OnFire: the young united methodist justice movement

Holy cow! Eat 'mor' equality!

2012-01-24T17:56:00.009-05:00

I like Chick- fil -A. No, I love Chick- fil -A. Something about those waffle fries and Polynesian sauce really gets my taste buds going. I grew up in the south eating their kid's meals, excited to go to the food court Chick-fil-A in The Mall in Columbia to get the latest Adventures in Odyssey children's Bible cassette and book. As I got older, Chick-fil-A became the go-to alternative for me and my friends when we wanted cheap grub that actually tasted like real food. We loved the place so much we got after-school jobs there so we could eat those delicious fried chicken morsels whenever we wanted to for free.

Unfortunately, Chick- fil -A doesn't seem to love me as much as I love them.

Chick-fil-A has been in the news during the past year for their financial support of various anti-gay groups like the Family, a Pennsylvania anti–marriage equality group, and James Dobson’s Focus on the Family (the parent company of those little wholesome Adventures in Odyssey tapes).

Though the restaurant chain does not explicitly discriminate against gay and lesbians diners, they do explicitly dislike gay marriage. So much to the point that they were willing to organizations whose agendas is to stop marriage equality at all costs. Basically, if you are queer-identified, continue to plunk down the five to eight bucks for a Chick-fil-A value meal. Just don't plan on hiring the restaurant to cater your big, fabulous gay wedding reception.

As a private company, Chick-fil-A has the right to support whatever cause they choose, but in representing itself as a company based on Bibl

ical principles, it fails to show the type of unconditional love Christ showed among the "outcasts" of his day. Most LGBT people in support of marriage equality want to have the same type of loving, lasting and committed partnership Chick-A-fil outlines

in its Winshape Foundation marriage retreats. LGBT couples are not asking to have a license to engage in risky, unsafe, irresponsible sexual relationships that only last for the moment. We are asking for an opportunity to be in the type of relationship that I Corinthians 13 outlines: patient, kind, not self-seeking, rude or easily angered and that will always protect, trust, hope and persevere.

I personally have never felt discriminated against at the restaurant and always felt welcome both as a patron and an employee. I am not advocating a mass boycott because that is not demonstrating the loving principles Christ instructed us to do in being patient with one another and keeping no record of wrongs. However, I do strongly encourage top Chick-fil-A executives to meet with a loving gay couple. Ask them what their desires and fears are a

bout being married and why they want to spend the rest of their lives together. I guarantee they won't have "beef" about the legitimacy of their relationship.

Fried Green Tomatoes

2012-01-24T08:51:00.003-05:00

Have you ever seen the 1991 film Fried Green Tomatoes? When a friend recently asked me to watch it, I reluctantly agreed remembering that it came out when I was in elementary school. Honestly, I thought it was going to be similar to a Beverly Cleary book-made-movie. Was I ever surprised!

Instead of dealing with the concerns of early-adolescent girls, the film addressed a myriad of social justice issues throughout the 20th century in the South including gender expectations and roles, racial tensions and injustices, domestic abuse and same-sex relationships. In a sense, I felt overwhelmed by how many topics were addressed in this film.

Sometimes I feel that way in life. If we’re supposed to do justly (Micah 6:8), does that mean I’m expected to become a foster parent while caring for my widowed grandmother, fight politically for equal rights, donate money to the local food pantry and women's shelter as well as an orphanage abroad, start a community garden in my backyard and refuse to use styrofoam?

(Hm, now that I started listing ways to fight for social and environmental justice, it actually seems doable...)

My experience has been that I’m generally passionate about two issues: orphan care and equal rights for the LGBTQ community. I’ve been inspired by people I’ve met and their stories of injustice have caused me heartache. Yet, one of my best friends in college was equally passionate about sex education and how it could lower the rate of abortions. We once hotly debated which topic is more important. She argued that if everyone had children they wanted and could care for, then orphan care wouldn’t be needed. And I responded that in reality, there are orphans and probably always will be so we need to support them. Finally we agreed to disagree with thankfulness that God could be glorified through both of our passions.

While we should all try to do justly in all that we do, it is good for us to be uniquely interested in various concerns. Since I’m new blogging on this site, I’m curious...

What topics are you passionate about? Why? And who inspires you?

Would you mind leaving a comment about your experiences? I would find it encouraging to learn that there are many of us young adults in the United Methodist Church who are working towards a better world by focusing on a variety of issues. Thank you!

Heather V is a graduate of Drew Theological School and is currently working as the Director of Pastoral Care at Trinity United Church in Warren, NJ while working through the UMC ordination process.

MLK Day: A "Day On", Not a "Day Off"

2012-01-19T22:13:00.000-05:00

by Ace Parsi

There aren't many traditions that I look back fondly on from my days as an undergrad at Penn State. One I do though is the annual Martin Luther King Jr. Day of Service. If you did some type of service that day, you could take the day off class. There would also be discussions across the campus and end with a keynote speaker who would better frame the day. When I was a freshmen, the keynote speaker was the late Yolanda King, Dr. King’s oldest child. During that speech, she said something that stuck with me. She said that she appreciated the idea that MLK Day would be a "day on," rather than a "day off."

That was the spirit through which a few of us met on Monday night to discuss how Dr. King's words applied to our lives today. We began the night with a long discussion of Dr. King’s unfortunately prophetic sermon, "I've Been to the Mountaintop." It was a profound, yet eerie speech where King essentially prophesies his own death. Yet, the speech is so profound because it does and teaches us so much more. In reading his speech, one can find very clear parallels to situations we face today. In order to encourage unity against a barrage of media and opposing forces the civil rights and anti-poverty movement was facing, King highlights that Pharaoh’s greatest weapon against the Jews was sowing seeds of disunity. Similarly, the group of us discussed that as progressives, we face our own challenges with disunity as each of us focuses on our own narrow issues and overlooks the common bond we must all share in our pursuit for a more just world.

In reflecting on the challenges King and the movement faced in his time and the challenges we still face today, our group discussed whether we believed King when he said that, "The arc of the universe is long, but it bends towards justice." We discussed that while we had achieved great gains with regards to voting rights, women's rights, and the fight against racism, we had also as a society fallen deeper and deeper into the deep waters of materialism. As young people of faith, what did it all mean for us moving forward? The answer that seemed to satisfy us in part is that like King our souls were not to be made content through some future victory or land of milk and honey. Instead, we would be fulfilled by the present effort. Like King, it's the effort that brings us closer to our Creator.

Over the course of the night, we only got through two speeches: "I've Been to the Mountaintop" and "Transformed Nonconformist" (PDF). Yet, the night served the most ideal purpose. It gave us a chance to reconnect, reenergize, and refocus. Traditions like this are really important. Now, I'm just looking forward to the next MLK Day that we can make a "day on" of.

---

Ace Parsi is a progressive Christian and education advocate in Washington DC.

The Haiti Earthquake and The Network of Mutuality

2012-01-11T23:46:00.008-05:00

In 1963, from the Birmingham Jail, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. wrote

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”

We are one amidst many.

Today, January 12 marks the second anniversary of the Haiti earthquake. Arising from the chaos was the physical, emotional, and spiritual devastation of one of the poorest nations in the world.

It took an earthquake for the world to recognize the truth of the inescapable network of mutuality in which we live.

When cities collapsed and the heights brought low,

Haitians grasped for life, reached through daylight cracks.

If only our hands held more than empty air so to pull all from the wreckage.

Within this mutuality we recognize that hearts and minds are an entanglement of interwoven connections; we receive, interpret, and transmit expressions of the self to others and the world.

Still, we fail to recognize, embrace, and nurture this link between our hearts and minds because of our own ignorant presuppositions. We are fooled into believing that some are less than. We limit the emotive expressions of our heart and thus surround aortic walls with layers of brick and mortar that are seemingly resilient and nearly indestructible. We lose our sensitivities.

But, in the navigation of this complex world and our complex hearts, bridges between heart and mind, self and other, and new levels of consciousness prevail. We have discovered our humanness in relationship.

We are caught. And the world responded to the catastrophe--in fact, we are still responding.

Therefore, earthquakes become a metaphor for our activity as God’s created beings. Earthquakes--people, experience, and emotions that literally rock our world--force us to recognize the fear and uncertainty of our brick-lined hearts. The earthquake transforms, if not destroys, our disconnectedness in order to re-learn that humanity is about togetherness--this, the single garment of destiny.

The mistake, however, is to believe that we need earthquakes, suffering, and physical or natural violence to overcome our distance. To be sure, God did not cause the suffering of God’s people like some religious types prognosticated. Destruction is built with our own hands; we are implicitly guilty in systems of poverty and injustice that produce death.

Even though our society fails to recognize that we are all affected by any injustice, any act of violence against one’s mind, body, or spirit, any act against one’s humanness, there is hope upon which we can rely.

The earthquakes of our minds, hearts, and spirit become the metaphor that provokes the reality of mutuality and reminds us of the fragility of our existence.

Two years later, the rebuilding process continues; buildings reconstructed, roads repaved, crumbled gravel removed. I spent my summer of 2010 as a Communities of Shalom intern (The Theological School at Drew University) working with the community of Mizak near Jacmel. Together we organized, educated, and envisioned a future of peace, reconciliation, and hope. I cannot be what I am without them and my prayer is that they too cannot be what they are without me.

Before the earthquake, two organizations in Mizak, Haitian Artisans for Peace International (HAPI)[1] and Living Media International (LMI)[2], worked to create a systemic, sustainable economy for women and the people of Mizak through art, agriculture, and education. After the earthquake, these two groups of Haitians and North Americans continue in the task at hand but are also about the tedious work of rebuilding the emotion and physical lives of Haitians.

The work continues, and I’ve participated in my own small way by leading groups of teams to Mizak to focus on HIV/AIDS education and awareness, sexual health, and women’s and gender violence. This work is possible because we recognize the importance of mutuality; we have discovered something shared in our humanness and in this way we continue to build the Beloved community of God wherein injustice no longer reigns.

There remains a tenuous line between charity and systemic, sustainable change. We must not be interested in charity because the effects of the earthquake two years ago require more from us in relationship--and, much is still to be done.[3] My only question remains; how long must the material poor of the world teach the Global North about our own humanity and connectedness?

Indeed, we have felt the reverberations that run deep, deep to our core. We cannot ignore these reverberations within the network of mutuality. Our mutuality is inescapable.

Joshua Clough is a 3^rd Year Master of Divinity student in The Theological School at Drew University. A native of the Seattle area and graduate of Willamette University he enjoys running, the “great outdoors,” poetry, and writing.

[1] http://haitianartisans.com/

[2] http://livingmedia.org/

[3] http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-latin-america-16508545

Board of Pensions Decision Shines Light on UMC Socially (Ir)Responsible Investing

2012-01-09T17:06:00.002-05:00

Last Tuesday, the General Board of Pensions and Health Benefits announced that it will be adding an investment screen targeting for-profit prisons, adding to existing screens that prohibited investment in weapons manufacturing, tobacco, alcohol, pornography and gambling. Their decision came after correspondence with the Interagency Task Force on Immigration and a petition campaign organized by the Board of Church and Society calling on the Board of Pensions to divest its shares in Corrections Corp. of America and GEO Group. These two companies recorded profits of $2.9 billion in 2010 - money made through incarcerations that disproportionately targeted immigrants, the poor and people of color.

Unfortunately, the Board of Pensions' laudable decision to divest does not mean the United Methodist Church is off the hook regarding its investments. The Board of Pensions and other UMC bodies continue to hold stock in companies implicated in serious human rights abuses, notably those taking place in the occupied West Bank, Gaza Strip and East Jerusalem. The Board of Pensions invests in companies, including Caterpillar, Hewlett-Packard and Motorola Solutions, that knowingly profit from the Israeli occupation. Caterpillar sells specially designed bulldozers to the Israeli military, which regularly demolish Palestinian homes and help construct illegal Israeli settlements. Hewlett-Packard produces equipment for Israeli checkpoints inside the West Bank and provides data storage to illegal settlements. Motorola Solutions profits from the sale of surveillance and communications equipment to settlements and Israeli military forces inside the West Bank.

Despite years of engagement from concerned shareholders, including representatives of the United Methodist Church, Caterpillar, HP and Motorola have made clear they have no intention of changing their practices. (See a Presbyterian agency's report on failed negotiations with these companies here.) For this reason, a growing number of United Methodists are calling for the church to immediately divest from these three companies and begin to engage with any other companies in UMC portfolios that are similarly involved in the Israeli occupation. The church is poised to take this important step if delegates pass a resolution put forward by the Board of Church and Society at this spring's General Conference in Tampa, Florida. (Participants in a GBPHB plan can sign a petition to the Board of Pensions here.)

The Board of Pensions' announcement last week was a positive step, but it was also a reminder that United Methodists can't take for granted that our denomination's investments reflect our values and principles. We need to remain aware of our church's investments and engaged in shaping them to reflect our Social Principles and our faith in a God of justice and love.

Emily McNeill is a student at Union Theological Seminary in New York City and the Project Manager of United Methodist Kairos Response. For more information about the movement to align United Methodist investments with resolutions on Israel/Palestine, visit www.kairosresponse.org.

Not Just the Future, We Are the Present: My Hope in Our Generation

2012-01-06T15:37:00.003-05:00

by Kara Crawford
Crossposted at In Our Words

If you had asked me several years ago, particularly at the right moment, I would have been exceptionally frustrated with the trajectory I understood my generation, the Millennials, were on. This generation, with most common birth year ranges are 1982-1995 or 1982-2000, is defined by a number of characteristics: we grew up during the technology boom [1]; our modes of expression are ever tech-ified [2]; we’re not considered particularly rebellious [3]; and some even suggest that the hipster is our representative image [4].

My assessment several years ago, especially in my frustrated moments, would have been that we are, on the whole, a consumeristic, ego-driven generation that spends way too much time worrying what their next profile picture or post will be for Myspace, Facebook, or Twitter; waiting for the next text or IM from their BFF, writing a mundane Xanga entry about their day, or listening to the modern bastardization of hip-hop that exists in the mainstream scene to worry about what really matters, in my opinion – things like social issues, current events, politics, culture, reality (not to be confused with “reality” TV) – basically everything In Our Words is about.

But in the last several years, my hope in the Millennial Generation has been renewed, and I have seen signs that we are able to pull ourselves away from our virtual world and consumption and make a change.

After the relative stability we saw in the 1990s — with global economic growth, the electronics and internet boom, and the end of the Cold War with the dissolution of the Soviet Union, it is little shock that young people seemed shallow and unengaged. Of course, the 90s had its fair share of violence, war, genocide, and scandal, but it is generally a decade remembered as synonymous with the spread of democracy, information technology, and economic neoliberalism.

But as the next decade-plus came around, life on Earth suddenly seemed a whole lot rockier. The Millennials saw tragedy on 9/11, followed by over a decade straight of the US in at least one unpopular war, beginning right at the time the oldest Millennials were coming of age and able to enlist. The first decade of the new millennium saw increasing deficits and volatility in global markets, resulting in the economic crisis we are still experiencing today.

Between those issues, Guantanamo Bay, the genocide in Darfur, and lots of other very present and evident issues in the US and the world, it became hard for Millennials not to take conscience about at least something which was going on in the world. This became evident to me towards the end of high school, when one of my classes received an assignment to give a group presentation on a social issue, and the sense became stronger when I started at DePaul University.

Despite its HuffPost reputation as the second worst college in the US for free speech and connection to the Catholic Church [5], DePaul has a substantial community of activists and is extremely active in the Chicago and global community. Almost immediately upon my arrival at DePaul, I got heavily involved in campus activism and was able to get to know a lot of those phenomenal Millennials who also cared about making the world a different place for everyone.

At DePaul and in the International Studies and Peace, Conflict and Justice Studies programs, I found a place where I fit in. I found a community of Millennials who defied all the frustrated stereotypes I carried about my generation in years prior. I found a community where my constant talk of social justice and human rights didn’t get me weird looks. This community even constructively used some of those defining characteristics of the Millennial generation as part of its work for social justice. We used Facebook and Twitter for organizing, blogging for getting our message out to the masses, Netflix for our activist film screening nights, and so forth.

My experiences at DePaul transformed my understanding of Millennials from a more cynical stereotype of consumeristic, self-centered individuals to one of a generation that seems extremely conscious of what is going on in the world around them, possibly because of the communications media which was such an integral part of their formative years. They also transformed my opinions of those very media which I believed largely fueled my generation’s supposed ego.

Then, 2011 rolled around, and I saw the largest volume of Millennial-fueled political action I can recall in years — and possibly in my entire life. The Arab spring, protests in the EU, and the Occupy movement all brought young people to the streets to speak out for justice in their contexts. Finally, I thought to myself. Millennials are really showing the world what we’re made of. Now, of course, Millennials had been engaging in activism for years, but this was the first time our activism gained significant public attention and support.

Millennials have played an important role in changing the world in 2011 and I have a feeling that we’ll continue changing it in 2012 and beyond [6]. Growing up, I held a variety of leadership positions in The United Methodist Church, and older folks often had the gall to say things to me like that young people are the hope for the future. I knew even then that young people are not only the hope for the future, but also for the present, and I think that in recent years Millennials have really proven this to me.

So, if you ask me now, I’ll answer you – I’m a proud Millennial, part of the generation that is fighting against the forces of neoliberal capitalism, war, inequality, injustice, and oppression. A generation that is making ripples in global society. A generation which played a critical role in the 2011 efforts that won Time’s Person of the Year.

I certainly hope that we Millennials keep up our fight for a better world, because along with my restored hope in our generation has come my restored hope in the world. We envision something beautiful, and we can make that vision a reality. Keep up the good work, Millennials.

---

Kara Johansen Crawford is a graduate of DePaul University, with a BA in International Studies and Peace, Justice and Conflict Studies. Kara has been actively involved in activism and community service for much of her life and is particularly passionate about labor justice, queer issues and engaging faith communities on social issues. Kara is currently serving as a Mission Intern with the United Methodist Church at the Centro Popular para América Latina de Comunicación, based in Bogotá, Colombia. Follow Kara on Twitter @revolUMCionaria and on her blog.

Epiphany, Epiphanies

2012-01-06T12:08:00.004-05:00

Crossposted at City of...

Today is Epiphany.

It's also been a spectacularly bad few days for me.

I got into a car accident (everyone is fine, thank God). I lost a notebook that was a gift to me and which contained song lyrics and notes on my CD. I had to deal with my insurance company. Again. And, just to top it all off, Metro is single-tracking on the Red Line today. What joy.

So it would be a fair question to ask why I care so much about Epiphany, one of the less widely known church celebrations and one which mainly seems to mark the end of the Christmas season.

Well, I'll give it a shot.

First of all, about Epiphany. The word comes from Greek, meaning "manifestation." In the Eastern churches it's also called the Feast of Theophany, or "vision/revelation of God." So that's fun.

To be brief, Epiphany is the celebration of the "wise men" (no number is given in Matthew's account, and the story doesn't appear in any other gospel) discovering Jesus by following a star. That's the basics.

Why care?

Well, here's a few reasons why I think it's worth pondering.

First is the light. The shining light above what must have been a very modest house--maybe no more than a cave--leading the adventurers from far away onward. And the light that shines in each of our lives, leading us onward. And the way that this light is a reflection of that which shines in the darkness and is not overcome. No matter what. Even during stupidly bad days, but even more importantly even during wars and rumors of war, even during famine, even during oppression. The light still shines, for those who will look for it, providing illumination-if only for the next step. It's amazing what those in prison for resisting oppression--Gandhi, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Martin Luther King, Adolfo Perez Esquivel--describe about their experiences. The whole thing sounds terrifying to me, and yet these and many like them report what to me is shocking inspiration, renewed commitment, light for the journey. Even in the midst of torture. It's heartbreaking, and stunning, to consider.

So each of us can see and can follow the light celebrated on Epiphany, and that's one reason to care.

Here's another. The much-romanticized narrative of "We Three Kings" is actually intensely political. Foreign travelers, not fully understanding the power dynamic occurring in first century Palestine, follow the star as much as they can until they eventually try going to the capital city and asking the person in charge. Problematically, the person in charge is Herod, a petty king and puppet of the Roman Empire. Herod sends them on their way but is threatened by any talk of a "King of the Jews" or "Messiah," and he secretly plots to kill the kid--by killing any kid Jesus' age. The kings find the toddler but are warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, while Miriam and Yusef and little baby Yeshua become political refugees, fleeing to Egypt under cover of darkness. (The Eastern church, as an aside, takes this flight narrative very seriously, and has shrines and monasteries scattered across the Sinai Peninsula). And so this story aligns the traditions and celebrations of the church with political refugees, with victims of mass violence, and with threats to earthly power. Pretty intense stuff.

And then finally there's the wise men themselves, who were astrologers, probably from Persia, maybe Zoroastrian. Definitely not Jewish, definitely not the "home team" for those reading the narrative. It would be like....well, it would be exactly like that, like Iranians with a different language and religion showing up to our Christmas services. (This, by the way, happens at Dumbarton, and we're sort of excited about it). Epiphany is a universalist celebration, a proclamation that people from anywhere on the planet can see the light and follow it. There are no entrance requirements. The wise men don't get baptized (although something very much like communion, with expensive gifts given to an impoverished family taking the place of bread and wine). We would be wise to consider this message when we are designing our outreach strategies, when we are pondering who should be in and who should be out.

So I care about Epiphany, in the middle of all this anxiety, exactly because I need it in the middle of all this anxiety. I need its light. I need its message of hope in a world seemingly run by forces of violence and greed. And I need its universal message, because days like these I feel like maybe I'm an outsider, and this story declares that everyone's in.

Epiphany. It's the end of Christmas. But it ain't so bad.

The wonderful artwork is from Zaki Baboun, a Palestinian artist who is also famous for his paintings of the Wall around Bethlehem:

--
David Hosey is a seminary student, a songwriter, a gentleman, and a scholar. He blogs at City of...

OnFire Mission and Vision

2012-01-05T13:47:00.000-05:00

Happy 2012! To start off the new year, we thought it would be a good idea to share the new OnFire Mission and Vision statements, designed to give us some direction as we go forward in this new year. Please feel free to leave feedback in the comments section and keep your eyes open for our new logo.

Peace and blessings to you all in this new year!

-OnFire Leadership Team
Sara Bayles
Eric Burton-Krieger
Shannon Sullivan
Jen Tyler

Calling/Mission:
OnFire is a movement of progressive young adults, following Christ’s example of love, towards the transformation of our church and world.

Direction/Vision:
OnFire participates in transformation by connecting young adults to one another, creating opportunities for education, and mobilizing them to work for justice.

OnFire's Goals and Objectives:

Connecting Young Adults – build a network of localized groups and individuals engaged in the work of Christ, working together for justice and transformation though the sharing of resources and ideas.
Opportunities for Education – provide resources and build relationships through experiential educational programs, justice-oriented workshops, our blog, and other opportunities that strengthen and clarify commitments to justice that follow Christ's teachings.
Mobilizing for Justice - empower local groups and individuals to stand for justice within our church and world through coalition building with like-minded organizations and individuals.

---

Sara Bayles is a senior majoring in Political Science and Religious Studies with a minor in Gender Studies and Honors Interdisciplinary Thesis focused on Social Justice within American Feminism. She is planning to attend seminary in fall 2012.

Eric Burton-Krieger is a co-facilitator for OnFire in addition to being a spouse, recent graduate of Vanderbilt Divinity School, and a candidate for ordination in the West Michigan Conference. He's on staff at Brentwood United Methodist Church and, if you happen to be in Nashville, would love to buy you a cup of coffee!

Shannon Sullivan is a seminary student at Drew in Madison, New Jersey, and is pursuing ordination in the Baltimore-Washington Conference. She is also a member of the OnFire leadership team. She blogs at You'll Never Guess What the Heathens Did Today.

Jen Tyler is a co-facilitator for OnFire as a part of her role as the Associate for Movement Building at MFSA. Jen is appointed to MSFA as a General Board of Global Ministries Mission Intern. She has a Master of Divinity from Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary and is a member of the Dakotas Annual Conference, where she is pursuing ordination as an Elder in The United Methodist Church.

Wrestling and the New Year

2011-12-29T13:18:00.000-05:00

2011 has been a year of wrestling. We have seen revolutions arise across the world, we have lifted our voices in support of them and positioned our bodies in solidarity with them and to echo their demands for our own lives. But many of our writers on this blog have articulated another kind of wrestling, not wrestling to make our voices heard, but a wrestling to find God amidst all of this. I still get goosebumps thinking about Michael Airgood talking about taking communion with wrists bruised from handcuffs, Karl Kroger's reflection on his helplessness when he realized Troy Davis was going to be murdered; I still feel warmth reading Jamie Michaels talking about Sing a New Song as a coming together of family, and I am excited about the work Mallory Naake is doing in Peru around food justice. The warmth, the excitement, the helplessness, the confusion--- how do we narrate these feelings? How do we make sense of this past year so we can try to figure out what to do in 2012?

The story of Jacob wrestling from Genesis 32:24-31 is one that has stuck with me as I think about this year:

Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob's hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. Then he said, "Let me go, for the day is breaking." But Jacob said, "I will not let you go, unless you bless me." So he said to him, "What is your name?" And he said, "Jacob." Then the man said, "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed." Then Jacob asked him, "Please tell me your name." But he said, "Why is it that you ask my name?" And there he blessed him. So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, "For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved." The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.

The story of Jacob has been particularly poignant after reading Black Liberation Theologian James Cone's The Cross and the Lynching Tree (read the book but if you don't have time right now, check out this interview with Bill Moyers here and a lecture about it here). There, he speaks of black religious experience of wrestling, wrestling with trouble, wrestling with doubt, using this story from Genesis. It is a story I don't understand, but I am still drawn to because of the intimacy and the violence all wrapped up together. That is what I have seen this year. I visited Occupy Wall Street in New York right before it was evicted: the intimacy in living all together in tents, under tarps, playing music sitting on the sidewalk, was so beautiful. And yet, there was such violence, as we all saw in that horrifying picture of the police officer pepper spraying the UC Davis protesters.

It is about resistance against the odds. In the face of the increasing militarization of police, in the face of re-encroaching apathy of young people (we thought Egypt and OWS might have been the end of that), in the face of continued occupation of Palestine, in the face of the prison industrial complex, in the face of continued homophobia and heterosexism...God is there, alongside us, wrestling. I think sometimes God is also wrestling us when we can't see the joy in the struggle or when in the struggle we continue to support systems of oppression, or we are wrestling God when we just cannot see God's presence through the pepper spray--- there is this mess of arms and legs flailing about that we can't always separate out and understand. But as we continue into 2012, let us think about this wrestling and know that 2012 will be a year of continued wrestling. Where will we see God face-to-face in this year? Where will we strive with God and with humans for justice and prevail? And where will we find joy in the struggle?

Jacob Wrestles the Angel by Arthur Sussman (see more of his work here)

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Shannon Sullivan is a seminary student at Drew in Madison, New Jersey, and is pursuing ordination in the Baltimore-Washington Conference. She is also a member of the OnFire leadership team. She blogs at You'll Never Guess What the Heathens Did Today.

Christmas Eve/Christmas Day

2011-12-22T14:30:00.001-05:00

To YOU is born this day...

Luke 2:1-20 (NRSV)

Like many serving churches in some way or another these past few weeks leading up to Christmas have been anything but restful. We often tell our congregations that Advent is about waiting and preparation, that it is a time to be introspective and to slow things down despite societal and consumerist impulses to over-indulge, over-schedule, and over-spend. I find myself even more over-scheduled than usual, as Christmas parties get penciled into my calendar along with pageant rehearsals, special choir rehearsals, additional services... If I am waiting, it is a very busy type of waiting. I tell myself that at least I am preparing myself for Christmas, as I am supposed to during the season of Advent, but what kind of Christmas am I actually getting myself ready for?

Last Sunday I found myself running around the sanctuary (following the two worship services that had been held that morning) trying to help herd hungry children together for the final rehearsal before the annual Christmas pageant, which is performed on Christmas Eve. It is a typical pageant; older children play the role of narrator, reading the familiar words we find in the gospels of Luke and Matthew that, when combined, provide us with the Christmas story many of us know by heart. Mary is a pretty girl wearing blue, the innkeeper is played by an awkward, pre-pubescent boy, and there are three kings. It is the same script from last year, and the year before that, and the year before that; and although there are grumblings that perhaps it is time to rewrite the script, everyone knows that will not happen. People come to Christmas Eve services to hear these familiar words, and if there is one thing worship leaders often learn the hard way it is to not mess with Christmas.

However, I wonder if we do not only the Christmas narrative, but also our congregation members, a disservice in our annual display of adorable children dressed in bath robes. I am all for embodying the W/word, but when it comes to the Christmas narrative God has already done the embodying for us. We are celebrating and remembering the incarnation, when “the Word became flesh and lived among us” (John 1:14). I do not think we can truly begin to grapple with or understand the radical message found within Luke’s text unless we remove the cherubic faces of children from our nativity scenes and search for the faces and stories of those who are placed within that ancient world and our world today.

In this story we find characters that seem incredibly distant, and yet we are surrounded by people just like them each and every day. We think of Mary, a “pure” virgin, who has found favor with God, but who is also an unwed mother whose partner almost abandoned her and who could have been easily ostracized by her community on account of her unplanned pregnancy. Her fiance, Joseph, is a man who works with his hands and does what he must for his family, including traveling an incredible distance because of a government decree. We find a family far from home, without access to health care or support, struggling to find adequate shelter not only for themselves, but for the new life about to be born. Surely, there are Marys and Josephs among us?

In this story we find shepherds, but we do not understand who shepherds were. We envision pastoral paintings and hear the sounds of lutes and harps blending with the gentle baa’s coming from grazing sheep. We do not realize that the shepherds found in the gospels were some of the lowest of the low, men who could not find any other form of work, who lived away from the towns and cities guarding sheep and goats from predators. It was a dangerous job, an undesirable job. It is to these laborers that the angels first come; not to kings, not to white-collar workers, but to the graveyard shift; and the men who fight off wolves and lions are terrified. The angel’s message turns their world, and ours, upside-down: to you is born this day a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. To you, shepherds, and you, day-laborers; to those who are cast down and aside, those who are oppressed, those who are the least, the last and the lost... it is to you that the Lord has come.

Christ continues to dwell among us, and we are called to celebrate the incarnation not only at Christmas, but each day. We find Christ among those we consider to be the least of these, among the sick, impoverished, and oppressed. May we also be Christ, serving those around us, giving voice to the voiceless, as we join the voices of angels and shepherds alike as we celebrate that, for unto us the Son is given.

Amanda Rohrs-Dodge is a third year MDiv student at Drew Theological School in Madison, New Jersey and is the student assistant pastor at The United Methodist Church in Madison.

Advent 4: hope for peace

2011-12-15T21:07:00.004-05:00

Text: Luke 1:39-56

Earlier this year, St. Matthew in the City church in Auckland, New Zealand commissioned this painting, entitled "Mary in the Pink" for an annual billboard campaign. The media release statement about the image says:

"This billboard portrays Mary, Jesus’ mother, looking at a home pregnancy test kit revealing that she is pregnant. Regardless of any premonition, that discovery would have been shocking. Mary was unmarried, young, and poor. This pregnancy would shape her future. She was certainly not the first woman in this situation or the last... Although the make-believe of Christmas is enjoyable - with tinsel, Santa, reindeer, and carols - there are also some realities. Many in our society are suffering: some through the lack of money, some through poor health, some through violence, and some through other hardships. The joy of Christmas is muted by anxiety." (via)

St. Matthew's church got it exactly right. Advent is a time of hope, love, joy, and peace, to be sure, but these are also muddled by fear, pain, injustice, and yes, anxiety. We hear it in so many advent carols sung in minor keys. Like my favorite, "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." Throughout Christian history, we have known that the reason we hope for a savior at this time is because there are places in the world that need saving. Or perhaps more accurately, we feel like there's nothing we can do on our own; we need God's help to sort it out.

I traveled recently to Palestine and Israel with an interfaith group - a reform synagogue and a UCC congregation, plus a Roman Catholic monk, a Sufi teacher, and me, a United Methodist Seminarian - to talk with peace activists on all sides of the conflict. We visited refugee camps, picked olives in the West Bank with Palestinian villagers who had been tormented by Israeli settlers, toured the Ibrahimi mosque in Hebron where worshipers were gunned down by a fundamentalist Zionist, and met with Israelis who live on the border with Gaza, facing daily fear that their home will be bombed. As we prepared to come home, our group was met with a profound sense of helplessness.

We need a savior, I catch myself thinking. And it's true, Christian theology tells us that Jesus is the hope of the world. But what happens when we put our hope in Jesus, and pain still exists?

Maybe we are expecting the wrong things from Jesus. I think that much of our rhetoric tells us that Jesus, and in many ways God, will come to fix things when we muck them up, sort of like a cosmic nanny. It can be comforting to hope for a God who is all powerful, who will come to cast the mighty down and uplift the humble of heart. But the reality I have seen is that justice movements take a long time, and they take lots of concerted effort, lots of struggle, and lots of sacrifice from committed people in order to succeed. And in the meantime, there can be setbacks, and physical and emotional pain.

In the Magnificat, sometimes called "Mary's Song," we hear the mother of Jesus glorifying God for the gift of her pregnancy. It's often spoken of as a statement of obedience and submissiveness, but I wonder if Mary didn't speak it with a little hesitation in her voice. I wonder if it was a statement of courage, and of a special kind of hope. Not a hope that God would make everything okay; I think Mary would have been pretty clear that telling her fiancee that she was pregnant with God's child was not going to be "okay." But a hope that she would have the strength to endure the pain and struggle, that she would have the courage to do what is right and just, and that she would have the wisdom to be a good mother to this King-to-be.

Perhaps the kind of hope we need this advent is hope that through Jesus, our co-journer, we would have that same strength to endure, that we would have that same courage to do justice, that same wisdom to be what God has called us to be.

Thanks be to God, for helping us to say "yes" to the call to work for peace.

Hope and Love from Palestine

2011-12-12T00:30:00.001-05:00

Yesterday marked two years since a group of Palestinian Christians gathered in the wounded city of Bethlehem to address the world. On December 11, 2009, fifteen men and women released what they called the Kairos Palestine Document, subtitled “A Word of Faith, Hope and Love from the Heart of Palestinian Suffering.” Their document followed in the tradition of the South African Kairos Document, written by pastors in Soweto in the midst of apartheid in 1985. Both use the Greek word “Kairos,” which means “a time when things are brought to crisis” and also “an opportune time.” The Kairos Palestine document is part testimony to Christian faith in the midst of the Palestinian crisis and part call to action.

The Kairos document was written with a number of audiences in mind, one of which is us – the global church. The authors – as well as the more than 2500 Palestinian Christians who have signed on – ask us to listen to their words and to respond, not only with our words but also our actions. On this second anniversary, as I re-read the Kairos Palestine document in the midst of Advent, I was particularly struck by their words about Hope and Love.

They write:

“Hope within us means first and foremost our faith in God and secondly our expectation, despite everything, for a better future. Thirdly, it means not chasing after illusions – we realize that release is not close at hand. Hope is the capacity to see God in the midst of trouble, and to be co-workers with the Holy Spirit who is dwelling in us. From this vision derives the strength to be steadfast, remain firm and work to change the reality in which we find ourselves. Hope means not giving in to evil but rather standing up to it and continuing to resist it. We see nothing in the present or future except ruin and destruction. We see the upper hand of the strong, the growing orientation towards racist separation and the imposition of laws that deny our existence and our dignity. We see confusion and division in the Palestinian position. If, despite all this, we do resist this reality today and work hard, perhaps the destruction that looms on the horizon may not come upon us.”

Every week during Advent, we light a candle representing hope. In the cold and increasing darkness of winter, we ritual ize through a flame the hope expressed in Jesus’ birth. This flame can be an expression of warmth and comfort, of a light breaking through the shadows of despair. But the writers of the Kairos document challenge us to also look at the shadows honestly and directly. The hope they describe is poignant, not at all triumphant. The flame is small, and it flickers. But it survives.

Hope in this document is filtered through the experience of occupation. They are writing from within the midst of constant violence and oppression. Bethlehem is surrounded by a wall that separates its residents from their families and their farmland and cuts off access to Jerusalem. Every morning, long lines form at the main checkpoint at 3 and 4 am, and workers wait 4 and 5 hours to be herded through. Since the start of the so-called peace process 18 years ago, the number of Israeli settlers living in the West Bank has doubled to more than half a million. Because Israel controls the aquifers that lie under the West Bank, Israelis are able to use 4 times as much water per capita as Palestinians at heavily subsidized rates. Palestinians, on the other hand, spend up to 1/3 of their income on water in the summer months, and still use less than World Health Organization recommendations. Meanwhile, daily life is colored by the humiliation of checkpoints, and the trauma of bombings and night-time raids. Since the start of 2004, 4324 Palestinians and 249 Israelis have been killed.

Surrounded by this suffering and devastation, the Kairos Palestine Document, on the one hand, affirms the idea of expectation that circumstances will get better. It affirms a vision of the Spirit at work in the world. But on the other hand, it reminds us that hope is not fantasy. It doesn’t close its eyes to pain and failure. Mere optimism in this context is too foolish to really be hopeful. Instead, hope must move beyond sentiment to action.

The authors frame this work toward change in terms of “resistance,” and they understand resistance as an expression of love. They write this:

“Love is the commandment of Christ our Lord to us and it includes both friends and enemies. This must be clear when we find ourselves in circumstances where we must resist evil of whatever kind. Love is seeing the face of God in every human being. Every person is my brother or my sister. However, seeing the face of God in everyone does not mean accepting evil or aggression on their part. Rather, this love seeks to correct the evil and stop the aggression… We say that our option as Christians in the face of the Israeli occupation is to resist. Resistance is a right and a duty for the Christian. But it is resistance with love as its logic.”

On some years the text for the Second Week of Advent – the week that we light the candle of love – is Isaiah 11. Verse 6, familiar to many of us, is a beautiful vision of harmony within creation. “The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them.” This vision of peaceful coexistence is a comfortable one for this season. It’s the verse that my imagination grabs hold of whenever I hear that passage.

But perhaps the writers of the Kairos Palestine Document would tell us that we are jumping too quickly to the end of the passage. Before Isaiah gives us this scene of perfect harmony, he gives us this: “But with righteousness shall he judge the poor and decide with fairness for the afflicted of the earth; And he will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked.”

Could this, too, fit into our understanding of love? The authors of Kairos Palestine say yes, while stressing that confrontation must be non-violent and carried out in love. Cornel West has famously said that “justice is what love looks like in public.” Isaiah’s pastoral scene of predators and prey lying down together is impossible unless the dynamics of their relationships are fundamentally changed. The Kairos Palestine Document adds to this idea that justice is not just about being loving toward those who are oppressed; it is also about loving the oppressor. If we truly love someone, we don’t enable their abusive behavior. We can’t allow the wolf to approach the lamb until it has been cured of its appetite. And if we truly believe that ALL beings benefit from living in peace with one another, then we will acknowledge that changing the wolf’s behavior is as much for the wolf’s sake as for the lamb’s.

The Kairos Palestine Document asks us, as Christians throughout the world, to support and participate in their non-violent resistance. They call on the international church to “say a word of truth and take a position of truth with regard to Israel’s occupation of Palestinian land.” In particular, they ask that we ensure that we are not financially supporting the occupation.

Since 1968, the United Methodist Church has spoken words of truth, opposing the occupation and the expansion of illegal Israeli settlements and calling for a just and peaceful resolution to the conflict. But we have yet to take a position of truth. Despite our statements, our denomination’s financial resources are invested in companies that profit from the occupation. We hold stock in Caterpillar, which produces armored bulldozers used to demolish Palestinian homes - 24,000 of which the Israeli military has destroyed since 1967. We invest in Motorola Solutions, which provides surveillance systems to Israeli settlements and communications equipment to the military in the West Bank. Hewlett-Packard, also in the church’s portfolio, produces biometric scanning equipment used in checkpoints on occupied land.

In May, delegates to General Conference will vote on whether the church should remove these companies from its portfolio. On the one hand, selling our stock is about consistency and integrity. It doesn’t make sense for us to invest in activities we oppose.

But on the other hand, as I reflect on Advent and the words of the Kairos Palestine Document, I also see this step as a profound expression of hope and love – hope that in the face of suffering and despair we can participate in positive change, and love for all people in the region, whom we pray will one day soon live in peace.

---

Emily McNeill is a student at Union Theological Seminary in New York City and the Project Manager of United Methodist Kairos Response. For more information about the movement to align United Methodist investments with resolutions on Israel/Palestine, visit www.kairosresponse.org.

Advent Week 3: take time to simply be

2011-12-08T17:28:00.001-05:00

But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness,and all these things will be given to you as well. "So do not worryabout tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble isenough for today. ( Matthew 6: 33-34 )

We've all heard the saying “be present in the moment”. Sometimes this phrase catches me off guardbecause by nature I am a worrier. I amconstantly worrying about the “what ifs” in life. I n also a procrastinator which doesn’t bodewell with my worrying. Though I worryall the time, it doesn’t motivate me to complete things until the last momentsuch as homework. I like to say that Iwork well under pressure, but let’s be honest, everything could benefit from alittle more time. My schoolwork could bebetter, time with God, and many other things in life, could benefit from alittle more time.

This passage in Matthew talks about always striving for the kingdom ofGod. As long as we keep the Kingdom (orKindom as I prefer) all will be given unto to you. This doesn’t mean that just because you thinkof God throughout the day and the rest of the Kindom, then you will geteverything you want. God is not a magicgenie nor Santa Clause. I think that itmeans to always have creation and Gods children in mind when you takeaction. Who will this action affect is agood question to keep in mind.

During this busy holiday season remember to take time and enjoy theday. Enjoy the person you are with,really listen. Avoid looking at yourphone, thinking about your to-do list,emails to return, and the house that needs to be cleaned. Revel in the moment. Call someone you’ve been meaning to reach outto, make someone’s day by smiling or stopping to say hello, Stop and smell the roses if you will.

Really take time to be in the moment. Be in the moment with God. Whenwas the last time that you set aside a moment for God, and just folr God. God will always be there and ready, but wehave to take and make the time to sit and be. Take time to really listen. I hada friend who said “I hate when God talks to me because it usually means that Ihave to do something”s

Take time to sit and simply wait. We are all wanting Christmas to come and Jesus Christ be born, but take the time to sit in the in-between, the unknown. He will get here soon enough, but now is our time to wait. Waiting is uncomfortable, but take the time to do the waiting and reflection.

This is my challenge to myself and to my community. I will be present in all the differentaspects of my life. The current momentis the only one that I will get and can never be repeated. This time is time we are never going to getback

These are my responsibilities today and are what I can focus ontoday. Tomorrow will come soon enoughand will bring its own set of challenges, but what is right in front of me canbe solved today. BE PRESENT!!!!!!

Tomorrow will bring challenges all on its own, but today is the onlytoday we are going to get.

Candie ODell hails originally from sunny California, but is currentlyliving in snowy Chicago. She earned aMasters of Divinity from Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary in 2010. She is in the ordination process in theCalifornia-Pacific Annual Conference to be a permanent Deacon in the area ofsocial-justice and social-change. Currently she is earning a Masters of Science in Nonprofit Managementfrom Spertus in Chicago. She hopes tocombine both of her degrees and open a progressive, faith-based, nonprofit,coffee-shop. She loves to read, makemusic, is a political junky, and an all-around rebel rouser.

Advent Week 2: Positive(ly) Living

2011-11-30T19:48:00.007-05:00

Text: Isaiah 40:1-11, Mark 1:1-8

Reflection:

My childhood was spent in what would be considered a fairly normal, Christian, white, suburban family. In one moment my two sisters and I “dressed up” in old clothing to play “teacher” or “house” and in the next moment we would fight viciously over who had to sit in the middle seat of the car. Mother and Father cared for us rabble-rousing siblings in the best way they knew.

It is plausible (and, I admit) that my sisters convinced me to wear a dress or two but rarely did I lose the battle of the middle seat.

As normal and Christian as my family was/is my sisters and I did not grow up in a household or church tradition that celebrated the season of Advent. In the Christian tradition this time of reflection, from the Latin Adventus meaning “coming,” enables us as a people, a community gathered to pause, to in-hale, and ponder the coming of a child born in the filth of a stable. I am still learning to pause, to wait, and absorb the mystery of what is to come despite the various “middle seat of the car” battles that I continue in my young adult life.

In the last couple years I have begun to reclaim this Advent tradition if for no other reason than to ponder the extraordinary that “comes” from the ordinary, the sacred that “comes” from the profane, the redeemed that “comes” from the irredeemable.

And out of the desolate, profane, wilderness we await for that which will “come.” The prophet Isaiah foretold of a messenger who was to prepare the way--the voice of one crying out in the wilderness--a great redeemer. And John the Baptizer, eating locusts and honey, wearing nothing but camel’s hair and a leather belt around his waist proclaimed the coming of a Messiah who will baptize with the Holy Spirit. In the wilderness space we simultaneously wait, amidst our despair, but we also prepare the way through the proclamation of our words and actions.

What is it about the wilderness that elicits our earnest waiting for the coming of the Christos? Is it that we thirst, we hunger, we cry out in desolation...and in our despair the wait for the coming of the incarnation seems worthwhile, hopeful even.

Ah, but how long must we wait? Each year on December 1, amidst Advent, the global community commemorates World AIDS Day. On this day we acknowledge the physical violence committed against, the verbal abuse performed against, the spiritual hostility perpetrated against those a/effected with HIV/AIDS in order that the love of God unfold in the present tense. We can wait only so long.

Positive(ly) Living

To know and be known,

listened to and heard;

you speak softly but stand so proud.

Our finitude, that dark illumined glow, is our mystery,

AIDS has a story, a face like yours, mine, ours.

It cries each night, dies each night,

wakes, grasps daylight—hope.

We are naked, each, viscerally so,

standing circled hand in hand.

Dangerously profound,

unbound,

we are limitless,

in our togetherness.

Facing, boldly, outward to the world;

orphaned, abandoned, crucified

loved, beloved—naked.

Perhaps our pause, our waiting for that which is to come, in the time of Advent is intended to enable us to recognize the injustice and the work to be completed in our communities. The Advent season forces us to pause, contemplate, act in preparation--like John the Baptizer who proclaimed that the One more powerful than us is coming--to unite in solidarity with those living with or who have died from HIV/AIDS.

Indeed, we are in a season of waiting for the coming of the Messiah. In our vulnerable humanness we pause and reflect. Still, we simultaneously await the coming of justice as we enact justice and boldly proclaim the coming of the One who first loved the world.

Reflection Questions:

In what ways have you, your family, friends, or other loved ones been a/effected by HIV/AIDS?

How has the season of Advent allowed you to pause, wait, and notice the world around you?

Practice:

Commit to teaching yourself about HIV/AIDS and its impact in your community

Commit to educating your community about HIV/AIDS

For information on World AIDS Day

http://www.worldaidsday.org/

For information on the work that the United Methodist Church has committed to regarding HIV/AIDS

http://gbgm-umc.org/health/aids/

http://www.umc-gbcs.org/site/apps/nl/content3.asp?c=frLJK2PKLqF&b=3631781&ct=3956199

http://new.gbgm-umc.org/umcor/work/health/

http://new.gbgm-umc.org/umcor/work/health/hivaids/aids-fund/

http://www.unaids.org/en/

Prayer:

God, in whom we have faith, hope, and love, in this season of Advent remind us that we stand together as vulnerable creatures. Open our hearts and minds and especially our doors so that we might reach across the expanse of dis/ease and difference to be a people of grace and justice. We wait, awakened. We wait, awakened to act. We wait, awakened for the Adventus.

Reflections from the People's Global Action on Migration, Development and Human Rights

2011-11-30T11:16:00.005-05:00

Sitting in a crowded room filled with activists from all over the world in the basement of a building off a side street of the city I was brought back to the days of sitting in the basement of the Kay Spiritual Life Center at the American University for a variety of grassroots planning and United Methodist and CASJ meetings focused on the call to justice and action.

Although this room was filled with United Methodists, much like the days at the university, the colored faces of those around me told of much longer, much harder and much more diverse stories than the faces of my university colleagues. Already in my participation in the United Methodist delegation to the People’s Global Action during the past three days, I have been inspired by the stories that have been shared and anticipate that many more such stories will be shared over the course of the coming days during my time here in Geneva.

This week I am here in Geneva taking part in the United Methodist delegation to the People’s Global Action on Migration, Development and Human Rights. The People’s Global Action (PGA) is a low-level, self-organized collective of activists, NGOs, and religious organizations working on issues of migrants’ rights and recognition. The meeting of the PGA is being held concurrently with the Civil Society Days, a gathering for NGOs and academics working on issues of migration, as well as the private sector. Both of these more grassroots level meetings have taken place on an annual basis since 2006 in response to the meeting of the Global Forum on Migration and Development (GFMD), which will once again meet later on this week here in Geneva. The GFMD is the only inter-governmental forum on migration and serves as a private process, which is completely independent from the United Nations (UN). Unlike the security focus of the GFMD, the Civil Society Days and the PGA seek to bring a focus on human rights and human dignity into the center of the discussion and dialogue on migration.

During my first day here at the forum, I remained uncertain of my role here as one member of the United Methodist delegation thrown into the meeting of an organization and a movement to which I previously had neither ties nor active experience. I couldn’t seem to shake the doubt in my mind and the lingering request for honesty and reality – will the conversations we have, the emotions that are exposed, the things we learn, the people who we meet, and the stories we share actually make a difference?

By flying people from around the world to Geneva and putting us up in hotels and feeding us overpriced Swiss food change the lives of a single child with migrant parents? Or prevent the deportment of an undocumented person?

During the past two days I have, however, grasped a thread of hope that the networks which are being built, the discussions being held, and the presence of each individual and delegation here does in fact present the possibility to change the reality of migration in today’s global world. Since 2006 the People’s Global Action and Civil Society Days has, in fact, already helped to bring human rights more into the focus of the Global Forum on Migration and Development; this grassroots level meeting has worked to influence policy, including the Domestic Worker’s Convention passed in June of this year. Inshallah, our presence here might also have such outcomes – not only at the international level, but also for the average migrant, the mother working to earn a living for her family, the father awaiting deportment in a detention center, and the child seeking justice, recognition, and simply love as a child in a strange land.

Michelle Dromgold is a Mission Intern of the General Board of Global Ministries of the United Methodist Church. She is currently serving at the Kindertreff Delbrücke at the Salem Gemeinde in Berlin, Germany. There, she works as a social worker with an emphasis on intercultural and interreligious dialogue amongst the children and youth at the after-school program and with local United Methodist Congregations.

A prayer for the planet and its people (1st Sunday of Advent)

2011-11-28T12:07:00.002-05:00

Crossposted from the World Student Christian Federation (WSCF) blog prayercommune

Context

Some very important discussions surrounding climate change are happening right now among world leaders–or, rather, are supposed to be happening. While poor island countries face the most threat from climate change, the world superpowers (and super-polluters) are dragging their heels to entering conversations that would lead to cutting carbon emissions.

To learn more about international decisions surrounding climate change, read the article that inspired this prayer.

Centering

This breathing pattern is designed to help you center yourself and wake up:

inhale sharply through the nose for 4 counts
hold the breath for 8 counts
exhale for 8 counts, making sure to let out all of the air

Repeat the pattern three times, feeling the energy flow through your body with each new breath. Continue to prayer:

Prayer

Creator God,

This Advent season you call us to stay awake, and indeed—the briskness of winter, the flame of hope, and the season of expectation all keep us alert and attentive to your coming Kin-dom.

United with Your creation, we pray for courageous leadership in the care of our environment, God. We pray especially for our world leaders and the powerful decisions those co-inhabitors of our planet are making, even now as we pray.

It would seem that once again the man-made line that divides our love of self and love for others has prevailed. But You, O God, awaken us to a more abundant hope, one that brushes away these self-deceptions so that we can see that caring for the planet is caring for our brothers, and empowering the victims of climate change is embracing our sisters.

Like a match and the first Advent candle, ignite us with a new hope, a flame that shines as courageously as the poor crying out for change.

By this prayer, let us begin to embody the hope that we expect of our leaders, allowing this season of expectation to truly be one when we awaken ourselves and the world.

Amen.

This prayer was written by Tyler Sit (Atlanta, GA), the LGBTQ Outreach Coordinator of the World Student Christian Federation-North America. He is currently studying for his MDiv at the Candler School of Theology.

Be in solidarity with the other people who did this prayer. Leave your name and city in the comment box on the WSCF blog.

Advent: Week 1 - "Unplugged"

2011-11-23T16:04:00.000-05:00

Text: Isaiah 64:1-9; Mark 13:24-37

Growing up in the 90s I loved watching MTV Unplugged. It was like my very own concert in the middle of my living room. It was an opportunity to showcase an artist's raw talent: the singer left vulnerable, their words uncluttered, and instruments freed to sing their own song.

There is something to be said for those with status or fame who choose to show a different side; to let go of the “stuff” and just be present. There is risk involved when a well-known musician leaves the “tricks” behind and returns to the basics.

The text from Isaiah is situated in a time when the community is desperate for something real; something that satisfies. The people, including the prophet, send up a communal confession; they beg and plead in telling God how sorry they are for walking away.

Can you picture them now? Can you hear Creation groaning, in a pitchy, beautifully raw voice crying out for reconciliation?

Isaiah’s community desperately wants to see God’s face, the equivalent of knowing they are in right relationship with their Creator. The people of God are ready to make a new start of things and they put their hope in God’s remembering that they belong to God. If we were to be that real, to let go of the things that bind us, the reputation, the pride, I wonder if our lament would possess the same beautifully raw voice?

God's coming-to-dwell-among-us event requires the same kind of Unplugged attitude as the people of Israel. Whether it’s synthesizers or auto-tune, consumerism and greed, these are all things that distort the Love we so desperately need to hear in Advent. We need the time and space to ask ourselves questions and to reflect if we are where God is calling us. And that’s where “unplugging” can help. We cannot begin to ask the questions, let alone seek answers, if we’re barreling through Thanksgiving toward Christmas surrounded by Black Friday and Cyber Monday; the incessant “wants” in a world of great need.

As we prepare ourselves for this holy season of waiting, perhaps an intentional unplugging from the things that bind us can serve as our Advent offering.

Reflection Questions:
What is one thing from which I can unplug?
What is one thing inviting me to plug in?

Practices:
Unplug digitally by leaving your phone off or signing out of FB and Twitter apps. Read more about a digital fast here. For creative ideas on slowing down and unplugging, check out Sabbath Manifesto.

Prayer:
In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die
Where you invest your love, you invest your life
In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die
Where you invest your love, you invest your life

Awake my soul, Awake my soul, Awake my soul
For you were made to meet your maker
- Mumford & Sons, “Awake My Soul”

Rev. Shalom R. Agtarap is the pastor of Ellensburg UMC, a growing faith community in central Washington state. While Seattle is home for her, she enjoys a different part of Washington state living, but severely dislikes shoveling snow. She completed undergraduate studies at the University of Washington and graduate work at Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, DC. Shalom completed the Upper Room's Academy for Spiritual Formation last year and as a result, drinks deeply from the well of guided meditation and spiritual reading.

Reflections on Thanksgiving

2011-11-22T11:33:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.

I love my mother’s cooking. I love being with family. I love the parade and I love football.

But I also enjoy Thanksgiving because of its lack of tension between the sacred and the secular. Thanksgiving is primarily a cultural celebration; it is not a major holiday of the Christian liturgical calendar. It is a day to celebrate family and food and blessings; it is not a day set aside to recognize and celebrate the measures that our great God has undertaken to reconcile humanity to God’s self. And because Thanksgiving is not as firmly rooted in the Christian tradition as other holidays, namely Christmas and Easter, its commercialization is less offensive to me. The focus can be on the food and the shopping because there is no baby in a manger or empty tomb on this day. I can watch the Black Friday advertisements and fight the crowds at the mall without an increasing sense of inner turmoil over how completely antithetical our celebrations have become to the worship and adoration of God, which once formed the foundation of these holidays.

I love Thanksgiving because I don’t feel like I’m worshiping the wrong god when I say grace at the table. God swoops in to receive the prayer of thanks and hear the requisite words of gratitude, and then is dismissed again before becoming the guest whom everyone invites but no one wants to talk to.

Yet I think I’m letting myself off the hook too easily. I think there is more of a place for God in my Thanksgiving celebrations than in the prayer of thanks before the meal.

The lectionary readings for Thanksgiving Day bring just such a prophetic word for our comfortable secular holiday.

The Gospel reading, from the seventeenth chapter of the book of Luke, is a familiar story. There are ten lepers who approach Jesus, desperate for his mercy, unable to even draw near to him because of their uncleanness. Jesus gives instructions for the lepers to show themselves to the priests, which is a ritual stipulation from the law of Leviticus. Though the lepers are likely to have done this before (on the occasion when each first received the designation as unclean), they obey Jesus without question. As they are walking to see the priest, they are made clean. Ten came to Jesus, ten received this gift, but only one returned to the healer’s feet to give thanks with a heart full of gratitude.

This is a convicting story because we, as the readers, find ourselves confronted by Jesus’ question: “The others, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God?” Jesus’ inquiry sheds a stark light on the tendency of the majority to receive blessings without returning thanks. When read in conjunction with the Hebrew Bible lesson from the book of Deuteronomy, I know that I am one of the nine.

In the eighth chapter of Deuteronomy, Moses foretells the abundance that God will bring for the people of Israel when they take possession of the land of Canaan. These blessings are contingent, however, upon their obedience to God’s Law. If the people keep the commandments of the LORD, they will flourish in the land, with its flowing springs and field of wheat, its vines and its pomegranates, its milk and honey. In it, the people will lack nothing, thanks to the goodness of the LORD.

The people receive these words from Moses as they stand on the banks of the Jordan, after forty years of wandering in the wilderness. The possession of this land is still an impossible promise, though one that seems more and more real as they stand with the vision of it on the horizon. Their hearts are filled with hope and gratitude.

Appropriately, it was the story of the people of Israel inheriting the promised land that inspired the colonizing Pilgrims—famed celebrators of the first Thanksgiving—to come to America as inheritors themselves.

Thus when I hear these words of Moses that tell of God’s bounty for the people, I know that I stand on the other side of the promise. I am not waiting on the opposite bank of the promised land, but I have lived my whole life in it. I have never wanted for anything—I have always eaten my fill and lived with a roof over my head in a community that flows with modern-day milk and honey.

When Moses reminds the people to return thanks to God and remember God’s goodness in times of hardship once they have inherited the land, he is looking toward the future. But when the same reminder is put before me, I have to ask myself now, have I remembered to thank God? As one who dwells in the promised land of health, comfort, security, and well-being, have I extolled the name of the One who gave me this life?

When I sit down at my Thanksgiving table this Thursday, I will pray for strength of spirit to be that tenth leper, the one who returned to the feet of Jesus. I pray that I will look at the table of food that my mother will provide and see not just the richness of my own blessings but also the God who set them before me.

May the gratitude that we return this Thanksgiving overflow to all the days of our lives, so that God would never know a difference between the graces we offer on Thanksgiving and those that pour from our hearts at every moment.

Whitney Pierce is in her third year of the Master of Divinity program at Candler School of Theology at Emory University. She is a candidate for deacon's orders in the United Methodist Church.

Justice Looks Like...

2011-11-21T11:06:00.001-05:00

This morning I've been thinking a lot about why it sometimes seems like conversations between self-proclaimed liberal Christians and conservative Christians hardly ever seem to get anywhere. If I'm honest I fall into the former camp, even if I may not like the stigmas associated with those kinds of labels. So as a liberal Christian, generally spending my time with other liberal Christians, the verse I hear quoted most often is Micah 6:8- "What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?"

It seems so simple.

Do justice.

Love mercy.

Walk humbly.

Now I'm not sure that anyone is really very good at humility, but at least it's easily agreed upon, and people try. At least, I am able to make it through my day claiming the name of Christian by hoping that humility is one of the things we strive for.

Mercy is the same way. I don't think anyone would disagree that mercy is something we are called to. We may not live it out all the time, but we're working on it.

Really, it's justice where we hit a snag. Do justice. Do what is fair. Do what is right. Do what is deserved- that's what justice means. Administer the response that is deserved.

The disagreement , it seems, is over what is deserved. What does this person or that group deserve?

If you think that they deserve judgement and punishment for the choices they make- or worse, for who they are- and I think that they deserve love no matter who they are or what they've done, then yeah, we're going to have an issue. So what does justice look like?

What I keep coming back to is the fact that I am called, first and foremost, to love. Love God, love everyone else. And loving means being patient and kind, not rude or boastful or selfish or irritable, and keeping no record of wrongs but rejoicing in truth. It means wanting what is best for the other person even if it makes me uncomfortable to do so. If God loves me despite everything I've done and calls me to do the same- and even moreso if I believe that God does the same for everyone- then who can I possibly judge? How can I do anything, or think that anyone deserves anything, but love? What could justice possibly look like besides extending my hand in peace and mercy to everyone I see?

So we come back to loving mercy and walking humbly. Doing justice means both of those things. Being a Christian and being just means loving to be kind, loving to extend mercy. It means being humble enough to recognize that the decision about what anyone truly deserves is beyond me.

I don't know if this kind of thinking will be enough to move anyone's conversations forward, but I keep going because I believe that love changes hearts. Love changes the world. And that's what justice looks like.

(Crossposted at The Story I Find Myself In)

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Heather Kramer is a second year Masters of Divinity and Masters of Theological Studies student at Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, DC., where she is also the youth minister at Dumbarton United Methodist Church and an intern at the Methodist Federation for Social Action (MFSA). In her free time (ha!) she tries to read, work for justice, and blogs at The Story I Find Myself In.

Young Adult Scholarships for General Conference

2011-11-16T15:19:00.007-05:00

MFSA, in coalition with Reconciling Ministries Network and Affirmation through The Common Witness Coalition, recognize the need to equip the next generation of UMC leaders in the legislative, judicial, communication and relationship building issues by which policy change is achieved in the United Methodist Church.

Thanks to the Arcus Foundation, ten scholarships are available to young adults (ages 35 and under) who are passionate about social justice and inclusive church issues to be deployed alongside experienced leaders as co-coordinators of Coalition efforts to monitor Legislative, Judicial and Relationship Building at General Conference.

In addition to 10 full scholarships, MFSA will match up to $300 for each young adult (up to 10 young adults) sponsored by their local congregation, MFSA Chapter, campus ministry, district or conference, to attend General Conference and volunteer with The Common Witness Coalition.

Experienced UMC leaders are ready to pass on the tools that have been effective in the past and to receive the insight that fresh perspective can bring to the process.

Please share freely with young adults, campus ministers, CCYM Directors, Seminary professors, and anyone else who might be interested in developing vital church leadership among young adults!

Young Adult Full Scholarship Application Process

Young Adult Matching Scholarship Application Process

#OWS

2011-11-15T07:45:00.007-05:00

Here are some pictures from Occupy Wall Street's Liberty Plaza on Sunday when OnFire joined the interfaith prayer service held every Sunday. By today, Mayor Bloomberg has evicted everyone from this place that has really become a community. The camp is regrouping at Foley Square now, but prayers for all those doing this work as they recover from last night.

I love that sign: place your suggestions here for the improved world you want. What are some of your suggestions? Post here, on our Facebook page, or tag us @umonfire.

Equipping Our Faith Communities to End Domestic Violence

2011-10-20T00:11:00.002-04:00

When I was in high school I can remember watching my mom standing out in the driveway with a man our family knew as he screamed at her to tell her where his wife and kids were. I can remember being frozen in the kitchen, unable to move, just watching out the window waiting for him to hurt her. I can remember him driving off and my mom walking into the kitchen looking as though she was going to collapse from the exhaustion. And now I look back and I wonder if I was so scared for my mom just in that single interaction, how much fear did that woman and her kids live in every day?

In college, I keep writing and rewriting this story that stemmed from the image of a young girl holding her mother in her arms as her mother died from a bullet wound inflicted by her father. It was an image I have carried with me since I was very young. Our family was touched by a murder suicide when I was four, and I can still remember my mother explaining what happened to my foster sister when I asked what happened to her parents. My mother told me that my foster sister held her mother as she died after watching her own father shoot her mother and then himself. So since I was four years old, I grew up in a world where murder suicide was a reality.

October is National Domestic Violence Awareness month, and I thought it was really important that we ask the question of how our churches are responding to the reality of domestic violence in our communities. In my Christian Ethics class taught by Dr. Traci West, we watched a film about domestic violence and the church. And in class, I could hear the sharp intakes of breath by students upset by the statistics we were hearing, and almost enraged when we heard the story of a woman whose church elders asked her why she couldn't just go back to her abusive husband when he was so desperate to have her back. Yet how few of us can go into our churches and see any evidence that OUR church would act differently? How many of us have ever heard our pastor just mention that domestic violence is a sin in a sermon? How many of us have information for our local shelters in our bathrooms at church? How many of our UMW's lead worship services or educational programs for our churches on issues of domestic violence?

Too often we think that everyone knows that domestic violence is wrong now; yet I sat in class this week as we did a role play of what we would do as pastors if a woman came to us and told us that her husband hit her and listened to a classmate ask questions that blamed the victim! I don't think the student realized that the questions blamed the victim until Dr. West pointed it out, but such is the insidious nature of domestic violence. And so we must better equip people in the pews and create communities in which domestic violence is eradicated. In my own life, I have not experienced domestic violence in my household, and yet from the age of four I have known murder-suicide in the case of intimate partners to be a very real thing. All of us have been touched by intimate partner violence in some way, and so we are called to speak out against this injustice in the sanctuary and at home.

This post does not begin to address the complexities of domestic violence, but I wanted to start a conversation here. Two resources I find useful to begin to educate ourselves and our congregations are:

Nancy Nason-Clark's Rave Project (Religion and Violence e-learning), which includes games for youth focusing on identifying and resisting intimate partner violence
Marie M. Fortune's Faith Trust Institute

Please feel free to comment below or write on our Facebook page to share resources we can use in our faith communities to talk about intimate partner violence and ways we can eliminate it.

Occupy Boston

2011-10-13T19:53:00.000-04:00

by Zach Kerzee

On Monday, October 10, a group of Harvard students, including myself, met by the famous "Statue of Three Lies" to march collectively to Boston Common. There we would meet hundreds of other students from colleges in Boston to join voices with the Occupy Boston protesters who were camped out in tents in Boston’s financial district.

I came to the protest hesitantly. I had heard all of the news reports, and was not quite sure what to make of this small, but growing movement. I had heard of the movement’s lack of direction, organization, or even a clear theme. I had heard that the movement was nothing more than a liberal response to the Tea Party movement – that it was composed of whiney young people who didn’t want to find a job. What I saw when we reached the protest’s starting point, however, quickly dissolved these preconceptions.

Last Monday’s protest boasted over 1,000 participants from across Boston. The sheer size of the group absolutely blew me away – this was a highly coordinated effort that was able to inspire hundreds of people to action. In the thirty minutes or so between the time when I arrived in Boston Common and the time the protest began, I took pictures of the signs that protesters had made. People held up signs representing a vast array of different causes. Some of those causes were:

Abolishment of Capital Punishment, Prison Reform, Education Reform, Greater Teacher Pay, Forgiveness of Student Debt, Mortgage Debt Forgiveness, Redistribution of Wealth, Redistribution of Influence, Anti-Consumerism, Anti-Capitalism, The Formation of a Radical Democracy, The End of Bank Bailouts, The End of America’s Wars, and even The Legalization of Marijuana…

The protest left Boston Common at approximately 2 P.M. and marched for approximately three hours. The group chanted together:

"We are the 99 percent!"
"How do we fix the deficit? End the War! Tax the Rich!"

The protest reached its climax at approximately 5:00 P.M. when we met a police barricade at the Charlestown Bridge. Several people were arrested that evening at the bridge, and 140 others were arrested that night at the tent village as they attempted to expand the camp away from the initial site to form a second camp.

The protest was overwhelming, and so I took several days to process all that I saw before attempting to share my thoughts on the Occupy movement. So now, on Thursday 10/13, after having spent the night in tents with hundreds of other participants, I’m prepared to make some observations.

First, I think that it is important to distinguish this protest movement in from other similar movements of civil disobedience. This is not Egypt. This is not Gandhi. This is not King… yet. The Occupy movement, which has now spread to over 100 cities, lacks the unity and direction of those three movements, but it has potential.

Which leads to my second point: the movement should be seen, at this point, as less than a "movement" per se, and more as a collective expression of discontent. The movement is a soap-box – a sounding board where people who have historically been silenced are able to have their voices heard.

It is longing for unity – but not yet unified. What the movement lacks in unity and clarity, however, it more than makes up for in sheer momentum and passion of voice. This movement points, I believe, to the formation of another movement. The people’s voices have been heard – now strong leadership is required to turn discontent into constructive policy.

Several students from Harvard Divinity School have established a spiritual presence at the camp, and have coordinated with other seminarians and people of faith to host religious services which serve the needs of the protesters. These "Protest Chaplains" are there to listen to what the protesters have to say and to provide, if desired, spiritual counsel and guidance. Last night, I sat with a group of seven protesters in the "Faith and Spirituality Tent" and simply asked them why they were there. The protesters’ answers were varied, and each had her/his own reason for attending. But one thing united them. Each one of them wanted to be heard.

I see this as my Christian mission within the Occupy movement – to listen to the voices of those who desperately want to be heard. To work for justice. To hope for peace. To be a voice as well as a silent presence. To live in solidarity with those in whom, and through whom, I believe God is working to form a better world.

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Zach Kerzee is a Master of Divinity Student at Harvard Divinity School from Abilene, Texas.

Re-defining 'illegal'

2011-10-11T20:43:00.003-04:00

Quick! Complete this sentence: “I was really angry about those illegal _______ we saw the other night in California.”

If the word you chose was “fireworks,” you’re thinking like me. The combustibles have been banned across much of the Southern and Western United States due to extreme drought, and as wildfires throughout Summer 2011 have proved, a wayward spark from an illegal fireworks display can wipe out acres, like the fire in California which destroyed 44 acres of the San Bernardino National Forest this past August. This incident proves just how dangerous illegal fireworks can be, with the potential to destroy millions of acres of land or, what’s worse, to threaten the lives and livelihoods of millions across the West. Such a display, especially during the continued drought, is indeed a cause for anger and alarm.

If you answered “immigrant,” I have news for you: as many as 40 percent of undocumented immigrants entered the country legally. These are immigrants who entered with tourist, student, or employment-based visas and either overstayed or fell out of status due to some technicality. To refer to immigrants who entered the United States legally as “illegal immigrants” isn’t just inflammatory and dehumanizing, therefore: it is just plain incorrect.

The mischaracterization inherent in the I-Word is frustrating for immigrants and their advocates, including Danny Upton, an immigration attorney with the Justice for Our Neighbors (JFON), a program of the United Methodist Committee on Relief. “Every time I turn on the news,” Upton says, “I hear this word being used incorrectly by the news media. Sometimes ‘illegal’ is the least of what they call undocumented immigrants. Often they use words like ‘immigration felons’ and ‘criminal aliens’ to describe immigrants who have never committed a crime. What’s more, by using the word ‘illegal’ as a catchall phrase, we obscure real differences among categories of immigrants. We insinuate that all undocumented immigrants must be criminals, although millions of them have never committed—let alone been convicted of—a crime. To refer to all undocumented immigrants as ‘illegals’ and as ‘criminals’ is to lie.”

Unfortunately, many continue to abuse the I-Word in ways that promote division and violence. “The I-Word,” says Upton, “is at best inexact, and at worst willfully misleading.” He believes the word is intended to slander all undocumented immigrants, to instill fear in the voting public and to skew perceptions on the immigration issue. “The term ‘illegal immigrant,’” says Upton, “is not a legal term. It is a political term devised by the enemies of immigrants to frame the issue.”

What does this understanding mean for us as people of faith in Jesus Christ? It renews our commitment to Drop the I-Word—a word which degrades, dehumanizes, and denies the image of God in us all. It refocuses our lives on our call from God: Scripture demands compassion, justice and equity for the “resident alien” in our midst (cf. Exodus 22:21, 23:9; Deuteronomy 27:19; Zechariah 7:9-10; Jeremiah 7:5-7; Ezekiel 47:22 ; Proverbs 31:8-9; Matthew 25:35; Hebrews 13:2), and demands that they be treated equally under the law. It reminds us, further, of the greatest commandment, which we find in Matthew 22: 36-40. When asked, “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself. All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

We are called to love our neighbors as ourselves. Rather than call them “illegal” or “criminals,” might we call them friends or brothers and sisters in Christ? What’s more, might we treat them as such?

To pledge to Drop the I-Word, click here.

We the Generation

2011-10-10T07:57:00.018-04:00

We the younger people of the 99 percent, of a generation that was raised on technology, media consumption and an uncertain future, in order to form a more perfect existence, establish a true sense of justice and equality, in a country we have loved since birth, love to the extent that we are willing to peacefully gather and fight for her people. All of her people. As we stand on the cusp of adulthood and childhood, we also stand on the cusp of indifference and action. Admist a culture inundated with Xbox, Jersey Shore and the latest and greatest toys, we choose to stand for justice, liberty and to uphold the ideals outlined in the Constitution for the United States of America.

I attended the Occupy DC march on Freedom Plaza and the encampment at McPherson Square. This wasn’t my first protest. I went to the Free Trade protest in Miami a few years ago, but I was ignorant of the true importance of why everyone was protesting. I was young and just following a girl I liked.

Now fully immersed in the abyss of adulthood, I fully understand what it means to be an American citizen paying into a system that seems to have lost its way. Countless friends and their parents have lost jobs leaving them waylaid by a system that once seemingly promised college graduates – or anyone who worked just hard enough - the keys to the kingdom: A decent paying job with benefits, property and ample opportunity to enjoy the spoils of a middle-class life with their family. In 2011, and possibly for the next few years, that dream seems like a mirage for even the highest-performing student from the best college.

I had a chance to talk with a few folks at Occupy DC about why protest now and what will this actually do. The response was pretty simple: We have no choice. The system is broken and won’t be fixed on its own. No one seems to care to tinker around and see what the problem is, so we took to the streets and decided to choose action over the complacency that the media seems to attach to my generation.

I was a little scared, despite the fact that Occupy DC had a permit for the initial four days at Freedom Plaza. A drunken man wanted to start a fight and called our gear trash. Weary police looked on intently as we marched past their trucks. A few protestors got pepper sprayed at the National Air and Space Museum. But I knew it wasn’t about me, but rather a higher calling, an outreach of a movement that is much bigger than my concerns and issues will ever be.

Pastor Dean Snyder at Foundry UMC in D.C. preaches that Christians are called to action and to stand against injustice even when it’s scary to do so. Back in June, Pastor Dean talked about Street Hope and how Heavin will come to us in the form of a thriving city where there is true justice and equal distribution of “wealth”. He said the said:

“Heaven is the city healed of injustice. What God is doing in human history is developing a humanity who know how to live with each other justly and who have a desire to do so. And when we learn to share and when we learn to establish just economic systems, then the city of God will come down to us from heaven like a bride adorned for her husband. (Rev. 21:2) The city is a place of great abundance.”

I believe that our generation is hungry to finally see justice for all lived out in action and not words. We are hungry to see economic justice where not only the top one percent of citizens are guaranteed a good life, but the remaining ninety-nine can enjoy some of the comforts and inalienable rights that the rich are able to partake in. We are hungry to see every American, regardless of race, ethnicity, sex, sexual orientation, gender identity, or religion or economic status, treated as a full equal in the American dream and enjoy the rights of the majority without feeling like a criminal for doing so. No longer are we Generation Y, the group of young people after Generation X. We are Generation Y Not, as in why not usher in justice and equality now.

Ty is a member of Foundry United Methodist Church in Washington, D.C. and is passionate about human rights and equality.

"I am the 99% and so are you."

2011-10-04T22:15:00.004-04:00

by Michael Airgood

On Sunday morning I approached the communion stewards at New Day Bronx UMC and received Holy Communion. My wrists were still bruised and sore from the handcuffs, but my soul was rejoicing.

On Saturday I had not planned to get arrested. I imagine that few of my 700 companions had planned on spending hours in a prison holding cell. I had already purchased my bus ticket out of the city for the evening, and had already planned and bought supplies to teach Sunday School in the morning.

I was careful not to step off of the sidewalk during the Occupy Wall Street protests, but as police officers stopped traffic on Brooklyn Bridge and stepped back to make more room for us to march, I joined the crowd in marching across the bridge. I heard no call to disperse and no officer informed us that we would be arrested. In the panic of the "kettle" I feared that we would all be trampled and killed as the police forced us closer and closer together.

I decided to join the protest because of my Christian faith. While the media filled pages with pictures of dirty hippies and crazed leftists, I knew that as a follower of Jesus Christ I was also called to care about the injustices in the system. This was not a left vs. right issue. We have allowed the poor and the marginalized to grow poorer and move further toward the fringe. We lose our humanity when we allow corporations to make billions in profits while millions of children go hungry every night. We cannot claim to be followers of Jesus Christ if the cries of the poor and needy go unheeded by our churches and our Christians. I decided to join the protest because of my Christian faith.

I thanked the officer that arrested me for doing his job, and I thanked every officer that helped to process my arrest. Some of the boys in blue apologized for arresting us. They squeezed 120 of us into a holding cell built for far fewer. I was not the only religious leader in the group. A Buddhist monk and an African American Pentecostal pastor were also present. We talked with people and tried to calm the anxious.

I posted on Facebook the following morning, "There are some who want you to believe that they just arrested dirty hippies and radicals yesterday; but you know me. I am your friend, your brother, a person of faith, a moderate and thoughtful person and I was arrested with hundreds like me for protesting an unjust system. I am the 99% and so are you."

Unjust systems cannot be fixed without the support of people of faith. We are the 99%. Pastors, priests, Sunday School teachers, soccer moms, nuns and the rest of us work hard to live out our faith every day in tangible ways. We must live with the consequences of our actions, and our children and grandchildren must live with the consequences of our actions.

When I was arrested my first thought was that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But as I worshiped as a guest of the wonderfully inclusive New Day Church, it became more apparent that when I was arrested I was at the right place at the right time. I was raising my voice and allowing my actions to speak out against an unjust system. While the path isn’t for everyone, it was certainly right for me that day.

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Michael Airgood is licensed to be a local pastor in the Western Pennsylvania Annual conference and serves with GBGM as a standard support missionary in L’viv, Ukraine. He is a graduate of Toccoa Falls College in Toccoa, GA with a BS in Intercultural Studies and plans to attend seminary in the near future.

It isn't always black and white

2011-09-27T03:57:00.005-04:00

As the events of the past week remind us, discrimination based upon race, ethnicity and religion remains present and alive in the United States and in our world. From the heartbreaking execution of Troy Davis to the continued occupation in the Middle East, the headlines are full of stories that threaten to overwhelm our hope and our faith in a grace-filled and loving God.

Such racism and discrimination is not always black and white – neither in its basis upon skin color nor in its media presence. Working with underprivileged German and immigrant children and youth at an after-school program hosted by a United Methodist Church in Berlin, Germany, I am daily reminded of the complexities and intricacies of racism and privilege that allow such systems and individual inequalities to perpetuate. The kids with whom I work are largely of Turkish, Arab, and Roma background and most have been born and raised here in the capital of Germany, but often know little about the city beyond the 1 square kilometer block where the Salem United Methodist Church is located. As a result of their ethnicity, citizenship, and religion, they are largely ‘othered’ by Berlin and German politicians and citizens. They are forced to attend poorly staffed and dilapidated schools, where it is expect from the beginning of 1^st grade that these children will neither attend university nor achieve anything outstanding in their lives. However, this oppression is not only maintained by and reflected in the political and educational systems, but is already evident among the kids themselves. Fights will break out on the playground across the street from the church based on incidents that have occurred between the differing ethnic and racial groups; additionally, such violence will often be targeted at the children with little or no family support and those who are friendless at school and on the playground. These simple acts of violence among mere 10- and 12-year olds illustrate how easily the act of ‘othering’ based upon race or ethnicity or religion or social status can be reinitiated, ingrained, and become systematic within our society. When mere children already live within and contribute to this systemic racism, how can such a cycle be broken?

In August, I had the opportunity to visit the American Anthropological Association’s RACE exhibit at the Smithsonian Institute’s Natural History Museum in Washington, DC. The exhibit, “Are We So Different?”, focuses on debunking the sociological and anthropological construction of ‘race’ that has become predominately accepted in our society, when in reality we all share a common ancestry; the racial and ethnic differences evident among our populations today result from natural variations, migration and environmental adaptations. Bringing such a view of race to the Washington, DC public, its tourists and its school groups is an essential beginning in re-framing our understanding of race so that we might also then be able to work to dialogue about race, about racism, and about its intricate and perpetuating foothold in society, not only among our government officials, but also among our children, our colleagues, our friends, and ourselves.

While racism continues to dominate our society, the topic of race and racism is too often cast aside as invisible, just as the narrator of Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man explains in its opening lines: “I am an invisible man…. I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me…That invisibility to which I refer occurs because of a peculiar disposition of the eyes of those with whom I come in contact.” We need more opportunities to make race ‘visible’ – to discuss race in the public realm and to dialogue about the consequences of racism in our own daily actions and perceptions, in the acts of children, in the decisions of government officials, and in the judgments of innocence and guilt in the courtroom. As United Methodists, the Social Principles of the United Methodist Church call us to additionally recognize that “racism includes both personal and institutional racism” and to “recognize racism as sin and affirm the ultimate and temporal worth of all persons.” Rather than allowing our eyes to take a “peculiar disposition” to our own inadvertent racism and to systems that sustain racial discrimination, we are called to instead hold our gaze and stand steady to challenge individual acts of racial discrimination and perpetually oppressive systems based upon such discrimination; by gazing into the eyes of the ‘other,’ of the ‘invisible,’ we will find that we are not so different from the ‘other’. And with such recognition, we can then extend our hand to them, a welcoming hand of friendship, a steady hand of solidarity, and an open, Christ-like hand of love. Let us go and do just that.