Invitation to the Road

Invitation to the Road
by Steve Ng


From the Confirmands on Adult Confirmation Sunday 7-14-13
    to the congregation of Central Congregational Church, Dallas, TX

We, the ones who have been traveling,
we offer you the road.
It is the road we have found ourselves on
It is the road you are on already, though
you may not know you are on this road
or on any road at all.

We see you
sitting there
standing there.

We look down and
we see your feet
next to ours
on this road together.

Like us
You will do many things on this road.
You will cast your heavy stone into placid water
and watch the disappearing ripples.
You will build a shrine to all that is
and all that will come its way.
You will talk freely
as the wind blowing grass in the field.
You will find that quiet spot
where you never would have stopped before.
And you will feel refreshed
for all the roads that lie ahead.

So let us move our feet along this road
Because when we walk together
The journey is sweet
The road is smooth

And it will be your footsteps
that make this road sacred.

General Synod -- Hope and Change

In the end, I think General Synod for me was about hope. Hope for our church, hope for humanity, hope for our earth. Several speakers spoke directly about hope, and it was a thread that undergirded many of the resolutions passed.

Hope is the middle ground -- Dr. David Orr. Professor of Environmental Studies at Oberlin College and senior advisor to the President. In a Keynote Speech, Dr. Orr spoke in the clearest, most powerful way I have ever heard about climate change. He talked about how there is a 30-year lag between the changes of levels of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere and when we feel the effects on a global scale. So what we are experiencing as climate change today is because of the changes to the atmosphere in the 1980s!!! And, of course, the level of carbon dioxide has increased significantly since then. Small changes in carbon dioxide levels can have big effects. And it hangs around: The carbon we put in the atmosphere today will be around 1,000 years from now. Dr. Orr emphasized that this is consensus science now – not a matter of belief, but of chemistry and physics.
        It’s a very dismal picture, and Dr. Orr spoke eloquently about the problem of how this truth is presented, because it can lead to despair, which leads to inaction. He prefers to hold on to hope. He sees hope as “the middle ground” between optimism and pessimism. Optimism “doesn’t ask anything of you” – things are fine, no action needed. Pessimism he sees as a sin – so, he says, “we don’t want to go there.” Hope does ask something of us – asks us to work for a better outcome, a better future.
I’ve always loved the poem by Emily Dickenson that describes “hope” and begins:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

Given Dr. Orr’s description of the effects we are likely to experience over the next decades as a result of climate change, the middle stanza of the poem seems particularly apt:

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

But Dr. Orr would definitely not agree with the final stanza of Emily Dickenson’s poem:

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

For Dr. Orr, hope is not passive optimism – hope is a call to action. Action for change. And, I think, to trust that God will provide us a way to act so we can change and effect change.
        This action can take many forms. Praying for a miracle (a big one) is good, but there are more concrete steps we can take. There are the usual, of course, like investing in renewable energy, divesting from fossil fuels, taking steps to reduce our carbon footprint in the myriad of ways currently available. These are all good, positive steps – even if the impact of each would be small. Because of how they raise awareness and attitudes. But Dr. Orr was most focused on what we need to do to effect larger change – beginning with changing the national debate on this issue.
        For example, he wants to find ways to tie rights to responsibilities again, and restore the integrity of public words like “politics,” “government,” and “public service.” For example, “politics,” “political,” and “politician” have become dirty words – but politics is where we talk about what is best for “us,” not just for “me.” It is how we act as a society, which as Edmund Burke wrote, “is a partnership not only between those who are living, but those who are living, those who are dead, and those who are to be born.” It’s not just about today – but about tomorrow.
         The problem of climate change is not like most problems we have faced in the past – it is not an isolated problem, it is a systemic crisis. It’s not just about global warming, it’s about global destabilization. It requires the kind of systemic response that only government can provide. If we have no trust in government, so government cannot act, we as a people cannot respond. And, as Dr. Martin Luther King said about another systemic problem back in 1967, “there is such a thing as being too late … ”
         But perhaps what sticks with me most from Dr. Orr’s talk was how he envisioned the course of public debate on this issue so far, why the public has been so passive in the face of scientific warnings that began in the first half of the last century. He recited this quote: “There were rumors of unfathomable things. And because we couldn’t fathom them, we didn’t believe them.”  This is from a book called The History of Love about World War II. We are facing a holocaust of a different kind in our future. But what long-term effects climate change will have on our world and our lives is so unfathomable, so hard to wrap our heads around, so contrary to our experience, that we try ignore it, or simply can’t believe it.
         Dr. Orr’s talk was in the tradition of all true apocalyptic literature, including that in the Bible. It paints a picture of a dark future so that we can repent, we can change our ways, and so we can change our future. And so, ultimately, apocalyptic literature is the work of hope. Let us hope, together.

Hopeful – Maria Hinojosa.  I’ve already mentioned the powerful speech given by NPR’s Maria Hinojosa. In speaking about immigrants and immigration, she did what she does best; she told stories of the deepest pain. With a bit of a quizzical look on her face, she said someone described her work as looking for the saddest situation, then looking for the saddest person involved in that situation and then tell a story about them. She admitted that was probably true.  But while admitting that most of what she reports is at best challenging, and at worst seems cause for despair, she also told stories of hope.
         It seems to me that the hopeful stories she told were hopeful precisely because they involved change – not necessarily to the situation yet – but to people’s attitudes. It’s the same sort of thing Dr. Orr was talking about in the environmental public policy arena. Change in the way people view immigrants, change in the public debate. Change begins with us – in our hearts, in the way we speak and act and vote.
         I also suspect that it is just as important, in the long-view, for Maria to tell what she called “stories of hope” – because without hope there is no point in telling the other stories. All they are is sad. But with hope the sad stories are also become “hopeful” – in that they are calls to action. Keep telling the stories, Maria. There is hope. People are listening.

Managing Resurrection – Ben Guess.  The three members of the five-person Collegium of Officers, the senior body under our governance structure, who were up for re-election this year spoke at Synod. I was particularly struck by the presentation by Ben Guess, Executive Minister for Local Church Ministries. He also spoke at our recent South Central Conference annual meeting. He spoke about the strength of our church, despite hand-wringers who say we are in decline. He said that if “resilience, determination and grace are any measure of the strength of a church” – and he believes they are – then we are strong. It’s just that those measures are harder to quantify than the number of people in the pews or the bottom line of a balance sheet.
So there is cause for hope – hope for the new life being birthed in our midst. Resurrection. But resurrection is about change.
He suggested that part of the problem isn’t that our church isn’t weak or dying, but that we thought we could “manage resurrection.” We forgot that before you can have resurrection, there must be death. If we trusted resurrection and the Holy Spirit more, we would be less concerned about the church’s future – though it may look nothing like the church of the past – and we would see the signs of strength and resurrection all around.
         We often try to “manage resurrection” don’t we? We want it on our terms. But, as with David Orr, the fact that the future may look nothing like the past – not be comfortable, or even familiar, doesn’t mean there is no hope. With the church changing all around us – perhaps what we need to “manage” isn’t the change, but our attitude towards it. Change is not the enemy. Resurrection is change. The church is alive, it is strong, and it is changing – and so are we. Amen.

General Synod -- Making the Invisible Visible

There was a phrase that became sort of a theme for me that resonated throughout General Synod:  “making the invisible visible.” It connected a lot of what I heard, saw, and experienced at Synod.

Maria Hinojosa.  That phrase used by Maria Hinojosa, Emmy award winning anchor and executive producer from NPR. She spoke powerfully about immigrants and immigration. By the end of her Keynote Speech there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Her gift is to help people see this as more than an “issue”; to give it a face, a name, and to see aspects of this situation too often overlooked or swept under the rug. She considers her calling to “make the invisible visible.”  We have a word for that in the church: “sacrament.” A sacrament is an outward and visible sign of inner, invisible grace. I wonder if she has any sense that what she does is sacramental – making visible the grace that too often goes unseen, and with it revealing how our response is unfortunately too often less than grace-full?
But even beyond that, isn’t that what Jesus called us to do:  make the kingdom of God visible here on Earth? The kingdom of God is here, right now, we just need to see it. And one of the things we do as disciples is to help make that happen – in ways large and small. If we understand our lives of faith that way, then what we do in God’s name is sacramental, and we ourselves become sacraments of the living God. What responsibility. What joy.

Wonder.  Some of the most powerful parts of General Synod this year were the theological reflections provided at the end of every plenary session by Quinn Caldwell and Rita Nakashima Brock. Quinn’s name may be familiar to you if you follow the Stillspeaking Daily Devotionals. Quinn currently serves as pastor of Plymouth Congregational Church in Syracuse, N.Y. Rita is a commissioned minister of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), who is a professor who studies moral injury, particularly among veterans of war. She has recently moved next door to Brite Divinity School in Ft. Worth.
After the morning’s plenary, Quinn spoke about “wonder” and “Wonder”. “Wonder” (capital “W”) is like awe in the face of our Awesome, Wonderful God. But Quinn then cleverly said that the way to open up to “Wonder” is to practice “wonder” (small “w”). For example: Instead of judging someone, wonder what is in his heart, wonder what his experience has been.
Quinn didn’t say it this way, but it seems to me that what Quinn was calling for was for us to be as sacramental as Maria – using to make the invisible visible – and open ourselves up to grace and God’s Grace – which is Wonderful.

Rainbow Scarves.  Since I was not a delegate, and so required to go to committee meetings, I took this time to volunteer working with the rainbow scarves booth. We had hoped to have 3,000 scarves to give people who took a pledge to oppose bullying, but we had – wait for it – 10,000!!!!!  There was a beautiful selection of all kinds of scarves for all over. People were taking two or three and giving them out to people they met around town – like the wait staff at restaurants – who were also willing to take the pledge. We opened box after box and arranged them for people to see and choose. We gave them out to members of the UCC local community to came for the Sunday afternoon worship. We wondered how we would ever be able to give them all away – but by the last morning of the conference there were none left.
What an amazing project! It spread such good will, such energy, and raised awareness of an important issue. There was a sense that if people were willing to put this much time and effort into making beautiful scarves like this, then this must be important – and I think they took the issue much more seriously. It reminded me of when I did door-to-door political campaigning:  People were so impressed that someone was willing to take their time and walk door-to-door in the heat to talk about a candidate that they were more open to hearing about the candidate who inspired us to do this work. The action itself – the walking – or in the case of the scarves, the creating – was the best testimony.
Here was a project that made the invisible, visible in so many ways. First there was just the mundane, physical aspect of it – as each box was opened and each new scarf was brought out into the light for all to see. Each scarf was a visible emblem of God’s love, expressed through the loving work of so many.
Then all of this for me was symbolic of the aim of the project itself, to raise awareness – make more visible – the problem of bullying, particularly against LGBT youth, which can also be invisible or remain hidden because of shame or fear. Absolutely a sacramental experience for me.

Fire and Light – Julian DeShazier. Senior Minister of University Church in Chicago (UCC/DOC). Pastor DeShazier led worship on Sunday night and he was marvelous. He began by donning his alter ego – hip hop artist “J.Kwest.” Through his music he powerfully reframed the promises of Jesus Christ as: “I will be your flashlight/I will light your darkness.” Jesus as the one who made God’s love visible on Earth, and continues to reveal God’s love – making the invisible, visible. Loved it!

More light needed -- or more of God's Vision.  Author, pastor, seminary professor, Rev. Martin Copenhaver gave the sermon Sunday afternoon. I enjoyed the sermon, which focused on a passage from Luke 7, where a woman crashes a dinner party for Jesus at the home of a Pharisee named Simon and washes Jesus’ feet with her tears and wipes them dry with her hair. Her actions only added to the scandal of her being there in the first place. She is a sinner – outcast. Upright people would act as if she doesn’t exist. Simon assumes Jesus doesn’t see her for who she is, because if he did he would treat her as invisible. So when Jesus asks, “Do you see this woman?” And with this question Jesus makes the invisible visible, and challenges others to do the same – to see her. Martin spoke powerfully about this being an apt description of our charge as followers of Jesus, and as the UCC: to see people that others may not see – the oppressed, marginalized, forgotten – and to lead others to see them as well.
     But it can be hard. Consciously or unconsciously we sometimes don't want to see, because then we would have to do something. At the least, we would need to relate to them as people, as individuals beloved by God. Amen.
But here’s the thing – juxtaposed with this powerful sermon were two other things that for me made this sermon and worship heavy with irony and challenge. The first was a little thing, and although the contrast was sharp, it also made me smile. During this sermon, in the quiet of the hall, a little girl maybe two-years old ran joyfully down the aisle that led right up to the lectern where Martin was preaching. She had escaped and was like a bright spirit on the loose in the hall – and few even noticed – except her mother who was frantically chasing her. I don’t know if Martin could see her – the lighting may have made that difficult from where he was standing – but he didn’t even look at her as she raced towards him down the wide aisle. He kept on preaching about how Jesus challenges us to see the people we don’t see. I saw hardly any heads turning to look at the child either, just focusing on the speaker on the stage. I don’t know if I would have seen her if she hadn’t run right in front of me, but I was captivated – both by her joyous energy and by the contrast with the still, silent crowd and the low-key sermon. And it made me think of how often we don't see children -- or see them as people we need to relate to and not just as appendages of their parents.
The second thing was more difficult and didn’t show us in a very good light. There was confusion in many of the worship services about when people were to stand and when they were to sit down. Understandably, when the spirit and energy ran high, people had a tendency to stand up, clap, dance, sing. That was great. The problem was that there were many people in wheelchairs and mobility scooters, many of whom were positioned at the ends of the rows in the aisles, or were sitting in the sections, transferred to a seat with their scooter parked in a space behind their section. When everyone else stood they could not see either the stage or the screens showing what was happening on stage. The standing people became a wall – a wall that seemed oblivious to those around them contorting themselves to find some crack in the crowd so they could see. All this was happening both before and after Martin’s sermon about seeing those who are often rendered or treated as invisible by society. It was an unplanned object lesson – happening right in front of us.
There was a lot of thought given in the worship and plenary sessions to making a number of groups welcome – many minorities were represented in the worship, there was an interpreter for the deaf, etc. But the challenge continues – because here was another group – those who cannot stand on their feet – that were, in the context of worship at least, treated as invisible. “Do you see this woman?” This one in the wheelchair? Apparently not.
  And maybe there will always be another group, other individuals, on the margins, rendered invisible. But at least let us see the ones in front of us -- sitting or running down the aisle.
This is the “affirming” part of “open and affirming” – another aspect of making the invisible visible – and we still have a lot to do. All of us.

Synod Reflection: Maria Hinojosa, Jesus, and the Undocumented Worker

As someone who gets my news from National Public Radio, I had never actually seen what Maria Hinojosa looked like.  Surprisingly, she didn’t wear a stuffy reporter’s suit or have the classic cemented anchor ‘do like I was expecting.  No, standing behind the podium and displayed on jumbotrons around the convention center was a petit and stylish woman wearing a flirty sundress and passionately gesturing with long red nails.  But when Maria began reporting almost thirty years ago, her appearance was certainly even more surprising; no one had ever heard of a Latina reporter before.  But she set out to do what hadn’t yet been done, and today she's a household name.  Born in Mexico City, raised in Chicago, she grew up with one foot in the immigrant world, but with an upbringing that was still distinctly American.

But Maria didn’t come to speak to Synod about her relatively smooth immigration experience.  She came instead to speak on behalf of the immigrants who didn’t have her privilege; the voiceless ones -- the approximately 11 million undocumented immigrants living in the United States today who live in fear – who are too scared to speak up for their rights as human beings.  Maria passionately brought to light true stories of hard-working, tax-paying undocumented workers who (after on average more than 10 years in this country) we rip from their homes – many of them homeowners – often in the middle of the night.  We routinely tear parents from their young American children and their documented family members. Today we imprison almost half a million undocumented immigrants in detention centers famous for their abuses and egregious conditions, such as the outdoor prison camps in the hot Arizona sun.  We lock up countless numbers of these detainees for years without trail, all costing ourselves -- the tax payer -- about $150 per day, totaling $2 billion a year.  The vast majority of these detainees have no criminal record, but one of the few detainees Maria spoke to who had actually been to prison said he would have taken prison any day over one of these detention camps.  And despite Obama’s bright promises to Latinos during both campaigns, this administration is on track to deport a record 2 million people by 2014 – that’s as many people as were deported from 1892 to 1997 combined!  We as Americans have been complacent with our abusive and broken system for too long, and in the news we are now beginning to see calls for more compassionate reform, but does it go far enough?

As I sat there in Synod listening to Maria, I thought about Jesus, and about how he was an illegal immigrant too.  Remember that after Jesus was born, Herod issued a decree to kill all children under the age of two, so the Holy Family family fled to Egypt where they became illegal immigrants.  Even after they returned, they settled in Nazareth, not Bethlehem where they were from, continuing their life of exile.  Still, I don’t think we as Christians are called to work for justice on issues of immigration just because Christ walked in those same shoes.  We Christians are called to speak out for the voiceless, to fight for the humane and compassionate treatment of all immigrants -- documented and undocumented -- because in the Kingdom of God, as Maria said, “no human being is illegal” – all humans are precious images of the Divine.

General Synod -- Watching, Waiting, Opening

“I will stand at my watch-post,
and station myself on the rampart;
I will keep watch to see what God will say to me,
And what God will answer concerning my complaint.
Then God answered me and said:
‘Write the vision;
make it plain on tablets,
so that a runner may read it.
For there is still a vision for the appointed time;
It speaks of the end, and does not lie.
If it seems to tarry, wait for it;
It will surely come, it will not delay.”
                  Habakkuk 2:1-3

      I love this scripture passage. It speaks of discernment, of watching, waiting, listening for God. And then of communicating that vision. Quinn Caldwell also reminded us that was what was supposed to be happening in the plenary sessions – not voting on our preference, but listening for what God wants us to do. It seems to me that these are some of the most important things for a church – particularly a national church – to do.
      But it’s not something we often do well. Perhaps because we get too caught up in thinking of ourselves as “democratic.” There is little room for God in our governance systems, including church and denominational governance systems. I remember that Diana Butler Bass wrote that the health of a church was inversely proportionate to how much it relied on Robert’s Rules. This is why as a church we at Central have let go of Robert’s Rules of Order and are trying a more God-focused rule of order. It's a work in progress, but I do sense a change.

Vote to Resolution to Divest in Fossil Fuel

     There are those who may disagree with me, but I think one sign of the working of the Spirit, and that we are listening to the Call of God, is when there is a strong consensus among the body – be it a congregation or the General Synod delegates. A close vote creates winners and losers among faithful caring people -- something that has no place in God's kingdom. A close vote means we have more work to do – more discernment – more prayer. But this can take time – time to listen for God’s leading. Time to discern God’s vision. But as the scripture says, we need to “wait for it, it will surely come.” We are too often in a hurry to move on, to get an “answer,” or a “result.” And schedules can be hard taskmasters that make us forget what's really important. Can make us forget who we are and whose we are.
      A striking example of this came at Synod on Saturday morning. A delegate from the Conference that includes Arizona stood at the neutral microphone (the one designated for points of personal privilege that must be recognized first) to tell the body about the tragedy of the loss of 19 firefighters in Arizona and how it was effecting their delegation and their families and to ask for prayer. Then he sat down. With a thank you, and an appropriate look of sympathy, the moderator moved on with the order of the day.
That afternoon, a different delegate stood at the neutral microphone and chided the body, because that morning there had been an opportunity, as a community, to pray together about this tragedy, and we had missed it. A need had been expressed, but we were so caught up in “business,” in “getting it done,” that we didn’t stop and take the time to answer this need and do what the church should do best – pray together. He made a specific request that we do that right then – the moderator invited him to go ahead – and that delegate led us in prayer. It was very powerful – and a powerful reminder to us all of why we were there in the first place.

       The passage from Habakkuk served as the grounding and provided the themes for all of General Synod 29.  Throughout the conference, we were challenged to listen for “God’s Vision” in many ways. All around were posters, shirts, banners with “God’s Vision: __________” with different things filling in the blank. Things like “God’s Vision:  Peace” and “God’s Vision: Justice.”  There had been an opportunity on the UCC website for months to send in what you thought should fill in the blank, and there were a lot of answers. There were also baskets with multicolored strips of cloth all around the conference center with markers and we were invited to “write the vision” on those strips, which were knotted together and used in worship. Reading some of the strips in the basket, I was amazed by the variety of answers.
       The diversity of answers reflected the diversity of the body of Christ known as the UCC present at Synod. Even attending meetings of our South Central Conference you don’t get a sense of the wonderful diversity of our sisters and brothers in the UCC. How amazing to be able to tangibly feel the connection to something much bigger than our own church, or part of the world. Diversity – in it’s own many forms – is not easy. But as has been said many time, God didn’t promise it would be easy, only that it would be worth it.
      Some might say there were too much diversity, too many different answers. How can it be “God’s Vision” when there is so much variety? But I think that is trying to put God in a box. Like God can have only one vision. But God is bigger than that. God is present in all of life and life’s activities.
   

     As we were reminded by the Rev. Neichelle Guidry Jones, Associate Pastor to Young Adults at Trinity UCC in Chicago, “God is not just still speaking. God is still working.”  Rev. Guidry Jones gave a fiery and passionate sermon about how God takes us to the edge, but also holds us safe there. Because it is our slogan in the UCC, that “God is still speaking,” I think it is really important for us to also remember that our God is not all talk and no action – and we can’t be either.
     The wide range of responses to the question “God’s Vision: ______” recognizes that, and seeks to discern God’s call in all parts of our life. Calls to action – as we are God’s hands on this earth.
But practicing discernment, and living with diversity requires an openness of heart and mind. Perhaps that is why one worship highlighted the following chant:

“I Am Opening” (Words and Music by Jack Fowler and Christy Snow)

I am o-pen-ing.
I am o-pening.
My heart is read-y to re-ceive.

We are opening.
We are opening.
Our hearts are ready to re-ceive.
[repeat as cued]

This simple chant was taught to us in the short morning worship that opened Saturday’s activities. It was accompanied by hand motions for the whole congregation, making it not just a song but an embodied prayer. Simple but powerful.
We must be open to the workings of the Spirit – often in unexpected ways. Open to God speaking to us – even when that message is one we don’t really want to hear. Open to God.

UCC General Synod 2013 at Long Beach, California -- God's Vision

It was wonderful to be able to be part of General Synod 29, held in Long Beach, California, along with Rev. Anna Humble. This is the national gathering of the United Church of Christ and happens every other year. There are delegates, like Rev. Humble, from every conference who have voice and vote at the plenary business sessions. I was not a delegate, but a visitor, so I could watch the business sessions but not participate. There were also worship services every day (usually 2 hours!), workshops, and an exhibit hall with information about many different ministries affiliated with the UCC, as well as merchandise. Approximately 3,000 people (delegates, visitors, etc.) attended General Synod this year from all over the UCC. The theme was “God’s Vision.”
Although I couldn’t participate in the committees or voting at the plenary sessions, I really appreciated being able to watch the wider church function. We are so diverse – in about any way you can name. We often disagree. But we come together still – working, worshipping, striving to follow God’s vision. We can take prophetic stands on controversial issues because they are resolutions – not mandates. This allows the wider church discernment process – as local churches and members prayerfully consider these resolutions – to guide us forward.  It’s a slow and often frustrating process – moving ahead with all the speed of a herd of turtles. Not another study – people could be heard to say. And resolutions would be passed to begin to start a conversation about a difficult topic. But experiencing this process in action I do feel it is Spirit-filled and Spirit-led.
I strongly encourage all UCC members who are able to try to attend General Synod at least once. It is a whole other aspect of being the church that is very valuable to experience, both for you and your local church. I will be encouraging our church to budget to send a representative in Synod years.  We are part of something bigger – and we need to remember that.
I wanted to set down some of what I took away from this experience and share it with you.  I could have done it real-time, day-by-day. But I think it needed time to percolate in my brain to see what really sticks with me from the experience – what I carry forward into my life and ministry. So for the next several days I will post a series of blogs about what were for me the most significant experiences of the week. I also encourage you, if you are intrigued, to check out some of the video from the conference. There is video of the worship services, plenary sessions, and some of other speakers.
        I hope you can draw something from all this as well – as we also consider God’s Vision for us and our church.