This week many of us were vividly reminded that we are part of a larger universe. And our solar system is a cul de sac in a very big neighborhood of stars and galaxies. And we were reminded that remarkable balances and exchanges are made every day within the concourse and discourse of these very many variables that result somehow in our being sentient beings. The Eclipse confronted us with these facts about us. Totality, while not apparent to everyone who gazed into the heavens, was brief–a brief moment of darkness that allowed brother moon to steal some of the sun king’s glory but even so, blocked by the moon, the sun still wore a diamond crown.
Meanwhile back on earth… we have been dealing with the eclipse of the presidency and unfortunately, the darkness has only just begun. There is no end in sight as our congress stands by twiddling its thumbs as Rome burns. One can only hope that the glory of our democracy will withstand this assault on it by an incompetent White Nationalist president. We should not assume that it will. And not assuming this brings an urgency to the moment. Someone or some group of persons who are responsible under the constitution should courageously stand up and confront the eclipse brought about by a lunar-tic disregard for the dignity of that office.
Meanwhile back on earth… hatreds and simmering racist ideologies have boiled over. This too is an eclipse of our culture. Taking us back to the dark ages of segregation, unbridled violence, misogyny and White Supremacist delusions, those gathered in Charlottesville and elsewhere are like the proverbial barbarians at the gate. The time to stand up to this is now, not after the gates have been breached.
Every Sunday, our congregation in SW stands up for peace, love and justice. We worship together not only as a testament of our love for God but of our belief in the enduring dignity of all human beings. We let our “little light” shine. We break the darkness, not with a curse, but with light and love. Join us. Let’s be the Beloved Community. ~See you Sunday
The African Bishop of Hippo, St. Augustine, writing in the dusk of the Roman empire in his book, The City of God: “What are kingdoms without justice? They’re just gangs of bandits.”
Mr. Trump meet Bishop Augustine. America, meet your Congress that is dedicated to obstruction and falsification and yes, burdening the poor while enriching the wealthy. How does one live faithfully in a kingdom of bandits? By refusing to sacrifice the assembling of one another in worship; by resisting evil by what is right and just; by rallying around those at risk and certainly, by all means, being willing to name the gansters and bandits, Diabolus. The Congress could begin to redeem its soul by naming a Special Prosecutor to pursue Russia’s entanglement with the Trump campaign and our national election. The judgement of God is not always swift. Sometimes it is a slow train coming around the bend (thanks to Dylan). I can hear the click-clack rumble of that train.
I’ve been thinking about name tags. Like when I was five years old and my mother sent me off to school the first day or week. Was the idea that I might forget my name? Or was it verification of who I was for the teacher?
Hospitals of course are quite meticulous these days with those wrist bands. From patients to visitors they want everyone identified. We get this and it’s not hard to figure out why a name tag or identity badge is important.
It becomes especially important however for persons who no longer have a clear memory. Anyone who has had a loved one enter some phase of dementia or suffered an accident and is unconscious wants their loved one to be identified and people to know with whom they are working.
So I have a simple suggestion. In these days of madness when the White House is now tainted by the President of the United States having invited a murderer to visit him, the President of the Philippines, Rodrigo Duterte, who delights in extrajudicial executions, let’s wear a name tag so we can remind ourselves who we are. And maybe we should write beneath our names, “I love justice.” Alas, this may be so much jousting at windmills. But I do know a way to remind ourselves who we are each week and month after month.
Every Sunday in a middle school auditorium, we gather to create the beloved community. Frankly, there may be no greater counter sign to the madness of a world in love with death than to place oneself within the community of those who believe that God expects justice and righteousness and whose dream is to see these flow down like mighty streams. Worship as counter-cultural, non-violent resistance. I invite you to remember who you are with us as we remember who we are in the presence of God, who loved the world so much… ~See you Sunday