International Day of Solidarity with the Palestinian People

Today my church celebrates the International Day of Solidarity with the Palestinian People.  I wrote the following call to worship, which also works as a prayer, and then I filmed a video segment for the pre-recorded service:

We gather together as people of God
in a pandemic time when we might feel like exiles,
like people kept out of a promised land.


We gather together as people of God
in a time when many of us haven’t seen
far flung friends or family in months.

We gather together as people of God
knowing that this disease means constraints
on our ability to gather, to travel, to make plans
for the future.

We have had a tiny taste of what others have suffered
for years, for decades, even for centuries.

Let us remember this pain.
Let us resolve to be the peacemakers that God calls us to be,
so that we can work towards a vision of a time
when no one suffers
this pain of exile, exclusion, and oppression. 

If you'd like a meditation that's closer to an essay, here's what I wrote for my church's weekly e-mail:

This year, the first Sunday of Advent, November 29, is also the U.N.'s International Day of Solidarity with the Palestinian People. At first these days may seem to have nothing to do with each other.

And for those of us who have a vision of Advent that's wrapped up with angels appearing with glad tidings and improbable wombs bursting with life, the Gospel reading for this Sunday, Mark 13: 24-3, really seems out of place. It's one of the more apocalyptic passages of Mark, where we're told about stars falling from the heavens and powers in the heavens being shaken along with the sun and moon being darkened.

It's a far cry from Advent calendars with a new piece of chocolate every day. How do we braid these strands together?

Let us begin by realizing that God comes to us in the form of Jesus in a place where we wouldn't expect to find the Divine, a place far away from the earthly center of power, which in that day was Rome. Similarly, if God came to an outcast corner of the world today, it would more likely be a city where Palestinians are kept under tight control than it would be the cities of earthly power, like Washington, D.C., or one of the Asian cities that might soon eclipse the U.S. For some of us, that would feel as unsettling as the scene that Mark describes, all the heavenly spheres completely turned topsy-turvy.

And that message will be one that Jesus preaches again and again. The salvation that Jesus comes to offer is not just pretty baby in a manger kind of imagery. It's a message that will put us on a collision course with the earthly powers that are not interested in looking out for the poor and impoverished, like the Palestinians. Christians are one of the few religions that follow a deity who suffered capital punishment--that should put us on notice that we are not likely to find fame and fortune from earthly powers.

The end of the reading from Mark is a familiar Advent theme, and one that bears repeating. In fact, Jesus does repeat it several times and in several different ways: stay awake, keep watch, don't let your levels of alertness drop.

In our time, when we have more and more distractions coming at us at a higher volume and speed, it's a good message to hear again. Stay alert--pay attention to what's important, even if you don't know what to do about it. Pay attention to those who are oppressed. Stand in solidarity with them. That's where we are likely to meet God.