Who Do You Stand With? A Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday – Part 2

This is PART 2 of a sermon I preached on February 23, 2020, ahead of a vote at my church to become a Reconciling Church and join the Reconciling Ministries Network, a network of churches advocating for full inclusion of LGBTQ+ persons.  This issue has been a contentious one in the United Methodist Church for decades, coming to a boil when the 2019 General Conference of the church voted to uphold the “Traditional Plan,” maintaining and tightening restrictions on LGBTQ+ persons and clergy who supported them in such things as marriage.  Due to technical issues, a video of this sermon may not be available.  It will be posted below if it does become available.  What follows is a rough recollection of what I said.  Read PART 1.

Stand-BonhfrI love the church, so it really pains me to say that, on the whole, the church has not been good standing with or speaking up for people who are fighting for freedom, equality, and inclusion, people asking—crying out—for help and protection.  You against racism?  And the church kind of whispers, “Oh yeah, we’re against that.”  I’m glad that this year’s Laity Convocation had as its theme “Unpacking Racism” (see link below), and I’m really glad I could participate.  I know the UMC has a commission on race, too, and I’m happy about that. But it’s 2020, nearly seven decades after Brown vs. Board of Education and we’re still talking about unpacking racism. The church could speak up louder with more vitality and conviction, instead of—on the whole—mumbling, “Yeah, we’re against racism.”  We kind of stand with people, but it’s a weak, droop-shouldered stance.  Our voice has been tepid, luke warm, and worse: often the church, instead of standing with these people, has acted to keep them un-free, un-included, and in danger.  Of course, of course, there are exceptions.  Martin Luther King, Jr. came out of the church, as did many, many who fought and continue to fight for Civil Rights.  But on the whole the church’s response has not only been tepid; it remains to this day one of the bulwarks of racism, and Sunday remains perhaps the most segregated day in America.

It’s been similar, sad to say, in our stance against sexism. Again, the church has provided some place for women to develop their gifts and to lead, but on the whole, when it speaks, that voice, too, has mumbled around for decades, and very often those in the church who would keep women subservient have spoken up much louder and with greater conviction.

The ultimate example of the church’s luke warm, whispering voice, its slack-shouldered stance, was in Nazi Germany.  Again, there was opposition to Nazi rule, and the so-called Confessing Church spoke loudly against the regime.  One of its leaders was Dietrich Boenhoeffer, who wrote the great book The Cost of Discipleship, which begins with that startling sentence, “The great enemy of the church today is cheap grace.”  We want all the advantages of grace but don’t want to do anything for it.  We don’t want to stand with people, speak up for them.  Bonhoeffer was executed.  Another leader of the Confessing Church was Martin Niemoeller, who uttered the famous words: “When they came for the Communists, I didn’t say anything because I’m not a Communist.  When they came for the Jews, I didn’t say anything because I’m a Christian. When they came for the Trade Unionists, I didn’t say anything because I don’t belong to a Trade Union.  And then they came for me, and it was too late.  There was no one to speak up for me.”  Niemoeller spent seven years in a concentration camp.  But on the whole, the traditional German church whispered its objections.  Its virtual silence enabled the horrors of the war and the concentration camps, and much of the church openly stood with that evil regime.

Stand-NmlrWe could speak louder.  That’s what the vote to join the Reconciling Ministries Network really amounts to today.  It’s amplifying our voice for, and standing stronger with LGBTQ persons. We won’t even be the first UMC church in our district to do so.  We also know that the vast majority of American UMC congregations—something like 85%—do not support the Tradition Plan passed by the last General Conference.  But my own sense is that that opposition has been spoken with the church’s usually whispered voice, “Oh sure, we’re against not fully including LGBTQ people.”  We could speak up louder, stand with LGBTQ people stronger.  Does this church have to do it now?  No.  We could do what’s usual and wait until it’s safer.  But that would lead, again, to us joining in on a general, luke warm whisper—as usual.

I want you to know that in many ways I get it.  It’s normal not to want to take strong stands. But there’s more.  I know we also come to consider a church a family, and, of course, there’s two things we’re warned never to talk about with family: politics and religion.  It’s strange, isn’t it, that we don’t even really want to talk about religion in a church!  We’re afraid of splitting the church, but that’s because we haven’t yet learned to live with diversity.  This church in particular prides itself, rightly so, on its diversity.  But diversity means more than just diversity of race, ethnicity, age, and the like. It’s diversity of opinion, too.  Most of us want to be in a church where we believe everybody thinks alike.  That’s more comforting, certainly, but that’s not really a vital church.  It’s a cult.  The great historian Doris Kearns Goodwin wrote a book on Lincoln titled Team of Rivals.  It was his genius, she says, to put diverse, conflicting views in his cabinet.  We need both people in this church: those who oppose becoming a Reconciling Church, and those who favor it.  I favor it, but I’ll be here no matter what the outcome is.

I urge a yes vote because I believe unless more churches speak up louder now, take stronger stands now, it’s possible we could be talking about full inclusion years from now.  But unlike racism or sexism, I think our society as a whole—and especially its young people—have already largely moved on in terms of LGBTQ+ inclusion.  They’re for it and don’t see what we’re fussing over.  So when society—and especially its young—see us still arguing inclusion years from now, the church’s weak stand will make it seem to more and more people that we have not just a weak voice, but an irrelevant one, too.

Go HERE for a complete list of sermons, like “Pentecost Means No ‘Supremacies,'” “Sacred Doing,” and “Theology and Race.” 

♦  Go Here for the Lead Post in a series of articles on the Unpacking Racism Laity Convocation.

 

Posted in Faith, Social Change | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Unpacking Racism: “Noble” Sentiments that Keep Us from Talking About Race

RaceConvo4

This is the Lead Post in a series of articles based on “Unpacking Racism,” the theme of the 2020 Laity Convocation of the Northern Illinois Conference of the United Methodist Church, held on February 8, 2020.  I and three other panelist—Rebecca Fraley, Judy Siaba, Chris Pierson—plus moderator Rev. Alka Lyall, spoke and answered questions on race.  See end of post for links to other articles in this series.

 

For years I have written and said that Americans would rather talk about anything—absolutely anything—but race.  So when Mark Manzi was coordinating the panel discussion for the 2020 Laity Convocation and suggested topics each one of us might speak to, I immediately chose the questions: Can we even talk about race?  Isn’t that racist in itself?  Such questions, I said at the event, are classic ones we use to avoid talking about race and imply that race isn’t very serious or important and, finally, that racism is so easy to solve it will just go away if we ignore it.  But we talk about everything…unless we’re too scared to face it.  Let’s just think about physical ailments, I said.  Will not talking about cancer make it go away?  If our grand child gets a tiny cut or scrape don’t we at least try to say something comforting?  We rarely remain silent, but it’s one of our deepest American wishes that silence will make racism go away.  That simple.

There’s a naivete to these questions.  Other things we say to avoid talking about race, however, don’t sound naïve.  In fact, they sound noble.  Two of the noblest statements came up during the panel and in the questions asked afterwards.  One attendee suggested we were being dismissive to criticize them.  They are:  “I don’t see color” and “We’re all human.”  First, I want to say that in many cases I know these statements are said with good will.  For years I’ve taught graduate courses on race and ethnicity to teachers who earnestly—and, again, with good will—say they only see students who need good teaching and affirmation and grounding in our common humanity. They don’t see color, they just see human beings.

DifferencesThese two statements, taught to them by other professors—mostly of good will—are the legacy of modernism, a complex system of thought that, among other things, sought to find something solid to stand on amid the chaos and carnage of Western wars starting in the late 1800’s, leading through the horrors of the Holocaust and Vietnam, and hundreds of other conflicts, many continuing to this present moment.  People wanted universal principles of good conduct that would eradicate our differences.  The thought was: we perpetuate horrors upon each other because we focus too much on differences, not on our common humanity.  That’s true to some degree, but the emphasis is almost backwards. We’re terrible to each other not mainly because we’ve forgotten our common humanity, but mainly because we don’t accept—even embrace—our differences.

Our strongest human bonds are made with those whose differences we’ve accepted, not with those we affirm our common humanity with.  Doing the latter is easier because it presupposes you already recognize their humanity, which usually means you think they’re already enough like you.  Jesus asked (Matthew 5:46), “If you only love those who love you, what reward will you get?”  This principle works out in everyday life all the time.  How many times (a lot!) has a young man come into my office deliriously happy because he’s found the girl of his dreams.  “We’re so much alike! It’s like we’ve known each other forever! I don’t even have to finish my sentence; she already knows what I’m thinking!” etc. etc.  And two months later he comes back, dejected, saying, “I thought I knew her.”  It’s over because he found out she was actually a different person, not a clone of him, and couldn’t handle it.  I say to those teachers who don’t see color: My goal is to make you see color.  However, when I’ve tried to make people see color, whether in class, or in other arenas—like when I led in writing the Diversity Plan for Naperville School District 203—I’ve gotten hit over and over and over with the “I-don’t-see-color” bat.  If we’re ever going to deal seriously with racism, the swinging of that bat has to stop.

The evidence is absolutely overwhelming: color matters.  There’s no way I could italicize or bold that statement enough.  Color—“whiteness” in particular—gives astounding privilege to some, but places absolutely enormous, untold disadvantage on “people of color” in virtually every aspect of their lives.  And saying “I don’t see color” or “We’re all human” are, finally, noble-sounding versions of “Isn’t talking about race racist?”  It means, “I myself don’t have to talk about racism, I’m innocent.  (And my family didn’t own slaves.)  We’re all human.  All the same.”  But we’re not all the same.  We’re different—sometimes really different.  Deal with that first, and maybe someday we can embrace our common humanity, a humanity that’s precious not because we’re all alike, but because “being human” means being able to embrace human diversity.

*  For more on being “hit by the bat of color-blindness” see articles like “Race aside…” (partly about the killing of Trayvon Martin), and “Peggy McIntosh’s Invisible Knapsack.” Also go to the Teaching Diversity page on this site.

  ARTICLES IN THIS SERIES:

Posted in Social Change | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

OFW’s: Anthony Bourdain’s “Manila”

Bourdain at a Jollibees in Manila.

Bourdain at a Jollibees in Manila.

I think it deserves to become a Christmas classic—a weird one, but nonetheless a classic.  The VIDEO below stiches together about 10 minutes of clips available on YouTube from one of the best episodes the late Anthony Bourdain ever did: his show on Manila, the first episode of Season Seven of his Parts Unknown series.  Being Filipino, I know I’m biased in thinking it’s the greatest show he ever did.  The video below focuses on the insane fast-food franchise Jollibees, on OFW’s (Overseas Filipino Workers), on cover bands (a significant segment of OFW’s), and on one particular OFW: Aurora, a woman who lived overseas for over 30 years, and as a nanny for many of those years raised one of Bourdain’s directors.

RockStars2What’s left out?  A segment on Sisig, a classic Filipino street food (a hash of pig ears and jowls—Bourdain just calls it “pig face”—garlic, and a raw egg on top) that started trending world-wide after this show; a segment on Halo Halo, a crazy mix of milk, beans, fruits, gelatin, etc. (the name just means “mix-mix”); and segments on Christmas, and Christmas parties—because the Philippines is absolutely the most Christmas-crazy country on earth. Celebrations begin September 1st, when everybody starts saying “Merry Christmas” to each another, and stores rev up, as do actual Christmas parties.  Most of all you won’t see all of the last segment with Aurora, her family, and Bourdain (about which, more soon).  So everyone—I mean it!—should just buy this episode on Amazon Prime, or Netflix, or wherever, and start a family tradition: watch it at least once every Christmas, starting September 1st, if not more.  It will probably cost only $1.99 for an HD version.

BalikbayanOne of the first things Bourdain says is, “Filipinos are, for reasons I have yet to fathom, the most giving people on earth.  Think I’m talking shit?  Keep watching.”  On first viewing, what you’ll watch seems to be a jumble of weird images: postal workers struggling with huge boxes; crazy office Christmas party games; kids swimming in the Bay and playing street basketball; a traffic cop in a Santa suit directing traffic with sensational dance moves while a typhoon pours down rain;  priests wildly sprinkling holy water on people pouring out of churches.  Yet the show has a wonderful, well-crafted arc.  Those huge boxes you see near the very beginning are the famous Filipino Christmas boxes, Balikbayans, tens of thousands of them, stuffed full of items by OFW’s and sent home to those left behind to say, “I’m still out here.”  They’re stuffed with mostly day-to-day items that, as Bourdain says, “You’d just give to loved ones as a matter of course if you weren’t half way around the world.”  These boxes show up big at the end as Aurora and her family exult over a Balikbayan from Albert somewhere in the U.S.  My first cousin Rhoda and husband Roldan Rosas: they’re only a couple thousand miles away in Hayward, CA, where I did most of my growing up, but every Christmas a box shows up stuffed with lots of chocolates and pistachios, and every year I think: It’s our own little Balikbayan tradition!

The cover bands?  That’s their ambition: to go abroad, hopefully hitting it big by playing, say, Las Vegas.  For most OFW’s, however, it’s not an ambition, but a hard, often bitter, only option.  Which brings us back to Aurora.  “I’m 100% the man I am today because of Aurora,” writes Bourdain’s director.  “She’s influenced literally thousands of people around the world with her joy.”

OFWsAnthony Bourdain always gave us great TV— well written, well shot, well crafted, often important.  As in the Jollibee scene you’ll see in the video below, his outsized personality was at the center. Funny, irreverent, snarky and snobbish—he was the prototypical wise guy, tough but with a heart of gold, sometimes a very  tender heart of gold.  And never so tender as in this episode about Manila, which shows him at probably his widest range of feelings of any of his shows.  Early in the Aurora segment, Aurora sings snippets of “Of Holy Night” and just made up stuff about how she hopes everybody’s going to love the kari kari stew she’s cooking.  But as the program comes to a close she’s singing “Edelweiss,” with that line particularly pertinent for OFW’s: “Bless my homeland forever.”  After a lifetime away, “Her children,” says Bourdain, “now middle-aged, are finally getting to know their mother.”  Her solo voice makes her children cry and serves, too, as sound track to scenes of OFW’s leaving their families.  And when the camera closes in on Bourdain’s face you see he’s smiling, but on the verge of tears, just barely holding it together.  You’ll never see the wise guy that close to losing it in any other episode.  It’s one of the great moments of his legacy: him realizing that he really wasn’t talking shit after all.

  Go to Reviews on this site, to a post listing my Writing About the Philippines, and to the Teaching Diversity main page.  * Go HERE for more on the Filipino’s talent for Western Music.

Posted in Diversity & Multiculturalism, Music & Media Podcasts, Reviews & Commentary | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment