Month: February 2018

I have been thinking about how hard it is to be a teacher. We have several teachers at church, and I have been in conversation with them for years trying to offer concrete support. And lately we have been talking about safety. None of them want to carry guns. Some of them don’t mind if other teachers who are qualified carry guns. Some are worried about the change in atmosphere guns would cause, the impact on learning and the free sharing of ideas.

I have also listened to several radio programs which have presented both the fears of teachers with a plea to do something to keep everyone safe, and the outrage about the possibility of expecting them to be armed. And my heart is broken.

It leads me to think about the Gospel last week. Jesus is telling his disciples how he will have to suffer and die and then rise again. And his disciples do not want to hear that. It is not the way they think about a Messiah, not the way they imagine being free. And Jesus says, you are thinking in the ways of the world, and I am telling you how God thinks about things.

Our solution to the problem of violence is caught in the same dichotomy. As a nation, we are thinking about ways to be powerful, to be in control, to fight guns with guns. What we need is to think about God’s way, which is building relationships, loving irrationally, and erring on the side of compassion and care. And we absolutely should not ask anyone to make a sacrifice we are not willing or able to make ourselves.  There is a better way, and that is to make sure everyone has what they need, especially good mental health care, safe homes and adequate education funding for every school.

Hopefully our young people will inspire positive change. But in the meantime, I was directed to a website that helps teachers get what they need for their classroom.  Maybe you have seen the Facebook posts about teachers asking to be armed with markers, books, basic supplies. There is a website, Donor’s Choice, where public school teachers and students ask for help with what they need. I recommend we start there. It seems like the least we can do.

When I was a kid, my dad used to tell us on occasion that he had a gun, that he would use it if anyone tried to hurt us, and that we were not to worry about our safety. Of course, as a child, I completely trusted my dad, and I didn’t worry about our safety. He seemed to have it under control.

But I was fascinated by the prospect of a gun in the house. As the oldest, one of my jobs was laundry. I would fold and eventually do all the ironing. I liked it because I could listen to music, and be by myself. But part of the job was also to put the laundry away, and I was always on the lookout for that gun.

In my mind I pictured a small hand gun, a revolver, stuck in the underwear drawer. Why, I couldn’t tell you. But that was the vision I had. And I looked every time, I moved things around—not too much because I never wanted to be caught. I never thought of looking under the mattress or in a shoe box in the closet, so my efforts never expanded past the initial vision.

As adults I have talked to my brother and sister about the gun, and they all admitted to looking for it as well. Maybe it doesn’t exist, but I think it does. And my biggest fear after the death of my parents is having to find and deal with that gun. But thank God I am doing that as an adult. Because even though we were nice kids from a nice family, would I have pulled the trigger if I found it? Would any of us in rage or in play been able to resist that power? I simply don’t know, and am so grateful I never had to find out.

In my opinion, guns are made for one purpose only, and that is to kill. They are seductive, or the power they offer is. They serve no holy purpose. And if our lives are about holiness and developing a deeper relationship with God, if our purpose is to love our neighbor as ourselves, then there is no need for weapons. I will put on the armor of Christ.

If someone tried to kill one of my children or grandchildren, of course I would do anything to save them. So please don’t ask me ridiculous questions. I also know that there are many ways to prevent harm, and I want to engage in all of those first. I have personal experience with this, and I can tell you that nonviolence is always more powerful.

I believe our greatest danger is relying in weapons over relationship. And the only way to change the trajectory of killing we are on is to love one another. How that will play out for you, I don’t know. But I am absolutely sure it is the only way. Guns are an evil distraction to holy work. Let’s not be distracted.

illustrious

as grass

in silken waves

the lilies of the field

who measure gain

in golden hours

and in rain

karen

somewhere

between

here and there

lies Peace

a breath of green

a glimpse of light

the scent of earth

of pools

deep in the forest

alive and singing

somewhere

between

karen

intolerable

impermanence

we pause

and carve our names

a futile gesture

in the end

for even stone

knows

change

karen

In my very first parish post-ordination, I was an assistant to the rector, and mostly in charge of youth and outreach. And to prepare for developing new outreach program possibilities, I put a survey in the bulletin. What were people’s interests? The mistake I made was listing a few examples, one of which was something along the lines of a social justice group.

One of the members, an older man who had a reputation for grumpiness, came up to me after the service practically yelling about liberal, radical troublemakers and not at this church and citing some history that I didn’t know about, etc, etc, I was very bad, etc, etc. I was a little stunned by his fierce anger, and that it was directed at me. I said it was a survey and nothing was set in stone, and that his opinion was clear, and thanked him for telling me. I probably didn’t mean it.

He didn’t talk to me for a long time. And so I prayed. Maybe I was naïve to think that I could have a positive relationship with everyone in the parish, but it is still what I hope for and work toward even today. I prayed for peace. I prayed for reconciliation and common ground. I never prayed that he would change, but I prayed that I would, that I would somehow learn the best way to love him. Months went by.

Then one evening in Lent we were having a Wednesday night meeting and meal. I was there early to set up, and was fretting because I didn’t know how to make coffee (still don’t…) and there he was. He said, I know you can’t make coffee. And to his surprise, I hugged him. We didn’t have to change who we were, we just had to focus on love being the most important thing, and being right a distant second.

At the Winter Convocation last weekend, both the presenter and the musician talked about the importance of “managing our adrenaline” or “managing our internal weather”. If we cannot be in control of our emotional life, of our reacting, then we cannot be peacemakers and reconcilers.  Again, not making peace to subdue or ignore. Making peace to build healthy community.

In order to be able to manage my own reactions, I pray, I exercise, I try to see the good in people. I often ask myself how someone might have come to the position or situation they are in, as an act of empathy. I also yell and scream at the radio when no one else is around. The point of it all is to do what I have to do to maintain my own equilibrium, my own internal calm, so that when I am called on to be a non-anxious presence, a witness to God’s love, I can at least give it a try.

How do you manage your internal weather? How can it be an intentional, spiritual  practice?

I have been thinking a lot about safety. We just had a big meeting to examine all aspects of safety in our church. The speaker, who was great, said that we cannot hide behind thinking that nothing bad would ever happen. We have all seen fires and natural disasters and tragic loss of life happen, in churches and elsewhere. He said we cannot hide behind thinking that God will protect us.  And he helped us think about where we can do better, which was what we wanted. We want to do everything we can to be prepared, and live in hope that we will never need to use any of it.

I believe that God is active in our lives, constantly creating with us the Kingdom of God now. I believe that God has the power to do anything. And that God could avert disaster. But I also know that God gave me freedom, and in exchange for that, I have to live with the consequences of sin in the world, mine and everyone else’s. I know that God grieves our sin and works unrelentingly to help us be free of it as much as we possibly can.

God gives us guidelines to live by. God gives us prophets and martyrs. God gave us Jesus to show with stunning clarity how to incorporate those rules in a way that lives them from the heart and not the head. And now God gives us each other, a church filled with courageous and faithful people working to be holy. God gives us what we need to become all that God created us to be.

So it isn’t that God will not spare us, that God will not take an active role. God is calling us constantly to goodness. And it isn’t that God wants bad things to happen. God grieves every tragedy in ways that only unconditional love can grieve.  God is always with us and always loving us.

So what is safety? I think the plans we are putting into place make us prepared and prudent, and are a good thing. For me, safety is people, being surrounded by community. It is being loved. It is spending time with people I trust and who value me in return. There is no safety in isolation, no safety in hiding away. And there is no safety in physical power. There will always be a stronger person, a more powerful weapon. There is safety in love and trust and care. There is safety in building a better world for all people. And so even as I work on the list of how we can do better, I will feed people, and talk to people, and believe in the innate goodness of all people. That is our ultimate safety in my experience.