Sermon for Dec. 29, 2019

On Sunday, Dec. 29, 2019, I preached a sermon on Herod and the killing of the infants and toddlers in Bethlehem.  One of my friends asked for a copy of my sermon, and I reconstructed it for her.  I'm also posting it here as a way of sharing and preserving it:



You may be wondering why we have to have such a depressing text for today and so soon after Christmas.  Today's reading comes from the Revised Common Lectionary, which means that Christians all over the world are reading about Herod's murder of all the children under the age of 2 in Bethlehem.

Or maybe churches have decided to have one more Sunday of lessons and carols.  After all, the Sunday after Christmas is one where churches are likely to be without their pastors, who have put in a lot of work between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It's tough to find a supply pastor and even tougher to find one who wants to preach on this text.

In fact, Pastor Keith gave me a choice of texts:  this one, Jesus being presented in the temple, or Jesus at age 12 staying behind during a trip to the temple and scaring his parents half to death when they realized he had been left behind.  I preached on Anna in the temple last year, and the lesson about Jesus in the temple isn't nearly as interesting to me as the text about Herod.

We're getting the story out of order.  Next week, our church will celebrate Epiphany, which tells what happens when the three wisemen come to Herod.  Herod tells them that they should come back, that he wants to pay his respects.  But actually, he's hoping they'll give him information so he can wipe out a potential rival.

We might want to know whether or not the story of Herod is true.  There's no mention of this kind of mass killing in any of the recorded history, and there's a lot about Herod in recorded history.  Maybe he really killed the children, but Bethlehem would have been a small town, so it wouldn't warrant a mention.  We know he was capable of this kind of cruelty.  He killed his two sons because he felt so threatened by them.  Most of us, when we're working for something in our lives, we think about having something to pass on to our offspring, whether it's wealth or a business or a house.  Not Herod.

So even if the story isn't factual, it's still true.  It tells us an important point about the world that we're living in.  We see a ruler so threatened by a rival who has just been born that this ruler has all potential rivals in a town killed.

I've been seeing some posts on social media about putting Herod back in Christmas.  (surprised looks in the congregation)  Yes, I know that we're used to thinking about putting Christ back in Christmas, but Herod belongs there too.

In one of Pastor Keith's sermons from a Christmas Eve several years ago, he told us that if we left the baby Jesus in the manger, we're missing the point of the good news proclaimed by the angels.  The Gospel of Matthew wants to make sure we get the point.  The story of the life of Jesus is bookended by his collision course with the powers of the Empire.  He comes to the attention of Herod and his family needs to flee because of Herod's murderous wrath.  And then at the end of his life, Jesus is executed by the Roman authorities.

Matthew tries to warn us that the Christian path will put us, too, on a collision course with those in power.  We know that those in power rarely give up power.  We may criticize or offer a vision for a brighter future, but then as now, the powers of Empire in this world do not say, "Thank you for pointing that out.  We will make those changes right away."

And yet we are called to work for that brighter future.  Throughout our sacred texts, we see that God is on the side of the marginalized and the oppressed, and God calls us to work on behalf of those who have no power.  We have done that in our church through our work with the food pantry and with BOLD Justice.  We have worked to get more low income housing in our county, we have worked to get more unannounced inspections of nursing homes, we have worked to have more dental care for those who can't afford it.  We continue to do this work, even though the need is so great.

We may be feeling a bit of despair at the thought that we have this work to do, and we may not be feeling so powerful ourselves.  We, too, may be feeling the boot of the authorities on our neck.  We may not see progress.  We may feel like we're one of the outcast and dejected.

Here, too, the angels give good news.  Think about who the angels appear to:  Joseph, a carpenter, which would have been a position in the lower rungs of society--he doesn't even own land.  Mary, an unwed mother.  Elizabeth, old and barren.  Shepherds.  I look out at our congregation, and I don't see any shepherds.  But that profession, too, would have been lowly.

I hesitate to offer a modern counterpart.  Would it be the adjunct teacher, never sure of having enough classes.  The person who pumps gas at a gas station?  Workers in WalMart who don't work enough to be full-time and can't know what hours they will have week to week?  These are the types of people to whom the angels appear, not the rich and the powerful.

Matthew widens the scope even further by including those outside of Rome.  The wise men have been studying the stars, and they notice something new.  They go to investigate, and so, they, too, get to be part of the good news.  Outsiders, included here in this text.

Of course this good news can turn lives upside down.  The wise men go a different route to avoid Herod.  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, too, have to flee--but in doing so, they are preserved.

We might feel despair about those who aren't preserved.  What about all those slaughtered children?  Why couldn't God save them too?

For those of you predisposed to despair, and our time gives us lots of reasons to despair, with rulers that seem as determined to be evil as King Herod, I recommend this book, Rebecca Solnit's Hope in the Dark:  Untold Histories, Wild Possibilities.  Just before the service, I was reading a passage where she quotes Cornel West and his idea of a "jazz freedom fighter" which he describes as "a mode of being in the world, an improvisational mode of protean, fluid, and flexible disposition toward reality suspicious of 'either/or' viewpoints" (page 91).

In Jesus' time and in our own, we see that those who can be jazz freedom fighters have a better chance of surviving the Herods of the world and helping to bring about the world that God envisions for us.  The wise men were jazz freedom fighters in their work to give Jesus, Mary, and Joseph a chance to get away.  This task is ours too.

The coming year will give us many opportunities to be jazz freedom fighters if we answer God's invitation in the Good News of the Christmas message.  God calls us to help create a much better world than the ones inhabited by Herod and the forces of Empire.  Let us have the courage and creativity to be jazz freedom fighters in this coming year and throughout our lives.

Amen.

Love in a Time of Herod

Here we are, just days after the good news delivered by angels in the heavens, returning to regular life with a flood, as today we remember the slaughter of all the male children under the age of two in Bethlehem in the days after the birth of Jesus. In the story that goes with this day of remembrance, we see Herod behaving in a way that's historically believable, if perhaps not historically accurate. Why would he do such a terrible thing? Partly because he's worried about keeping his power; he's worried about what the wise men have told him, and he doesn't want any challenges. Partly because he can; he has power granted to him by Roman authorities, and that power means that he can slaughter his subjects if he sees fit to do so.

In past years, I've assumed that I lived under a progressive government, that the arc of history had bent towards justice, and our trajectory as a people and a country had moved in the direction of a brighter star.  But lately, it's harder to believe this story we tell ourselves.

I realize that I have been living in a relatively privileged position as a middle class white woman whose ancestors have been in this country for generations.  I realize all the ways it was easy for me to think that our nation's past problems had either been solved or were on their way to being solved.

Now I see a host of problems being created that may take more time to solve than I have on this earth.  I see a world of refugees, and I worry that we may be living in a time where we're all at much greater risk of becoming refugees, whether because a ruthless leader is trying to make a point with our bodies or because the climate has displaced us.

This day reminds us of the potency of power. We shouldn't underestimate the power of the State, particularly the power of a global empire. With the story of Herod, we see the limits of worldly power. Yet even within those limits, a dastardly ruler can unleash all sorts of pain and suffering. Those of us lucky enough to live under benign rulers shouldn't forget how badly life can go wrong for those who don't share our good fortune.

This day also reminds us of the One who offers the ultimate protection.  Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus survive because an angel warns them in a dream, and Joseph flees with Mary and Jesus to Egypt, to safety. But still, the earthly power of Herod turns them into refugees.

We can see this as a story about who has the true power--and yet, it's also a warning about what happens when earthly powers can't be trusted.  In a universe that God sets free to be governed by free will not by God pulling puppet strings, it's up to us to protect the vulnerable. And this story of Herod's slaughter reminds us of what happens when despots are allowed to rule. Sadly, it's a story that we still see playing out across the planet.

I predict that Christians across the nation (and the world) will choose to ignore this difficult text just days after Christmas. Far better to enjoy Christmas carols one last time than to wrestle with this difficult story. But Jesus reminds us again and again that he didn't come to make us all comfortable. He didn't come to be our warm, fuzzy savior. That cute baby in the manger grows up to overturn the regular order, to redeem creation, to restore us to the life that God intends for us--and Herod stands as a potent symbol for what might happen if we take Jesus seriously.

Rescued from Wreckage

I am rather astonished to be able to say that after 9 months of wreckage, the cottage is back to operational again.  Make no mistake, it still needs some work:  there's a door frame that has rotted out at the bottom, the floors are still concrete (and not the attractive kind of concrete), and the furniture is a mash of leftovers.  But I think we've achieved a level of rustic-cozy, as opposed to rustic-scary.

Because yesterday was stormy, my spouse couldn't work on his yard projects, so he helped--one reason why we were able to get it done.  He focused on what still needs to be done; he's most distressed about the hot water.  The cottage and the main house share the hot water source, which means the cottage has to wait a few minutes for the water to get hot.  It takes longer now that we have an on-demand hot water heater.  At some point, we may get an on-demand system for the cottage alone.  But for now, we need to get the main house repaired so that we see how much money we really have for the cottage.

As I was working on the cottage, I was taken back to the early days of our marriage, where there was one apartment that needed some work before we moved in.  I remember that scrubbing and wondering how the final result would look.

Like that apartment, we have curtains in the cottage that we have made ourselves.  I really like them, but my spouse said, "It's not much better than students who attach sheets up to the windows with push pins."  I like that they pull the eye up from the place where the floor meets the walls, where there are still stains from the flooding.

Yes, the walls need repainting, but we didn't have time for that.  So many repairs and beautification, but so little time.

And part of the problem is a lack of vision/agreement about what to do with the cottage.  One of my friends suggested that I turn it into some sort of space--whether it be office, music/arts studio, or pool party space, that I want to be in.  I understand her point, but I tend to perch on the same pieces of furniture, even when more attractive places open up.

We've thought about doing short term rentals, but that idea is not appealing to me for a variety of reasons.  I feel like I can hardly keep up with my current obligations, so I'm hesitant to take on something as large as managing a vacation rental.  Plus my city has lots of rules and regulations, which makes me even more hesitant.

I'm also hesitant because I think that many people are expecting something luxurious, like something out of a glamorous travel magazine--and I worry that they'll be inclined to complain vociferously and bitterly when it's not what they expect.

I think of our mishmash of furniture, which I find oddly appealing, but I know that others might not.  It reminds me of Mepkin Abbey, when I first went there.  The sheets weren't Egyptian cotton, and neither were the towels.  They were clean and soft from years of use.  Each room had a different type of desk and desk chair--comfortable, but from a much earlier decade.

Right now, the cottage has that type of furniture:  two chairs that were rescued from the trash heap of a school library remodel, a rocker that has the University of South Carolina seal on it, a folding wooden chair with a cushion.  The tables are plastic and battered, but sturdy.  The kitchen has a complete set of white dishes and cooking pans--very serviceable.  The bed has a mattress that's only a few years old, slept on for less than a year.  It has new sheets that I got on sale--otherwise I couldn't have afforded the organic cotton.  It also has a cheery quilt that I made.  The towels are also new and rarely used, and thus, more luxurious than many of our towels. 

The rugs that we got last Sunday don't cover as much of the floor as I had hoped.  But they work well enough for now.

As we sat in the living room yesterday to take it all in, I thought, yes, this will work.  The camp counselors will have a clean, safe place to sleep tonight, with lots of comforts, like the breakfast foods we bought for them yesterday.  That's more than much of the world has.

Stop this Cruel Policy!

Today is a good day to take some actions on this administration's cruel policy of separating parents from children at the border.  I didn't realize until it was too late that yesterday was a day of protest, but clearly it will take more than one day to stop this evil.

Next week Congress will vote on an immigration bill that will call for keeping families together.  I plan to call my senators and representative today.  If you don't know who represents you, this website will tell you.  Here is the site for the House of Representatives contact info, and this site will give you information for the Senate.  I plan to write, call, and e-mail.

I also plan to contact Attorney General Jeff Sessions.  If you would like to do that too, this site gives you options.  Sessions' recent complaints about the way that church groups are interpreting his actions suggests to me that he's listening.  His interpretation of Romans suggests to me that he needs to go back to Sunday School. 

And while we're at it, why not contact President Trump?  This website explains our options.

I don't know if any of these actions will make a difference, but we must try.  We cannot let our country continue down this road.  We cannot take children from their parents because their parents are fleeing a horrible situation in their home countries. 

Even if we disagree on this issue, the uptick in these separations means that there's a unanticipated drain on resources.  There are several nonprofits providing vital free legal aid that need financial support: The Texas Civil Rights Project; the Florence Project in Arizona; and Kids in Need of Defense and The Young Center, which work nationwide.

We're running out of room in the places where we send these children to stay.  I plan to donate to charities that assist these immigrant families.  While I'm taking action today, I plan to make a donation to Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service, a group which is assisting those separated families.  Go here to donate or to help in other ways.  If you want to assist a local charity, this New York Times article notes that the Catholic Charities of the Rio Grande Valley in Texas is helping families with supplies and humanitarian relief.

These are the days that break the hearts of caring people, but we can't shut down.  We may feel we have no power, but it's important to remember that we do.  It's important to use that power as a force for good in the world.  Lots of people who are truly powerless need us.

Sympathy for the Devil (Herod, in this case)

On Dec. 28, we remember the slaughter of all the male children under the age of 2 in Bethlehem in the days after the birth of Jesus. Why were they killed? Because of Herod's feelings of inadequacy, because of his fear. The magi tell him of a new king that has just been born, and he feels threatened. He will stop at nothing to wipe out any rival, even one who is still a tiny baby.

We like to think that we wouldn't have reacted that way. We like to think that we'd have joined the band of wise men and gone to pay our respects. We like to think that we'd have put aside our worries of not being good enough and our doubts.

But far too many of us would have responded in exactly the same way, if we had the resources at our command. You need only look at interpersonal relationships in the family or in the office to see that most of us have an inner Herod whom it is hard to ignore.

If you're old enough, you've had the startled feeling when you realize that the next rising star at your workplace or your congregation or your social group is a generation younger than you. It's hard to respond graciously.

Many of us are likely to respond to our feelings of inadequacy in unproductive ways. If we hear a good idea from someone who makes us feel threatened at work or in our families, how many of us affirm that idea? Instead of saying, "How interesting," we say, "How stupid!" And then we go to great lengths to prove that we're right, and whatever is making us feel inadequate is wrong.

So often I feel like I will never escape middle school, that particular kind of hell, where the boundaries were always fluid. Kids who were acceptable one day were pariahs the next. Many adolescents report feeling that they can't quite get their heads around all the rules and the best ways to achieve success.

Adult life can sometimes feel the same way. We fight to achieve equilibrium, only to find it all undone. Most of us don't have the power that Herod had, so our fight against powerlessness doesn't end in corpses. But it often results in a world of outcasts and lone victors, zero-sum games that leave us all diminished.

But feelings of inadequacy can have lethal consequences, especially when played out on a geopolitical scale, the powerful lashing out against the powerless. We live in a world where dictators can efficiently kill their country's population by the thousands or more. Sadly, we see this Herod dynamic so often that we're in danger of becoming jaded, hardened and unaffected by suffering.

Now as the year draws to a close, we can resolve to be on the lookout for ways that our inner Herod dominates and controls our emotional lives. We can resolve to let love rule our actions, not fear. We can also resolve to help those who are harmed by the Herods of our world.

Thinking of Herod might also bring to mind the flight into Egypt, the Holy Family turned into refugees. We remember the Holy Family fleeing in terror with only the clothes on their backs -- and we remember that this story is so common throughout the world.

As we think about Herod, let us pray to vanquish the Herods in our heads and in our lives. Let us pray for victims of terror everywhere, the ones that get away and the ones that are slaughtered.

Social Justice: Are We Mandelas or Afrikaners?

In all of our memories in the wake of the death of Nelson Mandela, I think it's important to remember that the outcome we know now--Mandela released to become the first freely elected president of South Africa and a nation transformed--that outcome was so impossible that few of us dared to hope for it. Somewhere in my photo albums, I have a fading picture of a friend wearing his "Free Mandela" t-shirt. Mandela had been in jail for our whole lives, and we expected he would die there, t-shirts or no t-shirts.

I think it's important to remember how strong the forces of evil seemed then--and it wasn't just South Africa.  I spent many years in the 1980's meeting refugees from Central America.  They had tales of horror that were hard to believe.  And then to find out that our government supported El Salvador--and to watch Missing, and to discover that we weren't always a bright, shining light of freedom as a country.  During those cold war days, it seemed a hopeless task to advocate for liberty.

But we built our shantytowns on the Lawn, we helped Central Americans get to Canadian safety, we demanded changes in U.S. policy which were ignored or dismissed. We bought our protest albums and went to concerts. Elders sneered and warned us about the dangers of not establishing anti-communist bulwarks, even if they were staffed by genocidal maniacs, as much of Latin America was in the 1980's.

For many of us, it was a spiritual fight too.  I remember going to Jubilee Partners in Comer, Georgia.  At that time, they were a group working to get Central American refugees to Canada.  Later, I read a book, With Our Own Eyes, by Don Mosley, one of the founders.  He remembers not only the 1000+ people that they helped/saved, but all of those who perished.

I went to many a candlelight vigil, many a prayer service, many a demonstration.  I remember a multi-faith gathering that assembled to mark the 15th anniversary of the Soweto uprising. We prayed for the end to apartheid. I can't speak for the others, but I didn't expect it to happen. It's not the first time I've dismissed the power of nonviolent protest and prayer, and happily, it's not the only time I've been proven wrong. For more on the power of non-violence and the intersection of faith movements, see this great article by Jonathan Schell and Taylor Branch.


All the coverage, particularly of Mandela's speeches, all this coverage makes me think about my own life.  What would I be willing to die for?  Would I be willing to die for it even if it wasn't clear my sacrifice would make a difference?

I think about the value of a moral compass and all the ways we can ignore our moral compasses.  I wonder about my own life and all the compromises I worry that I am making.

But I also think of vignettes from my past few weeks as an administrator and teacher.  I work hard to stay a person of compassion, and I think it's vitally important to have people of compassion in positions of power, whether that power be nationwide or more local.

I may not be ending a brutal system like apartheid, but I can help students in their struggles to finish their educations before their money runs out, and I can fight for good working conditions for my faculty.

Some days, I believe that.  Other days it seems like a gross rationalization to me, a way to let me stay in middle class comfort, enjoying the fruits of oppression.

I want to be Nelson Mandela, but I fear I'm an Afrikaner.  I want to write missives that will inspire people to take the arc of history in their hands and bend it towards justice--but I fear I am missing my mark.

Women in Combat and Monks in Prayer

Listening to news about women being allowed to serve in combat conditions took me back to prayers at a monastery.

It was a few years ago, at Mepkin Abbey.  During the prayers that allowed for intercessions, one elderly monk prayed for forgiveness for a nation that sent women to fight in combat.

Even in a monastery so removed from so many aspects of modern life, the monks realized that women were serving in combat positions.  Now, the Secretary of Defense may be willing to do the same.

The monk who prayed was horrified that we'd send vulnerable women into such danger.  As I listened to him, I thought about my younger self who would have been indignant.  My 40-something year old self tended to agree on strange levels.

It's taken me a long time, and witness to decades of sexual violence, to come around to believing that women are more vulnerable.  I know that men can be raped, but in regular military operations, I haven't read much about men being raped.

Women are raped and brutalized in all sorts of ways.  Civilian populations have been subject to all sorts of horrors.  And now we're realizing that women serving in the military are too.

My younger self would have advised giving women information, and then, if they still wanted combat positions and the inherent risks, I'd have let them do it.

My older self is not so sure.  My older self often feels that the government should operate like a parent of toddlers, intervening when necessary to keep the toddlers from hurting themselves.

I'm not comfortable with these feelings, which is why my first impulse was to cheer at the idea of women having more options for their service with the military.

Of course, my heart breaks at the idea that any young person, male or female, is sent to war.  It seems such a waste.  All that potential lost.

I have plans to return to Mepkin in February.  It will be interesting to experience the monastery during a different season.  I've only ever gone there in the Autumn.  Now a winter sojourn!

I look forward to returning to the monks who pray while we're all going about our business.  I know that there are plenty of people who scoff at the idea of cloistered people praying for the world instead of actually DOING something to make the world better.

My younger self would have agreed.  My older self has begun to believe that praying for the world multiple times a day is the most important thing that can be done.

Praying for Peace on Veteran's Day

Dawn of another Veteran's Day, cloudy and with a threatening wind.  Before today was Veteran's Day, it was Armistice Day, the day that celebrated the signing of the Armistice that ended World War I. In some ways, it's not a hard holiday to celebrate. Any event that restores peace in our time is worth some sober meditation.

However, those of us who know our history may be chastened by the knowledge of what was to come. The end of World War I planted the seeds that would blossom into World War II. World War I brought carnage on a level never before seen--but World War II would be even worse.

Why is it so hard for humans to remain at peace? There are whole series of books that address this question, so I won't attempt it here. Still, today is a good day to offer extra prayers for sustained peace in our time. World War I and all the other wars of the 20th century offer us vivid examples of the horrible consequences of the lack of peace.

Veteran's Day is also a good day to offer prayers of thanks for the military people who have been willing to fight. I want desperately to be a pacifist, but I will admit that sometimes tyrants must be dealt with forcefully. My pessimistic side believes that violence is the only language that tyrants understand, but the 20th century has given us many examples of the peaceful overturning of despots, so I don't fully believe my pessimistic side. Still, we often don't use the forces of non-violence in enough time, and so, force may be our only option (witness the example of Hitler).

Some of us will have a day off tomorrow.  Some of us will go to our jobs.  Some of those jobs will be military jobs.  We all have our part to play.

But for today, let's take a minute to appreciate how few of us in most nations have had to experience war first hand.  Let us celebrate a world that can move toward peace.  Let us pray for a time when war will come no more.

Here's a prayer I wrote for Veteran's Day:


God of Peace, on this Veteran's Day, please renew in us the determination to be peacemakers. On this day, we pray for all who are damaged by wars big and small. We offer a prayer of thanks for our veterans, and we offer a prayer of hope that military people across the world will find themselves with no warmaking jobs to do. We offer our pleading prayers that you would plant in our leaders the seeds that will sprout into saplings of peace.

Thinking about the Fall of Communism, Bureaucratic Jobs, and the Power of Prayer

This past week, I've been enjoying hearing and reading various stories about the fall of Communism in the 80's. Most of them have focused on the fall of the Berlin Wall, of course, since we reached the 20 year anniversary of that event. I have vivid memories of that week. I was a young graduate student, cooking dinner, and I heard news stories that couldn't possibly be true. I felt that rush of hope, like earlier in the year during the Tian'anmen Square uprising, and I waited for the bullets. Amazingly, there were no bullets.

At the time, I didn't realize the accidental nature of the end of communism. In a story in The Washington Post on November 1, Mary Elise Sarotte tells about the East German official who was holding a boring news conference when he announced that travel restrictions would be loosened. The journalists immediately began to ask questions, but he hadn't read the briefing very carefully, so he made it up as he went along, announcing that the changes would be taking place immediately. The journalists reported, the ordinary citizens began to assemble, and the guards at the border were overwhelmed:

"Before long, the guards at Bornholmer Street were outnumbered by thousands of people; the same thing was happening at several other checkpoints. Overwhelmed and worried for their own safety, Jäger and his fellow guards reasoned that the use of violence might quickly escalate and become uncontrollable. They decided instead at around 9 p.m. to let a trickle of people cross the border, hoping to ease the pressure and calm the crowd. The guards would check each person individually, take notes and penalize the rowdiest by refusing them reentry. They managed to do this for a while, but after a couple of hours the enormous crowd was chanting, 'Open the gate, open the gate!"

After more debate, Jäger decided that raising the traffic barriers was the only solution. Around 11:30 p.m., the decades-long Cold War division of Germany ended.

Throughout the night, other crossings opened in much the same way."

I think of that boring bureaucrat and the blundering news conference, and I am reminded that even if we have the most dull jobs in the world where we feel like we affect nothing, we still might be an agent for social change. I think of those border guards who chose not to shoot. Even if they did it for fear of losing their own lives in the chaos that would ensue, that choice changed the future.

I also think of the people along the way who prayed. On All Things Considered on Monday, I heard a story about a Lutheran pastor who began to hold weekly Monday meetings in his church to pray for peace. This movement spread to other churches, and soon it was a mass movement of thousands of people. Communist officials later said, "We were prepared for everything except the prayers and candles." Again, people waited for the bullets. Again, the power of peace defeated the forces of violence.

I think of other places in the 1980's, where the powers of prayer and peace defeated the powers of evil, most notably Poland and South Africa. I think of places today where I cannot imagine how peace will come, like the Congo and Burma.

But I do not have to be able to imagine the particulars that will bring peace into the world. In the words of John the Baptist, "I am not the Messiah." I am responsible for praying for peace. The Holy Spirit will move in wondrous ways that I cannot anticipate. Happily, God has a greater imagination than I do.

Praying for Social Justice through the Years

Being in a Catholic church on Thursday night, surrounded by a variety of Christians, a hunger for social justice bringing us together, reminded me of an earlier experience of mine.

In 1986, I had a summer job with Lutheran Social Services of the Washington, D.C. area. I had returned eagerly because I had worked for them the summer before. But in the summer of 1985, we had all sorts of community projects, and I really felt we were making a difference. In 1986, my job consisted of answering the phone to tell people that the agency had no money to offer.

People who called didn't respond by saying, "O.K., thank you." They told me sadder stories, as if I had a secret stash of money that I might give them. They reacted with anger.

One night in June of 1986, I went to a prayer service in downtown D.C. to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the Soweto uprising and to pray for peace and an end to apartheid in South Africa. I didn't labor under any delusions that we were creating change, but I drew a certain comfort from the ritual. My friend wore a "Free Nelson Mandela" t-shirt, but we didn't really think it would happen.

When Nelson Mandela was released from prison a few years later, I thought of that prayer service. When South Africans stood in line for days to vote for him, I wept. And I thought of that prayer service.

My atheist friends will ask me (rather indignantly) if I really think that our prayers made a difference. I answer, "I don't know." But what does it hurt to pray? Why do my atheist friends get so outraged at the idea? Again, I don't know.

Walter Wink reminds us that even if we believe in free will, this belief doesn't mean that God can't act in the world. But God won't act if we don't ask or demand it: "This is a God who works with us and for us, to make and keep human life humane. And what God does depends on the intercessions of those who care enough to try to shape a future more humane than the present" (Engaging the Powers: Discernment and Resistance in a World of Domination, page 301).

And even if we're not sure we believe in prayer, Marcus Borg, who has his doubts about prayer, has words for us: "And this leads to my final reason for continuing to do prayers of petition and intercession. To refuse to do them because I can't imagine how prayer works would be an act of intellectual pride: if I can't imagine how something works, then it can't work. To think thus involves more than a bit of hubris" (The Heart of Christianity, page 197).

It's important to remember that there are many ways to work for justice, and one of the most important is to keep in our minds a vision of a better world, a place of peace and justice. Too many of us succumb to despair. We can't believe that change will come. Yet the history of the late twentieth century teaches us that social change may come in what appears to be a sudden instant, although observant people have been preparing for years or decades.