Basin?

The purpose of these mounds is varied yet all were considered sacred. Many tribes consider the mounds as symbols of Mother Earth, the giver of life, the womb from which humanity emerged and was formed.

A November 8 article in the St Louis Post Dispatch gives a history of the mounds. There were 25 mounds from Biddle Street to Mound Street east of Broadway and north of today’s Laclede Landing. Big Mound was the largest. It was north of downtown on the rise overlooking the Mississippi River. It was 319 feet long, 158 feet wide, and 34 feet high.

Although archaeologists determined that these mounds were built between 1000 and 1450 AD, between 1830 and 1869, all those north of downtown were removed. Any evidence of previous lives inside of the mounds were unceremoniously discarded. A quote as Big Mound was being destroyed: “Men are digging on every side. And what should have been purchased by the city and preserved inviolate will soon be known only in location tradition.” While there were some objectors, they were overwhelmed by what the St Louis Dispatch called “the grasping money-making spirit of our age.”

Sugar Loaf Mound, which stands at 4420 Ohio Avenue less than two miles from St. Paul’s, is the last sacred mound. The Osage Nation was able to purchase the top half of the mound a few years ago. The bottom portion of the mound is owned by someone who is still living in the home that sits at the base of the mound.

Due to misinformation, false histories, and glorified tales meant to embellish the idea of Americana, we are woefully ignorant of what has been. Were it not for the recent discovery of unmarked graves of native children in Catholic and Anglican Indian Boarding Schools in Canada, the traumas endured by indigenous people of North America might remain unknown. Presiding Bishop Curry and House of Deputies President Jennings have called for a full understanding of what happened in the Episcopal Indian Boarding Schools. There remains much to be learned both in Canada and those US schools.

The discovery and opening of the graves in Canada are ongoing tragedies, a catastrophic loss of a generation of children who were removed from their families, mistreated by the Church, traumatized and abused by those who were in charge, and then, too many, dying and hidden in unmarked graves. Those families who lost these children or those who survived the trauma of the schools and deculturation of indigenous traits continue to feel the pain today.

Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Carlisle, Pennsylvania opened in 1879 as the first government run boarding school for Native American children. They had a motto – Kill the Indian Save the Man; meaning, strip the native children from their culture and language, replace it with “Christian” values and they stood a possible chance of become good American citizens.

The values that the Catholic, Anglican, and Episcopal schools were attempting to erase from the Indigenous children are those same values that will save this creation – living with the land in respect, humility and using only what is necessary, understanding that all of these speak to the sacred nature of God’s Creation.

How do we begin to talk about reparations for these sins?

Stolen lands and children, genocide, desecrated graves, ancestral bones placed in museums, sacred lands turned into golf courses and pathways for oil and gas pipelines, water poisoned, mounds destroyed — these are just some of the sins committed, not only by the settlers of North America but continuing today.

These sins belong to each one of us, just as the sins against those African peoples who were stolen from their countries and enslaved for labor and used as a resource for future labor. It does not matter that none of us here today were there. We would love to tell ourselves that we would be different, do differently. Yet, today, in this world where we decry such sins, how do we contribute to the existing empire and that dominate culture that makes poverty a crime and rewards the richest?

At all Diocesan events, it is now proclaimed:

“We respectfully recognize and acknowledge that we are on traditional, ancestral lands of the Osage Nation. The process of acknowledging the land we stand on is a way of accepting our complicity in a process of colonization that removed the Osage people from their ancestral lands. We also make this acknowledgment to affirm our commitment to stand with indigenous communities today as they seek justice and resist continued threats to their sovereignty and humanity.”

This is an important statement because first and foremost, statements such as this were requested by Native American tribes as an acknowledgment of stolen lands. Secondly, this diocesan statement goes beyond acknowledgement and calls for more action.

I recently read John Philip Newell’s book Sacred Earth Sacred Soul and it lays out so clearly so many instances when the Church has contributed to the empire.

Nadia Bolz-Weber said, “People don’t leave Christianity because they stop believing in the teachings of Jesus … [they] leave … because they believe in the teachings of Jesus so much, they can’t stomach being part of an institution that claims to be about that and clearly isn’t.”

The idea that one race of people could envision themselves as being chosen by God to expand across North America, converting or killing anyone who stood in the way is an extreme example of egoism – their self-interest was the foundation of their morality. That is a flawed ideology that continues today.

We cannot talk about the sins against humanity without understanding the scope of the damage to not just those who were first on this land 400 plus years ago but those who exist in our nation and throughout the world today whose lives are being destroyed by human caused climate disaster

And

not just those who were kidnapped and sold into slavery but those who continue to suffer from environmental racism here in this city, state, and nation.

These sins continue. And we cannot talk about the sins of humanity without trying to understand what this means to this creation – Creation meaning the WHOLE of us – ALL things that God created.

This is a much bigger conversation than can be had in this short space. Yet it must happen.

Jesus said, “This is but the beginnings of the birth pangs”. — What new thing will come from truth?

Truths:

1.) Our differences do not make us less than; rather, it enhances the indescribability of God’s diverse creation. Can we imagine only one type of bird? Only one type of tree?

2.) It doesn’t matter how much the stories of the wounded hurt us; we must hear these stories.

We are at a time in our lives where it feels that we are awaiting the Great Apocalypse. Some interpretations of the Revelation and by Hollywood tell us that an apocalypse means the end of time is near and it is the final destruction, a catastrophic event. Yet, theologically, in Greek, apocalypse means to uncover, disclose, reveal. What does our past reveal to us? What is being uncovered? What truth is there to learn?

That is what Jesus is doing today in Mark’s Gospel.

Jesus is unveiling a truth — once again he is telling us to pay attention. Do not be led astray by false prophets or fake news. None of it is important. Remember what we already know. Don’t worry about when all the great buildings will be thrown down or of earthquakes. God is making everything new, offering us new chances to be part of the renewal of all things. God did not make this mess we are now in but there is hope because we know God is always with us.

And what do we know about these sins of humanity against humanity? We know that loving God and loving our neighbor is not a rote saying. It is a life-line, a way of living. This is what First Nations people understand so clearly. It means respecting one another and all aspects of creation. It means that we take care of one another, not in spite of our differences but because of these. Diversity is a rule of creation. We need diversity. Living for one another is a rule of nature.

There must be acknowledgement and confession that a sin against one part of humanity happened because of another part. There must be conversation about reparation – WITH the people whose truths we need to hear. And it is only then that there can be reconciliation. And yes. There will be birthpangs yet what do we anticipate when a mother and child are feeling the pains of birth? We anticipate new life! God is still making all things new, just as in the beginning, is now and always will be. We are a part of that new thing – all of us.

Stay alert. Remember what we already know. Let go of false prophets and flawed ideologies. This is not about self – one very small part. It is about the whole of us – all that God created.

Live in the hope that God offers us in the making of all things new.

Amen.

https://www.senate.gov/artandhistory/history/common/generic/American_Indian_Heritage_Month.htm#:~:text=In%201990%20Congress%20passed%20and,as%20Native%20American%20Indian%20Month).

https://cac.org/living-with-the-land-2021-10-20/

https://news.stlpublicradio.org/arts/2014-03-31/osage-nation-leaders-help-explain-st-louis-earliest-days

https://carlisleindianschoolproject.com/#:~:text=Carlisle%20Indian%20Industrial%20School%20in,Indian%2C%20Save%20the%20Man.%E2%80%9D

https://theblackwallsttimes.com/2020/09/15/the-black-church-a-day-late-and-a-dollar-short/

Opportunities

 I woke up with the song "Humble Thyself in the Sight of the Lord" in my heart and on my lips. 

I am amazed at how often I am offered the opportunity to humble myself after the oh, so many mistakes I make. 

Here is the song, just in case you might need it. 

18th Sunday After Pentecost Year B September 26, 2021 Offered to St. Paul’s Carondelet

 Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer.

 

Joshua to Moses: Stop them! They are doing our job!

Moses to Joshua: Are you jealous for my sake? If only all God’s people were prophets and God’s spirit would come upon them!

John to Jesus: Stop them! They are doing our job!

Jesus to John: Don’t worry about it! No one who does a deed of power in my name can speak evil of me.

Do not be distracted.

Do not be a distraction.

Our egos cause us to think we must have an answer. And then, when we believe we have the right answer, we believe it is THE answer. If we have THE answer, then all answers that differ with us must be wrong. Right?

One important lesson I have learned is that I do not know the answer. In truth, I do not need to know the answer. Most times, we are not even asking the right question.

If we set aside our yearning to know and our desire to control any situation, the Holy Spirit has room to move about without knocking our world asunder. Because you know she will keep on until we finally understand.

When we let go of that desire to control/know, we stop being that stumbling block, for ourselves and for others.

Do not be distracted. Do not be a distraction.

Some may ask the question ‘Why did Eldad and Medad stay in the camp? Maybe when Moses called 70 elders, these two were left over. Maybe they weren’t elders. Maybe they were afraid they didn’t have the gift of prophesy. Who knows? It doesn’t matter why they stayed, only that they did. It matters that the spirit rested upon them, and when it did, they prophesied right where they were. And they kept on doing so even as the 70 who were called did once but not again.

Joshua is distracted by his desire to be in control. He becomes the distraction when he tries to stop Eldad and Medad as they are inspired by the spirit to prophesy. Meanwhile, they were not distracted, and ready or not, they willingly did as the Spirit led them.

John has the same problem in the Gospel. He gets distracted by his ego. He becomes the distraction when he tries to stop someone who, he believes, has the audacity to cast out demons in the name of Jesus yet does not follow Jesus and the disciples.

In the verse before this one, several of the disciples are arguing about who amongst them is the greatest. Jesus quickly puts a stop to that by reminding them that “whoever wants to be first must be last and servant of all.” He tells them that “whoever welcomes one little child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

Jesus tells them Do not be a distraction. Pay attention.

If anyone puts a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in him, it would be better for those if a great millstone were hung around their neck, and they were thrown into the sea. His warnings get even more dire.

Yet it isn’t about self-mutilation by cutting off offending body parts or plucking out eyes because we do something wrong; … it is about letting go of those things that distract us from following Jesus fully.

How often are we distracted? So many ways and so many opportunities. Life is a distraction. This world is a huge distraction. News reports demand that we shatter our focus and pay attention to all that is wrong with this world. I often hear the quote by the ancient Chinese general Sun Tzu who said to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. When we buy into that, we become the distraction. When we follow this, we are ready to fight. The quote tells us to pay attention to our enemies. Jesus says pay attention to Jesus.

And what does Jesus say about our enemies? Love your neighbor, regardless of friend or foe. The authors of Matthew and Luke tell us that Jesus says to love your enemies, do good to them, and pray for those who do you wrong. Nothing about trying to control them or stop them or fight them.

Following Jesus is difficult, and Jesus knows that. It requires a great deal of intention and sacrifice. Jesus is warning the disciples and us that there is trouble ahead if we do not understand. He tells us that our culture will distract us from following his way of peace and love. Theologian Walter Brueggemann has said it often and Presiding Bishop Michael Curry said it recently, we must stop colluding with the Empire. Curry said that the church cannot be formed in the way of the world but must be formed in the way of Jesus and his love.

Something important is happening, both with the Israelites and with the Disciples. Moses and Jesus are preparing them for something new.

Salt is used to purify just as is fire. Jesus tells his disciples that they are called to be the salt of the earth yet, remember, even salt can lose its flavor if there are impurities mixed with it. If they are to follow Jesus and his way of peace, they must know the peace is within themselves. To be distracted by the ways of others or of the Empire is to lose sight of what is most important – Understanding that way of peace and love IS the way of Jesus.

The Rev. Suzanne Guthrie, noted author and spiritual guide, in her Edge of Enclosure blog writes, “There's no room for ego-inflation on the mystical journey.” And surely, we are all are on a mystical journey. Why else would we be here? We are searching for a better way, a higher power, that peace which passes all understanding.

We cannot allow our egos, our need to control, or that lost feeling of trying to “FIX” things, to distract us. We do not need to know the question or the answer. We have only to know that Jesus is love. In love, there is no war or hate, jealousy or greed. We need to know that the Spirit is ready and so should we be.

Moses and Jesus both knew what Joshua and John did not yet know or had forgotten – That the spirit of God cannot be controlled. It is always there regardless of what stumbling blocks distract us. Or what stumbling block we happen to be. What we need is to be in the right place and ready.

And pay attention.

Something really important is going on. We have everything we need. Do not be distracted.

Be Open

Be Open. Jesus told the deaf man to be opened.

In 2007, Debbie and I sold or gave away most of what we owned. We stuffed the remainder in a storage unit, the little we could into a 27 ft. old motorhome, grabbed up the two dogs and the boy and set out.  We were following what we perceived to be a call to go out and speak to those who wanted to know why 2 moms and a boy would stay in the Episcopal Church with so much disharmony happening.

We began a cross country pilgrimage, speaking at those places we were invited. Yet, our friend Pepper Marts (may God bless him forever and always) told us that we were not on a pilgrimage because we did not know where we were going. Rather, we were on a peregrination, a search for new understanding and a radical new beginning.

Although that journey ended with us settling in Saint Louis (a very radical new beginning for this country girl), now after Tucker’s death, I find myself nurturing another new thing, a small ember that feels like a pregnant expectation. I have not yet felt the heartbeat but I do feel the flutter. Something new is growing.

What new understanding and radical new beginning is happening?

In John Philip Newell’s Sacred Earth Sacred Soul, he writes about the Celtic poet Kenneth White. He states that a pilgrimage becomes peregrination when the destination is unknown. It is a journey of “seeking one’s place of resurrection, setting sail into the unknown in search of new beginnings.” White writes about Brendan the Navigator of Clonfert (6^th CE Celtic Monk and Irish Saint) who did just that:

“When the boat was ready, firm and true
he gathered men about him saying:
“this will be no pleasure cruise
rather the wildest of wild goose chases
around the rim of the world and farther
a peregrination in the name of God …” (pg 241)

It is a sacred journey.

Be open.

empathy or equity? Both.

Over the past year or so, I have learned more about empathy, what it means to be an empath, and how that all fits in with the ministry I do.

I have also learned that while I am very empathetic to the emotional and physical troubles of other people, and while I have many empath tendencies, more than empathy, I understand that everyone walks a path, and each path is full of obstacles that only that person will understand. My job is not to “walk a mile in their shoes” nor is it to feel empathy for their troubles. My job is to understand that while everyone has obstacles to overcome, some obstacles are set in place by our culture, our society, our racist, self-concerned elected officials, all of which makes the obstacles of some far greater than the obstacles of others. My job is to walk with them as I can as they come to these obstacles. It doesn't hurt to empathize; in fact, it is good. Yet empathy by itself does little. It is like faith without works. 

As an example: a loved one has an accident or illness and ends up in the hospital. After a long while, many expensive different tests and procedures, that loved one dies or is severely disabled. This happens to many people and is very relatable. We can all truthfully state how sorry we are for this happening.

However, depending upon where one lives, grief can be compounded by extreme debt which can result in any number of calamities. As an example, when the loved one is in the hospital, the employment status of the parent/spouse/partner can be in danger as that caregiver is by the side of the patient. If there is family or compassionate leave in one’s employment package, all is well. However, if one holds a job with no such thing, that person may find themselves without employment on top of the other concerns.

Those miracle tests and procedures that often save lives but sometimes cannot in the long run are expensive and may become the mountain that comes tumbling down. This is the difference between states that have Expanded Medicaid and those states which carelessly, selfishly, even sadistically do not.

Those medical bills and the loss of job due to family crisis can result in homelessness and full disruption of family life. Suddenly, families – minus one loved one, or with a medically compromised life – are not only mired in grief but also impossible debt, jobless, evicted, hopeless, homeless.

Only a part of this happened to my family. Two months of extremely expensive medical care would have been far different had our precious boy lived in Missouri rather than Oregon. Oregon has expanded Medicare. The governor of Missouri, kowtowing to the ignorance and self-concern of lobbyists and conservative politicians, deemed it prudent for his political life to ignore the demands of Missouri voters and deny the voice of the people to enact expanded Medicaid in this state. Had our loved one lived in Missouri, he would have first had to be approved for disability before he would become eligible for Medicaid. Even though he lay basically comatose for two months, who knows how long it would have taken to get him declared disabled? All this means is that his medical bills would have begun to pile, higher, and deeper.  

Another important part that makes our situation different from those of too many is that our jobs are stable and while there was not an official compassionate leave aspect, the employers we work for are indeed compassionate. Our income continued even as we were debilitated with concern and grief. Our home and our dogs welcomed us as we returned. No bills went unpaid. Only the mountain of grief towers over us. From that, even if it threatens to crush us on some days, we will arise.

What has this to do with empathy? While the reader may be able (or not) to fully empathize with this situation, one does not have to have a heart moment to see the differences that exist for too many. How many families in Saint Louis City alone have lost all they have – ON TOP OF THE GRIEF – because the system proves daily that it does not care about them? This is not a matter of heart, of empathy. This is not an urban vs rural thing, conservative vs liberal. It happens to people across the geographical and political spectrum.

Grief is difficult enough to experience. No one should have to be concerned about healthcare, job security, or unpaid bills on top of grief. Our political system is corrupt and immoral. We have the power to change that. It is our job to make certain it happens. 

The Prophetess Anna, an Interpretation

 

Luke 2:22-38

Sometimes I get so tired and hungry, fasting and praying night and day. It has been decades since I first came into this temple seeking your will for me. But what choice did I have? You were my only hope. My husband was gone. I had no sons to care for me. This temple was my only solace, being in this sacred space set aside for the Holy of Holies.

Every day, all through the night, my life is a prayer, seeking that which is unknown, understanding only that it is yet to be. So many years I have been doing this, calling out to you, my Lord God, to hear my prayer. In a moment of weakness. I fell to my knees thinking that it was my end time, asking one more time for you to bring me into the understanding of what it is that I seek, what it is that I know you wish me to see. Open my ears, that I might hear. Open my eyes and help me to see. One last prayer …

And then … suddenly, I hear Simeon’s voice exclaiming wonder and glory. I see a light shining around him as he cradles something in his arms. He joyfully exclaims, “My eyes have seen your salvation, Lord God! Right here in my arms I hold the light of revelation for all the people of the earth, all to your glory, Lord God.”

What was I to do but turn aside to see this strange thing, this light shining for all with eyes to see? And see I did! And I knew! In his arms he held the wonder of the world! That for which I had been longing was revealed to me in the flesh of this tiny babe, in the light that shone around him, in the glory of all that he was and is and is to be. Before me, the Lord of Lords, the King of Kings and the Glory of all Creation!

Praise God from whom all blessings flow! Praise God that I have seen this pure and precious sight! Praise God that I may now rest in that peace which passes all understanding, knowing that our Savior has come into the world! Praise God! Praise God! Praise God!

We are Not "Normal" People.

Offered for Christ Church Cathedral, St. Louis, MO, April 26, 2020 COVID-19 Time

Acts 2:14a,36-41, 1 Peter 1:17-23, Luke 24:13-35, Psalm 116:1-3, 10-17

As I read the Gospel for today, I thought of the collect in Evening Prayer. It asks Jesus to stay with us, because night is near and the day is past, to be our companion in the way, to kindle our hearts and awaken hope that we might know him both as revealed in Scripture and in the breaking of the bread.

This is a time when many of us are afraid and lonely. We miss the people we love, both near and far. Our hearts ache for community and our arms for physical hugs. We want to know we will soon be close again. We strive to remember that Jesus is with us even as we feel alone. We yearn for those moments when Jesus is known to us in the breaking of the bread as we gather again, in the communion of all the saints. We hope that time will come soon.

Surely, the apostles felt that same way. All that was known to them was suddenly gone. One moment, Jesus is with them, telling them that the bread is his body, and the wine is his blood and they are to remember that each time they eat or drink. They hardly have time to consider that before everything changes, and he is gone. This anxiety keeps them from fully remembering that he told them that the Son of Man would suffer many things, be killed and then on the third day, rise again. Or that he promised that he would be with them always. We can empathize them.

Right now, we are hearing a lot about Traumatic Stress and how we are being affected in this unprecedented time. I wonder about the disciples. Can we imagine the trauma of loving Jesus, giving up everything to follow him, going with him everywhere; suddenly he is taken away, arrested, tried, lashed, humiliated, and nailed to a cross? He dies in agony. The grief. Oh my God.

And then, Mary Magdalene and the other women telling them the astounding news that the tomb is empty, Angels saying he is still alive! How can that be!

I can imagine the emotional whiplash they experience as the sensations flash through them. And now, here they are walking with this stranger, telling him of the past few days. It is the third day – What was so different about his physical self now, that they did not know him?

Perhaps they are so caught up in their own shock that they could not recognize him in that place and time. He seems amazed that they do not understand or remember the things they had been taught, so, he begins to teach them. And they listen.

Because night is near, the two disciples invite the stranger to stay with them. So, he does. At supper, the man they still did not recognize takes the bread, blesses it, and breaks it, then he gives it to them.

And they know. “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us?”

The collect for today says: “Open the eyes of our faith, that we may behold him in all his redeeming work!”

The eyes of their faith are opened. Even though he is now gone, they know!

Talking with a friend this week about the Gospel and these times, we lamented the idea that we feel as though we are on a rollercoaster with no buffers. Everything seems fine and suddenly with little warning; we plummet into a new low. Those buffers that might ordinarily soften the impact of the unexpected are missing right now. We are extremely vulnerable.

Surely, this must be the way the disciples felt. The highs, the lows, the shock, the grief, the hope, the joy. And all the points in between. Sometimes the memory of the promise of resurrection is lost in the middle of the moment’s anxiety.

Resurrection is a very big deal to believe. Our bodies dying, rising from the dead, life made new, eternally. Forever. It is a promise. Believing in resurrection is THE thing.

We are not “normal” people. We are Easter people. Even in our busiest times, we continue to be an Easter people because we believe in the Resurrection, daring to imagine what our lives in Christ are about.

Resurrection is so much more than we can dare to imagine. Yet we do dare, every time we pray. We remember that to love God, to love one another, to allow ourselves to be born anew again and again by that imperishable word of God. Are not our hearts always burning with that understanding? Even if the disciples were not able to recognize him with their eyes, they surely knew that Jesus was with them. They knew in their hearts, in the eyes of their faith.  

Easter is about Transformation. Surely, we are in times of transformation in the midst of this pandemic.

This threat came into our lives, untamed in its potential, unbound within our understanding of normal. This tiny virus disrupted our world. Unwanted, unheralded, what is this tiny thing opening before us? Maybe, even in its chaos and damage, this is an opportunity for us to see with new eyes things that were always before us. `

One of the special things to come from this pandemic is the opportunity to pray with others the Daily Office throughout the week. The number of people who are now praying in this new way is amazing! In our physical separation, still, we can pray with one another any time of day. The same is true for Sundays as we worship with people we love -- online.

Perhaps, this time is an opportunity for us to use what Walter Brueggemann calls the “Prophetic Imagination”, looking more deeply into those things which we often take for granted. Prophetic Imagination asks us to know through faith beyond our fear and anxiety. That does not mean that these fears or anxieties are not real nor that we can make these go away. Simply, it asks us to remember that God is with us always, regardless. That even during the most frightening times, there is something new that God is doing in our lives, with our lives, for us and for this world and that we are a major part of that.

These are anxious times for many who are concerned about housing costs, job losses, grief, or health concerns. For others, it has offered moments of reflection, rest, and possibly boredom. Then there are those in between. We know there are great discrepancies in our societies’ economic levels. What helps the least of these, helps all of us. Thinking about it economically or spiritually, when all have equal access to food, water, housing, education, and healthcare, society as a whole benefits. This is an opportunity to see more clearly the injustices in our society. The prospect of intentionally working towards righting that which is unjust awaits us as we come out of this.

As we look toward to what Dean Kathie Adam-Shepherd calls “re-membering” our parish communities and our society, of once again being with each other physically, hopefully, we will remember the discoveries that we are making. Whether these are the injustices that beset so many, or the amazing awareness of the new spring growth, or the long walks, the moments spent playing or new ways of praying – hopefully, we will hold onto these. We can forget these moments when we are rushed. We do what needs to be done as the demand arises. Yet, if we can hold on to the new awareness, to see with the eyes of our faith, to cling to the knowing that Easter is here, this can carry us into whatever new thing God is doing.

“Lord Jesus, stay with us; be our companion in the way, kindle our hearts, and awaken hope, that we may know you as you are revealed in Scripture and the breaking of bread. Grant this for the sake of your love. Amen.

“The OnBeing Project: Walter Brueggemann – The Prophetic Imagination”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5417vgJ44RI

Found on April 24, 2020

For Dennis Kinealy Who Left This Life on September 16, 2019

“In my Father’s house there are many dwelling-places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?”

I am the Rev. Barbi Click, Deacon and Manager of Trinity Food Ministry. 

I had not been Manager of the Trinity Food Ministry very long when Dennis came up to me with his hand outstretched for a shake.

“You don’t know me, but I know you. My name is Dennis and I used to be somebody.”

His statement stunned me, shaking many preconceived notions. It also humbled me and taught me a valuable lesson. New to the ministry of working with people who were unhoused, it had never occurred to me that losing one’s sense of identity was even a possibility.

This incident was simply one of the many times that I learned from Dennis in the six years that I knew him. He taught me that being homeless was only one small aspect of who he was as a child of God. A bigger lesson, I came to understand that love and addiction will always be at war, but that love will win eventually, no matter how long it takes. My job was simply to be there and offer my love.

Dennis helped substantiate what I had already begun to learn. Everyone has a story; some people have many; some of those stories are tragic. He could not be identified simply as “The homeless”. He was Dennis Kinealy who was so much more than what his current condition implied. Through him, I came to understand the profound depth of what community means. Sharing our stories is vital to building relationships. These stories lead us past the exterior into the real life, opening a new understanding that we are all connected, that we are one in the body of Christ.

And Dennis did love sharing his stories and the pictures he carried with him!  Las Vegas cab driver, farmer, urban mountain man, adventurer, teller of tales, son, brother, uncle, father, Trinitarian, Episcopalian and a member of our Beloved Community – these were just a few of the terms that described Dennis.

He loved being called Dennis the Menace. His grin just got bigger when he heard that term. He loved being funny, cute, even coy. He loved people loving him. Of course, for many of us, loving him was easy because it required little of us, we had no expectations of him and his power to hurt us was very limited. He came and went as he pleased, with very few demands. We at the Pantry met him where he was and walked with him for a little while. We were often his audience as he played the stage. Yet love is complicated. The toll of worry and concern on those who loved him longer was much heavier, more broken and far more painful to them and for him.

He was a proud man, pleased with some of the things he had done, proud of his family, of being a part of Trinity. He was proud to have had the actor Debbie Reynolds as a passenger in his cab. He had a pride in having owned a bit of land at one time. He was honored to be the father of his two sons. He almost burst with pride when Debbie, his sister and her family came with him to the Trinity Art Club.

However, he was a man of many sorrows. Some of these things that made him the most proud also were the source of his guilt which brought him such disappointment in himself. He was unable to forgive himself for not being the son, the brother, the uncle, or the father that he wanted to be. He knew that he had a lot of grief for people he loved.

He knew that his addiction drove a wedge between them and himself. But that is what addiction does. It burns bridges with no regard for love. The addict becomes a passenger in a runaway vehicle. Being out of control is a very lonely place to be.

I don’t know the back story of what brought Dennis to this place in life. There were times when his sorrow rushed out of him in a torrent of tears. His pain and guilt were so evident, so real. I and others reminded him that we are called to forgive, not only others but ourselves. He simply could not see, on this side of the veil, that we all fall short of the glory of God. Yet, that is God’s promise – forgiveness, regardless of our lack. He did not see himself as worthy. That is the wonder of all of this – he was and has been and is now forgiven, just as we all have been for whatever we lack.

Most times, he was happy. He loved to talk, especially about being an “urban mountain man.” He was one of the most resourceful people I ever knew. I would introduce him to people new to the streets so that he could give them pointers on how to survive. He helped a lot of people.

I teased him that he was like a cat with nine lives. Something was always happening to him that would have laid out a lesser man. I cannot count the number of times that Dennis would burst through the doors and head straight for me. His hello would always be sidelined by, “You won’t believe what just happened to me!”

Dennis used a few of those lives after he was hit by a vehicle in December 2016. I think he coded once at the scene and twice in the ambulance ride to Barnes. Many broken bones and a brain injury laid him up in intensive care for a while. He was totally amazed when Fritzi Baker and I visited him. After his long rehab, St. Patrick’s Center connected him with a group that got him permanent housing. Fr. Jon offered to bless his new home so Jon, Debbie Wheeler and I attended the blessing of his new space. He never forgot that day. He never forgot anything anyone ever did for him. It always amazed him that someone would do things for him.

Dennis is an example of how having a house is simply not enough in this world. Home is where community is, and a place to share our joys and the sorrows. God calls us into community because we need one another. Dennis was proud of his confirmation as an Episcopalian. To him, that was proof that he belonged, Trinity was his space, this was his community.

Dennis looked at small things as great blessings. Every ask might not be met with a stated thank you; however, every offering was accepted with a great deal of thanksgiving.

He told me a few weeks ago that he didn’t know if he could go through another winter like last year, that maybe Maddie from the City would be able to help him find a place. Dennis had burned many bridges with help organizations – they wanted to help him, but they had exhausted their resources for him unless he was willing to make some dramatic changes. I reminded him of what he had to do to get help – go into long term rehab. As he turned to walk out, with a wave of his hand, he said, “yeah, I know.”

Dennis left this world in a flight of freedom. The prison gates of addiction broke open. He was rid of all the guilt and all the sorrow. He finally understood that he was forgiven.

I know that Dennis was not alone at the end. I know that “Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” Take my hand and come with me.

I can hear him saying the same words he told me when I first met him:

“You don’t know me but I know you. My name is Dennis and I used to be somebody.”

However, I also know that God immediately told him, “I do know you. I know every hair on your head, I have known you since before you were formed in your mother’s womb. You are somebody because you are mine. I have a perfect place already prepared for you. Come and see.”

 Memorial Service for Dennis Kinealy   
John 14:1-6

Trinity Church, September 28, 2019           

Joy Comes in the Morning

Swirling through life,

  pulled between yin and yang with no clear connection between the two,

  occasionally joined together to make a whole,

  the only surety is that chaos exists above all things.

My soul longs for rejoicing.

My body aches for warmth.

My heart wants not to be broken.

My mind wants only to rest.

In You alone my soul in silence rests,

  yet … there is never silence.

Where is the One who out of chaos created order?

Where is the Spirit that comforts the afflicted, the disordered?

I fear the silence will not come until to ashes I return.

I know that joy comes in the morning.

I hold onto that while I weep through the night.
                                                           bgclick

REAL Reality TV World, Thursday Food Pantry

On Thursdays a group of people gather at the Pantry. They gather there on other days as well but the later pantry time (4-5:30) offers a time for more socializing, I suppose. The traffic at Pantry slows down and they rev up. On that day, everything is much livelier at closing than on others.

Several of the people help with the cleanup. Volunteers begin taking down chairs and tables after C, a tiny woman, maybe 100 lbs, wipes them down. She tells people to finish up with their dishes “so Miss Barbi can close this place up on time.” T, aka Dogg, sits in his place and watches everyone as he sips his coffee. Miss H directs others as to what they should be doing. Pfollows M around as he gathers up all the trash. Reta, the Deaconess Nurse, finishes with her last patient. On the days that he is there, A finishes cleaning up the kitchen. At this point, most of the volunteers have left the building. A couple of volunteers never leave until I give them the go ahead. They are just making sure I am ok. This particular group is always ok.

I wonder if the group of people remaining wait until the other volunteers are gone to be their crazy funny selves. Or maybe it is because I can finally pay attention to them that I actually see how they are. All the drama of the day is over, and the comedy begins.

During the pantry, the drama comes in many forms. From people needing someone to pray for them, right then, right there; to someone bumping into another’s elbow and spilling coffee, threatening the start of World War III; to Mr. W talking non-stop to everyone, to someone, to no one, in his sometimes staccato, sometimes jabberwocky style; to our garden lady (she sleeps there), getting mad and calling everyone the “n” word – most especially black men who happen to get in her way (although I have been called that by her on numerous occasions); to another demanding attention, good or bad; to others wanting me to hurry because they are going to miss their bus. Everyone poking me in the shoulder, calling my name (most calling me “Barb”, some call me Mama), pulling at my elbow, asking for this, asking for that. The need is constant, and one need is always more important than the next.

It is 5:40 p.m. and the doors are locked, the lights are dimmed, the kitchen is closed, the trash is out, the tables are wiped clean and put up. I start singing my closing song that none of them recognize – “Turn out the lights, the party’s over. All good things must come to an end. Turn out the lights, the party’s over and tomorrow starts the same old thing again.” That’s Willie Nelson, y’all. Whatever.

Miss H always says, “The fat lady’s singing.” M says, “Ok, Barb, it’s time for us to go.” P always says, “You’re right, M. It’s time for us to go.”
Then, Miss H says, “Before I go, I need to go to the little girls’ room.” C replies (always), “Miss H can’t ever go before closing time. She has to wait. Now we have to wait on her because she needs help carrying her bags to the car.”

One after another says, well, it’s time to go, but C reminds everyone that they are ‘waiting on Miss H to come out of the bathroom because she can’t ever go before it’s time to leave.’ I remind them that they could just carry the bags outside and wait on her there, to which no one pays me any mind.

P sees a bag sitting on one of the chairs and wonders aloud as to whose it is. One or more of us always tells him that it belongs to M(we know this because it is where he was sitting). P says, “Oh. Oh. This must be M’s.” To which we all agree ...  yep, yep, it must be …

Reta and I look at each other and can’t keep from grinning. No one wants to leave. Reta says that someone ought to film this and put it on TV. We are watching some real reality comedy. It’s called community. And it is beautiful.

Finally, they are all on their way. Reta stays for a minute and we talk about the day. Then she is gone, and I am alone, not only in the South Parish Hall but in the entire building. I soak in the quiet and marvel at what has gone on in that space in the past week. God is present always, even when I get rushed and forget. Moments like these remind me that God is also good, always with me.

On Becoming Beloved Community

One day this week, Wayne clapped me on one shoulder and loudly claimed, “You should have run for mayor!” I laughed, and he then proclaimed, “No one can steal a stove!” To which I replied, “Or a refrigerator!” He clapped me on the shoulder again and said, “Exactly!” Last week, he had told me that he had been accused of stealing the refrigerator where he was staying.

I have known Wayne for most of the almost five years I have been working at Trinity Food Ministry in Saint Louis. Our relationship began as reactionary and tended to escalate quickly. He would come to the Pantry for groceries at least twice a month. The regulation is that a guest may get groceries once per calendar month. To get around that, he would claim that it wasn’t him who came the first time; it was his brother. I was fairly naive so it was allowed for a couple of months.

But then he became more belligerent and irritating, so I shut it down. I told him he had to prove who he was each time he came. I didn’t care who he was, but he had to show me if he wanted groceries.

In that he rarely had his ID, this caused him to be even more aggressive in his attitude. His eyes would narrow, he would “get his face on” and he would ready himself to scare me into backing down. I didn’t.

This went on for at least a couple of years. We had several shouting matches and stare-downs. Then, Wayne didn’t show up for a long while. As is the case on a normal basis, I wondered a few times about him but was too busy to search out an answer. Plus, the Pantry was quieter when he wasn’t there. It was easier.

By the time he returned, I was different. In that period where he was gone, I learned that a big problem with many people is that they do not know they are loved. Or they do not believe themselves lovable. When I saw Wayne return, I greeted him with an exclamation of not only surprise but of joy. I said, “Where have you been? I have missed you! I am glad to see you!”

He looked at me as if I was crazy. Yet his response was a smile. While it took him a few visits to believe me, he came to understand that things were different.

Wayne had not changed much in that time he was away. He still aggravated the bejeesus out of people. He continues to do so. But I have learned that when he narrows his eyes and his face appears to be confrontational, often, he is trying to figure out how to respond to the one causing his confusion. He can be lead away from confrontation by redirecting his attention.

I don’t kid myself. I know that out on the street he has a tough time. He has been put out of more places than I go into. He is classified as a problem and treated as such by most people who do not have the time or the desire to meet him where he is. His life is difficult.

I have watched his mental health decline over this past year. Most conversations are like the one with which I began this. His main themes include his father whom he loved, his high school years, and whether I have Spam or sardines to give him. Interspersed between these themes, a strange statement about refrigerators or stoves or me being mayor will be tossed in. For the most part, he knows he is safe at the Pantry and that I will listen to him for a little while. Somewhere during the conversation, we will laugh.

I would like to say that Wayne is the biggest problem at Pantry but he isn’t even close. But I have found the key to getting along with Wayne. It is to let him know he is loved and that he is worth my time. He knows this because I call him by name and tell him so. He is fed in body and in spirit. For a minute, it is enough.

I try to use that key with others but for some, addiction or mental health problems are just too much of a barrier. These problems filter out love.

Yet life continues.

There are so many things about each of us by which we can be judged daily, moment to moment. Too often, we judge in a flash, mistaking confusion for arrogance, taking one instance and identifying a person by that forever.

We are always beloved, regardless of our knowing this or not. When we get to know one another, when we listen to one another, when we see one another, and, in those actions, we learn that we are loveable and that we are loved. When we set aside our judgmental nature, we enter what Gregory Boyle says is God’s “jurisdiction.”

Within that God-place, we become Beloved Community. This is Jubilee.

Are we there yet? Are we even close? Maybe so, maybe not. For certain, we are closer than we have been.