Interfaith Prayers for Peace on the Sunday before International Day of Peace, at Littlefield Presbyterian Church in Dearborn, Michigan, on September 20, 2015. A meditation from a Christian perspective. We also heard a recitaiton from the Qur'an, a short sermon from Imam Elahi, and selections from the Hebrew scriptures and prayers from Cantor Roger Skully.

Luke 19:41-42; 2 Corinthians 5:16-20

"As Jesus came near and saw the city (Jerusalem), he wept over it, saying, "If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace!  But now they are hidden from your eyes."

For those of us who long for a better, more peaceful world, it’s  painful to see so much of what’s going on in the world… in our nation… and in our communities.  It can make us weep!

            For many of us, it’s the images of children that haunt us the most.  A staggering number of Syrian refugees are children and teens.  We were shocked and grieved a few weeks ago to see the photo of the body of a toddler washed up on the shore.  And now we learn that another refugee child has been found dead on the shore, and more are missing at sea.

            Many of us mourn when we remember there are millions of other children who die each year on this planet with little notice-- of malnutrition and of illnesses that could be prevented or treated if the world cared enough.

            Here in the United States, the Department of Agriculture reports that around 10 percent of households with children are food insecure—unable to provide adequate, nutritious food for their children.  More than 1 in 9 children in Michigan live in extreme poverty, at less than half the poverty-level income.

            The rate of gun deaths in children and teens in the United States is shockingly high.

            Many of us are troubled by events like the massacre of 9 African-Americans gathered at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston for Bible study in June by a white racist   and other race-related violence.
            In a neighbor city—Sterling Heights—there’s an ugly conflict over a request to build a new mosque.
            The list could go on and on… 

            I don’t know about you, but I find myself mourning all this violence and need and destruction… and longing to do something.  But it feels overwhelming.

            So--  what can we do?  In the midst of all the violence and hatred and apathy in our society… in the midst of racism and Islamaphobia and anti-Semitism… in the midst of all the need-- it’s easy to feel overwhelmed… and despairing.  What can one person  or just a few people do?

             

            We can begin by praying together… and forging bonds of friendship and solidarity… getting to know one another better… opening our hearts and minds to one another… and finding ways to work together to change the world. 

            Some of us have been working on these things.  Imam Elahi and I have been getting to know each other and working together in our Dearborn Area Interfaith Network group (and its predecessor Dearborn Area Ministerial Association) for the last 18 years.  Cantor Roger Skully has been involved with other interfaith groups in metro Detroit. 

            Some of you are part of one or more interfaith Facebook groups whose purpose is to build bridges of understanding—hence the names “The Bridge” and “Our Bridge.” 

            In the Christian tradition, we believe that Jesus came to embody God’s love in the world.  When people came to Jesus and asked him which commandment in the scriptures was the most important, Jesus answered, “’You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’  This is the greatest and first commandment.  And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” 

            In Luke’s version of this, he tells how someone said, “Who is my neighbor?”  and Jesus went on to make it clear in the Parable of the Good Samaritan that our neighbor is anyone God puts in our path--  even someone we might have considered to be an enemy.[1]

            In the center of the passage we heard a few minutes ago from the apostle Paul’s letter to the church at Corinth, we hear that God has reconciled us to God’s self through Christ, and has entrusted us with the ministry of reconciliation.    Christians are not to look at anyone from a human point of view.  We’re not to see people who are different in some way as those other people.  We’re called to look at people through God’s eyes of love and to see our common humanity.    

            I think we need to spend more time doing interfaith scripture study, so I could share a passage like one of the ones we’ve heard today, and say, “Here’s a text that’s important to our faith.  What’s a text from your tradition that connects with it?  Where’s the common ground?”  Can we do that?  Will we do that? 

                       

            Our commitment to peace and justice and reconciliation, and our love for our own children, demands that we provide a better inheritance for them.”

            On this Sunday before International Day of Peace, we are challenged to re-commit ourselves to PEACE… to live our lives as if we believe that peace is possible.

            Christians…Muslims…Jews…Sikhs…Hindus…Buddhists… and all people of faith and goodwill —this is a time for us to find ways to come together and work for a better, more peaceful world.

            There’s hard work to be done.   But we can work together to make a difference.

             After worship, we invite you to stay for a time, to enjoy refreshments and conversation.   I hope you’ll make a new friend today.  Talk with one another about your families—especially your children or grandchildren and what kind of a world you want to leave for them.

            U2 sings a song that begins like this:

            “Every generation gets a chance to change the world….”

            Today, let’s renew our commitment to change the world, beginning today. 

            May it be so!

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[1] Luke 10:25-37; also Matthew 22:36-40; Mark 12:28-31

"Speaking Truth." A sermon on Mark 6:1-13 and Ezekiel 2:1-5 on the day after Independence Day

“Speaking Truth”

Ezekiel 2:1-5; Mark 6:1-13

         Here we are on the day after the Fourth of July, and the lectionary texts have us reflecting on what it is like to be God’s prophetic voice in the midst of our community and our culture.  Both of our scripture texts make it clear that it isn’t easy to speak God’s truth.  There will be mighty resistance.

         According to Old Testament scholars, the prophet Ezekiel was active from about 593-571 BCE—a period of time that includes the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem and the exile to Babylon in 587 BCE.  It was a time of great turmoil for the people of Israel.  Today’s reading tells us how God called Ezekiel to prophesy to the people of Israel, who have been rebellious. 

         “You shall speak my words to them,” the LORD says, “whether they hear or refuse to hear.”  God tells Ezekiel not to be dismayed or afraid.

         Now, this is pretty standard stuff, in terms of what we know of the Old Testament prophets.  They are sent by God to the people, to call them back to the covenant.  They are often ignored… forgotten… berated… mistreated…tortured…and sometimes killed.  People don’t listen to them. 

         And yet they keep being called… and they keep speaking God’s  truth. 

        

         Fast forward 400-plus years to Jesus.  As Christians, it may be hard for us to understand that to most of the people of his time he was just another rabbi or prophet.  In today’s lesson,  Jesus is in his hometown, in the synagogue.  Mark tells us that “he began to teach,” and that no one is very happy with what he has to say. 

         These are people who know Jesus and his family.  In some way they seem to believe that what Jesus is saying is from God:  “What is this wisdom that has been given to him?  What deeds of power are being done by him!” 

         Mark’s account doesn’t give us a lot of details, but Luke’s version tells us that Jesus told the people in the synagogue:  “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, and to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” 

         But the people of Nazareth took offense at Jesus’ teaching.   Then Jesus said, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kind, and in their own house.”  And he could do no deed of power there, except for laying his hands on a few sick people and healing them.  Jesus was amazed at their unbelief.

         I wonder if the hometown folk might have been willing to give this young man the benefit of the doubt, as long as he didn’t say anything too unexpected or challenging.  They might not have been inclined to doubt the source of his teachings if he hadn’t made them feel so uncomfortable. 

         Now, we might like to think that if we had been among Jesus’ hometown folks, we would have heard him gladly and changed our ways in any way he thought we should.  We’ll never know what we would have done then.  But the real question is:  What do we do now?

         I don’t think human nature has changed much over the centuries. Skepticism can be helpful.  There are too many examples of people who were led astray by self-proclaimed experts and zealots, often with very bad outcomes. 

         But then how do we determine who is speaking the truth?  How do we discern the real prophets from the fakes?   It can be very hard to tell.  We let our prejudices get in the way.  We expect people to fit a certain mold…to look and sound a certain way. 

         All through the Bible we hear how God used the most unlikely people to do God’s work, and often the people involved weren’t too happy about it.  Very often God’s truth comes from sources we least expect.  And often the truth is inconvenient… or disturbing. 

         The truth disrupts our carefully designed paradigms…our carefully guarded prejudices…our convenient belief systems.  No wonder we ask, “Who do you think you are?”  The truth can threaten the very foundations upon which we have built our assumptions about other people…about systems of governance…about everything.  We all have prejudices and biases and assumptions that we rely on to get us through the day. 

         Look around at our world.  Here we are in the twenty-first century, and human beings are still fighting wars and practicing genocide across the world.  We still allow corporations to exploit people and the planet. 

         As we got ready to celebrate the Fourth of July, a lot of people shopped for picnic food, so they could celebrate with a cook-out.  Many  of my neighbors stocked up on fireworks—lots of fireworks.  But I wonder how many of us have read the Declaration of Independence recently?   We’re all familiar with the part of the Declaration of Independence that says, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”   But a lot of us may not remember the words in the Declaration of Independence that call the original inhabitants of our nation “merciless Indian Savages.”   [Don’t take my word for this.  Google it and read the document.]

         “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” Slavery has a long and ugly history that goes back thousands of years.  When the United States was formed, slavery was an important part of the economy, and many of the “founding fathers” owned slaves.  In 21st century America, it is easy for some of us to look at our past and be disappointed, ashamed, even disgusted by slavery.  It isn’t something we want to even think about.  But we need to understand the history of slavery and race relations in America.  We need to be courageous enough to look honestly at where we’ve come from as a nation, and about systemic racism in our society-- if we are finally ready to commit ourselves to repent of the wrongs and work for “a more perfect union.”[1]   

         It’s hard.  A lot of people were hoping we’d moved into a post-racial society, but we can’t believe that.  Just in the past year we’ve had Ferguson and Baltimore.  And then nine people were shot and killed at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston while they were gathered for Bible study and prayer, by a white supremacist whom they had welcomed into their midst.  Since then, at least six predominately black churches across the South have gone up in flames.  At least three of those fires are suspected to be the work of an arsonist, and one is being investigated as a hate crime.  African-American clergywomen have received threats.  African-American churches are being advised by Homeland Security and other government agencies on how to keep their people as safe as possible.

         A lot of people are resigned to the status quo… or afraid of how changes might affect us.  The conversations are hard for us.  Even when we hear a kingdom vision of a better, more just and inclusive and peaceful world-- we have a hard time envisioning what it would be like.  We have a hard time believing. 

         Change is hard…and slow… and scary for a lot of us… and certainly for the church.  We want things to be familiar and safe. 

         In  C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, Aslan, the Lion King of Narnia, represents a Christ figure. Lucy, is talking with Mr. Beaver, and she’s curious about Aslan.   She has never seen him, but has heard that he is "on the move," and anticipates meeting him. "Is he safe?" she asks.

         "Who said anything about being safe?" said Mr. Beaver. "Course he's not safe-- but he's good.  He's the King,  I tell you."[2]

         Jesus is good-- but not safe.

         Like the people of Nazareth, we have a choice in how we respond.  Like the people of Nazareth, we can resist and try to keep things comfortable and familiar and safe and free —free for us and for people like us.   We can complain about the things that are wrong in our nation and the world and how things are changing.  We can use our energy to maintain the status quo as long as possible.  

         We could do that.  Or we can listen for God’s word for us.  Even when it calls us to changes in our lives.  Even when it calls us to work for change, for a society in which there truly is liberty and justice for all. 

         America! America! God mend thine every flaw.

         Confirm thy soul in self-control, thy liberty in law.[3]

         On this Independence Day weekend, it’s a time for us to celebrate the many things that are good about our nation. 

         But we follow Jesus, who came to live among us, full of grace and truth, preaching a gospel of repentance.  As followers of Jesus,  it is also a time when we are challenged to re-dedicate ourselves to his mission,  to living more fully into the kingdom of God, the kingdom of justice and peace, which we also know as Beloved Community. 

         As Christians, we need to be in solidarity with our brothers and sisters in Christ who are suffering.... who have lost precious loved ones in an unfathomable act of hatred and violence… and others who have lost their church buildings and whatever sense of safety they may have had.   We need to reach out to them to show them we care.   We can help them re-build, and we can find ways to work with them to help mend the flaws in our nation.

         My hope and prayer is that we will continue to be transformed by God’s gracious love,  and that we may be strengthened to hear Christ’s truth.  

         As we come to the Lord’s Table today, may we be open to experience Christ’s real presence in this holy mystery.  May we be fed and strengthened.  As we experience God’s gracious love, may we be transformed.  May our commitment to Jesus Christ be renewed.

         Then let us go out into the world to serve Jesus by speaking and embodying God’s truth and love.

         Amen!

The Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

July 5, 2015

          

           

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[1] “A more perfect union” is a quote from the Preamble to the United States Constitution.

[2] C.S. Lewis,  The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” (Geoffrey Bles Publ., 1950).

[3] The words of this national song, “O Beautiful for Spacious Skies,” are written as a prayer for our nation and recognize that we have flaws that need to be mended, with God’s help.

"Why Are You Afraid?" A sermon on Mark 4:35-41, preached at Littlefield Presbyterian Church on the Sunday after the massacre of 9 people at prayer at Emanuel AME Church.

         “Why are you afraid?   Have you still no faith?”

            During the dark days of World War II, the World Council of Churches adopted a symbol which had been important to the early church during times of danger, hardship, and persecution:  the church universal is depicted as a storm-tossed boat, with a cross for a mast.

            Over the centuries, the ship has been a prominent symbol for the church in Christian art and architecture.  In fact, the area of the church or cathedral where the congregation gathers is called the "nave,"  which is the Latin word for "ship."  When the early Christians tried to describe what it was like to be a Christian and to be a member of the church, they sometimes compared it to being on a ship with Christ and trying to cope with the wind and waves that buffet them so often.               

            In today’s Gospel lesson, we find the disciples on a journey.  The journey is not one of their own choosing, but one they've been commanded to take.  

            It must have been a long day.  Jesus had been teaching beside the sea.  There had been a huge crowd gathered on the shore, while he sat in the boat and spoke in parables about the Reign of God.

            When evening came, Jesus said to the disciples, "Let us go across to the other side of the sea."  So, leaving the crowd behind, they set off across the sea. 

            Now, Peter and the other fishermen among Jesus' inner circle of disciples knew from experience the danger of sudden storms on the Sea of Galilee.  Throughout the Bible,  the sea is a metaphor for the place where chaos and the demonic reside.   Moses leads the people from bondage to liberation through a sea.   In some of the psalms, the sea threatens those who would follow God.[1]    In the Psalms and in the book of Revelations, God's power to calm the sea is affirmed.[2]   As Gary Charles writes:  “For Mark the sea is a metaphor for the demonic and apocalyptic chaos that confronts Jesus, terrorizes his disciples and threatens the future of the gospel."[3]

            A lot of us are trying to live by faith in the midst of a life that can get chaotic and precarious.   Things happen that are beyond our control.  Cancer cells grow in our bodies.   Addictions resurface in the lives of loved ones. People in power abuse it and create destruction for those in their power."[4] 

            This week, what happened in Charleston, South Carolina really tossed a lot of our boats.  For a lot of people, it’s felt pretty stormy.   So it’s ironic that the middle name of the alleged killer is “Storm.”  But I don’t want to say much about him right now.  Whenever terror strikes like this, we pay attention to the shooter, as we try to figure out how this could happen—how this young man who looks like a kid could do what he did.

            For now I want to focus on people who gathered on Wednesday evening for their regular Bible study at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston.  The Rev. Clemente Pinckney, age 41, was a state senator and the senior pastor of Emanuel.  He was married and the father of two children.  He had a graduate degree and was a graduate of the Lutheran Seminary of the South. 

            Cynthia Hurd, age 54, had dedicated her lift to serving and improving the lives of others as a librarian and library manager.  The Rev. Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, age 45, was a pastor at Emanuel, and was also a speech therapist and high school girls track and field coach at Goose Creek High School.  She was the mother of Chris Singleton, a college student whom some of us saw talking about love and forgiveness on TV, and two younger children.

            Tywanza Sanders was 26, with a business administration degree—known as a “quiet, well-known student who was committed to his education.”

            Ethel Lance, who was 70, had attended Emanuel most of her life and had worked as a custodian.  She is remembered as “funny and a pleasure to be around…a wonderful mother and grandmother.”

            Susie Jackson, 87, was a longtime church member.  Depayne Middleton Doctor was 49.  The mother of four sang in Emanuel’s choir, and previously directed a community development program in Charleston County.  In December, she started a new job as admissions coordinator at her alma mater, Southern Wesleyan University.  She is remembered as “a warm and enthusiastic leader.”

            The Rev. Daniel Simmons, age 74,  had previously pastored another church in the Charleston area.  He attended the Bible study every Wednesday night. 

            Myra Thompson, age 59, was the wife of the Rev. Anthony Thompson, the vicar of Holy Trinity Reformed Episcopal Church in Charleston.

            Felicia Sanders, a 57-year-old grandmother and mother of Ty Sanders, survived by playing dead among the bodies and saved her granddaughter by making her play dead.  She saw her son try to talk the shooter out of shooting them…and then saw him killed.

            As Otis Moss III describes what happened,  members of Emanuel gathered Wednesday evening with their pastor in what should have been a safe place, armed with nothing but their Bibles.[5]  Seated in their midst was a young white man who was a stranger,  yet welcomed as a friend. As Rev. Moss says, “The black church embraces all. We accord a certain degree of respect and special recognition to those who do not look like us.”  The young man was seated next to the pastor, “where he returned the church's hospitality with unimaginable inhumanity.”
            Rev. Moss describes Emanuel AME Church as “a national treasure.”  Yolanda Pierce, professor of African American religion and literature at Princeton Theological Seminary, reminds us that "the AME denomination was founded as a protest against racism" and "the black church was birthed as a sanctuary from white violence."  This is true of Emanuel AME, affectionately known as "Mother" Emanuel.  Its storied history dates back almost 200 years. Mother Emanuel endured despite being burned down, outlawed and destroyed by an earthquake.[6]
            Emanuel AME has been the target of racist attacks, legal harassment and arson.  Each time, Emanuel Church has responded with love rooted in justice, by teaching literacy, producing leaders, protesting unequal treatment, fighting for economic parity and demanding the confederate flag be replaced by a symbol for all South Carolinians. Mother Emanuel embodies liberation, love and reconciliation.[7]

            This particular storm will pass.  But for now, for some of us, the storm feels overwhelming.  For now, it’s time to grieve the loss of precious lives.  Lives that matter to their families and friends and their community.  Our brothers and sisters in Christ, whose lives need to matter to us.   As the apostle Paul writes in First Corinthians 12,  “when one member of the body of Christ suffers, the whole body suffers as well.”

            I imagine our African-American brothers and sisters around the country may be feeling uneasy as they gather for worship today and in the weeks to come.  I imagine if I were African-American and were attending an African-American church, I might be feeling uneasy if I  saw an unfamiliar white face, someone who nods but doesn’t seem to warm up to the people around him.   Could he be a Charleston copy-cat?  Could he be a white supremacist?  I wonder how safe I’d feel.

            There have been at least six shooting incidents at houses of worship in our nation in the past seven years,[8]  along with all the shootings at schools and elsewhere.  It seems like a storm of violence and hatred has permeated our society. 

            Meanwhile, back in the boat.  The disciples must have been exhausted after the day's activities.  They may have had some qualms about crossing to the other side of the sea, which was gentile territory.  As Jews of that time, it would have been a new idea to them that God's salvation included non-Jews, people who were “other.” 

            The winds were battering against the boat.  It was filling with water. The disciples had plenty of reason to be terrified.

            In the midst of all of this, where is God?  "Don't you care that we are perishing?"

            Jesus had been sleeping through the storm, which was a sign that he trusted in God to keep them all safe.

            Jesus woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, "Peace!  Be still!"          

            And the wind ceased--  and there was calm.

            Then Jesus said to them, "Why are you afraid?  Have you still no faith?"

            When we follow Jesus, when we obey the command to cross over to “the other side,” to be with others who are different from us… when terror strikes, the storm can feel overwhelming.      

            Jesus rebukes the storm:  “Peace! Be still!”   But the peace of Christ is never passive.  It’s never just an absence of conflict or trouble.  We are called to “pursue peace with everyone.”[9]

                       

            My friend and Lutheran colleague Colleen Niemann forwarded  a response to the massacre in Charleston from the Rev. Elizabeth Eaton, Presiding Bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.  Bishop Eaton writes, “It has been a long season of disquiet in our country.  From Ferguson to Baltimore, simmering racial tensions have boiled over into violence.  But this ... the fatal shooting of nine African Americans in a church is a stark, raw manifestation of the sin that is racism….”

            Do you not care that we are perishing?  Do you not care that church folk, at prayer, are massacred?  Do you not care that men and women are imprisoned at rates never seen before?  Do you not care that young people are dying?  Do you not care about the disparity in educational opportunities?  The list could go on.   Do you not care?

            What keeps us from having the difficult but necessary conversations about race and privilege that can lead to the healing of the sickness in our society?

            Why are you afraid?  Have you still no faith?

            I’ve been heartsick over what happened this week in Charleston.  I’m heartsick that people keep dying.  Yet I have to admit that I’ve felt afraid to speak too prophetically about this.  I like to be liked and appreciated.  I don’t like it when people are upset over a sermon.   

            But Jesus calls us to set out in the boat.  We’re called to pursue peace.  We are entrusted with a ministry of reconciliation.  We are called to love all the people God loves. 

            If we are going to follow Jesus, we need to follow him into the storm.  If we want to stand with Jesus, we need to stand with those who have been weathering the storm for a long time, because that’s where Jesus is.  It can be scary.

            But I’m hopeful.  I really want to be hopeful.  I’m hopeful that now is the time.  That now is the time when we say “enough.”  Now is the time for us to stop being afraid of the hard conversations about race and privilege and gun violence.  Now is the time for us to commit ourselves  to living into the Beloved Community, which is just another way of talking about the Kingdom of God.  Now is the time to find ways to work together with our neighbor congregations, to find energy and encouragement from one another—because we’re all in the boat together. 

            Jesus never promised us that we could stay safely on the shore, where things are familiar and comfortable.  But he does promise to be with us always. 

            We can trust in God’s promises,  that God will be with us always.  That’s what “Emmanuel” means.  God with us!

            Amen. 

           

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

June 21, 2015          

           

           

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[1] Ps. 69:1, 14-15.

[2] Ps. 46:1-3; 89:8-9; 93:3-4; Rev. 21:1.

[3] Gary Charles, Preaching Mark in Two Voices, p. 60.

[4] I am grateful to Alyce MacKenzie, in “Choppy Seas, Calm Spirits,” posted at Edgy Exegesis at Patheos Progressive portal.

[5] Otis Moss III, “The Doors of the Church are Open, at Huffington Post.  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rev-otis-moss-iii/the-doors-of-the-church-are-open_b_7626920.html

[6] Moss.

[7] Moss.

[8] http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/06/18/shootings-places-of-worship_n_7612520.html?1434644712

[9] Hebrews 12:14