4^th Sunday in Advent

December 23, 2012                                 

Salisbury Community Congregational UCC

 

Micah 4: 1 - 4

Hebrews 10: 19 – 24

Luke 1: 46b – 55

 

“A New and Living Way” (It is a good time…) 

 In this world where might trumps right, where fear guides security decisions, and where grief, anger and resolution fade into frustration, inaction and resignation; I have Good News for you.  Enmeshed in our celebration of Christmas is the witness to a birth of a new living way to peace that cannot be defeated.

 I.

A message of world peace is hard to believe when we know that the day after Christmas nothing will apparently have changed.

Oh, at first, as we move toward Christmas, we sense things are changing for the better: there is food for the hungry, gifts for the poor (particularly children), families are reconciled, good deeds and miracles abound and “peace on earth” is proclaimed in cards and song.  But in dark recesses beyond the reach of the Christmas lights huddles a foreshadowing of the days after Christmas.

Our Christmas trees will go to the gutter to be shredded or to a corner in the attic to be stored.

The corporations and the wealthy will count their profits from the holiday season,

The stories of Scrooge, the Grinch, the shoemaker, the birth in Bethlehem, will be  put back in the bookcase,

Our families will scatter to resume their distant lives.

War, the poor, the prisons, guns, deficits and taxes will still be with us.

Apparently, even the Christmas message of world peace is not strong enough the change our everyday world.

 

II.

However, sisters and brothers in Christ, sometimes the message of Christmas does disrupt the way things have been in our lives.

In December, 1997 I found myself in a refugee camp near San Lorenzo, Chiapas, Mexico, near the border with Guatemala.  I was with a delegation of Illinois Maya Ministries on an accompaniment visit with indigenous Mayan refugees from the war in Guatemala.  I wrote these words in my journal.

 We arrive at dusk.  People slowly materialize from the perimeters of the refugee camp.  Smiling men and children cluster around us with welcoming handshakes.  The women dart back and forth amidst us to prepare the evening meal.

 It soon grows dark.  For two hours we meet in their community building. The orange glowing filament of a single light bulb reveals only the silhouettes of people sitting in the darkness.  We sit behind a table facing these sixty indistinct forms of men and children crowded on rows of benches.  One after another a dim specter stands to tell a story: 

           accounts of loved ones tortured and killed,

whole villages of people massacred,

houses and fields burned,

escape from Guatemala past shooting military and paramilitary guns,

fifteen years in a refugee camp. 

Each story is punctuated with the word, “pain,” flung into the darkness between us:  pain of grief, pain of fear, pain of powerlessness, pain of remembering.

Later, at 4 in the morning, I stand alone and sleepless outside the community building.  My eyes are drawn across a dusty moonlit yard to a cluster of one room dirt floor buildings: each a bedroom for eight or more sleeping people.  At dawn the bedroom will become a kitchen to cook a day’s supply of tortillas.  Later it will become a storeroom for possessions and a shelter on stormy days. 

 I stand there as the moon sets behind the buildings.  In the darkness, the past evenings cries of pain wash over me, clinging to me like the cold damp dew that reaches through my thin jacket.  My body shivers.  A baby cries. 

 Then, slowly out of my dark despair, a whole new sky flickers into view.  It is crisp and clear, full of stars that formally had been blurred by the full moonlight.  Out of the vastness of this newly revealed sky I catch the course of an earth-launched satellite moving slowly across the constellations.  I ponder, “How is it that we can send satellites into space but are unable to relieve the pain and create justice for these lost people?”  As the satellite settles behind a solitary cloud, a meteor shoots across the sky exhausting its billion years of stored energy in an instant of brilliance.

I wonder, “how many have seen these two lights passing:  one cast by human hand, one cast by the hand of God?”  And as I stand in that dark pain ridden refugee camp, the baby’s cries stop.

I remember the story of a star shining over a baby in dark Bethlehem two thousand years ago.  I give thanks that I have witnessed an every-so-often blessing of a baby and the outcast in the wink of a star.

I go back to my straw mat on the ground of our drafty sleeping quarters to sleep like a baby until morning. The refugee baby and the shooting star would disrupt my life far beyond Christmas day.

 

III.

And do you know what?  The blessing of Christmas is much more than the disruption of an individual’s life.  It is the disruption of the powerful, of unjust systems, of oppressive governments, of the proud and exclusionary plutocrats.

Listen again to the vision of Mary, mother of Jesus. 

God has routed the proud and all their

 schemes,

            God has brought down the monarchs from

 their thrones and raised on high the

 lowly.

             God has filled the hungry with good things

                        and sent the rich away empty.

These are revolutionary words.  The authorities in Guatemala in the 1980’s labeled these words from scripture subversive and banned them.  Most of the time, most people and governments do not notice words of scripture. The Guatemalan government noticed.  The Roman government of Jesus’ time noticed. 

Trouble starts when the words of the prophets and the Christmas birth narratives are taken seriously.  They have influence stronger than any coercive power of domination. 

Consider the words of Micah and Isaiah:

            God will judge between many peoples and…

                        among great and distant nations.

            They will hammer their swords into plows

                        and their spears into pruning knives.

            Nation will not take up sword against nation.

            They will never again be trained for war.

If listening and noticing, what will these words of God’s judgment and promise tell our leaders:

about 300 million guns possessed in the United

            States & NRA requesting more to guard

            our schools.

about our participation in wars across the

            world,

about our preparation for war on terror,

about the fiscal and taxing policies of our

 government?

about more children in poverty in the U.S

            Than any other developed nation.

Let these words reach past the Christmas season into noticing and hearing of government leaders. 

And, how about the words in the letter to the Hebrews:

            We ought to see how each of us may best

 arouse others to love and active goodness.

Taken seriously, the words of Advent and Christmas disrupt our lives and the life of social systems, our government and international institutions.

 

IV.

So, here is the Good News.  This year can be the year we live beyond Christmas day to a time of “a new and living way.” (Hebrews 10: 20)

The Scripture readings for Advent suggest that when people are discouraged and hurting it is a good time for God’s new vision to take hold.

It is a good time for the small group of men and women in Newtown, Connecticut who have begun to meet to do something about gun violence.  They are proclaiming that we’ve had enough of our former ways.  We can tolerate it no more. 

Perhaps they could be guided to a new way by the urging of the Hebrews letter to “see how each of us may best arouse others to love and active goodness.”  With this goal as a guide, what is to be said about the escalation of gun ownership or even the status quo as a means to love and goodness? 

It is a good time:  to arouse others to love and active goodness. 

To rely on diplomacy and service rather

 military might       

To reform our prison system:

1 in every 33 adults in our country,

1 in every 3 African American men,

2000 juveniles serving life without

parole.

To provide new homes for refugees:

                        12 million undocumented in the U.S.,

Palestinians isolated by barriers on the West Bank, Gaza and East Jerusalem,

To share resources of food, medical and

technology with children & adults in need instead of selling weapons among the nations of the world.

            To provide health care for the mentally ill, take

           them out of the criminal Justice system.

To be people in religious communities with a

Mission to enhance love for one another and advance goodness for all people, all nations and God’s whole creation.

 This year of great trouble, grief and pain can be the year we live beyond Christmas day to the time of “a new and living way.”

Conclusion:

Imagine the goodwill of Christmas preparation extending beyond Christmas day.  This Advent and Christmas season, we in the churches have been given the blessing of the letter to the Hebrews:  “See how we may arouse others ( churches, schools, the business community, the officials of our government…) to love and active goodness.”

We learn from the prophets and through the Christmas narrative that God chooses the weak and the powerless to lift up the rest of the world.  That means us. 

Sister and brothers in Christ, this church has been chosen to disrupt the accepted ways of the world.  God knows you are small enough and poor enough.  You are like the baby born in a stable behind an inn, at first no one will believe that you can have any effect on the world.   

Society and governments are not prepared for the small voice that speaks with the power of God’s new and living way:  a voice that asks over and over in every situation:  “In what ways do your ideas and solutions excite others to the ways of love and active goodness?”

The question can be asked to yourselves as you consider the future of your ministry here in Salisbury and prepare for your next minister.  And it can be introduced into debates on issues in every segment of society, business and government. 

It will be resisted as too naïve, impractical, too unspecific to meet immediate problems.  But persistence will influence evaluation of realistic and practical ideas.  And most of all, it will introduce others to an experience of the ways of love and active goodness.

As the Prophet Micah envisioned:  “In the days to come…people will stream towards it…learn God’s ways, walk in God’s paths… they will never again be trained for war.”

It is a good time and a good year to excite others to the ways of love and goodness that leads to peace and justice for all people and for God’s creation.  Thanks be to God.       

A nation of guns revisited

Opinion                                                                                                         January 23, 2013

New Hampshire Union Leader

PO Box 9555

Manchester, NH 03108

opinion@unionleader.com

 

It is time for us to face straight into the issue of being a nation of citizens possessing nearly 300 million guns. There are 11,000 to 12,000 gunshot deaths in the United States each year.  There have been more people killed by guns in the United States than the total killed in all of the wars fought since our Country was founded.  There are more gun dealers in the United States than MacDonald’s.  These statistics suggest an urgency to explore ways to reduce deaths, the effect of gun dependency on our society, and the need for gun ownership. 

 

Some suggest that, with the number of guns in our society, we must accept that eliminating guns is impossible.  Therefore, to reduce gun deaths, some call for tinkering with modes of registration, restricting some gun models, and controlling the capacity of ammunition clips.  But there is little agreement about the effect of such law changes on gun deaths. 

 

Therefore, NRA’s Mr. LaPierre promotes arming good people to out gun bad people.  However, this answer teaches our children that guns are the way to solve relationships with anyone we fear: “the bad people.”  No wonder our young people sometimes turn to guns to solve their problems. Boys learn that real men know how to use the power of guns.  Girls learn that a gun can overcome their inherent weakness.  

 

President Obama said in his inaugural speech that we are all entitled to “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” Does imposing a climate of fear advance life liberty and pursuit of happiness?   The presence of large numbers of guns in our society seems counter intuitive to these rights. More guns or increased gun control do not ameliorate peoples’ fear of those who are not like us:  terrorists, mentally ill people, street gangs and drug cartels and even the stranger. 

 

 It is time to recognize the disadvantages of a gun culture.  Guns do not demonstrate strength.  They hide weakness.  The possession of a gun distorts our perception of who we are.  It gives a person a false sense of strength and an inaccurate sense of security.   Possessing a gun puts a person in the position to decide when to take a life. Does any individual have the independent right and the wisdom to make that decision in a democratic society?  And a gun in our home or in our pocket masks any need to learn wisdom, negotiation skills, ways of communicating trust, and becoming acquainted with people different than ourselves.        

 

It would seem time to confront the culture of gun violence and its worship of the second amendment to the Constitution.  President Obama reminds us that “we cannot mistake absolutism for principle.”  We need to explore the “principle” of the second amendment.  Today we do not live in frontier world of muskets and swords.   (No amount of home firepower can protect us from a rogue government army in possession of rockets, tanks, drones, overwhelming air power and internet capability).  We live in a democracy where the vote replaces the gun.

 

Of course, it is important to do what we are able to control the availability of guns to those who would do harm.  The current proposals to register guns or gun owners, restrict assault type guns and the size of magazines are important interim measures to support.  However, at the same time it is essential that we refuse to be satisfied with solutions that continue to accept a gun culture. 

 

We need to explore realistic possibilities of a gun-free society.  Consider:

            +Protect our homes with a network of good neighbor communications.

            +Participate in our democratic society: be informed, advocate for change, communicate with elected leaders, vote.

            +Target shooters rent guns at a firing range.

            +Reevaluate the culture of hunting for sport.

+Allow basic rifles for hunting food and for predatory animal control in rural settings.

+Revisit the principles of the second amendment.

+Educate our children in a community of care, cooperation and support.

 

Do not fear the shouts, threats and accusations from gun advocates that will use the power of fear to drown out these possibilities. Fear is needed as a motivator for gun possession. Do not be afraid, Mr. President, Governors, Councils and Legislators.  Do not be afraid, citizens.

 

The path to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness is not paved with fear.  It is constructed with the tools of education, compassion, empathy and understanding to empower each other to be good citizens and good neighbors.

 

The Rev. John D. Buttrick

 

             

              

     

A gun-free nation

A submission to the New Hampshire Concord Monitor.

Editor:                                                                                   January 17, 2013

It is time for us to face straight into the issue of being a nation of citizens possessing 300 million guns.  We’ve tinkered with regulation long enough.  Discussions about guns that focus on fear, second amendment rights, protecting schools with guns, comparing guns to automobile dangers, background checks and blaming mentally ill people only divert us from considering what kind of nation we want to be. 

Today, it seems, we seek to arm good people to out gun bad people.  Our children learn that guns are the way to solve relationships with anyone we fear: the bad people.  No wonder our young people sometimes turn to guns to solve their problems. 

Congress, Mr. President, Governors, Councils, Legislators, citizens consider the option of a gun free society.  Don’t let fearful people with guns silence discussion.  Guns do not demonstrate strength.  They hide weakness.

Consider:

            +Protect our homes with a network of good neighbor communications.

            +Fear an oppressive government? Learn to participate in our democratic society.  (No amount of home firepower can protect us today from a rogue government army in possession of assault weapons, rockets, tanks, drones and overwhelming air power).

            +Target shooters rent guns at a firing range.

            +Reevaluate hunting for sport.

+Allow basic rifles for hunting food and for predatory animal control in rural settings.

Our safety does not depend on guns to overpower one another.  Our safety depends on tools of education, compassion, empathy and understanding to empower each other to be good citizens and good neighbors.

 Rev. John D. Buttrick

An allegory for Christmas

Advent, 2012 God has routed the proud and all their schemes… and raised on high the lowly, God has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty… (Luke 1: 51-53 Revised English Bible, adapted)

Our contemporary society, an allegory: At the security screening barrier in the airport there are two lines. One line is for people identified as needing less scrutiny than the rest. At the boarding gate all are sorted into groups according to wealth and privilege. First class ticket holders enter the plane over a red carpet. Military personnel are next. Out of the final seven groups, five are identified as “preferred” passengers. Therefore, five proud people out of every seven are privileged to have first claim to the overhead baggage storage areas. The final two groups scramble for the scarce leftover space.

With everyone seated, safety instructions are narrated. Amidst information about seatbelt buckling, exit lighting in event of a power failure, use of oxygen masks and equipment for an emergency water landing, passengers are informed that the two restrooms at the front of the plane are only for the twenty people in first class. The two at the back of the plane are for the other 150+ passengers! When the “vacant” light flashes over either of those, taunt muscles spring into action propelling those with “frequency issues” into competition to gain relief. As a distraction for those who must wait there are magazines in the seat pockets to be read, filled with enticements to order hundreds of expensive shiny things that everyone would be proud to own.*

The Good News of Advent announces an alternative world free from the schemes of the wealthy and the pride in stratified relationships. The birth of the Christ offers us hope in the vision of the hungry filled and the lowly lifted up.

______________________________________
* For some interesting reading try Plutocrats by Chrystia Freeland. It describes the culture and values of the “super rich.” It gives understanding to the values and the culture of the .5%. We found the book through Bill Moyers and Co. TV program.

"I CAN’T TELL MY FRIENDS" June 9, 2011

As we crest the hill and look down on Checkpoint #927, we sense that it is not going to be a typical morning. Not that any morning is “typical” at the Falamia farm gate. It was still dark at 4:45 am when we left our house in Jayyous to walk the 3 kilometers toward the dawn and the locked gated entrance to the farmland owned by the Falamia farmers. We were guided by the hum of the power lines that were strung along the edge of the road: the hum and occasional snapping of arcing electricity at the transformers. We speculated that these short circuits might be one of the causes for the periodic power outages in our village.

We left our flashlights dark (my European colleagues would say torches). A multitude of stars blanketed us. Night lights from scattered hilltop villages, the glow of distant Israeli suburbs and the hint of a lightening sky in the east were enough to illumine our path. The air was cool, the shadowed silhouette of the olive groves and the rustle of the grasses honed our senses and our imaginations. The gravel road bordered by ancient stone walls accepted our sandaled feet as familiar friends joining all who had come by here before us. Back among the centuries old olive trees we conjured the stirring of unseen travelers from the distant past camping overnight on their way up to Jerusalem. We imagined the smell of simmering tea and boiling Arabic coffee prepared to welcome fellow travelers.
As we descend into the valley ahead, the first Muslim call to prayer brings us back to the present. The aroma of the unseen zatar herb field on our right assures us that we are not lost. Out of the morning dusky mist a distant farmer calls out a caution as he turns on the irrigation system, as if a little water sprayed on us would be unwelcome in this hot dry land! Of more concern is the Israeli Military check point that is materializing out of the dawn at the foot of the hill. We are coming to a system of double fence lines, barbed razor wire, and electric sensors that impede farmers’ access to their fields. Daily this barrier generates frustration, belligerence, confusion, anger and humiliation. I’m thankful for the dawn walk of refreshment and solace that has given us respite from the tension and constant apprehension for what may transpire at the barrier farm gates in our path.

Our premonition that something is different today is confirmed as we approach the farm gate. The Israeli soldiers have arrived early. We are five minutes early ourselves. The gates are already unlocked, and being swung to the sides of the road. The usual deliberately slow plodding movements of the soldiers are missing. Two of them are briskly moving the gates into their open position as they greet us warmly with sincere eye contact, “Good morning.”
Even as we offer our own greeting, the soldiers have already turned to greet the waiting farmers and call them forward to present their documents. The soldiers are professional and thorough as they search wagons, inspect tractors and converse warmly and respectfully with the Palestinian farmers and their families. The bluster and the threatening countenance the soldiers usually displayed are missing. The farmers, their families, workers, donkeys and vehicles move smoothly through the checkpoint and on into the farmers’ fields.
Soon there is a lull in the traffic through the gate of the fence barrier. There is time for us to speak with the soldiers. They come to meet us as we step through the first gate. We observe, “We haven’t seen you here before.”
“It’s our first day,” one of the soldiers replies. “We’ll be at this gate for the three weeks of our annual reserve duty.”
“We come here two or three times a week from where we’re staying in Jayyous. I’m John from the America.” My two colleagues introduce themselves, from Switzerland and Ireland. “Where do you live when you’re not on active duty?”
“I’m David. I’m in a town near Haifa. I’m a school teacher there. This is Benjamin.” David is about 5’ 10 and wears glasses. His uniform hangs loosely on his thin frame. He appears self assured but a bit disengaged from the roll of soldier. His rifle is slung unmindfully over his shoulder as if it might not be there. Both David and Benjamin are in their late 30’s.
“What is your first impression of this place,” I ask?
“I’ve never before seen any of these barriers,” David responds, looking along the fence line stretching as far as he can see. “I didn’t understand that they stand between the farmers and their land. It’s kind of sad to see.
What are you doing here?”
We explain that we are here with the World Council of Churches Ecumenical Accompaniment Program in Palestine and Israel. We accompany Palestinians and Israelis who are concerned with the conditions of the Occupation of the West Bank and East Jerusalem and seek peaceful change. We monitor check points, interactions between Israeli settlers and Palestinians, and document what we see.
“We notice this morning that your administration of this checkpoint seems considerate and respectful of the dignity of those seeking to passing through the gates. This is in contrast with our observations on other days. We have seen soldiers be abrupt, controlling and challenging of the right of the farmers to pass through to their fields. Sometimes they change the rules from day to day.”
David replies, “Most of the soldiers at the checkpoints are very young, right out of high school. It’s unfortunate that they often feel they need to prove themselves. Also, they reflect their training that emphasizes the threatening subterfuge of the Arabs that endangers the soldiers and all of Israel.
We have more life experience,” he explains. “We have jobs and families. I think we’re able to have more empathy for the farmers as we all struggle with a difficult situation. We can understand how stressful it is to them as we fulfill our responsibility for the security of Israel. But what can we do to change things?”
“We also feel helpless,” one of my EA colleagues responds. “But we can tell your story and the stories of the Palestinians to the people back in our home countries. The more the stories are told the more possibility for change as more and more people begin to question and understand.”
“I would like to be able to do something to make things better here,” David broods. “But I don’t know what I can do. It’s all in the hands of our government and the concern for security.”
“You can,” I reply. “When you go back to your home you can do the same thing we’re expected to do: tell your family and friends about your experience here. People may pay attention to our personal experiences.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not possible for me. They will not understand me. They will think I’ve become an Arab sympathizer. I will be isolated from my teaching colleagues. I could lose my job. My only choice is to keep it to myself.”
During the next three weeks we talked at the gate a number of times. We became friends, as much as we’re able when everyone around us, Israeli soldiers and Palestinian farmers, are watching us. Few people, Palestinians or Israelis, are willing to grant expressions of civility as anything but taking sides.
If I were to return to Gate #927 to continue my conversation with the Israeli reservist, David, it would not be so easy to expect that he could tell the stories of his experiences at the checkpoint in his home town. I would need to respect his situation in the same way he respected the Palestinian farmers.
At this gate gather the powerful and the powerless. Open communication and trust seldom thrive here. If only there could be some sharing on an equal basis. Learn that many of the powerful feel powerless. Many of the powerless seek to hold their heads high and maintain their dignity.
I come home to tell this story mindful of an Israeli military reservist who must segregate his three weeks assignment to a farm gate from his life as a teacher, husband and father. There are strong barriers, not only between Palestinians and Israelis, but also among ourselves. It’s not just this Israeli reservist who would face strong resistance and condemnation if he told about his experiences in the light of justice and human dignity. If I could talk with him again, I would have to confess that the stories we tell have a cost no matter where we live.
I was confident as I talked to the soldier about my intention to tell people in my home country about the things I have seen and heard in Occupied Palestinian territory. However, the reality is not so different from what the soldier would face in his home town. Just this week there was a letter to the editor of my home city paper harshly critical of a piece I wrote earlier about a goal of equal justice for Israelis and Palestinians. The writer said I “was wrong in so many ways.” He was convinced that “Muslims and Palestinians do not want equality and justice… They want to annihilate Israel.” His implication was that I was blind to the truth of the situation. The Israeli reservist, David, and I have more in common than I had chosen to recognize, even though the pressure on him may be much more severe.
Internationals, Israelis, Palestinians, Muslims, Jews, and Christians have all left the memory of their feet on the ancient rocky paths of the land of Israel and Palestine. To those of us who are not used to the rocky arid hills, the land may appear inhospitable and threatening. The farmers I met there taught me to see the land as “the most fertile land in the world. It can grow anything!” Perhaps one day we will all be able to recognize the hospitality of the land reflected in the people who live there. Hospitality is an ancient tradition of these people. If all of us listen carefully we may be able to hear the invitation from those embedded deep in the ancient olive groves calling us to drink their sweet coffee and share their breakfast. Wherever we meet: under the stars blanketing the night sky, next to the pungent zatar fields, at the farm barrier gates under the scorching summer sun, may all of us come to understand that we are on holy ground that welcomes and nourishes all people.

Christmas, 2011


During a recent meal with friends the conversation around our table flowed with local and distant news stories of the day. They reminded us of our own personal struggles and weakened our hopes for justice in a world where financial considerations trump humanitarian assistance and military might drives negotiations for peace. But like an ocean wave sliding back into the sea exposing driftwood deposited on the sand, the ebb and flow of our stories soon divulge damaged systems of governments, economic institutions, and church communities.

While we were seeking solace with sweet-tart cherry pie and robust coffee, a quiet voice next to me asked, “What do you think about our future?”
I started to ramble about persistence for change and resistance to injustice. Then I remembered that my 70+ year old friend had dedicated his life to advocating for justice, even once being a prisoner of conscience. I let go of my need to give a definitive answer. I asked, “What do you think?”
In a voice barely audible he responded with painful sincerity, “I think it’s hopeless.”
It was a treasonous word, whether about our country, our economy or our church. It brings us down. But perhaps it’s necessary. As necessary as the words of Mary pregnant with Jesus,

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty. (Luke 1: 52-53)

Today, in that same country, our Palestinian friends living under Israeli occupation for over 60 years say, “Hope means standing up to injustice even when nothing can be seen ahead but ruin and destruction.” May this Christmastide uplift us with hope and free our voices to sing the prayer, “Joy to the World.”

Resistance: Without warning a stone sails over the wall...

photo by Stella Carroll

Jayyous, October 9, 2010, Resistance:  Without warning a stone sails over the wall...