Month: June 2020

I really miss singing. It struck me the other day as I was humming a hymn that I hardly sing at all these days. Since the pandemic has quashed singing in church for the duration, my opportunities for expressing myself in prayer that way have really dried up. I sing a little bit around the house, but even that has been rare these days.

Singing is such an integral part of praying for me. When I am the most deeply lamenting and the most stunningly joyful I naturally sing. It expresses so much more than words. It is physical. Using the very body God has created to give expression to my relationship with God. I am sure my neighbors have raised their eyebrows, as well as drivers at a variety of stoplights. 

Since I noticed I am missing it, I have been more intentional in including singing in my personal worship. And it has made clear to me that I am not a victim or in any way disadvantaged. Nothing can separate me from God’s love and nothing can contain my worship. I will keep everyone as safe as I can, and I will praise God, and express my laments, as well.

Worship. Pray. Don’t be daunted. We need to be connected with God more than ever, and more deeply than ever!

I was talking to someone recently about how hard it is to keep track of days. Just yesterday I thought there was a zoom call that is actually today but I got mixed up and said where is everyone and someone got back to me and said, uh, it’s tomorrow. Sigh.

I think this is a symptom of grief. We have experienced wave after wave of grief. Life isn’t the same, fear is constant. Church isn’t the same. We can’t do what we want. People are dying, people we love are dying. Every decision carries with it the weight of unknown dangers. 

The way we get through grief is one day at a time. Some griefs never leave us, like the death of a loved one. Some griefs work themselves out, like moving or a new job. Some things we think are a loss are just changes that are inevitable, like aging. But one thing is certain, grief will not be ignored. 

And so we have to recognize grief for what it is, a time of adjustment, a time of reordering, a time for asking who we are in this new normal. And do we love those questions, no we do not. Grief is a beginning, and we determine how that goes. We write the next chapter.

First, we have to recognize the grief. We have to be honest about our losses. We have to be open to feeling crummy for a while. The unending grief we are experiencing requires heightened kindness, patience and calm. We are all suffering, we are all afraid, we are all anxious, we are all trying to figure out how to keep ourselves and others safe. Let’s be nice to each other. 

Prayer, exercise and reaching out to friends are healthy ways to cope. They take practice. Ask for help when you need it. Know that Jesus loves you, and so does your church.

The plan was that this outdoor service in June would be our annual Hawaiian shirt Sunday. One of my favorite services of the year!!  I love all the color as I scan the congregation. I love the creativity. I love when families all dress up together, or when someone passes out leis. And I truly, truly love passing out pineapples. It is a highlight for me, and has been a moment of fun in a year of solemnity and dignified worship. 

This year we will not be having a Hawaiian shirt Sunday. It was discussed at the Executive Committee meeting that the symbol has been coopted by White Supremacist groups. And we want to be crystal clear that we have nothing to do with that. Crystal clear that we do not stand with or for racism. 

Some will say that is an extreme response, that no one will notice, especially since we have been doing this for years. Some will say that we are giving those groups too much power by changing anything. And I understand that. 

Years ago, at my previous parish, I wrote a weekly parish email. I was trying to make a point about something and wrote, “Boy you would not believe…”. One of my members who almost never came to church sent me a scathing reply, saying the origin of Boy was what male slaves were called to demean and dehumanize them, and I had to be more careful and thoughtful with my language.

At first, I didn’t pay much attention. Because she didn’t participate much I didn’t take her seriously, didn’t think she had a right to criticize. But after some prayer and humility, I realized she was absolutely right. If I hurt even one person by being careless about my language, that was too many. And it helped me to be careful about how I craft a message, to think about from more than just my own perspective. 

So we will not be wearing Hawaiian shirts on the 21^st. Because we only want to be a part of healing and welcome and love. And every precaution is worth not hurting one more person. 

At 11:25 last Sunday, a group of people from St. John’s and a few friends of the parish walked over to the corner of Wick and Wood for the march against racism. The marchers were asked to wear black for mourning, to wear masks for safety, and to be silent out of respect for those who died. It was organized by a young woman who had a vision for an appropriate expression of grief and outrage. 

When we arrived there were already hundreds of people. Even with masks I recognized friends and colleagues. There was excitement at the large turnout, and people had banners and signs expressing their thoughts and frustrations at a system that would allow the murder of an unarmed Black man to occur, not just once but regularly.

We couldn’t hear the directions very well but people were encouraged to spread out, be careful and respectful. And people did. There was a sense of respect for people’s safety. We marched down to the courthouse. Police officers closed the streets and kept people safe. When we all arrived and gathered and spread out, there were a series of speakers.

With absolutely appropriateness, the speakers raised some painful truths, expressed deep grief and anger, stirred up people’s hearts. There was some dissension, but there always is. What struck me was the depth of anguish that was expressed by the Black community. 

I was there to express my condolences. It was not a time for connection or unity. It was a time for the African American community to educate white people about the extent of their pain. I was there to listen. It was not to offer easy solutions, diluted promises or false hopes. It was to be present and brokenhearted. 

And it still is. My job in this time of reckoning is to be an ally. My job is to stand with the leaders of the African American community as they lead the call for immediate change. My job is to talk about how racism is a public health crisis, and how white advantage often prevents us from being honest about our own complicity. I will show up, I will listen, and I will act nonviolently to create a world of equity and justice. 

I hope you will join me. 

GIFT IDEAS FOR

your children

who refuse to stay at home because

they believe

Black Lives Matter

Lab goggles to protect from tear gas, pepper spray and mace

Bottles of water or milk to dilute the effects of tear gas, pepper spray or mace

N 95 masks (good luck) or cloth masks with filters and hand sanitizer to protect against Covid 19

PRAYER

because NO

• mask
• goggles
• hand sanitizer

WILL PROTECT THEM

AGAINST

• Batons
• Rubber bullets
• REAL BULLETS FIRED BY THE FORCES OF TYRANNY

REFUSE TO BE SILENT

SILENCE IS COMPLICITY

karen