ALL Lives Matter

Jesus was pretty clear about the importance of “loving my neighbor as myself.” 

One day, an “expert in the law” had a follow-up question for him: “And who is my neighbor?”  (Luke says the guy wanted to justify himself.)   [Luke 10:29, NIV]

If I want to obey Jesus’ commands, I do need to understand who is my neighbor. Therefore I will pay attention to his answer - which comes in the form of a story.

’Tis a familiar story to those of us who grew up inside the church walls - the one about the man “going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers.”

Jesus mentions that a priest and a Levite, both religious leaders, “passed by on the other side” - evidently not wanting to contaminate themselves by getting involved in a messy situation.  

Then a Samaritan came along, took pity on the guy, and stopped to help him.

Not just a brief stop to offer “thoughts and prayers.” 

Rather he interrupted his own travel plans.

He inconvenienced himself. 

He cleaned the guy up and did what he could for him.

Then he put the guy on his own donkey and transported him to an inn.

It is an inspiring story as the Samaritan leaves extra money with the innkeeper and promises to come back and pay whatever else might be needed. 

As he finished the telling, Jesus had a question for the questioner: “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”    - [Luke 10, NIV]

...

In Sunday School we learned that Samaritans were seen as second-class citizens. Jews regarded them as foreigners and treated them with hostility.  For Jesus to have chosen a Samaritan as the hero of this story seems pretty significant.

I could almost imagine a few sweet Jewish grandmothers who had begun to realize how badly Samaritans were treated. Maybe they came over to Jesus and and tearfully told him that SAMARITAN LIVES MATTER!

Maybe Jesus interrupted with a retort: “Of course, they do. ALL lives matter!”

No?

That’s not how the story went?

No. 

Jesus knew very well that Samaritans were mistreated.  

He was already doing something about it.

He had just elevated a Samaritan to hero status - quite possibly as an example for religious leaders.

He was being an advocate for people who didn’t seem to matter.

Let that be a lesson to me!

Multiple lessons even.

Obviously I need to respect those who are "the other”. 

Those who are different than me.

Those that don’t seem to matter in society.

They are my neighbors.

Like the hero in the story who had mercy, I am to do likewise.

I am to be their neighbor.

…

* Excerpted from my book Beyond These Walls: Book by Book.

Happy Juneteenth! I'm sorry I'm late.

Less than 10 years ago I first heard of Juneteenth and have been trying to learn more about it since.  Because I feel such a huge gap in my education, I can identify with this guy.

Yes, fact checkers have found this guy in Ohio, who told them,

"I hope it lets people know that it's OK

to change your opinion

when you're presented with new evidence

that clearly shows you were wrong.”

Today a Facebook friend posted these lines - and gave me permission to share.  Thank you, Ryan DjRhino Flemming. 

On this day in 1865, Union General Gordon Granger arrived in Galveston, Texas, and read General Order No. 3, announcing and enforcing the freedom of enslaved people in Texas.

While President Abraham Lincoln had issued the Emancipation Proclamation more than two years earlier on January 1, 1863, its enforcement depended upon the presence of Union troops. As Union forces advanced into formerly Confederate territory, freedom was not only proclaimed—it was secured. For many enslaved people in Texas, that moment finally arrived on June 19, 1865.

For those who had lived under the bondage of slavery, this was a day of profound joy and significance. In the years that followed, they commemorated the occasion as “Juneteenth,” and over time that celebration spread throughout the nation.

Nearly every major movement has a defining moment that comes to symbolize the larger story. Juneteenth has become such a moment in the story of slavery’s end in the United States. It represents the day when the promise that all people are created equal moved closer to becoming a reality for all Americans.

We remember Juneteenth not to celebrate the fact that slavery once existed in our nation, but to celebrate that it was brought to an end. We honor those who endured its cruelty, those who fought against it, and those who sacrificed to secure freedom for others. We also celebrate the truth that every person is created in the image of God and is therefore worthy of dignity, justice, and respect.

Happy Juneteenth!

 

Beware Time Change Thursday

’Tis the Thursday after time change…

Remember how our friend Nick, the elementary school principal, told us about the infamous Thursday after time change? About how it was the busiest day of the year with kids being sent to the principal’s office?

Make that the busiest TWO DAYS of the year - once in the spring and once in the fall. He said it didn’t seem to matter whether we were springing forward or falling back. Both ways it was disruptive.  And well documented.

As I think about that disruptive biannual tradition once again, my heart goes out to the teachers and principals around the world… AND the students…. AND their moms and dads.  

So what is there to be thankful for?

Well, this might be a really good time to pause and put the idea of disruption into context. So… instead of grumping once again about this awful tradition, maybe I can think about a few other people around the world whose lives have been disrupted this week.  Like really disrupted!  With bombs and killing all around them. Like the Americans living and working around the world who suddenly find themselves trying to find flights to escape from danger.

Sure enough, I did it, didn’t I? I suddenly pulled the story back to being about Americans, didn’t I? How easy it is for us to see the world through our own rose-colored lenses.

So now what do I do with these thoughts and this disruption on this Thursday designated for thankfulness? I can hear myself thinking that I’m thankful that my major disruptions are pretty small compared to the rest of the world.  But even that can get a little cheesy and weird.

One of the purposes for this tradition was to remind myself that I have MUCH to be thankful for.  

And yes, I ended that sentence with a preposition.  

And yes, I want my heart to be tender toward those across my city and around the world.

Even though I don’t know how my tender heart can solve such dilemmas I want it to be tender.  

Kind. 

Compassionate. 

I wish to show empathy.

I wish to care - even when it hurts.

I wonder

When I was working as a missions mobilizer, I came across this story entitled “Sing a little louder” as told by an old weeping Christian man.  

A railroad track ran behind our small church, and each Sunday morning we would hear the whistle from the distance and then the clacking of the wheels moving over the track.  We became disturbed when one Sunday we noticed cries coming from the train as it passed by. We grimly realized that the train was carrying Jews.  They were like cattle in those cars!

Week after week that train whistle would blow. We would dread to hear the sound of those old wheels because we knew that the Jews would begin to cry to us as they passed our church. It was so terribly disturbing!  We could do nothing to help these poor miserable people, yet their screams tormented us. We knew exactly at what time that whistle would blow, and we decided the only way to keep from being so disturbed by the cries was to start singing our hymns.  By the time the train came rumbling past the church yard, we were singing at the top of our voices.  If some of the screams reached our ears, we'd just sing a little louder until we could hear them no more. Years passed and no one talks about it much anymore, but I still hear that train whistle in my sleep.  I can still hear them crying out for help.  God forgive all of us who called ourselves Christians, yet did nothing to intervene.

I have been haunted by that story.

I wondered how you could live with that kind of memory but what could they have done?

I also wondered how the German people had allowed such a person to gain so much power.   I could not imagine how that could happen.

But now… 

Here we are dealing with things I never could have imagined.

At first the money to feed starving people through USAID was shut down.  A friend of ours who has been directing a refugee camp in Haiti reached out to her church friends back here in Michigan and described that millions of people would die without that food.  Most of the comments were tender - except one stating that we shouldn’t give money because it just complicates the poverty situation.  I was stunned.  Well, yes, poverty is obviously a complicated thing - but these people had not caused it.  AND they were starving.  In. That. Moment.

It wasn’t long until the ghoulish spectre of mobs of masked men began terrorizing our cities, dragging women from their cars, invading apartment buildings, breaking down doors, forcing people from their homes… and a whole lot more…

Some of our friends and neighbors deal with extreme fear - as do the International students we work with - here legally but targeted because of their skin color or their accent.

It makes me shudder.

It is indeed haunting.

Frightening.

What are we do to?

This girl went to Sunday School and church for 60 years and learned that we must submit to the authority placed over us.

But this girl was also taught to obey God rather than man.

Jesus spoke regularly about welcoming the stranger and helping the poor.

So what am I to do?

What CAN I do?

I wonder.

I cannot stand by and do nothing.

I can speak in protest, but my voice feels so small.

Maybe I can stand beside people who are afraid.

I can listen. 

But is it enough?

I wonder.

What shall I write?

I want to write … so why don’t I?

Is it lack of discipline?

Maybe.

Lack of focus?

Quite possibly.

So many things around us are so confusing.

So much fear and frustration and anger and hate.

How do I know where to stand?

I don't know what to say.

I don’t even know what to think.

What to do with the heartbreak and empathy and fear.

What to do with my anger?

With the grief of so many people?

I so badly wish that I could make things better.

That I could fix things for the people who are terrified.

The anger pops up so easily.

I just wish I could shake perpetrators and get them to stop.

I want to be a hero but don’t know how.

I am quick to assume that those other people are villains.

I mean… if I’m right then they must be wrong.

I wish I could convince them to shape up.

I realize that I am judging.

I am pointing my finger at those I perceive as villains.

But wait... Finger-pointing is part of what I am so sad about.

Part of what breaks my heart…

That so many wonderful people have been assumed to be bad guys.

As villains who must be run out of town.

Banished from our borders.

That they have been collectively labeled as “what is wrong with our country” - often for no other reason than the color of their skin or that they don’t speak perfect English - or just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Or maybe just because some wannabe hero needed to meet his quota for the day. 

I still don’t know what to write about.

I can’t seem to make sense of my feelings - or of what is happening in our world.

I don’t know what to think.

Or how to help.

But I do know that I don’t want to automatically point my finger at others.

To be so quick to judge.

To be instantly and constantly angry.

I want to slow down to consider what is really happening.

To take the time to listen.

To really care about people. 

Holiday thoughts

 On this Memorial Day, I pause to think of some things that I really don’t understand.  Things like war and peace and structures of government and patriotism.  Things like those who serve our country with honor and valor and integrity.  

But I also think about those who "serve" with little to no integrity or honor. Those who use power to support their own greed. Those who deal in corruption and oppression. I think (several times a day!) about the horrific mess the world is in.  I am embarrassed by my own country’s part in so many of the messes. 

I often feel hopeless about those whose lives are being torn apart and who can find no safety - and those whose meager food supply is stopped by big cranky egotistical politicians. Sometimes I just want to shake people or scold them into behaving better - as if THAT would work!!!

I wish I knew what to do to make things better.  The only thing I’ve come up with is to respond in an opposite spirit.  When I see corrupt powerful people shame and harm helpless people, I try to remind myself to watch for opportunities to build people up.  To elevate them. To contribute to their safety and/or wellbeing.  

I also watch for other people who are successfully helping the oppressed and making the world a better place.  They give me hope.   And they inspire me to keep trying.

For my own sanity and mental health, I’m learning to limit my exposure to such awful words and deeds from the bullies out there.  Instead I choose to pay attention to and promote the work of those who are protecting and caring for the ones who are being bullied.  I really like people who stand up for people who are bullied. Those who show compassion rather than contempt.

And I discover that there are a WHOLE LOT of them out there.

Hallelujah!

Priorities, sequence, wisdom

I haven’t found time to do my self-imposed monthly blog post.

Life is busy and there is much to process in our world.

I wish to speak reason and wisdom into the chaos. 

But focus seems illusive.

Thank goodness...

A picture is worth a thousand words; right?

This one speaks for me in this moment, even if not the right season.