Smuggling Grace

I have sent this letter to Senator Mitch McConnell. What are your thoughts or concerns about health care in the United States?

[Wikicommons]

[Photo Source: Facebook]

On Monday morning, Meryl Streep was present all over Facebook, and her name trended in the highest position for much of the day. This, of course, was in response to her Golden Globes speech the night before. Many people were moved by her words as she expressed the importance of empathy, honored immigrants, and advocated for journalists and a free press.

At the heart of her speech, she called our attention back to one of the most disturbing moments of the 2016 Presidential Campaign. Without mentioning the name of our President Elect, she referenced the terrible moment when Donald Trump mocked a disabled reporter during one of his campaign speeches. That shocking action, caught on video, was deeply concerning to many. People across the nation shared it a multitude of times and highlighted it as a particularly low moment of the campaign season.

I was very touched by Meryl Streep’s speech. Without ever mentioning Donald Trump’s name, she called him to account. But as I considered this speech, a question emerged within me as well: Whenever this moment is referenced, why is it so rare to hear the name of reporter?

The man’s name is Serge F. Kovaleski, and he is an accomplished investigative reporter at the New York Times. In 2009, he contributed to investigative reporting which won a Pulitzer Prize. His work is phenomenal. He was born in Cape Town, South Africa and spent his early childhood in Sydney, Australia. His family moved to New York City in the 1970s.

Serge Kovaleski has a condition called arthrogryposis multiplex congenita which limits flexibility in his arms. Though Donald Trump denies mocking him, the video from his campaign clearly indicates otherwise. When this took place, people across the nation were shocked and appalled that he would publicly mock a disabled reporter in this way. People still raise concerns about this very moment.

And it makes sense to do just that. It is truly shocking and appalling. Meryl Streep was right to say, “There was nothing good about it.”

But it’s also important for us to remember that this disabled reporter has a name. He is Serge F. Kovaleski. We should never erase his disability, but we shouldn’t reduce him to it either. “Donald Trump mocked a disabled reporter,” we tend to say, and most often, we just leave it at that. We need to say his name more often.

Donald Trump publicly mocked the disability of an accomplished journalist named Serge F. Kovaleski.

–Renee Roederer

See also this powerful piece about ableism by Son of Baldwin.

On December 14th, fifty women bundled up, stepped into the bitter cold, and began marching. With tears in some of their eyes and passion in all of their voices, they marched down Liberty Street to remember the 26 lives that were taken by gun violence at Sandy Hook Elementary School.

On the fourth anniversary of that dreadful December day, they remembered the teachers, administrators, and first grade children who were killed so senselessly. Today, I want to honor those women as they honored the lives lost too soon.

These women are a part of  Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America. Last month, fifty of them (not all participants are mothers, and some are men) marched through Ann Arbor, Michigan in frigid weather. They almost canceled the march because of the wind and temperature, but in the end, they decided to move forward. Their cause is important to them. Human lives are important to them.

I suppose the event might have seemed like a parable. So often, when these women push for protections and reasonable shifts in gun legislation, they receive the cold shoulder. At times, they are even vilified. They are facing the powerful influence of the NRA. That influence is deeply entrenched throughout all levels of our political system. But do you know what these women do?

They keep marching.

They keep going, pushing, and advocating because they believe in the value of human lives. They believe in safe communities. They believe in common sense gun laws.

They keep marching.

On December 14th, they marched into the bitter cold. I’m sure that sometimes, they must wonder if any of this makes a difference.

It does. One of the mothers who lost her seven year old child at Sandy Hook found the single news story that covered this event. She was deeply touched that these advocates would march in such weather to honor her child and the lives of all children. It heartened her even in the midst of her painful grief. She contacted the Moms Demand Action chapter to share her thoughts with them. It matters.

We must keep marching.

The truth is. . . we never know what kind of impact and connections we can make when we continue to move forward.

When we lend our lives toward the causes that call us, we will face resistance. It is nearly inevitable. But we are also resistance. Over time, we create pathways for change, often through relational connections and levels of impact we did not even begin to anticipate.

So we keep marching. 

Today, I also think of the millions of women who will soon march in Washington D.C., as well as the thousands who will march elsewhere across the country. We are resistance. It matters.

Even and especially in the cold.

–Renee Roederer

[Photo by Anders Jilden]

This sermon was preached at Belleville Presbyterian Church in Belleville, Michigan and was focused upon Matthew 3:13-17.  The audio recording is above and a written manuscript is below.

Matthew 3:13-17

John never expected to see this sight or encounter this scenario, but there it was. There he was. Along the banks of the River Jordan, Jesus approached John and asked to be baptized by him. Very likely, John had never even imagined this scenario. Perhaps he stumbled in his words a bit, standing there, stunned.

“I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” John asked.

“Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Jesus answered.

With this intention, Jesus, like so many others, was baptized by John in the Jordan River.

And that might seem like a simple story. After all, this story is only four verses and six sentences long. But within this story, we find a larger story. We find an expansive intention. Jesus seeks to be one with the people – to identify with them, express solidarity with them, and free their lives for a new direction.

Today, this very day, Jesus seeks to be one with humanity – that is, one with us – to identify with us, express solidarity with us, and free our lives for a new direction.

This little story is expansive and life-giving.

So let’s enter it. Let’s consider the scene for this expansive and life-giving story: This baptism of Jesus didn’t happen in the halls of power or in a place of prominence. It didn’t happen in the center of the city or even in a central place of worship. This baptism of Jesus took place in the wilderness.

It happened out in the wilderness where John was growing a movement. John had wandered out into the wilderness purposefully and began to change lives in very dramatic ways. That being said, I doubt that many would have anticipated any of this. After all, John was rather eccentric, living outside of what some would expect from a religious leader. He certainly looked different than most, and he had some intriguing habits too. John dressed himself daily in camel’s hair and ate dinners of locusts and wild honey.

But even though John was unfamiliar with strange habits and living outside in the wilderness apart from the center of activity, he was inviting people into a great movement of life-change. And that is exactly what was taking place. Droves of people from Jerusalem and the Judean countryside traveled to John in the wilderness to be baptized by him. They heard his call and sought to recommit their lives in new ways toward God and one another.

John was a fiery, brazen preacher. With impassioned words, he cried out, “Repent! For the Kingdom of God has come near!” John called people to repentance, and they began to desire it. The word ‘repentance’ literally means to turn around. People stepped into this vision as they stepped into the Jordan River. They were baptized by John, and when they walked out of those waters, they were commissioned to live their entire lives in a new direction.

The people asked impassioned questions back to John. Convicted by this new vision, they began to ask, “What should we do?”

They were called to live their life toward God by sharing their lives with one another. John answered in his way: “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none, and whoever has food, must do likewise.”

People of great wealth, means, and power had come to John for baptism as well. They asked the same question. “What should we do?” John didn’t mince words. He said, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.”

The people were called to repentance – to turn toward God and see one another more clearly, honoring the worth of their fellow human beings and taking care of their needs.

And the new vision didn’t stop there. People, filled with expectation, began to question in their hearts about John, wondering if he might be the Messiah. In response, John placed a continual vision in front of the people.  He answered by them saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

John placed this vision before the people, yet did he imagine that the One to Come would come and stand before him, asking to be baptized by him? Likely, John never expected to see this sight or encounter this scenario, but there it was. There he was.

Greatly humbled, John baptized Jesus. Jesus is called the author and giver of life, yet he chose to be baptized like the rest of the people. He chose to identify with them, express solidarity with them, and free their lives toward this new direction. This was his expansive intention as he stepped into those waters.

And when he came up from those waters, the heavens themselves seemed to expand. The story says that suddenly, the heavens were opened to Jesus, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven spoke words of affirmation, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Jesus identified with the people,
Today, he identifies with us.

Jesus expressed solidarity with the people,
Today, he expresses solidarity with us.

Jesus freed their lives toward this new direction,
Today, Jesus frees our lives toward a new direction — even now, this very day.

This is all summed up in that beautiful word spoken from the heavens: Beloved. Jesus enters the waters of baptism with us, and from that place, he makes that word come alive. That word Beloved is spoken to each one of us today. It has been proclaimed upon humanity before the foundation of the world. We are created and nurtured through that reality – Beloved – and it is endlessly true, even when we doubt it.

Do we know that we are truly beloved in the heart of God? Do we know that we are loved with an endless love that cannot be lost? Do we know that this love walks with us every day of our lives – loving us endlessly and calling us to show love in the world? We rest in the truth of baptism today and are invited to live it out daily — proclaiming its reality among our neighbors. Our neighbors are truly beloved.

Baptism reminds us that we are found in Jesus, God’s Beloved, and we ourselves are beloved with a love that cannot be lost. Baptism also reminds us that we are called to ministry. It is nothing less than an act of ordination. Jesus has entered the waters of baptism and frees our lives for a new direction.

Like the people who came to John, perhaps we ask, “What should we do?”

Through the waters of baptism, we are called into the wilderness. If we have two coats, we are called to share with those who have none, and if we have food, we must do likewise. In a world where greed often rules the day and creates hierarchies of worth, we are called to speak the truth to power and unjust economic systems, proclaiming that all people are beloved with worth that can never be lost.

We are called to follow Jesus into this.

This means that we choose identify with others, express solidarity with others, and work alongside others so that everyone may be free to live in this new, life-giving direction.

That invitation comes to us again today. Perhaps we never expected to encounter it, but there it is. There he is. May all God’s beloved follow Jesus into this new way of life.

–Renee Roederer

 

 

If we want to participate in the creation of lasting change, we are called to . . .

. . . work for seven generations beyond ourselves, as the Haudenosaunee nations have taught us.

. . . feel through one day, for as Jesus says,”Do not worry about tomorrow. . . Today’s trouble is enough for today.”

. . . live fully in the present, as this time has been given to us for significant impact and enjoyment.

. . . expect that today’s work ripples meaningfully into the future, perhaps in valuable directions we have yet to anticipate.

. . . recognize that our liberation is bound up in the liberation of others, for our lives are intimately connected to the devastation and deliverance of the past and future.

. . . trust that collective intentions toward justice are truly moving in the direction of justice, even if we cannot see its fullness, for we recognize that the future arrival of justice beckons our work for today, calling it into being.

– Renee Roederer

This morning, many people woke up concerned as they heard challenging news. In a closed door meeting last night, the House Republican Conference voted to greatly diminish the powers of the Office of Congressional Ethics.

Created in 2008, the Office of Congressional Ethics is an independent body that investigates ethics within the House of Representatives. After last night’s vote, ethics complaints and investigations will fall exclusively under the authority of the House Ethics Committee. In other words, congressional leaders in the House will be responsible for investigating themselves.

Democrats, other Republicans, and ethics watchdog organizations are speaking out today in concern. And this should concern us. This move shifts deterrents in harmful ways.

Until this shift, the Office of Congressional Ethics has worked in this way: A six-member outside board has overseen the office with a staff of investigators. When they receive a complaint, including an anonymous complaint, these investigators conduct confidential interviews and collect documents. They pass these onto the OCE board as evidence, and if the board concludes that there may be a potential violation of federal rules or laws, they refer the matter to the House Ethics Committee, which conducts its own review.

The House Ethics Committee may move forward with the concern or dismiss it, but either way, the Office of Congressional Ethics releases its report. This brings the complaint and the process out into the open after it has been investigated by an independent body.

It serves as a deterrent against poor ethics.

Without this in place, the public cannot have access to such information. The public may never learn about specific complaints which come to the House Ethics Committee. The public may never know if the House Ethics Committee chose to investigate or why that decision was made. Most importantly, it sets up a conflict of interest as congressional leaders are tasked with investigating themselves — and most of it, out of view.

When the House Republican Conference voted upon this shift last night, they said the decision was made in order to strengthen due process for representatives who are accused and to avoid anonymous complaints.

But without the ability to make anonymous complaints, whistleblowers are at risk.

The decision to gut the Office of Congressional Ethics removes the deterrent of a public report. Instead, it places a deterrent upon whistleblowers who cannot risk naming themselves.

When it comes to public morality and leadership, ethics matter. So do the right deterrents. These shifts in deterrents diminish the truth.

–Renee Roederer

To learn more, see also. . .

With No Warning, House Republicans Vote to Gut Independent Ethics Office
House Repubicans vote to eviscerate the Office of Congressional Ethics
House Republicans move to slash powers of ethics watchdog
House GOP Votes To Strip Independence from Congressional Office

[Public Domain Image]

My partner is an astronomer, and a couple of years ago, I asked him a question I had never really thought about before. “Is there any reason that our calendar year starts on January 1? I mean, isn’t that date rather arbitrary?”

Our 365 day year is based on the earth’s revolution around the sun, but astronomically speaking, the year could start at any point on that revolution journey. It turns out that January 1 is a rather arbitrary date to reset our calendar.

I think about this every year when we cross over from December 31 to January 1. But I don’t find the arbitrary nature of the shift to be deflating. I actually find it to be heartening. As people agree upon a collective marker to honor change, the collective energy results in actual change.

We know that New Year’s resolutions don’t usually result in permanent shifts in our individual lives. That may be true, but an arbitrary marker does actually change things. Around the world, we have playful rituals to honor New Year’s Eve and the shift from one year to the next. The customs vary, but this arbitrary date does manage to connect the world. That certainly changes things.

But I recognize this too: When we observe this date together and put our collective energy toward rituals and purposeful reflection, we end up refreshing our hopes as well.

In many cases, challenges from our previous year remain firmly intact, but as we cross over a completely arbitrary marker, we somehow manage to reevaluate our relationship to those very challenges. We hope for new visions, and we resolve to work toward them.

So hats off to our arbitrary, agreed upon date and time. It makes me wonder what else we could shift if we continued to observe hope in collective ways.

–Renee Roederer 

 

[Photo by Freedom House, Flickr, Public Domain]

This sermon was preached at Southminster Presbyterian Church in Taylor, Michigan and was focused upon Matthew 2:13-23.  The audio recording is above and a written manuscript is below.

Matthew 2:13-23

The Gospel According to Matthew begins with this statement: “An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham.” These are the very first words of Matthew’s Gospel. They usher in a long genealogy of the ancestors of Jesus, but they do much more than that.  These words make great claims about Jesus of Nazareth.

These words name Jesus as the Messiah, the long awaited servant leader of the people. These words name Jesus as the the Son of David, the very one who will restore the lost Kingdom of David, though this Kingdom will be unlike any other. These words name Jesus as the Son of Abraham, one of us and one among us, for we are all children of Abraham.

That’s what these opening words say: “An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham. . . .” We might think of these opening words as a prologue for all that will follow, a grand narrative arc that will reveal who Jesus is and how Jesus lives.

Today, as we consider new beginnings on the first day of a new year, we can consider the beginning of this Gospel as well. We can consider the foundational claims it invites into our lives.

Jesus, the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham.
These are indeed great words.

But this morning, I also find myself wondering. . . what if these were the only words we knew about Jesus? What if we only knew these titles, and that’s it? What if someone started this opening phrase for us, then handed us the pen and invited us to finish the story? How would we write it?

I imagine that with our human limitations, if we knew absolutely nothing of what comes next, we might write a very different story than the one Matthew wrote for us thousands of years ago. We might hear words like ‘Messiah’ and ‘Son of David’ and depict a king in the image of so many kings we have known throughout history. Perhaps like them, we would depict Jesus as king who chases after wealth and power. . . a king who wages war. . . a king who rules with an iron fist. . . and a king who exacts rage and revenge if anyone threatens his power and control.

We might make these assumptions about Jesus if we heard he was the Son of David, the ancestor of an ancient king, and knew absolutely nothing else. But if we depicted Jesus in this way, we would greatly mistaken. Instead, we would be describing someone much more like King Herod, a king who had a great impact upon Jesus in his early life.

Today, as we ponder the beginning of the Gospel of Matthew and ponder the beginning of a new year, we are also invited to ponder the beginnings of Jesus’ life among us. Our scripture text speaks to those beginnings and gives us a fuller picture of who Jesus is and how Jesus lives. It reveals what kind of Messiah, Son of David, and Son of Abraham Jesus will be.

Jesus was born among us, never found in luxury or fine clothes. He was born to young, impoverished, unmarried parents. On his first night of life, those parents laid him in a manger to sleep, a dirty  feeding troth for animals, because there was no room at the inn where they hoped to stay. Newly born into the world, Jesus was deeply loved, but he was born that night as an outsider without sufficient shelter. Jesus did not have refuge.

Perhaps this birth would have gone completely unnoticed, but other outsiders received it as life-changing news. Shepherds, filthy from the fields, came to see him and rejoiced. And as Jesus grew just a bit more, mysterious magi from a foreign land arrived in Bethlehem to bring him gifts and pay him homage.

His birth might have gone unnoticed, but it was heralded as good news, most readily by the people who were frequently forgotten and relegated to the margins. A great shift was underway, and the young Jesus was the harbinger of its hope.

But it didn’t take long for this news to find its way into the halls of power as well, for Jesus was born in a region governed by a king determined to hold onto power at all costs. Herod was a client king of Rome, and he ruled on behalf of Rome, one of the largest empires the world has ever known. Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, a land occupied by this empire. Jesus did not have refuge.

Having observed a great star, an intriguing sign in the sky, those wise magi from the East traveled first to King Herod with a question that caused him to shake in his bones. They entered the halls of wealth and power, and asked Herod directly, “Where is the child who has been born King of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and we have come to pay him homage.”

This question ignited great fear and insecurity in Herod. Frantically, he called together all the chief priests and scribes of the people and inquired of them of where the Messiah was to be born. They read scriptures to him and said that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem of Judea.

That is precisely what Herod wanted to hear, though his heart was set on destruction rather than celebration. He called those wise magi to him and asked when they first observed the star. Then he sent them to search diligently for the child and to report back to him, indicating that he also wanted to pay him homage. But instead, with fear in his heart, Herod sought to destroy Jesus and anyone who stood in his way. Jesus did not have refuge.

Those wise magi found the young child, and they did pay him homage. They offered him gifts of great significance – gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But they did not return to Herod as he had demanded. Instead, they were warned in a dream not to return. They left for their own country by another road.

But they were not alone in this dream. Asleep, Joseph also had a dream which awoke him to the danger of Herod’s intentions. Joseph heard these words, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child to destroy him.”

Can we imagine how upsetting this warning must have been? Joseph had recently watched the wise magi give gifts to the young Jesus. But now, the life of the child, the greatest gift of all, was in grave danger. Though he was born the Messiah, the Son of David, and the Son of Abraham, there was suddenly no place of refuge for Jesus in the land of his birth. Joseph, Mary, and Jesus were now refugees on the run, fleeing for their lives.

They moved in great haste to Egypt, a land associated with Israelite slavery and the Exodus. They sought safety there as God had called them to do, though this sudden move must have disrupted nearly every aspect of their lives.

Then, in one of the most challenging portions of scripture, we learn that Herod continued to exact his rage and revenge upon other families as well. When he learned that he had been tricked by the wise magi, he was infuriated. In a horrifying set of actions, he killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old and younger, grieving their families who wailed and would not be comforted.

The birth of Jesus brought great joy to those who could receive it as good news, but Jesus was also born into a world where greed and power lie in waiting. Truly, this Jesus, without refuge for much of his life, was revealed to be one of us and one among us. He is the Son of Abraham who knows the terror and grief of the world. This Jesus, cast out from his homeland as a child, was revealed to be a refugee. Yet he is also the Son of David, a king who serves the people rather than the terror of empire. This Jesus, scorned and marginalized throughout most of his life, is revealed to be God with us. He is the Messiah, the one we’ve been waiting for.

This is who Jesus is, and this is how Jesus lives.

And when we ponder this — who Jesus is and how Jesus lives — a question arises for us: In light of this revelation, Whose will we be, and how will we live?

We are called, not only to recognize who Jesus is, but to follow him and his way. We always have choices before us. We too can chase after greed and a firm grip of power over others, or we can love our neighbors who are suffering. We can choose to walk alongside others and work together to end that suffering, and we can participate in the Kingdom of God where people and places continually shelter one another in refuge. Today I wonder, will the Church be a community of refuge?

As we enter the beginning of a new year, these foundational claims of the life of Jesus can be invited into our lives in new and richer ways. And so we close, not with an ending but with a beginning.

Whose will we be, and how will we follow?

–Renee Roederer

 

“Our own planet is only a tiny part of the vast cosmic tapestry — a starry fabric of worlds yet untold. Those worlds in space are as countless as all the grains of sand on all the beaches of the Earth. Each of those worlds is as real as ours. In every one of them, there is a succession of incidents, events, occurrences, which influence its future: Countless worlds; numberless moments; an immensity of space and time.

“On our small planet, at this moment, here we face a critical branch point in history. What we do with our world right now will propagate down through the centuries and powerfully effect the destiny of our descendants. It is well within our power to destroy our civilization and perhaps our species as well. If we capitulate to superstition or greed or stupidity, we can plunge our world into darkness deeper than the time between the collapse of classical civilization and the Italian Renaissance. But we are also capable of using our compassion and our intelligence, our technology and our wealth, to make an abundant and meaningful life for every inhabitant of this planet; to enhance enormously our understanding of the universe and to carry us to the stars.”

– Carl Sagan from Carl Sagan’s Message to Humanity