I tell everybody that I am not a big fan of the holidays and yet I appreciate the opportunity that holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries give me for rethinking and reevaluating where I am, how I am, and who I am. Thanksgiving is a good time to pause and reconnect with all the blessings of my life, to express my gratitude to God and to my people for the immeasurable beauty in my life.
One such moment occurred today, as I sat at lunch with my college roommate and dear friend Debby and her family. My joy in the visit began after her 2 year old informed me that she didn't like me within the first three minutes of our meeting. Well, it wasn't her toddler thumbs down that did it; it was her mother's observation that she only dislikes "young" women, of the age when they might turn out to be babysitters. Nina thought my arrival might just represent temporary maternal abandonment. Delightful.
Later, Deb and her husband and I were reflecting on the fact that we have known one another for more than 20 years. Debby and I explained to everyone that Harvard in its infinite wisdom had merged our two chosen rooming groups together - of course without asking us. I said, "It's one of the best things that has ever happened to me." Misty-eyed, Debby jumped up to hug me - "Me too," she said. We've shared the blessings of friendship for more than half our lives. And I didn't even mention how dearly I love her husband Ian too, or how beautiful their five-year-old son Micah is - even wearing a San Francisco Giants hat. I didn't say that the very first time I had Thanksgiving with a family other than my own, I was in Brooklyn with her family.
I have more friends and better friends than anyone has a right to have. For every one of them I am thankful. You know who you are.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
Remembering Dr. Dorothy Height
One of the things I learned being raised by and among church-going black folks is that often when you don’t know where to start, the best thing to say is “I thank the Lord for being here.” Yes, indeed, I thank the Lord for being here is the very best way to begin my reflections on the experience of the past two days, when I was privileged to attend the celebrations of the life of Dr. Dorothy Irene Height. I thank the Lord for the unshakeable impulse to be in the number, present bodily with those who journeyed to Washington, D.C. to celebrate a woman who spent the overwhelming majority of her 98 years striving for justice, from the anti-lynching campaigns of the 1930s to the civil rights and women’s rights struggles. I thank the Lord for the resources of time and money, strength and energy, to make this pilgrimage. I thank the Lord for grace and favor embodied in friends and strangers who provided lodging, entrance, seats, and tickets.
I arrived in Washington by train at about 11 a.m. on Wednesday, 28 April 2010, with the plan to meet a relatively new friend who would provide both company and transportation for the memorial events. As soon as I got into the car, she decided that our day should begin with a trip to 633 Pennsylvania Avenue, the headquarters for the National Council of Negro Women, the site where Dr. Height had given so much of her labor. Although the building was closed, we arrived just at the time when Dr. Height's remains were to be transported from NCNW, where she had been honored the night before.
From the NCNW building, we journeyed to Howard University’s Burr Gymnasium where the members of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. conducted the Omega Omega service, the final rite of passage to which every Delta is entitled, for Dr. Height. Dr. Height had served our sorority as the 10th National President from 1947-1956, and had in that period shepherded the organization into greater public service and institutional stability. Dorothy Height was herself an institution in Delta, dearly beloved and sought after, the very sight of her at a national convention or regional conference an important event.
Her service began promptly at 2 o’clock, under the leadership of the 24th National President, Dr. Cynthia Butler-McIntyre, with the eulogy being offered by the 16th National President, Dr. Thelma Daley. Other Past National Presidents offered reflections. Bishop Vashti Murphy MacKenzie, Delta’s National Chaplain, led the prayers.
There were many highlights of the service and many memorable moments. Particularly moving was the letter of tribute sent by the 11th National President, Dorothy Penman Harrison, who had been the National Treasurer when Dr. Height was President. She told the story of the purchase of Delta’s first headquarters building, including a humorous observation about the amazement of the realtor when three black women showed up to view the property and were able to write the deposit check for $1000 on the spot. Each speaker offered her own tribute to the dignity, determination, commitment, and fortitude of Dr. Height. Several commented on her indomitable spirit and boundless energy. All agreed that it was impossible to tell her no. The 19th National President Dr. Yvonne Kennedy offered one of the many quotable statements: “All Deltas are smart. Dorothy Height was brilliant.” Interspersed in the service was the musical offering of a quartet from the Philadelphia Alumnae Chapter, three of whom I am proud to say are my line sisters. Their harmonies, like the service itself and the woman it honored, were exquisite. Especially moving and fitting was the singing of “Grateful” as the violets were placed next to a portrait of Dr. Height by former Secretary of Labor Alexis Herman. Following the singing of the Delta Prayer, the service concluded with the combination of solemnity and buoyancy as the pallbearers removed Dorothy Height’s remains and the rest of us felt the inspiration and joy of knowing the impact that her life had made on Delta and on us all.
Friday, January 1, 2010
The Best of 2009
Early last year, I wrote on my Facebook page that I believed that "2009 is going to be really special." It was far more than special. It was extraordinary, marvelous, amazing, blessed. Last year was a simultaneously a year of fulfilled promise and growing expectation.
St. Paul's Baptist Church
Without a doubt, the major highlight of the year centered on my call and installation as the Fifth Pastor of the St. Paul's Baptist Church, 1000 Wallace Street, Philadelphia, PA. In reflecting on why this was a "best of" moment, I really have to start with the search process itself and the way that, because of the committee's treatment of me, many wounded places were healed, even before I received the call. To be treated with respect by a search committee, to have one's gifts and worth and dignity honored matters, whether one ultimately becomes their choice or not. By the time it was clear in April that I was one of the final two candidates, I already had much to thank God and St. Paul's for. I walked through the doors of St. Paul's for the first time on April 14th. On April 19th, I preached there for the first time and talked about God's ability to restore our faith even in the midst of our despair. Beyond our imaginations, I testified, God knows how to make believers out of us.
On Sunday, 17 May 2009, the St. Paul's Baptist Church extended to me a call to become their pastor. After I had verbally accepted the call in a conversation with Deacon Jackson, the chair of the deacons, I called Reverend Charisse Tucker, and we went down to St. Paul's so that I could take pictures of my new church. Here's one of my favorites.
I began my pastorate at St. Paul's on Pentecost Sunday, 31 May 2009. Friends from around the region came to share with St. Paul's and me as we began our journey together, and I had the blessed surprise of a visit from the venerable and legendary Rev. Dr. Henry Mitchell who offered the pastoral prayer. Thanks to the wonderful public relations work of Leslie Patterson -Tyler, we had extensive media coverage, including an article in the Philadelphia Inquirer. I preached a sermon titled "It's Time" about the fulfillment of God's promise in the birth and empowerment of the church. Following the church-sponsored reception after service, my friends and I went to Maggiano's for some serious eating. Below are pictures of me in the sanctuary, the congregation at worship, and my friends after Maggiano's. What a glorious day!
Just when I thought that the celebratory feeling would overwhelm me at St. Paul's, then the funeral season began. I was privileged to preside at several funerals during my first two months at St. Paul's, which allowed me to get a feel for the congregation. It also allowed the congregation to get a real feel for me. I am particularly mindful of the funeral for Mrs. Clara Gilliam Lightfoot, about whom I blogged here.
After a much busier summer than I anticipated, the time for the installation arrived. I need to admit that although I was really hearing a promise from God that the installation festivities would be heavy with the divine presence, I still had some anxiety as the day approached. We began the month of September with a series of pre-installation revival services and were blessed by the preaching of my friends Reverends Ernest Flores, Jacob Chatman, and Alyson Browne Johnson. Each brought his or her own special flavor to the moment, and the worship grew increasingly intense from week to week.
The installation weekend began on Friday, 25 September, with a youth concert designed to benefit Philabundance, Philadelphia's largest hunger relief agency. Although there were many challenges in the planning of it, even up to the last minute, once the event began it was marvelous. We were blessed with the ministry of Minister Antonio and his group. We heard Chad Sisk. Shadia Combs presented spoken word. And our own children's choir sang beautifully. We raised $1000 and a great deal of nonperishable food items. Most of all, God's presence was thick in the room. Within 20 minutes of the service's beginning, I knew that the whole weekend would be unforgettable.
I don't want to go through a blow-by-blow of every event. Let me just offer some observations. My friends who spoke, whether at the banquet or in the installation, gave a rounded picture of who I am. It was fun to hear about the Leslie, the Rev., the Professor. But they did even more than that because they helped me to remember aspects of my own self and story that I hadn't thought about for a long time and that I needed to remember. The support of my family, whose pride beamed like a spotlight, induced gratitude and healed old wounds. The preaching of Reverend Dr. Raphael Warnock who preached the temptation at the luncheon; Reverend Dr. J. Alfred Smith, Sr., who preached about Phoebe on Sunday morning; and Reverend Felicia Y. Thomas who preached about higher ground at the installation service, inspired, provoked, corrected, and encouraged. And the generosity the congregation, from the cards to the offering to the Phillies playoff tickets (from the installation committee) showed me how blessed I am to have become St. Paul's pastor. This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes.
I do have to say a word about the actual service of installation: AMAZING. The turnout of clergy who came to support me, including women in ministry - some of whom I didn't even know - blessed me tremendously. I was especially encouraged by the elders: St. Paul's Pastor Emeritus Rev. Dr. Arthur Lee Johnson, who offered greetings and his blessing, and the Rev. Dr. Henry Mitchell, who prayed the prayer of installation. The support of my family reinforced the sense of blessedness and favor. The joyful worship encouraged my heart and exalted the Lord. (Perhaps those of you who were there and who read this would like to elaborate more on the specifics, but amazing is about all I can say.)
The installation really was a kickoff to the ministry. Since then, we have grown numerically. Our worship is intensifying, even though we were without a permanent minister of music for the last 3 months of the year. The work of pastoring is showing me more and more about my own strengths and weaknesses. Mostly, I am learning that this really is Jesus' show. We are going somewhere, but I am not driving. I too am a passenger, and I am enjoying the ride.
Best Sports Experience - My Beloved Phillies
My love for the Phillies only grew this past year. And because I was not the only one who was loving on them, it was very difficult to get tickets at Citizens Bank Park to see them play.
Seeing the Phillies in Pittsburgh and then in the playoffs at Citizens Bank Park (thanks to the generosity of the installation committee) was so much fun. I am only sorry that they did not beat my American League team the New York Yankees in the World Series.
Best Meals
During restaurant week in Philadelphia on September 18, I went to Amada a Spanish tapas restaurant. The food was magnificent. From the lavender-infused honey to the cafe con leche with dessert, this is just marvelous eating. I also want to give an honorable mention to Honey's Sit and Eat, which is near the church.
I have to say, though, that on a consistent basis the food, fun, laughter, and fellowship at the home of Deborah and Ernie Flores during the weekly Monday night taco nights represents the best eating I do from week to week.
Best Medical Procedure
I know that sounds crazy, but I needed to be able to say something about finally having my wisdom teeth extracted.F
Best Sermons/Lectures I Heard
I have to give a major shout out to the the Hampton Ministers Conference, where the President Rev. Dr. William Curtis, along with morning preacher Rev. Dr. Claudette Copeland and conference presenter/prophet Rev. Dr. Renita J Weems brought it with prophetic power, passion, clarity, brilliance, and anointing.
Just as I did last year, I need to note the consistent preaching of Rev. Dr. Albert F. Campbell and District Elder Brenda (Birdie) Cuthbertson. District Elder Cuthbertson brought an extraordinary word at Easter "Same Story, Different Ending." That was some preaching!
Turning Forty
My last comment about 2009 is that I turned 40 in the midst of a record-setting snowstorm that ruined my plans to spend my 40th birthday with my new church family. Despite my disappointment, I had a marvelous day, as some dear friends braved the snow to bring my gifts and take me to dinner. See me on my 40th birthday at Maggiano's below.
St. Paul's Baptist Church
Without a doubt, the major highlight of the year centered on my call and installation as the Fifth Pastor of the St. Paul's Baptist Church, 1000 Wallace Street, Philadelphia, PA. In reflecting on why this was a "best of" moment, I really have to start with the search process itself and the way that, because of the committee's treatment of me, many wounded places were healed, even before I received the call. To be treated with respect by a search committee, to have one's gifts and worth and dignity honored matters, whether one ultimately becomes their choice or not. By the time it was clear in April that I was one of the final two candidates, I already had much to thank God and St. Paul's for. I walked through the doors of St. Paul's for the first time on April 14th. On April 19th, I preached there for the first time and talked about God's ability to restore our faith even in the midst of our despair. Beyond our imaginations, I testified, God knows how to make believers out of us.
On Sunday, 17 May 2009, the St. Paul's Baptist Church extended to me a call to become their pastor. After I had verbally accepted the call in a conversation with Deacon Jackson, the chair of the deacons, I called Reverend Charisse Tucker, and we went down to St. Paul's so that I could take pictures of my new church. Here's one of my favorites.I began my pastorate at St. Paul's on Pentecost Sunday, 31 May 2009. Friends from around the region came to share with St. Paul's and me as we began our journey together, and I had the blessed surprise of a visit from the venerable and legendary Rev. Dr. Henry Mitchell who offered the pastoral prayer. Thanks to the wonderful public relations work of Leslie Patterson -Tyler, we had extensive media coverage, including an article in the Philadelphia Inquirer. I preached a sermon titled "It's Time" about the fulfillment of God's promise in the birth and empowerment of the church. Following the church-sponsored reception after service, my friends and I went to Maggiano's for some serious eating. Below are pictures of me in the sanctuary, the congregation at worship, and my friends after Maggiano's. What a glorious day!
Just when I thought that the celebratory feeling would overwhelm me at St. Paul's, then the funeral season began. I was privileged to preside at several funerals during my first two months at St. Paul's, which allowed me to get a feel for the congregation. It also allowed the congregation to get a real feel for me. I am particularly mindful of the funeral for Mrs. Clara Gilliam Lightfoot, about whom I blogged here.
After a much busier summer than I anticipated, the time for the installation arrived. I need to admit that although I was really hearing a promise from God that the installation festivities would be heavy with the divine presence, I still had some anxiety as the day approached. We began the month of September with a series of pre-installation revival services and were blessed by the preaching of my friends Reverends Ernest Flores, Jacob Chatman, and Alyson Browne Johnson. Each brought his or her own special flavor to the moment, and the worship grew increasingly intense from week to week.
The installation weekend began on Friday, 25 September, with a youth concert designed to benefit Philabundance, Philadelphia's largest hunger relief agency. Although there were many challenges in the planning of it, even up to the last minute, once the event began it was marvelous. We were blessed with the ministry of Minister Antonio and his group. We heard Chad Sisk. Shadia Combs presented spoken word. And our own children's choir sang beautifully. We raised $1000 and a great deal of nonperishable food items. Most of all, God's presence was thick in the room. Within 20 minutes of the service's beginning, I knew that the whole weekend would be unforgettable.
I don't want to go through a blow-by-blow of every event. Let me just offer some observations. My friends who spoke, whether at the banquet or in the installation, gave a rounded picture of who I am. It was fun to hear about the Leslie, the Rev., the Professor. But they did even more than that because they helped me to remember aspects of my own self and story that I hadn't thought about for a long time and that I needed to remember. The support of my family, whose pride beamed like a spotlight, induced gratitude and healed old wounds. The preaching of Reverend Dr. Raphael Warnock who preached the temptation at the luncheon; Reverend Dr. J. Alfred Smith, Sr., who preached about Phoebe on Sunday morning; and Reverend Felicia Y. Thomas who preached about higher ground at the installation service, inspired, provoked, corrected, and encouraged. And the generosity the congregation, from the cards to the offering to the Phillies playoff tickets (from the installation committee) showed me how blessed I am to have become St. Paul's pastor. This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes.
I do have to say a word about the actual service of installation: AMAZING. The turnout of clergy who came to support me, including women in ministry - some of whom I didn't even know - blessed me tremendously. I was especially encouraged by the elders: St. Paul's Pastor Emeritus Rev. Dr. Arthur Lee Johnson, who offered greetings and his blessing, and the Rev. Dr. Henry Mitchell, who prayed the prayer of installation. The support of my family reinforced the sense of blessedness and favor. The joyful worship encouraged my heart and exalted the Lord. (Perhaps those of you who were there and who read this would like to elaborate more on the specifics, but amazing is about all I can say.)
The installation really was a kickoff to the ministry. Since then, we have grown numerically. Our worship is intensifying, even though we were without a permanent minister of music for the last 3 months of the year. The work of pastoring is showing me more and more about my own strengths and weaknesses. Mostly, I am learning that this really is Jesus' show. We are going somewhere, but I am not driving. I too am a passenger, and I am enjoying the ride.
Best Sports Experience - My Beloved Phillies
My love for the Phillies only grew this past year. And because I was not the only one who was loving on them, it was very difficult to get tickets at Citizens Bank Park to see them play.
Seeing the Phillies in Pittsburgh and then in the playoffs at Citizens Bank Park (thanks to the generosity of the installation committee) was so much fun. I am only sorry that they did not beat my American League team the New York Yankees in the World Series.
Best Meals
During restaurant week in Philadelphia on September 18, I went to Amada a Spanish tapas restaurant. The food was magnificent. From the lavender-infused honey to the cafe con leche with dessert, this is just marvelous eating. I also want to give an honorable mention to Honey's Sit and Eat, which is near the church.
I have to say, though, that on a consistent basis the food, fun, laughter, and fellowship at the home of Deborah and Ernie Flores during the weekly Monday night taco nights represents the best eating I do from week to week.
Best Medical Procedure
I know that sounds crazy, but I needed to be able to say something about finally having my wisdom teeth extracted.F
Best Sermons/Lectures I Heard
I have to give a major shout out to the the Hampton Ministers Conference, where the President Rev. Dr. William Curtis, along with morning preacher Rev. Dr. Claudette Copeland and conference presenter/prophet Rev. Dr. Renita J Weems brought it with prophetic power, passion, clarity, brilliance, and anointing.
Just as I did last year, I need to note the consistent preaching of Rev. Dr. Albert F. Campbell and District Elder Brenda (Birdie) Cuthbertson. District Elder Cuthbertson brought an extraordinary word at Easter "Same Story, Different Ending." That was some preaching!
Turning Forty
My last comment about 2009 is that I turned 40 in the midst of a record-setting snowstorm that ruined my plans to spend my 40th birthday with my new church family. Despite my disappointment, I had a marvelous day, as some dear friends braved the snow to bring my gifts and take me to dinner. See me on my 40th birthday at Maggiano's below.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
In Praise of Oral Roberts
Anybody who knows anything about my theology or my politics will be a bit surprised to see me offering my own words of praise for Oral Roberts who died this past week at age 91. On the other hand, anyone who knows about my heritage and scholarship as a pentecostal will think it perfectly appropriate for me to write in celebration of one of the most remarkable and accomplished religious leaders of the previous century.
I remember Oral Roberts's television show from my early childhood and such guests on the show as Mahalia Jackson. I remember the theme music "Something Good is Going to Happen to You" as the soundtrack to my getting dressed for church on Sundays when I was still in patent leather shoes. And yes I remember when Oral Roberts's fundraising tactics drew the scorn of the media and caused the disappointment of many others when he said that God has threatened to "call me home" if his supporters did not show up with the money.
None of those memories, though, prompts my writing about Roberts. In 2001, I traveled to Tulsa for the first time, to attend a meeting of the Society for Pentecostal Studies, which was being hosted at Oral Roberts University. I knew, of course, that Roberts had founded an accredited institution of higher learning and that at one time that institution even housed a medical school. My college roommate's father was a professor at ORU. And I had seen their sports teams play on ESPN. But when I actually saw the buildings (corny and reminiscent of the 1970s as they were) and actually entered the prayer tower, I gained new respect for a man who was both a visionary and a person who accomplished what he set out to do.
Having begun his ministry as person with a gift for healing and having decided that the spiritual arts and medical science were not incompatible, Roberts did something that few religious or secular people have done - created an institution. His legacy as the founder and chancellor of ORU outdistances almost any of his critics'. I know that ORU has had its issues, particularly when Richard Roberts was at the helm, but none of that diminishes the accomplishments of Oral Roberts. He was a preacher, evangelist, pentecostal, and visionary. May he rest in peace from his labors and his works follow him.
I remember Oral Roberts's television show from my early childhood and such guests on the show as Mahalia Jackson. I remember the theme music "Something Good is Going to Happen to You" as the soundtrack to my getting dressed for church on Sundays when I was still in patent leather shoes. And yes I remember when Oral Roberts's fundraising tactics drew the scorn of the media and caused the disappointment of many others when he said that God has threatened to "call me home" if his supporters did not show up with the money.
None of those memories, though, prompts my writing about Roberts. In 2001, I traveled to Tulsa for the first time, to attend a meeting of the Society for Pentecostal Studies, which was being hosted at Oral Roberts University. I knew, of course, that Roberts had founded an accredited institution of higher learning and that at one time that institution even housed a medical school. My college roommate's father was a professor at ORU. And I had seen their sports teams play on ESPN. But when I actually saw the buildings (corny and reminiscent of the 1970s as they were) and actually entered the prayer tower, I gained new respect for a man who was both a visionary and a person who accomplished what he set out to do.
Having begun his ministry as person with a gift for healing and having decided that the spiritual arts and medical science were not incompatible, Roberts did something that few religious or secular people have done - created an institution. His legacy as the founder and chancellor of ORU outdistances almost any of his critics'. I know that ORU has had its issues, particularly when Richard Roberts was at the helm, but none of that diminishes the accomplishments of Oral Roberts. He was a preacher, evangelist, pentecostal, and visionary. May he rest in peace from his labors and his works follow him.
39 was a mighty good year
Just as the clock struck midnight last night, in the midst of a record-breaking, historic snowstorm that threatened and eventually did cancel my plans to celebrate my birthday with my church family, I had to pause and give thanks. I need to say again that I was feeling a little disappointed that I was not going to be having my first day at 40 exactly as I wanted it. But even so, I had to admit that I had a blast at 39.
Last year, I turned 39 with a whimper. I spent the first week of my 40th year lamenting all that I had not yet accomplished. I remembered so well when I turned 30 and rejoiced that my adulthood was really secure. I couldn't believe how quickly the decade had passed. Yes, there were accomplishments, including the completion of my Ph.D. and the securing of gainful employment, but none of the milestones of my 30s up to that time included the things I had most hoped for, a husband and children. When I turned 39, I didn't even have a church. I was feeling a little blessed but a little cursed too.
I don't have the time or the energy for all of the details, but let me say this: Even though I still don't have a husband or a child, 39 was the year when I could no longer sustain the fiction that I am cursed. It no longer is logically sustainable. I have felt more loved, supported, and chosen in this past year than ever before in my life. The process that brought me to St. Paul's, including the respect that the search committee accorded me, blessed me more than I can say. The commitment and investment of friends who rejoiced on my first Sunday and at my installation as if it were their own new life, so many events this year have pointed to the love of God and the love of many friends. I have been celebrated and feted. I have been taken care of and comforted. Friends, old and new, have shown me how loved I am. Family have shown up and beamed with pride.
Women over 40 tell me that I am going to love this new season I am in. I hope so. I also hope to have a family of my own. But if none of that is true, if that doesn't happen, then I have had at least one marvelous year. Thank God for 39.
Last year, I turned 39 with a whimper. I spent the first week of my 40th year lamenting all that I had not yet accomplished. I remembered so well when I turned 30 and rejoiced that my adulthood was really secure. I couldn't believe how quickly the decade had passed. Yes, there were accomplishments, including the completion of my Ph.D. and the securing of gainful employment, but none of the milestones of my 30s up to that time included the things I had most hoped for, a husband and children. When I turned 39, I didn't even have a church. I was feeling a little blessed but a little cursed too.
I don't have the time or the energy for all of the details, but let me say this: Even though I still don't have a husband or a child, 39 was the year when I could no longer sustain the fiction that I am cursed. It no longer is logically sustainable. I have felt more loved, supported, and chosen in this past year than ever before in my life. The process that brought me to St. Paul's, including the respect that the search committee accorded me, blessed me more than I can say. The commitment and investment of friends who rejoiced on my first Sunday and at my installation as if it were their own new life, so many events this year have pointed to the love of God and the love of many friends. I have been celebrated and feted. I have been taken care of and comforted. Friends, old and new, have shown me how loved I am. Family have shown up and beamed with pride.
Women over 40 tell me that I am going to love this new season I am in. I hope so. I also hope to have a family of my own. But if none of that is true, if that doesn't happen, then I have had at least one marvelous year. Thank God for 39.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Michael Vick
Anyone who knows me knows that I am an increasingly avid sports fan. I have changed my cable provider so that I can watch the Phillies almost daily. I frequently wear team gear for the Phillies and Yankees. And although I am more of a baseball fan than football these days, in the winter you can observe me in my Eagles gear. But even if I weren't following sports so closely, I would have been hard-pressed to miss all of the hullabaloo engendered by the recent signing of Michael Vick to the Philadelphia Eagles football team.
For those of you who have been in a cave, Michael Vick, formerly a ProBowl caliber quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons, just completed an 18-month sentence for charges related to a dog-fighting operation he ran out of his home in Virginia. A couple weeks ago he was reinstated to the NFL, although he remains suspended for an as yet undetermined number of games. He was available. The Eagles signed him. Animal rights activists and dog-loving fans, especially in Philadelphia, had a fit.
This brings me to the question that prompts this blog: What do they want? Michael Vick served time for heinous cruelty and has seen his life and fortune dismantled. Is he never supposed to work again? Is he forever to be shunned from all polite company? Was he simply supposed to die in prison? Or is it okay from him to be released and to work, but just not to make a lot of money or to be truly successful and potentially celebrated as a great quarterback? I want to say to the detractors, I know you don't want him to do this, but what's the alternative? I know, I know: Throw him to the dogs.
Now hear me, I'm not one of those sanctimonious types who judgmentally declares that we should not judge others. Clearly, Michael Vick has some restitution to make, but he can never make such restitution if we don't acknowledge that redemption and righting wrongs are possible.
To make a larger and perhaps more important point, as individuals and as a society we have to figure out how to reintegrate people who have messed up in a way that both acknowledges their wrongs and their potential. We can neither fail to punish wrongs, nor continue to punish forever.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
The Family Table
The Family Table
John 6
In the hustle and bustle of contemporary life, many of us hurry through everything, including our meals. We “grab” something and “wolf” it down in the midst of or while in transit to something else. More and more, this unhealthy behavior characterizes the eating habits of children as well as those of busy adults. Yet within the past several years, research has emerged that links positive outcomes socially, emotionally, and physically with the experience of regularly dining at the family table. Not only do children eat a more balanced diet, with more fruit and vegetables, but there is evidence that they are also less likely to engage in delinquent social behaviors when they sit down with their parents for bonding time at meals. The article continues, "Just the act of eating together is on some level beneficial." (Click here for complete NY Times Article.)
The scenes of this entire chapter take place was by the Sea of Galilee, the site where Jesus had originally called some of his disciples and where he had attracted great crowds because of the miraculous signs that he performed on behalf of the sick.
The time was near the Passover feast, itself the family meal that commemorated God’s rescue of the Israelites from slavery. Spending time with his disciples, Jesus notices the crowds coming from the distance. The ever observant Jesus perceived the condition of the approaching masses and in it a teachable moment for his disciples. “Where shall we buy bread for the crowd that's on its way?” he asked his crew.
What followed was yet another demonstration of human limitation overcome by divine providence. Philip the questioning disciple focused on their limitations. Andrew looked at the situation with a different eye. He had taken account of the boy with a lunch. "I don't know what we can do with it, but there is a boy who has a lunch," Andrew said. By the end of the story, there was enough and more than enough to feed all who took a portion until they had all that they wanted and were satisfied.
What is striking about Jesus’ distribution of the resources is that he gave away nothing before the people sat down. Before he gave thanks, broke the bread, or distributed the fish, Jesus commanded that the great crowds come to rest. The lesson, of course, is one of obedience. The disciples cannot be used if they will not obey. In fact, they are not even disciples at all if they won’t FOLLOW. The crowds cannot be fed unless they accede to the command to sit down. We have but little distance to walk to discover that the satisfaction of the Christian life is elusive if we do not take heed to Christ’s voice.
But there is significance in the content of the command to be seated. In bringing order and quiet to those who would dine through his miraculous provision, Jesus instituted and presided over the family table, prefiguring the table he prepared at the Passover with his own broken body and shed blood.
Not long ago, President Obama invited two men who were having a very public, acrimonious dispute,Henry Louis Gates, Jr. and Sergeant James Crowley, over to the White House for a beer. Let’s come together on common ground the president said. Let’s sit down at the table. Let’s look at one another and have conversation. Coming from different backgrounds and experiences, encountering on another first in the contentious context of mistaken identity - now let’s come together in table fellowship. The beer? Just a little something for attitude adjustment, a drink in common to bring us to a compatible level. Now you have to know that Gates and Crowley would likely never have come together for a beer or anything else on their own. But because the President called and invited them to the White House, they responded to the specialness of the President's invitation.
I hear the Savior say “I am the bread of life.” And while I wouldn’t mind an invitation to the White House to sit down to the table either inside the house or on the White House lawn. While I wouldn’t mind having a tomato plucked from the white house vegetable garden. While I would mind dining off the fine china from which presidents and heads of state have eaten, I recognize the greater privilege and the more nourishing meal is the one I share with my brothers and sisters every 2nd Sunday morning at St. Paul’s Baptist Church.
I hear the Savior say, Anyone who comes to me will never be hungry. Anyone who believes in me will never be thirsty. I am the living bread who comes down from heaven. My flesh is real food. My blood is real drink.
Jesus knows even better than we do how different we are: ages, status, gender, nature, tastes, desires : This is my body which is for YOU (pl.) Do this and think about me. This is my blood shed for YOU for the forgiveness of sins. Do this and think about me. Just as the passover was celebrated with a family meal, so also our deliverance is celebrated with a meal. And if a beer between enemies can lead to common ground, how much more can the bread of life shared among sisters and brothers?
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