Showing posts with label prejudice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prejudice. Show all posts

Sunday, July 5, 2020

Labels & Boxes - Redeemer Episcopal Church



Matthew 11:16-30 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

16 “But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another,

17 ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
    we wailed, and you did not mourn.’

18 For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; 19 the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”

25 At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; 26 yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. 27 All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.

28 “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”


________

I preached this sermon for our pre-recorded Morning Prayer for July 5, 2020 at Redeemer Episcopal Church in Jacksonville, Florida. It is preached to a specific people in a specific time and place, but I believe that God can transcend that and I hope it might also speak to you. You can listen to the raw recording of the sermon here.

If you are one of my friends who forced me to go to Chick-fil-A that day in seminary, then I'm still kind of mad at you because Chick-fil-A has trash politics. And also lol, I was so pretentious back then (still am). 




One of my favorite stories from seminary was one of the first times my husband and I spent time off campus. We went to a fast food restaurant with a few other people we barely knew, and started chatting like new friends do. Everyone was asking different questions rapid fire about each other’s lives: are you a liberal or conservative, where are you from, what denomination are you, were you a camp counselor, did you attend campus ministry? 

These were all questions that were seemingly innocuous, but had a very specific purpose. They would put each of us in a certain “box.” Each question said enough about the one answering to allow everyone else to make broad assumptions about them. I got quiet during parts of the conversation and Daniel asked why. “I don’t like labels,” I said, “I’d rather people just get to know me instead of putting me in some kind of box.” 

It has been seven or so years since that conversation, but Daniel, my husband, brings it up every so often when I label myself in some way. “I thought you hated labels” he’ll say. “No,” I reply, “I hate the box.” 

Right before the gospel text we hear this morning, Jesus has instructed his twelve disciples and sent them on their way. Then John the Baptizer, who is in jail, sends word that Jesus is out preaching and sends all of his followers to go listen to him. John’s disciples question Jesus and Jesus sends them back to John, telling them to tell John everything they’d heard and seen: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.

Then Jesus begins speaking to the crowds that had gathered around him. This is where our reading for this morning picks up: right in the middle of Jesus’ teaching. He seems annoyed that people continue to question him and John the Baptizer, even though the people had seen great signs being performed by these men. Still they doubted. But why? 

It’s easy for us to see, 2000 years removed, that Jesus was fulfilling all sorts of prophecies, so it’s unfathomable that the people wouldn’t believe that he was the Son of God. But people had… expectations of the messiah. When someone came with the label “messiah,” there was a box that people put him in. 

“What is the messiah supposed to look like?” Jesus asks. John came and lives an austere lifestyle: he didn’t eat or drink like an old-school prophet and people doubted him— more than that, they said he had a demon!

Then on the other hand, Jesus came and ate and drank and gathered with sinners and people called him a glutton and a drunkard. 

What then, was the messiah supposed to look like? Jesus asks. 

Jesus seems a bit frustrated by being forced into box because of who he associates with and people’s pre-judgements about who the messiah is. He calls the crowd foolish children playing in the market. 

They cannot see the truth that is right in front of them. The truth of Jesus’ true identity. 

I think about all of the ways people are misunderstood today due to stereotypes. We assume we know something based on a tiny detail, like where she grew up or where they went to school, or their gender or his age or the color of his skin— any number of things that do not capture the complexity of how we are as individuals. And these stereotypes that we assign to people, these boxes that we put them into based on these small aspects of their lives, can be dangerous. At the very least, it takes away from the unique child that God knit as an individual. And in some cases it leads to discrimination and violence, it has even led to the genocide of entire peoples. 

In Jesus’ case, the assumptions that his community and the religious authorities made about him led to his arrest and death. Because they didn’t recognize Jesus for who he really was— a child of God, THE child of God, the messiah.

How often do we do this? Pre-judging people for the company that they keep, the color of their skin, their sexual orientation, or where they are from. How often has it lead to deep and abiding pain in our community, our country, and our world? 

Yet Jesus says that wisdom is vindicated by her deeds. 

And we worship a God who DID something. We worship a God who broke all of the preconceived notions of a deity and become flesh in the form of a tiny baby to a poor unknown family. We worship a God who threw off the labels of the world and gave sight to the blind, healed the sick, cleansed the lepers, raised the dead, and brought good news to the poor. We worship a God who takes the stereotypical and prejudiced boxes of this world, turns them upside down, and smashes them to bits. 

We worship a God who peels away the labels of our lives, peels away the labels that we have given ourselves and the ones that have been forced upon us. And declares that the labels of this world are nothing. And we worship the God who took nothing… and made everything. 

God, who created the entire expanse of the universe washes us so completely the waters of baptism and then declares, “You are my beloved. You are my child. Look at what I have done for you.”

And then God invites us into the story. To look beyond the boxes of sin, death, and the devil and begin to imagine and understand the world that God has promised to us and has begun in us through Christ Jesus. A world without labels or boxes, except the only true one identity that matters: you are a child a God. Amen. 

Monday, April 18, 2016

Our Visit to the National Mosque

Last week we went to the National Mosque in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. And let me tell you, I learned a lot. I wanted to share some of the things I learned and how my heart has been changed this year, because I know not everyone has a chance to live in a beautiful country like this one and I understand some people don't feel comfortable asking potentially offensive questions about our Muslim sisters and brothers.

Wait back up- you voluntarily went to a mosque?

Islam has an incredibly obvious influence on Malaysia's culture, people, architecture, and basically every other part of Malaysia. We wanted to not only see this incredible landmark, but we hoped to learn a little more about what makes Malaysia so unique and beautiful. We also couldn't pass up this opportunity to learn more about our sisters and brothers. 

Did you have to wear one of those things on your head? 

People who enter mosques, whether they are Muslim or tourists, are expected to respect and observe the modesty enforced by the religion. Knowing this, I gladly ventured to the mosque in a long skirt and long sleeves, carrying a scarf to cover my head when we arrived. Daniel and his brother wore long pants and shirts with sleeves as is expected of them. We also took off our shoes, as we were instructed, before entering the main area of the mosque. 


Didn't you feel oppressed, having to cover your head like that? 

I have become fairly used to dressing modestly here in Malaysia. My experience as a pastor this year has also changed my view on modesty - especially as it pertains to my religious beliefs and piety. It is beautifully expressed in the pamphlet I picked up inside the mosque: 

"Women are not here to be displayed. Her body is not for public consumption. She will not be an advertisement tool. She has a soul, a mind, and she is the servant of Allah. Her worth is defined by the beauty of her soul, her heart, her moral character. With her headscarf she put her faith on display rather than her beauty. Her submission is not to fashion, nor to men, but to the Creator." (Read the rest of the pamphlet here.
It seems that Islam has a better view of women than many Christian churches I have encountered (sorry 'bout it).

Hijaab (modest dress) is not only to cover nudity, to protect, and to decorate, but it is the spiritual clothing of "piety," similar to the way a nun or monk might wear a habit or hood. It is a symbol of her identity as a Muslim, in the same way my collar identifies me as a pastor.

Right, but Daniel didn't have to cover his head. 

Men are also expected to observe a certain dress code within Islam. For both genders, clothes are to be modest and humble (loose, not transparent, nothing showy). Men are expected to be covered from their navel to their knees.


So people were nice to you? They didn't kick you out since you're Americans?

All the people we encountered were not only super welcoming, but they seemed genuinely interested in answering our questions. We weren't entirely sure what to expect, but they told us about the main prayer room and made sure we knew we could pick up informational pamphlets. They pamphlets (very obviously directed toward tourists) were written in several languages including English, Spanish, Mandarin, Portuguese, Italian, and German. I picked up the ones that seemed most interesting (read: things I knew nothing about) like "Hijaab" (mentioned above), "The Shariah," "How does a lady raised in Alabama become a Muslim?" and "Jihad."

So what else did you learn? 

Jihad is the duty of Muslims to struggle for peace, justice and truth. The pamphlet says "fighting tyranny, corruption, exploitation, occupation and oppression is jihad."

The forceful, defensive parts of the pamphlets made me sad that they even needed to include them. But it must be said more often that "to say Muslim terrorists represent Islam is like saying the Ku Klux Klan represents Christianity." The pamphlet that explains Shariah says that the majority (about 70%) deals with rituals of worship, about 25% deals with personal laws (like dietary regulations), and only 5% are penal laws for "crimes which are most destructive for society and the family, like murder, adultery and theft."

In truth, there was nothing to be afraid of or even nervous about, walking into that mosque. And there is nothing to be afraid of when it comes to Islam. We have a lot in common with our Muslim sisters and brothers - even if we aren't able to see it right away (there may be a crazy comparative theology blog post coming soon).

I certainly understand people's hesitation or fear (whichever it might be) when it comes to the public displays of devotion and piety of Islam. Before moving to Malaysia, I didn't see many people in hijaab in my daily life. I never walked into a mosque before last week. But I have come to understand that our fear is mostly caused by the unknown. When we begin to learn about those who are seemingly unlike us, we can start to see common ground and understand one another.

It's my prayer that my fear of the unknown will always be overshadowed by my love for God's children and my desire for understanding. It is my prayer for you, my friends and family, as well. I know it's not easy, but it starts with small steps - like taking off our shoes (sometimes covering our heads) and stepping into the holy unknown.

Monday, February 3, 2014

Love.

I've had this video saved for a few months now. I watched it once. I don't remember where I first found it. Then I watched it six times after that. The "script" is written out below.




I heard that God wears a white hood and burns crosses.
I heard that God sold kool-aid to Jim Jones.
I heard that DOMA was written in his handwriting.
I heard that God seeks revenge through natural disaster.
I heard that God watches torture in his inquisitions.
I heard that God fashioned Matthew Shepherd into a crucifix.
I heard that God protests at funerals.
I heard heaven's gates were built to keep me out. 
That God's word forces secrets into my back pockets.
Leviticus 18:22 and men I cannot call my lovers
In wooden pews, that I am unholy.
Demonized
Heretic
That'll I'll end up in October crucifixion.
A rusted fence of sin
They say that God can soundproof his ears to fags
That he never meant to create.  
They say that God has abandoned me.
For never coming to wrathful sermons
That called me a bastard, orphan, sinner
I heard heaven is built on faith alone
Half baked apologies fed to God's willing eardrum
Blackened keys to heaven's gates
A white robe for even the bloodiest of hands
I heard God's forgiveness is just permission to be vengeful
That all it takes to be a good Christian is to call yourself one
Slit throats, then pray, ask for forgiveness after
Given your wings just for asking 
I heard God can't help me
My heart is hemophilic.
I bleed out scarlet lettered sins
I heard that God spoils his children
Never punishes their bad behavior
Always accepts their apologies because he can't bother to listen
God is too busy to open my prayers
God is always busy  
He wishes I could fix everything myself
They tell me he would leave me entirely
If I wasn't a white Christian girl in America
They say that he is worried about his image
To those who fund his paycheck
Heaven seems so expensive
Why can't God tell me these things himself? 
Tell your God that I mention him in my prayers
Tell him I miss him
That I know it's not his fault
It's just that he hung out with people like you for too long
Tell him I carry the faith of a gospel choir in my chest
Tell him I have not turned my prayers into chalk lines 
Tell your God that he is my God too
That I want him back
Tell him to show you my blueprints
How he created us both
Tell him to remind you that I am beautiful too
Tell him I've read the Bible
I know of love.
It is diverse, thousands of flowers
I've seen it in the shape of an orchid
Blooming inside my chest
Until the day it was ready to come out 
Tell your God he did something right
I grew up to be a lover
Tell your God
I've seen him officiate more weddings than funerals
Tell him that we are all imperfect
And thank him for it
Tell him he's a great father
Even in absence
That his children feel safe in his arms
That the sun rises for him
Her
You
Us
That I can feel his warmth on my back
Tell him I don't believe the rumors.
Tell your God: I forgive him. 

I just watched this video again (8 times). And I am completely heartbroken.

I know those feelings. I have been told that I need a "good influence" in my life because "God doesn't want to listen to sinners." Good friends of mine have been told that God didn't mean to create them. Others have been told that the bad things happening in their lives were a punishment from God for their sins. One of my best friends is told that they way God created her is an abomination.

Who told us these things?

People who call themselves Christians.
People who wear the cross proudly. Like a badge.
People who go to Christian colleges.
People who have read the Bible cover to cover.

People who don't understand the Gospel.
People who reshape Jesus' teachings to fit their prejudices.
People who don't understand God's love and forgiveness.

People who call themselves Christians.

People like me.

In my introduction to theological thinking class (and I think the middler's theology class) spent a lot of time talking about what it means to be a "real Christian." Yeah, I know. I don't know what that means either. But I have a pretty good idea that if we were all acting like "real Christians" - ones that love and follow Jesus and his teachings - people wouldn't look so critically at us.

Instead we judge and push and hate.
We do everything that Christians aren't supposed to do.

I'm really starting to hate Christians. (See? I do it too... ugh.)

So what in the hell are we supposed to do? How are we supposed to be better Christians?

Love. Love love love.

Seriously. It's that easy. And it's that freakin' hard.