Doing God’s work…?

The last couple of years I’ve heard a number of people say that they believe that Donald Trump won the presidency because that’s where God placed him…that he has been anointed by God…that he is indeed a follower of Jesus.

So I have a couple of questions for those of you who believe this. I’m serious in asking these questions.

  • How does his life show that he is a follower of Jesus?
  • What exactly is he doing that is God’s work?

Here’s the problem I have. I know that God uses flawed human beings–I’ve heard this statement a lot when questions have been raised about Trump. But Jesus said that “by their fruits you will know whether people are my followers” (my paraphrase)–and the “fruits” I see don’t correlate with how I see followers of Jesus.

This is just a partial list of the issues I have with the claim that Trump is God’s anointed, placed in the presidency to do God’s work:

  • His life shows a lack of the basic morality followers of Jesus show (i.e., multiple affairs, cheating on each of his wives with the woman who became his next wife).
  • Through the years he has “stiffed” those who have done work at many of his properties–refusing to pay bills and leaving many of those who have worked for him struggling to pay their debts.
  • He has refused to listen to the advice and counsel of those with training and experience in scientific, political and military affairs, often overriding their counsel with negative results.
  • He has insulted our allies and cozied up to and with dictators, expressing appreciation for how they run their countries.
  • He has demonized specific ethnic and religious groups, calling immigrants “invaders, thugs, rapists.”
  • Even though he promised to support members of the LGBT!+ communities, his policies are removing protections for them and leaving them vulnerable.
  • At his rallies, he accuses those who don’t agree with him as being “enemies of the people.”
  • He constantly accuses the mainstream news of being “fake news.”
  • When someone disagrees with him at a rally, he encourages calls of “throw them out” or “lock them up.”
  • He has surrounded himself with individuals who have been charged–and in some cases, already found guilty–of corruption in various forms.
  • His cabinet appointees, in many cases, are individuals whose stated purpose is to do away with the very departments they are tasked with running.
  • He created a policy that separated children from their families without keeping track of them or plans to reunite them…families that were already vulnerable because they were fleeing violence.
  • His priorities–as shown in his proposed budget–cut programs that aid the most vulnerable among us.
  • One of his big focuses is on building a wall of separation, when Jesus worked to tear down walls.

So how does any of this correlate with Jesus’ call to take care of the vulnerable? to live a moral life? to love others and to treat the stranger in our midst as we would want to be treated?

How does this correlate with God’s work? I just don’t get it.

 

Our words have consequences

There’s a children’s song that includes these lyrics: “be careful, little eyes, what you see…be careful, little feet, where you go…be careful, little mouth, what you say.”

I thought of that when I heard the news of the mosque attacks in Christchurch, New Zealand–and the fact that one of those arrested had a social media account linked to an 85-page anti-immigrant, anti-Muslim manifesto.

Our words have consequences!

When we demonize entire groups of people–whether because of their religion, their sexual or gender identity, their politics, or any other way we choose to divide into us versus them–we should not be surprised when someone then finds it acceptable to attack those same groups.

We then hear words of condolence and condemnation–often from the same individuals/organizations/entities that demonized them in the first place.

Such hypocrisy!

We may not always agree with each other. In fact, I’m sure we won’t. But it’s possible to disagree without being disagreeable.

When we are willing to learn about each other–why we worship the way we do…why we have chosen the political path we are on…what it means to have a gender or sexual identity different from what is considered the norm–then we will see that those we call “them” often have the same challenges, concerns, cares, and hopes that we do.

They want better lives for their children–just as we do. They want a place to live and enough to eat–just as we do. They want a world where war isn’t the norm–just as we do.

Finding the solutions to the problems in the world is not going to be easy. But our words can help us find ways toward peace–or create more violence.

Which kind of world do we want? Our words do have consequences.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones…”

How many of us remember the rest of that rhyme?

“But words will never hurt me.”

That is so not true. Broken bones will generally mend. But hearts and souls broken by words…maybe, but far too often, the words have broken someone so deeply that mending is not possible.

In my previous post, I said that under the skin we are the same. I had a friend take a little bit of an issue with what he thought I was saying–that we should find common ground with the oppressor, no matter what.

No, that’s not what I meant.

Yes, under the skin we are the same. However, we express our humanity in different ways–some healthy and some extremely unhealthy, both for ourselves and those we are around.

And unfortunately there are extremely unhealthy expressions being shared today. I have also indicated that I don’t very often make “political” statements on this blog…but I recently read quotes by Elie Wiesel and Desmond Tutu that are making me reconsider:

We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. Sometimes we must interfere. When human lives are endangered, when human dignity is in jeopardy, national borders and sensitivities become irrelevant. Wherever men and women are persecuted because of their race, religion, or political views, that place must – at that moment – become the center of the universe. – Elie Wiesel

If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.  – Desmond Tutu.

There are far too many vulnerable people whose lives are in danger…physically and emotionally. And instead of challenging us to be our better selves, to find ways of being part of a solution, the current administration in the United States instead panders to what is ugly in us.

People who are seeking a place of safety…who want nothing more than a better life for their children…are being called thugs, criminals, rapists. People in this country without legal documents are called “illegals”–as though a human being can somehow be inherently illegal.

Members of the LGBTQ communities are being called names I thought we had put aside years ago. They are often fearful for their lives, and their marriages are being dismissed as “parody” marriages. The lack of support for young people struggling with their sexuality and forced conversion therapy for those who identify as LGBTQ has led to an epidemic of homelessness and suicide.

Members of religions other than Christianity are being demonized for the actions of a few extremists–while Christian extremists are excused with the words, “Well, that’s not really Christianity.” And yet some of the worst mass shootings in this country have been caused by people who identify as “Christian” and who believe that their white skin makes them somehow “better” than others. And we who are followers of Jesus have far too long been unwilling to see anything positive in any religion other than our own version of Christianity.

So yes…words do matter. And when we ignore those words, when we refuse to speak out in support of the vulnerable because we want to remain neutral or not rock the boat, then we become part of the problem.

And I do not want to be part of the oppression. I want to be part of a conversation in which we can learn from each other…in which we can figure out what the problems are and how to find solutions.

If I were one of “the tired, the poor…”

I hear a lot of statements to the effect that people who want to emigrate to the US should do it legally…that there is no excuse for illegal entry. In a perfect world, I agree. But unfortunately, our world is not perfect.

Compared to many in the world, I live a life of privilege. I have had the privilege of a good education and been able to work at jobs that pay decently. I have a home, clothing, enough for my family to eat (and to spare), access to medical care…and I do not spend my days worrying about my children or grandchildren being targeted by gangs as drug runners or sex slaves—or dying from malnutrition. I do not worry about my home being shot up or about bombs going off in my street. I can drive around my town safely without worrying about IEDs or car bombs or random shootings (mostly, anyway).

I cannot imagine living in a place where that is not true.

I honestly do not know what I would do if I lived in a place with the opposite of those conditions. If it were just me, that would be one thing. But if there were any other option that I could see for my children and grandchildren, I think I would take it—legal or otherwise.

And for many of the world’s people, there is not a legal option. Either because of lack of education, lack of money, lack of access to government offices—or the corruption of those offices… If all I had was my feet—and the hope that there must be a better world somewhere—I think I would gather up what I could and start walking.

Yes, I think our immigration system needs to be overhauled. Yes, I think we need to do what we can to help stabilize governments where many of these folks are coming from.

But at the same time, I would hope that we would have some empathy for those who are trying to find safety and a better future for their children and grandchildren—and I would hope that we would read again…and be willing to live out…the poem by Emma Lazarus that is inscribed on the Statue of Liberty:Statue of Liberty seen from the Circle Line ferry, Manhattan, New York

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
MOTHER OF EXILES. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Peace

Advent2

This Sunday we lit the Advent candle of peace.

That sounds a bit like an oxymoron in the society we are currently living in. We hear talk of wars…we see our environment being destroyed for short-term gains…we hear language that demonizes those who are different, whether that difference is due to race, ethnicity, gender, color, sexual identity or orientation, religion, politics, or any of the other myriad ways we can separate ourselves from each other. We see people dying for lack of basic needs while others have more than they could ever hope to spend in a lifetime.

So what peace are we talking about?

In English, “peace” is rather passive…an absence of conflict.

But I think the kind of peace being talked about when we light this Advent candle is more like the Hebrew word “shalom.” That means an absence of conflict, but it means so much more! It means healing…wholeness…reconciliation. It has to do with keeping promises…in our relationships with each other and with the Divine.

That’s not easy. It’s sometimes so much simpler to just sit back and wish for a time when there is no conflict.

But Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.” A contemporary translation (The Message) says it this way: “You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.”

So lighting this second candle of Advent–the candle of peace–challenges us to do more than just sit back and wish. It commits us to modeling the kind of relationships we want for the world…keeping our promises…doing all we can to bring healing, wholeness, and reconciliation to a world in desperate need of those gifts.

Seeing people, not colors

It’s 2018…and in too many ways, too many of us are still living back in 1868…shortly after the Civil War, when many white people saw free blacks as people to fear…as people who needed to be “kept in their place”…as people who did not have the ability, intelligence or education to do or be anything other than servants to whites.

And why am I saying this?

Because just this last week, a black security guard stopped an armed shooter at a nightclub and held him until police were able to come–and then was himself shot and killed by the police, even though bystanders were calling out that he was security.

Because the election in Georgia was finally decided in favor of a white candidate, even though there have been serious questions raised about voter suppression (including loss of polling places that required people of color to travel significant distances to try to vote…in areas where public transportation is minimal)…and the man running for governor was also the same man responsible for overseeing the election.

Because Georgia’s First Lady made a comment widely seen as a racist reference towards Stacey Abrams, a black woman who was running for governor, saying that “I really want a family in the mansion to take good care of it.” Really? Does anyone really believe she would have made that comment if Abrams was a white unmarried woman running for governor?

Because last Wednesday a former Air Force veteran who was working as a supervisor for a court-ordered visitation between a parent and child–and who was sitting quietly in a yogurt shop while the parent and child were visiting–made workers uncomfortable enough that they called the police…who asked the veteran to move on. He did, in order to keep the situation from escalating. And did I mention that he was black? and the workers who called were white?

Because a county commissioner in Kansas, in response to a presentation by a black woman in a county meeting, said that he was rejecting the proposal, but it wasn’t anything personal towards her, just that he was a member of “the master race.”

I thought we were long past this. I thought we were past just seeing color.

I thought–and hoped–that yes, we would see and acknowledge color, but only as one aspect of an individual…that we would see them as people with gifts and skills that benefit everyone.

And yet…

Obviously the Civil Rights movement is not finished. And just as obviously, those of us who have the privilege of white skin and who do not fear for our lives or who are not insulted just because of who we are have a responsibility to say “Enough is enough.”

I don’t know what to say…

But it feels like I have to say something!

I keep trying to find words to express my dismay…

  • at a president who calls the free press “the enemy of the people.”
  • at people who cheered when bombs were sent to people they disagreed with…and whose only regret was that they didn’t go off.
  • at the constant barrage of shootings that are met only with “thoughts and prayers” but with no actions to try to make them less likely.
  • at the hatred and fear directed towards families who are trying to escape the wars and violence that our government has helped create.
  • at the idea that quoting the words of Jesus at an event talking about religious liberty can be seen as an attack.
  • at an administration that is trying to legislate a whole class of people our of existence.
  • at the voter suppression tactics that are making it difficult for people of color to claim their right to have their voices heard.
  • at our unwillingness to talk with each other rather than at each other.
  • at the constant demonization of specific groups of people based on race, religion, gender, ethnicity, sexual orientation.
  • at the barrage of lies that come on a daily basis from the White House…and the lack of moral leadership.
  • at my fears that we are well on the road towards the loss of our democracy, yet we are unwilling to recognize that.

There are probably many other things I could mention.

Yet at the same time, there are things that give me hope:

  • the willingness of the Muslim community to step up to financially support the families whose loved ones were shot while worshiping–and their willingness to stand in protection at the synagogue.
  • the standing room only vigil held in Kansas City last night with individuals from many backgrounds, communities, and faiths coming together in support.
  • the voices of those who refuse to be silent in the face of injustice and hate.
  • the courage of those who are willing to walk for miles to try to find safety and hope for their families.
  • the courage of first responders.

Words matter.

And the words we choose to hear and the words we choose to speak can either divide us or bring us together.

Which will it be?