a reforming state of mind

When I woke up Monday morning, I felt the start of a cold coming on.  Since the head of staff at the church decided to close the office on the Monday after Easter, I didn’t worry too much about the remnants of my ailment and enjoyed a day of rest.  But then it seemed a bit worse on Tuesday. Coughs were steady and chest felt tight so I worked from 9:30 to 4 pm (which included setting things up for the HSYG Bible Study on Harry Potter & The Order of the Phoenix) and headed home.  Got da fevah and the bodyaches last evening and woke up this morning with a raspy voice and a bit of pain whenever I talk or swallow. Same steady coughs, same tightness of the chest and did I mention, greenish-yellow phleghm…mmm…always good to hack up.  (seriously, it’s gross but a good thing)

I made an appointment with the doctor, who is conveniently 3 minutes away.  The doctor thinks I might have an ear infection judging from the redness he saw when he peered in with that ear doo-hickey although it doesn’t hurt; and then after making me say “Ahh” with the tongue depressor, he said, “Your throat looks nasty.” You’re telling me. It feels like a raw piece of boar meat. I know what you’re thinking, boar?

Since Sunday afternoon I’ve been catching up on LOST, Season 1. A member at the church loaned me Seasons 1 and 2 a couple of months ago. With the 4th Season nearing, it felt daunting to try to catchup in a short amount of time. So I opted for the free 7-minute and 45-minute recaps of Seasons 1-3, availalbe temporarily on iTunes.  I started Season 4 and became hooked and of course intrigued about the nuances of the story and character development I missed previously.  Today, I officially completed the viewing of 24 episodes of Season 1 since Sunday afternoon. And I’ve been pulled even deeper into this rich, mysterious, spritual, redemptive and powerful story. I won’t go into all of it now; it would take more than just this post to cover it all.  I will say, without a doubt, it’s one of the 5 best TV shows of all time. I’m looking forward to watching Season 2 and then possibly using along with the book “TV’s Most Teachable Moments” by the Skit Guys at Youth Specialties, www.youthspecialties.com.

But while spending most of my time watching LOST may sound like fun (espeically to hard core LOST fans) it kind of stinks too. The only reason I’m able to watch all of these episodes is because I’m sick and can’t do much more than watch TV, read a fluff piece from a magazine, play Scrabulous on Facebook and send a few emails, mostly church-related. That may not sound too bad either. 

It’s just that if I wasn’t sick, I could be at the second session of the child birthing class Elizabeth and I began last Wednesday and will take every Wednesday evening until April 30.  Doctor told me I shouldn’t go so I don’t get the other pregnant women sick which is wise. Unfortunately there’s nothing to prevent Elizabeth from getting sick since we’re married and breathe the same air. We’ve limited contact (kisses and hugs) so I don’t spread the germs too much. So far she’s not sick and I’d be very happy for it to stay that way.  She’s only got 10 more weeks to go so it should be downhill (so to speak) from here.

The real bummer is that she has to be husband-partner-less in the class.  The teacher Jenny, a really good and humorous RN who knows her stuff, will step in, but still I feel bad missing it.  Nothing I can do, of course. I’ll miss other important things in our lives and in my child’s life because I’m sick. So no point in worrying about it.

I am truly thankful to have Elizabeth in my life and to have a baby girl on the way. Elizabeth has taken good care of me, made me soup, tea and other comfort food that is easy to eat. She even bought me my favorite ice cream, Stephen Colbert’s Americone. Nuttin soothes the throat better. Elizabeth is a wonderful wife and a strong and loving one too, especially when pregnant. If I was carrying that much weight around, I wouldnt’ want to be waiting hand and foot on someone.  But then again, I probably would. I’d just whine a little more (If you haven’t guessed, I’m not the easiest patient to deal with).  That’s what love does. It carries, puts up, empties and re-fills all at the same time.

The best of the Easter editorial cartoons from Daryl Cagle’s Professional Cartoon Index, http://cagle.com/:

Elizabeth and I just watched the 1981 movie Godspell (based on the musical by the same name) a retelling of Matthew’s Gospel set in modern day New York City.  It’s a beautiful, creative and imaginative piece that breathes new life into the text. 

I was struck immediately by a scene earlier in the film where Jesus and the disciples (both men and women) create their home, their church, out of an abandoned junk yard.  They clean and repaint everything from the tattered shed to the battered car on cynder blocks with bright colors–yellow, red, green, orange and blue. Jesus also paints colorful crosses and other symbols on their faces, marking them for discipleship. While they work on the junkyard, Jesus and the disciples sing songs to God and tell stories to one another, parables about how to live in the loving and just kingdom of God rather than remain captive to the cruel and unjust system of the world. 

As Jesus or one disciple tells a story the others act it out, using their imaginations and junkyard pieces as costumes and props. The disciples are invited by Jesus to transform their lives and the world around them by using both their hearts and imaginations to love, inspire and heal those around them.  And they continue telling stories and acting out the parables as they leave the junkyard and joyfully tramp across New York City for the day with Jesus.

In a scene toward the end of the film, Jesus and the disciples, who are on their way home, began singing the song “A Beautiful City” created specifically for the movie. The song reflects how they started on the journey; what they learned on the way and what they must do long after Jesus has left them.  It is a perfect bookend to the earlier scene where they transform the junkyard into their church:

Come sing me sweet rejoicing
Come sing me love
We’re not afraid of voicing
All the things (all the things)
We’re dreaming of (we’re dreaming of)
Oh, high and low,
And everywhere we go (everywhere we go) We can build (we can build)
A beautiful city (a beautiful city)
Yes we can
Oh yes we can
We can build (we can build)
A beautiful city (a beautiful city)
Call it out

The junkyard scene and the song “A Beautiful City” gave me hope for the Church and made me wonder about what the Church could look like if we truly threw away our pretentiousness and became silly foolish followers of Jesus.  What would the Church, which often seems like a junkyard these days, look like if we painted it and our faces with bright colors? What would the Church look like if we listened more, laughed more and played more? What would the Church look like if we live out the scriptures more from our imaginations and hearts rather than our stuffy dusty ole brains? What would the Church and the world look like if we weren’t afraid to sing with sweet rejoicing all of the things we were dreaming of?

I imagine it would be beautiful, wouldn’t you?
 

Today is an overcast day of dark clouds and threatening rain storms that could flood our streets with God’s tears and anguish.

Today is a melancholy day filled with listlessness, boredom and a strong desire for a nap that will let me flee from this reality and find a safe and comforting place in our dreams.

Today is a sad day in which my hear ponders the horrid and agonizing suffering that occurred the night before.

Today is a nothing day. 

But tommorow, something quite illuminating will be created out of the nothing. And each day after will shine a little brighter.

Today is today, but tommorow is coming.  Sunday is coming.

Transcript of Obama’s speech on race available via CNN at:

www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/03/18/obama.transcript/index.html

Video of the speech available via MSNBC:

www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/23691239#23691239

And on Beliefnet’s (www.beliefnet.com) “Casting Stones: A Boisterous Conclave on Faith and Politics,” Jim Wallis, author of God’s Politics and David Kuo, author of J-Walking: Jesus, Politics and Popular Culture offer reflections on Obama’s speech:

It’s Not About Him Now–It’s About Us by Jim Wallis

It was an amazing day, and, we may look back to conclude it was a historic day. Before Barack Obama’s speech yesterday, after the now infamous statements from his former pastor; the issue seemed to be a test of him. But after what may go down as one of the most significant addresses ever given about the history and future of race in America, the issue may now be a test of us. The examination of a candidate was transformed yesterday into an examination of a nation.

A young African American leader, more than four decades ago, told us about his dream for our nation. Yesterday, another young leader, who is also a black man, outlined what it would take to make that dream into a “more perfect union.” No political leader has ever delivered such a comprehensive and, I would say, prophetic treatment of race in America.

Every American needs to watch and listen to Barack Obama’s speech about the future that the U.S. could have. And I would suggest we watch the speech with our children. After watching, we should ask ourselves, and ask our children, if this is the vision for the U.S. that we and they really want. If it is, we will have moved from an issue over controversial comments to much higher ground. After the constant replaying of the same video tapes (which seems like a metaphor of our recent racial history in America), we listened to an invitation to turn the page and move forward.

We heard the vision of a new generation today, one that understands how injustice does indeed breed frustration and anger, but that to remain stuck in past anger and present frustration can be counter-productive and even self-destructive. We heard a vision characterized not by incendiary recrimination but by the possibility of changing the realities that have kept us stuck in a racial “stalemate” and a mired in a “cynical” and “static” view of America’s painful divides. This was a speech that actually posited new hope for opportunity and equality, and even the beginning of the kind of racial reconciliation and unity which few have dared to speak of since the end of the civil rights movement.

We heard a political leader who, as a black man, can also sympathize with white resentment and frustration over racial politics, and who can see both the anger of a black mentor and the racial stereotypes of a white grandmother as both part of him and part of America. The most honest and compelling speech about race in decades could open the promise of a deeper national conversation about our racial past and future than we have had for some time. Obama’s speech leaves the choice to us. The issue now is whether we will choose not to allow the angry and frustrating past prevent a more fair and hopeful future; or whether we will be forever bound by that past. To the question of whether race will continue to divide and conquer our hopes for a better America, Barack Obama had his answer, “Not this time.” Now we each have to answer the question for ourselves.

This is not just about a candidate now, or a campaign; it is about the country and the choices we have to make about whether we will decide to bind our progress to one another - including those beyond our own tribe. Ask your children what they would have us do.

The Speech, part 2 by David Kuo

I’ve watched the speech again in its entirety and I am more blown away by it than I was the first time around.

There are few political speeches in the last 50 years that are its equal and fewer still that are superior to it. One is left to think of RFK’s speech on the back of a truck in Indianapolis in 1968 telling the city that King was dead or of Rep. Barbara Jordan’s opening statement in the Nixon impeachment hearings or of King’s Dream speech or of Reagan at the Wall.

It was a speech of profound respect for America and for Americans. It didn’t try and sound bite its way around dicey issues, it didn’t try and spin its way out of trouble. Instead it paid tribute to its audience by treating the audience as grown men and women capable of understanding and appreciating a nuanced argument on a controversial and divisive issue.

Ironically this very fact may lead to short term political tribulation for Sen. Obama. It was a hard speech to synthesize for the evening news and for newspapers and for bloggers. No sound bite, taken alone was representative of the speech as a whole.

To wit, one of the quotes that has appeared in many stories is the one in which he said he could no more disown Rev. Wright than he could disown the black community. Without the benefit of context that sounds like a fairly incendiary remark.

But read the context:

Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety – the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinity’s services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, screaming and shouting that may seem jarring to the untrained ear. The church contains in full the kindness and cruelty, the fierce intelligence and the shocking ignorance, the struggles and successes, the love and yes, the bitterness and bias that make up the black experience in America.

And this helps explain, perhaps, my relationship with Reverend Wright. As imperfect as he may be, he has been like family to me. He strengthened my faith, officiated my wedding, and baptized my children. Not once in my conversations with him have I heard him talk about any ethnic group in derogatory terms, or treat whites with whom he interacted with anything but courtesy and respect. He contains within him the contradictions – the good and the bad – of the community that he has served diligently for so many years.

I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community.

It is a stunning section of oratory. This liberal black politician is saying yes, there is cruelty and shocking ignorance and bitterness and bias not only in his church but in the black community. This is something that conservatives have been chiding liberal politicians about for years and here Obama is saying it.

The speech must be seen in full or read in full to really appreciate its genius. If you haven’t done so, take the time and watch. If you have, watch again because you will probably have to wait a very, very long time to hear anything like it ever again.

A note here. I do not write this as an Obama partisan. There is much, much that I admire about him. I love the campaign that he is running. I love how he is inspiring once apathetic kids to get involved. I love his vision for a united states of America.
But there is much about him that I do not like. I am, at the end of the day, a conservative and he is a liberal and there are lots of policies differences between us. I fail to understand, for instance, how a man who wants to unite could have been one of the few people to vote against banning partial-birth abortions.

I am also gravely concerned about the exploitation of faith for political ends. It is no more admirable in Barack Obama than it is in George W. Bush.

I say this to emphasize my estimation of the speech. It was that good. He is that good. I just hope the rest of America - including the media - is up to the challenge he laid out today… a challenge to have a real dialogue about the things that ail us.
 

http://widgets.nbc.com/o/4727a250e66f9723/47ddc1fc23e7bf38

Matthew 21:1-11

March 16, 2008, Palm Sunday

            I always loved Palm Sunday when I was a kid. An usher would hand all of the children beautiful green palm branches to wave around as we processed into the sanctuary. The middle and high school youth would be ringing hand-bells, the Adult Choir would be singing “Hosanna, Hosanna!” and people would be smiling and saying “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”  The festivity filled me with such joy and anticipation that I knew, at just any moment, Jesus would come through the church doors on the back of a donkey, waving and smiling at the folks in the pews.

            The feeling would stick with me all the way through Easter Sunday, which was an even bigger celebration.  As a kid, I didn’t quite understand what was happening to Jesus in between these two Sundays. During my early childhood, it seemed to me that this was one long, happy party for Jesus.  It wasn’t until I was a middle school youth at Shades Valley Presbyterian Church in Birmingham, AL that I discovered my misconceptions about the events during Holy Week.  A deeper understanding of Jesus’ journey into Jerusalem became much clearer while I was playing with my church’s youth hand-bell choir in multiple Palm Sunday worship services at churches in Florida. 

Although I can’t recall the particular songs we played, I do remember that we began each service with a joyful piece and closed each service with a somber one.  And being a youth who was able to pay better attention to the scripture and the sermon, I began to recognize a dramatic change in the story almost immediately after Jesus enters the city. 

            In the NRSV version of Matthew’s Gospel we are told that when Jesus entered Jerusalem, “the whole city was in turmoil asking, ‘Who is this?’   Turmoil is a weak translation of the Greek verb seio which actually refers to the action of an earthquake.  The corresponding noun seismos (which is where we get the word seismic as in the seismic waves that cause earthquakes) is used by Matthew in 8:24 (Jesus’ calming of the sea); 27:54 (Jesus’ crucifixion) and 28:2 (Jesus’ resurrection) to indicate a supernatural event.  “Perhaps,” says New Testament scholar Douglas Hare, “Matthew means to suggest that the holy city is shaken to its foundation by the arrival of the Lord’s Anointed.”

Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw, in their new book Jesus For President, remind us that the time of Passover, in which Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a donkey, was historically troublesome:

It was an anti-imperial Jewish festival “during which the Jews celebrated their ancestors’ coming out of Egyptian slavery. With Roman soldiers lining the street, Jews gathered and waved palm branches, symbols of resistance to the empire. Passover was a volatile time, often marked by riots and bloodshed. (Recall that Herod of Antipas killed thousands of Jews in the streets at the festival.) When Jesus rode a donkey into the festival, it was a lampoon, like street theater at a protest. Scholars call it the anti-triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Imagine the president riding a unicycle in the Fourth of July parade. Kings did not ride donkeys. They rode mighty war horses accompanied by an entourage of soldiers. So here is Jesus making a spectacle of violence and power, riding in on the back of an ass. (And a borrowed one at that!)

Some of you may recall a sermon Pastor Mike preached last year on Palm Sunday about the two drastically different processions that occurred at the beginning of Passover.  According to scholars Marcus J. Borg and John Dominic Crossan:

One was a peasant process, the other an imperial procession. From the east, Jesus rode a donkey down the Mount of Olives cheered by his   followers. Jesus was from the peasant village of Nazareth, his message was about the kingdom of God, and his followers came from the peasant class…On the opposite side of the city, from the west, Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Idumea, Judea and Samaria, entered Jerusalem at the head of a column of imperial cavalry and soldiers. Jesus’ procession proclaimed the kingdom of God; Pilate’s proclaimed the power of empire. The two processions embody the central conflict of the week that led to Jesus’ crucifixion.

Jesus knows the procession and way of Pilate and Herod-men who wield power with riches, weapons and violence.  Jesus and the poor people of Israel have been surrounded by these powers of oppression for most of their lives.  Many people in Israel, including some of the disciples, expected Jesus to follow in the footsteps of the great kings and warriors of Israel by violently overthrowing the Roman Empire.  They expected Jesus to take up the sword like the Jewish priests Judah and Jonathan Macabee who using guerilla tactics led the brutal Maccabean revolt against their Syrian oppressors. Upon victory, the Jewish people under the Macabee brothers cleansed the temple, which had been desecrated by the Syrians and “entered it with praise and palm branches and with harps and cymbals and stringed instruments, and with hymns and songs because a great enemy had been crushed and removed from Israel.”

            There is an expectation placed on Jesus by some of the people of Israel and it is reflected in the Call to Worship liturgy that John, Jesse and Lindsay shared at the beginning of the service: “Why did Jesus want a little colt? The Messiah ought to come to the throne on a mighty war horse! Didn’t he know how ridiculous he looked on the back of that donkey?”

            Jesus didn’t care about looking ridiculous on the back of a donkey. His point was to show that the Roman Empire, King Herod and the religious authorities were the ones who looked ridiculous sitting in self-righteous and oppressive seats of power.  In a scene depicting Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem from the 1999 TV film Jesus, two observers remark “This procession with the palms and Jesus dressed in peasant clothes and riding on the back of a donkey is brilliant! It makes Pilate and Herod look like the asses they really are.” Chuck Campbell, a professor of preaching at Columbia Theological Seminary, reminds us:

Jesus is turning the world’s notions of power and rule and authority on their heads. His theater is a wonderful piece of political satire. In his triumphal entry, Jesus lampoons all the powers of the world and their pretensions to glory and dominion, and he enacts an alternative to the way of the Domination System. He comes not as one who lords his authority over others but as one who rejects domination and comes as a servant. He comes not with pomp and wealth but as one identified with the poor. He comes not as a mighty warrior but as one who refuses to rely on violence. Jesus enacts the subversive, nonviolent reign of God in the midst of the city.

Take a closer look at Matthew’s account of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem and we discover that Jesus planned every detail:

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethpage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two of his disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, “The Lord needs them.” And he will send them immediately. This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet…The disciples went and did as Jesus directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd (which some scholars believe are the peasant farmers and poor who live outside the city) spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them across the road (as opposed to soldiers who would raise swords when a king or ruler would ride into city on a war horse).

Laurel Dykstra, a columnist for Sojourners magazine and a veteran street theater protest performer, reflecting on Matthew’s account, explains:

The movement described is complex; there is collaboration between the out-of-towners and the local resistance community. The political action is planned to coincide with a time when imperial power is blatant and feelings of resistance are high. The protest tools are low-tech and readily available, and the demonstration design is inclusive and participatory-there is no “audience.” Large numbers serve as security and protection for those who are identified and targeted as leaders.

            When Jesus rides into the city on a donkey, he turns the world’s notions of power and rule and authority on their heads. Jesus shakes the powers, the Domination System to its very core like an earthquake-shakes away the pretensions and reveals nothing but deceit, malice, and ugliness. And Jesus exposes the powers today just as he did in Israel.  Riding into the city on a donkey, he lampoons the powers of the current Domination System in this world. Powers like:

The large gas-guzzling vehicles that roll into downtown cities with music blasting and bumper stickers that read-”You can pry this gun… from my cold bear hands.”

The shoppers who push and punch at one another in a shopping mall to get the latest $1,000 fad.

Governments who severely beat Tibetan monks with clubs and rifles

The media (both liberal and conservative) that utter sharp words of hate and prejudice toward those who are black, immigrant, gay, lesbian and poor.

Agencies who still haven’t provided  the lower class and pour with resources to return to a city once devastated by flood.

The Christian men in high-powered business suits on Capitol Hill who support the torture of other men and women.

            Riding in on a donkey, Jesus reveals the ugly deceit and treachery of the powers.   And this idea of street theater, of lampooning the powers, the Domination System has been passed down from every generation since.  The tradition is very much alive today.  Consider the 1970s Jesus musicals Jesus Christ Superstar and Godspell which truly embody the type of lampoon Jesus enacted in his entry into Jerusalem.  In Superstar, Herod is depicted as this sleazy king of porn films who wears tight leather pants, and big yellow tinted sunglasses.  And in Godspell, Jesus has a painted clown face and the disciples where these colorful clown-like clothes to show what a bunch of clowns Pilate, Herod and the powers are.

            In recent years street theater has been performed by the rock band U2 who in their 1997 Popmart Tour, recently released on DVD,  design the concert stage to look like a shopping mall with one-half of a very familiar golden arch and other thinly disguised commercial logos. As a U2 biographer notes:

U2’s latest mission…was to erect the cathedrals of today’s religion, expose its emptiness, and then try to dig deep down somewhere for Jesus in the midst of it all…Christianity had become commercialized on many levels, and Bono may have been turning over the tales of various modern Christian temple courts.

Street theater is all around. Anytime you pick up a newspaper or surf the Internet or turn on the TV and see a protest, there is usually a colorful act of street theater occurring in the midst-a lampoon of the powers, the Domination System.   A friend of mine recently shared a poem he wrote about members of the Ku Klux Klan who gathered last May in front of the courthouse in downtown Knoxville, Tennessee to spew their hatred.  It seemed that once again racism would fill the air of that spring day until another costumed group known as the Coup Clutz Clowns appeared:

The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to be
In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee
The men put on their uniforms and quickly took their places
In white robes and those tall and pointed hoods that hid their faces

Their feet all fell in rhythm as they started their parade
They raised their fists into the air, they bellowed and they brayed
They loved to stir the people up, they loved when they were taunted
They didn’t mind the anger, that’s precisely what they wanted

As they came around the corner, sure enough, the people roared
They couldn’t quite believe their ears, it seemed to be - support?
Had Knoxville finally seen the light, were people coming ‘round?
The men thought for a moment that they’d found their kind of town

But then they turned their eyes to where the cheering had its source
As one their faces soured as they saw the mighty force
The crowd had painted faces, and some had tacky clothes
Their hair and hats outrageous, each had a red foam nose

The clowns had come in numbers to enjoy the grand parade
They danced and laughed that other clowns had come to town that day
And then the marchers shouted, and the clowns all strained to hear
Each one tuned in intently with a gloved hand to an ear

“White power!” screamed the marchers, and they raised their fisted hands
The clowns leaned in and listened like they couldn’t understand
Then one held up his finger and helped all the others see
The point of all this yelling, and they joined right in with glee

“White flour!” they all shouted and they felt inside their clothes
They pulled out bags and tore them and huge clouds of powder rose
They poured it on each other and they threw it in the air
It got all over baggy clothes and multi-colored hair

All but just a few of them were joining in the jokes
You could almost see the marchers turning red beneath white cloaks
They wanted to look scary, they wanted to look tough
One rushed right at the clowns in rage, and was hauled away in cuffs

But the others chanted louder marching on around the bend
The clowns all marched along with them supporting their new friends
“White power!” came the marchers’ cry - they were not amused
The clowns grew still and thoughtful; perhaps they’d been confused?

They huddled and consulted, this bright and silly crowd
They listened quite intently, then one said “I’ve got it now!”
“White flowers!” screamed the happy clown and all the rest joined in
The air was filled with flowers, and they laughed and danced again

“Everyone loves flowers! And white’s a pretty sort!
I can’t think of a better cause for marchers to support!”

“White Power!” came their marchers’ cry, quite carefully pronounced
The clowns consulted once again, then a woman clown announced
“I’ve got it! I’m embarrassed that it took so long to see
But what these marchers march for is a cause quite dear to me!”

“Wife power!” she exclaimed and all the other clowns joined in
They shook their heads and laughed at how mistaken they had been
The women clowns were hoisted up on shoulders of the others
Some pulled on wedding dresses, “Here’s to wives and mothers!”

The men in robes were angry and they knew they’d been defeated
They yelled a few more times and then they finally retreated

And what would be the lesson of that shiny southern day?
Can we understand the message that the clowns sought to convey?
Seems that when you’re fighting hatred, hatred’s not the thing to use
So here’s to those who march on in their massive, silly shoes

            Blessed is Jesus, who marches into Jerusalem not with pomp and wealth but as one identified with the poor. Blessed is Jesus who comes not as a mighty warrior but as one who refuses to rely on violence. Blessed is Jesus who enacts the subversive, nonviolent reign of God in the midst of the city. Blessed are we who are invited to foolishly follow him!

Amen!

Sources:

Jesus For President by Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw, 2008

The Last Week: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus’ Final Days in Jerusalem by Marcus J. Borg and John Dominic Crossan, 2006

1 Maccabees 4:36-40 and 2 Maccabees 10:1-9

Sojourners: Faith, Politics and Culture, “Word on the Street: Street Theater” by Laurel A. Dykstra, March 2008

The Word Before the Powers: An Ethic of Preaching by Charles L. Campbell, 2002

Walk On: The Spiritual Journey of U2 by Steve Stockman, 2005

Excerpts from “White Flour” a poem by folk musician David LaMotte (http://www.davidlamotte.com/) May 26, 2007

The Interfaith Peace & Justice Coffeehouse on March 8 at New York Avenue Presbyterian Church in D.C. was an incredible experience. Many thanks to David LaMotte, The Cobalt Season and Native Deen for sharing their message of peace  & justice and for everyone who came out to support the event. Here are videos of Dave LaMotte and The Cobalt Season’s performances. More videos of The Cobalt Season and Native Deen coming soon:

David LaMotte shared this poem Saturday evening at the Interfaith Peace & Justice Coffeehouse. A recording of David perfoming the piece can be found at www.davidlamotte.com. It’s a brilliant piece of work. Hope you enjoy.

White Flour

by David LaMotte

(a true story about events that occurred on May 26, 2007. © 2007 Lower Dryad Music)

The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to be
In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee
The men put on their uniforms and quickly took their places
In white robes and those tall and pointed hoods that hid their faces

Their feet all fell in rhythm as they started their parade
They raised their fists into the air, they bellowed and they brayed
They loved to stir the people up, they loved when they were taunted
They didn’t mind the anger, that’s precisely what they wanted

As they came around the corner, sure enough, the people roared
They couldn’t quite believe their ears, it seemed to be – support?
Had Knoxville finally seen the light, were people coming ‘round?
The men thought for a moment that they’d found their kind of town

But then they turned their eyes to where the cheering had its source
As one their faces soured as they saw the mighty force
The crowd had painted faces, and some had tacky clothes
Their hair and hats outrageous, each had a red foam nose

The clowns had come in numbers to enjoy the grand parade
They danced and laughed that other clowns had come to town that day
And then the marchers shouted, and the clowns all strained to hear
Each one tuned in intently with a gloved hand to an ear

“White power!” screamed the marchers, and they raised their fisted hands
The clowns leaned in and listened like they couldn’t understand
Then one held up his finger and helped all the others see
The point of all this yelling, and they joined right in with glee

“White flour!” they all shouted and they felt inside their clothes
They pulled out bags and tore them and huge clouds of powder rose
They poured it on each other and they threw it in the air
It got all over baggy clothes and multi-colored hair

All but just a few of them were joining in the jokes
You could almost see the marchers turning red beneath white cloaks
They wanted to look scary, they wanted to look tough
One rushed right at the clowns in rage, and was hauled away in cuffs

But the others chanted louder marching on around the bend
The clowns all marched along with them supporting their new friends
“White power!” came the marchers’ cry — they were not amused
The clowns grew still and thoughtful; perhaps they’d been confused?

They huddled and consulted, this bright and silly crowd
They listened quite intently, then one said “I’ve got it now!”
“White flowers!” screamed the happy clown and all the rest joined in
The air was filled with flowers, and they laughed and danced again

“Everyone loves flowers! And white’s a pretty sort!
I can’t think of a better cause for marchers to support!”
Green flower stems went flying like small arrows from bad archers
White petals covered everything, including the mad marchers

And then a very tall clown called the others to attention
He choked down all his chuckles, and said “Friends I have to mention
That what with all the mirth and fun it’s sort of hard to hear
But now I know the cause that these strange marchers hold so dear

“Tight showers!” the clown blurted out, and hit his head in wonder
He held up a camp shower and the others all got under
Or at least they tried to get beneath, they strained but couldn’t quite
There wasn’t room for all of them, they pushed, but it was tight

“White Power!” came their marchers’ cry, quite carefully pronounced
The clowns consulted once again, then a woman clown announced
“I’ve got it! I’m embarrassed that it took so long to see
But what these marchers march for is a cause quite dear to me!”

“Wife power!” she exclaimed and all the other clowns joined in
They shook their heads and laughed at how mistaken they had been
The women clowns were hoisted up on shoulders of the others
Some pulled on wedding dresses, “Here’s to wives and mothers!”

The men in robes were angry and they knew they’d been defeated
They yelled a few more times and then they finally retreated
And when they’d gone a black policeman turned to all the clowns
And offered them an escort to the center of the town

The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to be
In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee
People joined the new parade, the crowd stretched out for miles
The clowns passed out more flowers and made everybody smile

And what would be the lesson of that shiny southern day?
Can we understand the message that the clowns sought to convey?
Seems that when you’re fighting hatred, hatred’s not the thing to use
So here’s to those who march on in their massive, silly shoes

I am thankful this March for:

* Elizabeth  who is at 26 weeks in her pregancy and continues to be healthy

* Spring forward next weekend and knowing that warmer weather is on its way

* The church’s youth and youth leaders and the meaningful worship servie the MSYG led on the Third Sunday of Lent

* Jesus For President by Shane Claiborne

* A good friend who told me wisley that sometimes you just have to “LGOTS”

* Planning a Middle School Youth Mission Trip with good friends and colleagues

*  Playing fetch with Harper

*  BBQ

* The humor of Will Ferell, Lewis Black, Eddie Izzard and Bill Cosby

* The Steve Harvey Morning Show keeping it real

* The anticipation of seeing a childhood hero “Indiana Jones” return to the screen

* My father-in-law’s blog “Middle Aged Southerner”

* My wife’s blog “I Had A Thought;” It’s good to see her writing again. She is a gifted writer and humorist

*  The music of David Lamotte, Eddie Vedder’s “Into the Wild,” Janis Ian’s “Folk Is the New Black,” and Sheryl Crow’s “Detours”

* The Christian Peace Witness movement coming to D.C. Thursday-Monday and the Faith-based Peace & Justice Coffeehouse at New York Avenue Presbyterian Church.

* This Lenten time of reflection

* Outrageous Oatmean Ice Cream from the Hershey’s Ice Cream Shop

* Samoa Girl Scout Cookies

* LOST and Eli Stone

* Reading