Looking Into the Eyes of Christ

"You have heard some say, 'We don't need those people.' Well, Jesus is one of those people, and that is a great part of what it means for God to walk among us in human flesh." - Rt. Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori, Address at Trinity University, July 8, 2008

In this second day of considering how to live up to the standard set by Jesus and become more involved in reaching out to our fellow man, this second quote from the Presiding Bishop hit me like a thunderbolt.

"Jesus is one of those people." A carpenter from the poor town of Nazareth who wandered around with twelve men, living among the fringes of early-1st century society, shunning any sort of wealth, living wherever he was welcomed - wherever he could find a place to sleep - wherever he could find a meal. In reading this quote, though, I don't wonder if the bishop hasn't put the emphasis on the wrong word.

Read it her way again. Now, read it this way: "Jesus is one of those people." The first way, a statement of condescension; the second, a surprising statement of fact.

In the past, as I've walked by those who sit in doorways, beg on street corners, drag their possessions up and down the sidewalks of the city - not knowing where they came from and really not caring where they are headed - I tend to not look. I glance away not because of nerves or a need to shut out the problem, but rather because a certain amount of cynicism has built up over the years: the man who came up to me to borrow money because his truck had broken down and he couldn't get home from work, only to approach me the very next day with the very same story before suddenly realizing I had heard it all before; the one who asked for money for a meal only to walk instead into the package story for a bottle of liquor; the stories in the paper of young girls who live under bridges and who trade sex for drugs. Each of these people needs help, but I can't do it all alone and I was frustrated with the results when I did.

In today's economy, though, things have changed - and have changed dramatically. No longer do you look into the eyes of a man or woman huddled in a doorway and simply see the alcohol-riddled shell of a person, or a runaway, or a person looking for their next fix. Instead, you now look into the eyes of an engineer who has been laid off, burned through his savings, and lost his home. You look into the eyes of a young mother with three children who doesn't know how she will find their next meal. You look into the eyes of an older professional who lost everything as a result of shady hedge funds and crooked brokers and who is too proud to ask for help.

The eyes of the people you see on the street now are far different and tell far more stories than simply the tales of drug addiction or drunkenness. The group of people crying out for help through their stares and sad glances is far broader than we in this country should ever have allowed.

Their faces are the face of the suffering Christ, the rejected and scorned Christ, the crucified Christ. The Christ who on Friday had no hope. It is up to us to help these people with the transition to the Sunday miracle. Can any of us do it alone? Of course not - but the bishop's words are a stark reminder that we need to try, for every face you see is a creation of God and is in the image of God. Peter denied Jesus three times and was still forgiven; how many more times must we deny those in need?

No longer is it enough for me to tithe and contribute to charities and go merrily on my way. I need to get involved, and show my daughters the true value of helping their neighbor and the true worth in every man, woman and child.

We have Millenium Development Goals - not Millenium Development Hopes. It's up to each of us to reach those goals and - again - live into the full stature of Christ.

A Crisis of Faith

Now that the title has grabbed your attention, I'll clarify and say that the crisis of faith - my faith - isn't with the having of faith. No, the crisis is of living out my faith in the world.

As someone who has been actively involved in the life of the last three churches I've attended - as a vestry member, a former youth leader, and a person keenly interested in organizing exciting and thought-provoking events and speakers - I'm always one of the ones encouraging others in the congregation to live outside the four walls of the church and to engage in the larger community. I once read that the people in the church aren't the ones who need help, but it's the ones outside the church who are in need; as such, I think it's important that congregations get more involved in the life of the larger area they serve.

Suggesting that people become more involved and actually becoming more involved are two different things, however, and I have fallen far short of realizing the mission that I'm encouraging others to undertake. In doing this, I'm also falling short of what it means to be an Episcopalian and a Christian.

In an address to the Urban Caucus in February 2007, Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori talked at length about what we as Christians are tasked to do in the world. As she said, "That vision of a healed and restored world is what you and I are charged with being and doing in this world ... Jesus himself acts out those images in feeding the multitudes, healing the sick and urging the people around them to feed them and restore them to community ... The Millenium Development Goals are a contemporary illustration of the work that Jesus did himself - and of the work to which he continues to call his followers ... We would do well to recall that we cannot love God whom we do not see if we do not love our neighbors who we do see. The world is not reconciled as long as some live without - without food, good news, adequate housing, peace, clothing or justice ... The work of this church is to build a world of shalom ... adequate food, drink, housing, employment, health care, education, equality, and the peace that only comes when justice is present and available to all."

I talk a lot about what I see wrong in the world and what I think should be done to fix it. Jesus, however, didn't talk - he acted. If I don't start acting, I will never - as the Presiding Bishop wrote - live into the full stature of Christ. So why don't I act?

At this stage in my life, my mind (politics) and my heart (faith) are really coming into conflict with each other. As I wrote a few months back on this blog, my position on the death penalty changed when my belief that everyone should receive a New Testament forgiveness (heart) superceded - after much internal debate - my desire for harsh, Old Testament punishment (mind). Many of my friends and I have debated the current health care reform efforts in Congress, and I am torn between my belief that everyone should have health care coverage (heart) with the belief that the government shouldn't be the body responsible for running the program (mind). I am conflicted about the fact that something should be done to end world hunger, disease, and poverty (heart) versus the thought that we shouldn't leave it up to organizations like the United Nations (mind).

Does this make me a flawed Christian? Of course; there is no perfect Christian. Is it too late to change and become more actively involved? Of course not; it's never too late. But as I blogged quite a while back, there's a certain amount of cynicism that I must overcome - especially when it comes to confronting those on the street who approach me for help. It's easy to help those you don't see - the food banks and homeless shelters that solicit through the mail and receive assistance through my tithes at church. The difficulty comes in helping those right in front of you, and that's undoubtedly where I need help.

Again, I turned to the Presiding Bishop's words: "Give to everyone who begs from you, and lend expecting nothing in return ... none of what we have is really ours; it belongs to God and we are only stewards ... Don't give anything with strings attached, for those strings are a kind of shackle that binds the receiver and the giver. Give freely, and set the other free in turn."

All of this can actually be summed up as a series of two questions presented to us during the homily of a mid-day Eucharist I attended earlier today: “What is it that makes God concrete for you? What do you do to make God concrete for others?”

What makes God concrete for me is simple: my family, my friends, my health, and the activities in which I'm involved. But I have a long way to go if I'm going to make God concrete for others - and become a better, more effective Christian in the process.

Some Brief Thoughts on Prayer

These comments from the book Jesus Wept, by the Episcopal priest and writer Barbara Crafton, jumped out at me as I read them earlier and have given me a great deal about which to think. I feel certain they will for you as well."

We must begin by questioning the importance of words in our prayer. We are wedded to them, afraid of getting them wrong, irrationally afraid that if we pray for the wrong thing something terrible may happen ... We pray as if it were all up to us, when in fact, almost none of it is. We pray as if we were giving God treatment plans to follow, as if nothing could possibly work out well if we weren't there to plan it. We imagine that we must 'know what to pray for' in advance, and that we cannot pray if we don't. That if we cannot 'name it and claim it,' our prayers will be to no avail ... Often we do not know what should happen in a given situation. And sometimes we know that the things we long for cannot be ... We cannot look at prayer with an open mind and not conclude that, whatever else it may be, it isn't like placing an order at a pizza parlor ... God is in and around all of human history, absent from none of it. God is not a figure outside of our experience and in need of information about it. We don't really need to pray about anything; we're not in charge of much of what happens in the world. We can content ourselves with prayer from within it all.

Hubble, the Universe, and Our Place In It All

My only thought for today is to take a moment and just consider how grand is the universe we are fortunate enough to inhabit. All it takes is a quick look at these photos from the Hubble Telescope, which show the work of a true Creator and Master Artist...

In Honor of Woodstock: Hanging with the Opening Act

I missed Woodstock by about 8 months - and not as some would expect just because I didn't know it was going on and arrived late. No, it's because I wasn't born for several more months, and thus missed all of the fun. However, it ultimately wasn't a total loss, and in 1995 I had a chance to spend a few minutes with the festival's opening act, Richie Havens, just before he performed at the Rainbow Room in New York City. In short, he was a very nice guy.

This time, instead of being late for the festival, I'm going to actually be early for the anniversary and share this photograph.

The Henry Louis Gates Incident Shows There's Still Work to Do

REVISED - July 27, 2009. As more information comes out on this, I find that I have been guilty of the very thing that so many others do: I jumped to judgment on the circumstances of this incident. While I admit that this post was simply my musings on what had happened, I shouldn't have jumepd to certain conclusions below about the woman who called the police and the events surrounding this incident. So while I stated in the original posting that I expected more from the country, I should also expect more from myself.

ORIGINAL POST - Here we are, July 23, 2009, and I'm disappointed - for I expected more from our country.

Nine years into the 21st century, I was optimistic (perhaps naive is a better word) that we had finally turned the page on race relations in this country. With the election of President Obama in November of last year, I thought that perhaps the dream of such leaders as Martin Luther King and Frederick Douglass and W.E.B. DuBois was finally realized. If we could have a black president, perhaps things were in fact getting better, and the differences of our past were at long last being put aside.

And then we heard that distinguished Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates was arrested under very questionable circumstances, and my optimism was quickly tempered with a big dose of reality. Like millions of Americans, I wasn't there and can only rely on what I hear and read in the news, but it seems to me that misperception played a role in this incident from beginning to end. Someone saw a black man trying to get into a house, and they assumed he was a burglar. The police arrived and ultimately arrested someone who they astonishingly seemed to perceive as another angry black man - not a professor from Harvard, the rightful tenant of the home, and a resident of that particular Cambridge neighborhood.

Truthfully, I can't say that I would have reacted any differently than Professor Gates were I in his situation; if a policeman is standing in my house holding two different forms of identification proving that I live there - and yet I still am not believed - then I'm pretty sure I'd be angry as well. The difference is, sadly, that I don't think I as a white man would be arrested for yelling ("disorderly conduct," as the Cambridge police report reads). Granted, there should be a certain amount of discretion displayed by anyone dealing with a person who wears a gun on their hip, but this incident seems to strike me as absurd.

I'm impressed by what I've heard about how Professor Gates is responding to this: he will use the incident as the impetus to explore the continuing difficulties for blacks in this country. To his credit, he will be putting this issue squarely back in the public spotlight so that we can continue to confront a national relationship that should be all rights be in much better shape than it is at this late date.

I've always admired the work Gates has done during his career, and the series of specials he has put together for PBS exploring the ancestry of famous men and women of black and Asian ancestry (he had just returned from China exploring the past of Yo Yo Ma when this occurred) has been first-rate. Despite the tragedy of what took place on a quiet Massachusetts street, I think he will turn this into another teaching tool - and it is a lesson to which we would all be well-served to pay attention, to consider, and to discuss in a very serious manner.

Walter Cronkite: And That's the Way He Was

Broadcast news is much different now than it was when I was a child. Rather than having parents flip to one of the three big networks to watch their evening coverage, we now have access to dozens of 24-hour cable channels filled to the brim with crawlers, split screens, cutaways, and just about every other gimmick and gizmo imaginable. News broadcasts are no longer something that you plan as part of your day - you're surrounded by them, and they're accessible no matter what time of day or night you grab the remote and flip on the set.

News broadcasters are no longer the same, either. Rather than the hardened journalists of decades ago, many of those on television today are entertainers - folks picked because of their humor or their good looks. Yes, many of them cut their teeth working at any of the thousands of local affiliates around the country, but the end result is something much different than I think Edward R. Murrow and his generation would have expected.

With last night's passing of Walter Cronkite, we've lost another link to the era when news was something serious and when journalists were literally tested on the battlefield. Cronkite came up through the Depression and was on the front lines with the troops in North Africa and in Vietnam and was someone who seemed to feel a genuine, emotional investment in the news he was reporting. In watching the old clips, he fought hard to control the overwhelming grief the nation was feeling following the assassination of President Kennedy, and watching his reaction to the Apollo 11 landing on the moon was like watching a kid on Christmas morning.

I don't remember much first-hand of Cronkite's reporting when I was young, but I remember the voice, and I remember the way that everything seemed to come to a stop while people listened - my father sitting in his chair in front of the television, and my grandparents making sure that dinner was finished and everything was cleaned up in time to catch the news. It just doesn't seem that way anymore with the news, and for that I think the passing of Cronkite is a loss for everyone.

I hope that broadcast journalists everywhere will take time over the next few days to remember his impact on their profession and to express a bit of gratitude for his hard work and efforts to build trustworthiness with the viewers. He was a pioneer, and they would do well to remember all he did and all he meant to the viewers.

News has changed, yes, but everyone should recall Walter Cronkite and his style of news and remember how that's the way it was.

By Looking Away, Are We Robbing Someone of Their Legacy?

By not looking someone in the eye as you walk by them, or by turning away from someone in an uncomfortable situation, what is your action doing to that person?

Could you, in fact, be robbing them of their humanness – of their identity and their place in the world?

I’ve been wondering about that question ever since A. and I toured the Holocaust Museum earlier today (her first visit, my second), and it came about as the result of something I noticed while walking through the exhibition halls. In the areas where the displays consisted of photos of large groups of people, old video footage, artifacts, and mementoes of that period in history, everyone seemed to be giving their undivided attention to what they were seeing. By and large, the lines moved slowly through the areas where the victims were not taken as individuals, but as part of the larger group of those so tragically eliminated by Hitler’s regime.

In other rooms of the museum, though – rooms filled with individual photos of families and folks enjoying happier times in life – it seemed visitors were jetting through as quickly as possible. I didn’t see anyone take the time as I did to look at the pictures of brothers and sisters dressed in their finery for Shabbat services or the families enjoying a vacation in the mountains. No one was pausing to consider the photos of the old Zayde – the grandfather – sitting on the front porch of his home, or of the children gathering for an afternoon of fun in the town square, or of the little girl sitting on her bed staring innocently into the lens of the camera. In short, no one was stopping to take a glimpse into the lives that were interrupted and in many instances cut short – the lives of the boys and girls who never had the chance to experience life beyond their childhood, and the lives of the elderly who had stolen from them the opportunity to pass on their wisdom, their knowledge, and their heritage to younger generations.

Is it enough for the visitors who rushed through these areas to consider the Holocaust – indeed, all such horrific periods in human history – in broad, general terms, rather than really delving into the underlying collection of stories making up the history of the Jewish people? Do they not want to look deeper, preferring to keep things in a general, “read about it in my history book” sort of summary?

Or do they move by because they are afraid to look more carefully into the eyes and the faces of those who have suffered and who continue to suffer to this day, afraid to move beyond what they’ve been told into a much more emotional realm? If you look into the faces of those men and women, the young and old, in those photographs, you are stepping through a doorway into their lives, their loves, and their familial joys. In essence, you are putting a human face on a situation that many today only know through books and movies. But to look away, to not see what was taken from the world, are the voices of the past being robbed of a bit of their legacy – of their humanness?

Are they afraid to look because they know that once they see the problem – once they see the difficulties of the past and the challenges of today – they will be compelled to act, and action makes them uncomfortable?

I saw one other thing at the museum that really made me think even more about these questions. When first entering the exhibit, everyone has the opportunity to take an identification card – a little booklet that tells the story of a single victim or survivor of the Holocaust, from their childhood to the end of their lives. Mine is sitting on my desk in front of me (the story of Welek Luksenburg of Dabrowa Gornicza, Poland) as I write this, but I saw several folks open them, give them a cursory glance, and then throw them in the closest trash can as they headed through the exit.

Do they not care, or do they simply not want to know?

There Won't Be a Disco Comeback Unless...

Think for a moment if you will about studio musicians - those men and women who toil in near obscurity, making their careers and eking out a living providing support to top-flight recording artists and bands. On rare occasions, those studio musicians - Jimmy Page, former session guitarist, and Boston, former session band, are perfect examples - are able to move out on their own and develop impressive careers, but for the most part the only reputation they develop is on the quality of their work out of the spotlight.

On rare occasions, you may actually hear about some of these folks: "Mr. X is a successful guitarist whose work can be found on albums by such bands as the Rolling Stones, Fleetwood Mac, and Pink Floyd;" "Mr. Y played bass on albums for many of the most successful pop groups of the last thirty years." You probably even heard recently a brief mention of Bud Shank, a flutist who played the flute solo in the Mamas and the Papas' "California Dreamin'." Everyone at some point gets the credit they are due ...

... except for the disco string players. Not once have I heard anyone give a shout out to the gentleman who was first violin on Gloria Gaynor's remake of "Never Can Say Goodbye," or the lady who doubled on cello and second viola in the orchestra used in "A Fifth of Beethoven." At least Barry White, with "Love's Theme," had the decency to give blanket credit to the Love's Unlimited Orchestra. For all those children who take violin or cello lessons, hoping to one day be the next Anne Sophie Mutter or Yo Yo Ma, how can we in good conscience look at them and say, "Well, you've got a great dream; pursue it! But if you don't make it to the concert stage, there's always the recording studio" if there's no credit to be had?

Until we give proper respect to the folks who really made disco great - the backup string orchestras - then the comeback we've been hearing about for so long just won't happen...

Can You Spare Five Minutes to Change Someone's Life?

During his weekly sermon at church this morning, our priest-in-charge made the point that all of the news this week about Michael Jackson and the other celebrities who have passed away has diverted attention - both of the news networks and of each of us - away from more important problems like the ongoing bloodshed in Iran. Yes, news is a fickle thing and changes rapidly, but the events of the past few days have given us a chance to turn away from the problems facing our neighbors overseas (and, more directly, the problems of our immediate neighbors here at home). Why? Quite simply, looking away allows us to prevent being put into the uncomfortable sport of trying to come up with solutions and ways to help these folks find a way out of the problems they are facing.

It was a powerful point. Rather than working to help our fellow man, we look for any and every reason to step aside or find a way around the difficult situations we find in front of us every day. I talked a bit about my feelings in this regard back in December 2007 (you can read that post here), and of course in the ensuing 18 months the problems of those I see here in the Washington area have not gotten any better - in many regards, they're even worse.

Everyone in our congregation has been challenged during the coming week to take just five minutes to listen to someone who may be having some sort of problem, to learn about them and to find out what their needs may be. We will then be writing their names on index cards and putting them into the collection plate next week, where they will be presented at the altar and we as a single body can begin praying about ways to help these folks find a way out of their problems.

Can you do that? Can you spare five minutes for one of your neighbors, five minutes that could make a huge difference in - and potentially change - their life?