Archive | February 2016

About that Bern I’m Feeling . . .

About that Bern I’m Feeling . . .
David R. Weiss
February 28, 2016

Despite being a devoted introvert, I’ve been pretty politically extraverted lately … on behalf about Bernie Sanders. Here, in 1100 words, is why.

Bernie is the best candidate to run for president in all my voting years. I trust his character, consistency, transparency, and authenticity. I’m also struck by his candor about his secular faith. He would bring to the presidency a moral vision grounded in compassion that is as explicit and more universal than has ever been the case. The philosophical commitments I see in his politics: prioritizing peace, ecology, sufficiency, diplomacy, equity, and global respect, resonate with my own convictions. I admire his willingness to hear others out—especially the voices of marginalized others—and then learn from them.

I appreciate his stance on a wide range of issues.

  • He has supported workers’ rights both on picket lines and in policy proposals. As a recently unionized part-time college instructor, and as someone earning less than $15/hour at one of my other jobs, I live in the economy that undervalues honest work and workers’ rights.
  • His policy views on racial justice, prison/police reform have been directly shaped by what he’s heard from Black Lives Matter activists. This reflects his lifelong commitment to listen to minority voices, stand with their bodies, and act for their civil rights. Plus, he opposes the death penalty—a principled position that, in practice, actively protects Black lives.
  • His views on LGBT issues, women’s pay equity, and women’s reproductive rights are all unapologetically
  • He has consistently opposed trade agreements that unwisely put the environment at risk and harm workers’ pay and other protections (both in the U.S. and abroad).
  • He has been working to protect the environment as seen in his opposition to fracking, the Keystone pipeline, and offshore drilling, and his support for alternative energy.
  • His criticism of the power that large corporations, banks, and those with immense personal wealth have to rig our economy, buy elections, and otherwise leave the U.S. a democracy in name only has been fierce and is spot on.
  • He is setting priorities that will make us a stronger nation, from accessible education to universal healthcare, from rebuilding infrastructure to solidifying Social Security.
  • His foreign policy views show a persistent moral-practical critique of U.S. militarism and empire-building. He may have less direct “frontline” foreign policy experience than Hillary, but his moral compass has been far more reliable on these matters.
  • Bernie’s position on gun control is evolving. His Vermont context is different than in those areas most affected by gun violence. But, precisely because of this—and because of his vision of a society where all can flourish without fear—he’s uniquely positioned to help us as a nation navigate this most necessary issue.

Neither of the leading critiques of Bernie’s candidacy are persuasive.

Some say he isn’t electable. That he’s simply too far to the left or too far out of the mainstream to appeal to enough voters—and that any Republican candidate would have a field day with him in attack ads. I strongly disagree. Yes, any Republican candidate will go after him, but Bernie’s positions reflect the core aspirations of many in America. If you’ve read George Lakoff’s book, Don’t Think of an Elephant, you realize that every time someone slams Bernie for his “socialist” idea of “universal healthcare,” voters will hear—again and again and again and again—about this notion of universal healthcare. And, to the extent that his priorities and proposals actually resonate with the aspirations of middle America, each attack will end up reminding Americans that Bernie is actually on their side. Bernie speaks with uncanny clarity and straightforward honesty about the issues the matter to real middle class, working class, and lower class Americans. He is eminently electable.

Others say, even if he were elected, he couldn’t get anything done because of Congress. Again, I strongly disagree. During his last twelve years as an Independent in a Republican-controlled House (that entire time!)—Bernie passed more amendments to bills than anyone else in the House. Progressive amendments. And he continued to use amendments as a powerful tool in the Senate. His “outsider” status, far from making him ineffective, has led him to hone his skills as at building alliances on both sides of the aisle. And when Killer Mike admits, “Bernie is a one-issue candidate: his one-issue is the citizens of the United States,” he identifies what can make Bernie successful in the oval office. Bernie has shown an extraordinary capacity thus far to tap into the public ferment of American citizens and (unlike Trump) to harness it to hope. If he animates the Executive Branch with the hopes of countless citizens and the savvy of a seasoned legislator he will get things done.

I have friends—some of them fellow progressives whose wisdom I highly regard—who support Hillary. I respect their views, but there are two primary reasons that I find it very difficult to support Hillary.

First, as a matter of a principle: democracies cannot endure dynasties. For twenty years, from 1989-2009, just two families (Bush/Clinton) controlled the White House. Were Hillary elected in 2016 those two families would sit in the White House for 75% of a 32-year stretch. If she were elected to a second term, just two family dynasties would hold the oval office for 28 out of 36 years. This would mean that over half of all Americans alive during her second term would have seen just two families hold the presidency for 80% of their lifetimes. That simply isn’t democracy.

Second, while Hillary is extraordinarily sharp … she strikes me as also extraordinarily expedient. Sadly, I simply don’t believe that black lives or trans lives or workers lives or poor lives or the planet’s life truly matter to her at a gut level. I think they matter to her “all other things being equal,” and in politics “all other things” are never equal. Her record and her rhetoric suggest this. Put very bluntly, even though I’d vote for Hillary in heartbeat in a race pitting her against any of the Republican candidates, I’m pretty much convinced (and not cheerfully so!) that a Hillary presidency would be a deep disappointment and a delay of dreams.

And while I would take disappointment and delayed dreams over moral-economic-political disaster, which is what the current Republican candidates all offer, that is NOT a progressive choice. And until the Democratic convention has come and gone, I’m not about to settle. Under Hillary, I’m quite worried that trans lives, black lives, workers’ lives, poor lives, and the planet’s countless other lives (human, plant, animal) would all be left more exposed, and I’m not able to get excited about that.

Bernie Sanders is running for President on a platform remarkable for its hope and its commitment to justice. It may be imprecise as yet and imperfect in what it accomplishes. No single person can “redeem” a broken political system or a broken politics. But in Bernie’s candidacy I hear an unmistakable echo of Langston Hughes’ words, residing still in so many hearts and minds: “America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath—America will be!” And that’s why I #FeeltheBern.

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David R. Weiss is the author of When God Was a Little Girl, a playfully profound and slyly subversive children’s picture book (Beaver’s Pond Press, 2013; www.WhenGodWasaLittleGirl.com) as well asTo the Tune of a Welcoming God: Lyrical reflections on sexuality, spirituality and the wideness of God’s welcome (2008, Langdon Street Press). A theologian, writer, poet and hymnist, David is committed to doing “public theology” around issues of sexuality, justice, diversity, and peace. He lives in St. Paul and speaks on college campuses and at church and community events. You can reach him at drw59mn@gmail.com and read more at www.ToTheTune.com where he blogs under the theme, “Full Frontal Faith: Erring on the Edge of Honest.”

An Explosive Urgency, a Beckoning Calm

This is the second in a series of five Wednesday evening Lenten reflections I’ve been invited to offer at Grace Lutheran Church in Eau Claire as I accompany them in a congregational journey toward a deeper embrace of creation and a faith-based response to climate change. Later this spring I’ll offer several public lectures hosted by Grace. The text for each reflection is my own choosing, drawn from Luke’s “journey” material.

Green Lent

Lenten Reflection for Wednesday, February 24, 2016
Grace Lutheran Church, Eau Claire, Wisconsin

An explosive urgency, a beckoning calm
David R. Weiss

Luke 12:49-56 – Jesus said, “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided: father against son … and son against father; mother against daughter … and daughter against mother; mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law … and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.” He also said to the crowds, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, ‘It is going to rain’; and so it happens. And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat’; and it happens. You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?”

Following LENT SUNDAY TWO – Luke 13:31-35 (Herod, that fox; Lament over Jerusalem)

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This is all my imagination—but that doesn’t mean it isn’t also the truth. I want you to hear the words in this text as they might’ve sounded back then—or today.

You could see the tension building up if you just paid attention. A certain edge crept into the way he told parables. They’d started off almost as invitations. Later, the same parables sounded like pleas. And by now they’d tilted into begging—“can’t you see? The kingdom of God is like this …”—and they teetered on the cusp of threats.

It was the same with the healings. At first, when he beckoned the lame to walk, the demon-possessed to shirk their demons, or the lepers to wrap themselves in fresh skin, he was himself altogether delighted. As though this was as much a wonder to him and to those whom he healed.

But he grew weary. At some point even the healings felt like a task. He wasn’t about to withhold the sheer goodness that moved through him from those who needed it. But he came to realize that they rarely understood their need as well as he did. For Jesus, the healings were never just about healing. They were always about wholeness—about being restored to a rightful healthy place within yourself … and within your community.

The healings were like parables played out in people’s bodies. But … like the parables, the crowds mostly didn’t get them. Heck, most of the time even his own disciples didn’t get them.

By now, through his parables and healings, in his teachings and at his table, Jesus had spent more than a year proclaiming “the kingdom of God.”

You need to know four things about that.

First, “kingdom” wasn’t a reference to a place, as though there was a palace somewhere in a land that was “God’s kingdom.” No, in Aramaic, the language Jesus spoke, the word for kingdom is a verb. It means “the activity of God reigning as king.” Not a place, but an activity.

Second, that activity was radical gracious welcome. God’s kingdom included everyone, even those you’d expect to be put outside. Think of it as God’s kin-dom: the activity of God welcoming everyone as family.

Third, Jesus said, “REPENT, because the kingdom—the activity of God making all of us kin—is at hand.” Just around the corner. Close enough to touch.

Fourth, by “repent” Jesus did not mean, “Okay, everybody say you’re sorry.” Plain and simple, repenting means turning around. Moving, acting, living in a different direction.

In Jesus’ day (not unlike our own I might add) people were often played off against each other. There were all kinds of rules, some formal, some unspoken, that were used to determine insiders and outsiders, who had status, and who had nothing. And Jesus’ message challenged that; it was a direct challenge to virtually everything that everyone among his followers had ever known.

So the fact that almost nobody GOT Jesus’ message really just acknowledges how stuck they were in their world as it was, all around them. In the face of all that, seeing from a new perspective—and then actually moving in a new direction was a BIG challenge. You can’t hardly blame them for not getting it right away.

Problem was, Jesus could tell he was operating on borrowed time. He saw his own people getting played against each other. He saw the powerful—whether Roman or Jew—taking advantage of the powerless. He saw people learning to despise themselves. He saw a community fractured in ways that turned it incessantly against itself.

And he knew that his own message, his call to turn around and BE a whole new kind of community, posed a real threat to the powers that be. They would act sooner or later to silence him. You heard that ominous note sounded in Sunday’s lesson, when he’s warned that Herod is looking to kill him. And you heard his lament: wishing that Jerusalem could hear his message and gather around him like chicks running to a mother hen … but they do not.

In tonight’s reading that lament is even more restless, more edgy. See if you can hear it better now. Jesus says, in effect:

People, I’ve been healing your sick. I’ve been telling you parables. I’ve been eating at your tables. And you’ve been content to be healed, but not yet whole. To murmur about the parables, but not actually respond to them. To gossip about my meal companions without daring to welcome outcasts at your own tables. Have you even been listening?!

You only reach the kingdom—the kin-dom, the familyhood of God—if you turn around. Repent. Move in another direction, act in another way. And Herod is on the hunt now. Time is short!

You’re acting like I’m just going to fix everything for you, and everyone’s just gonna be happy and get along. No! I’m talking about re-making the whole way we are a community. I’m casting fire on the status quo. I’m risking my neck! And before it’s over people will be divided because of me and the message I bring.

Can’t you see how short the time is? You know how to watch the weather, to anticipate rain or sun. Why, oh why, can’t you pay as much attention to this present time?

This explosion by Jesus is less anger than anguish.

Jesus’ message, what we refer to so tamely as “Gospel,” good news, is pretty damn stark. He’s saying that the only way forward in which true human flourishing is possible … requires turning the world as it is … inside out. Including outcasts. Loving enemies. Welcoming strangers. Not easy stuff back then——or right now. But Jesus was adamant. It’s this way forward. Or else.

Then there’s this paradox. Because the same man you just heard exclaiming in impatient anguish that he’s eager to cast fire because only real life-turning repentance will actually save us, he also says—and on this same journey to Jerusalem: “Do not worry. Consider the lilies, the ravens, the grass of the field … God knows what you need. (12:22-31).

Yes, I’m asking you to join me in remaking the world. And, yes, I’m probably going to die before we’re done—and probably by a violent death. But, don’t worry.

That “don’t worry” is crucial. But NOT because it’s there to comfort us. Rather, because only by clinging to those words with faith, can we ALSO hear the urgency, which would otherwise overwhelm us. The “don’t worry” doesn’t make it any less urgent, any less necessary. Any less deadly for Jesus. I suspect he sees what’s coming, even if his followers don’t. But still, he says, “don’t worry.” I think so that we muster the courage to hear the whole of what he’s saying.

Now … fast forward 2000 years. What do those words sound like today?

People, I healed sick bodies and minds. I fed hungry bellies. I blessed children. And when I died, I bled real blood. Is there any thing I did to suggest that I didn’t take this incarnation business—this being fully IN THIS WORLD—seriously?

I ate with outcasts. I challenged authority. I really, really wanted to call you into my work of remaking the world. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s desperately needed—for the least of these, my brothers and sisters. For all of us.

Still today, you will only reach the kingdom—the kin-dom, the familyhood of God—if you turn around. Repent. Move in another direction, act in another way. And this world is on the verge of collapse. Time is short!

You’re acting like I’m just going to fix everything for you, and everyone’s just gonna be happy and get along … like the planet will just heal itself. No! I’m talking about re-making the whole way we are a community. About the entire way we live on a finite planet. I’m casting fire on the status quo. I’m risking my neck! And before it’s over people will be divided because of me and the message I bring.

Can’t you see how short the time is? You know how to watch the weather when you’re thinking about the fishing opener or the start of baseball season or the 4th of July parade. You know how to count down the shopping days until Christmas; you even know how to map out the liturgical seasons months in advance.

But when the global temperature is rising and species are going extinct and ice caps are melting before your very eyes and extreme weather is on the increase and your own best science tells you that human activity is driving these things … why, oh why, can’t you pay as much attention—and respond with equal energy—to this present time?

That’s what Jesus would sound like today. Which ought to leave all of us, myself included, squirming uncomfortably.

And then he would add, not to take the edge off his words, but to give us the strength to really hear the edge of his words: And remember, don’t worry. God knows what you need. Amen.

 

QUESTIONS for reflection and conversation:

  1. Did you gain new insight (or feel a fresh challenge) from the four things I noted about the “kingdom of God”—(1) verb/activity (2) radical gracious welcome; (3) repent; and (4) turning around?
  2. What in my message helped you hear the power of Jesus’ anguished words in their original context? Or as addressing our context today? Can you sense the “productive” tension of “don’t worry” in the midst of this urgency?
  3. What else will you take away from tonight’s reflection?

http://www.davidrweiss.com / drw59mn@gmail.com

Jesus, Jerusalem, and Climate Change

I’ve been invited by Grace Lutheran Church in Eau Claire to accompany them in a congregational journey toward a deeper embrace of creation and a faith-based response to climate change. I do not know where this journey will lead, but it begins with five Lenten reflections (of which this is the first) and will include several public lectures hosted by Grace later in the spring. The texts for each Lenten reflection are of my own choosing, drawn from Luke’s “journey” material.

Green Lent

Lenten Reflection for Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Grace Lutheran Church, Eau Claire, Wisconsin

What can we ask of Jesus, on his journey to Jerusalem—and on ours?
David R. Weiss

Luke 9:51-62 – In which Jesus sets his face for Jerusalem, refuses to carpet bomb a Samaritan village, compares his housing opportunities to foxes and birds, and reminds his followers that the Kingdom of God is a journey that asks everyone to be “all in.” Following LENT SUNDAY ONE – Luke 4:1-13 (Temptation)

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Okay, I’ll be honest—I don’t think Jesus lost any sleep over Global Warming or Climate Change, however you choose to name it. It simply wasn’t part of the forces that threatened human flourishing in his day. And the capacity for humans to impact ecosystems (to threaten nonhuman flourishing) was a fraction of what it is today. And the capacity to harm an entire planet’s ecosystem was unimagined.

So Jesus never addressed what may well be the defining issue of our lifetime. But that doesn’t mean he has nothing to say to us about it. Jesus was steeped in a biblical tradition that most of us have only a passing familiarity with.

He knew that God fashioned Adam—the Hebrew word is adam—out of adamah, a Hebrew word for dirt. Because the writer wanted us to hear that God made a dirtling out of the dirt, an earthling out of the earth, a human being out of the humus. However we understand ourselves, we are inescapably kin to the ground under our feet. And Jesus knew that.

He knew that when Adam, that first earthling, named all the creatures in the garden, it wasn’t as an act of mastery over them, but as a persistent search for intimacy with them.

Jesus could have told you that at the end of the tale of Noah and the ark, when God sets the rainbow in the sky as symbol of the covenant to protect Noah—in that story, SIX different times in nine short verses God specifies that the promise is not simply with Noah and his descendants, but with every living creature. Six times! Lest we think it was intended only for us.

And he knew by heart many of the Psalms—as well as passages from the prophets—that borrow freely and generously from nature to image God, to praise God, or to use nature’s health or suffering as a reflection of human morality.

Hebrew thought presumed that creation, Creator, and creature were inescapably interconnected. So while Jesus did not address Climate Change 2000 years ago, there is no question he would take it very seriously were he walking—and warming—among us today.

Beyond the mostly unspoken creation-rich context of his faith, Jesus said plenty.

He addressed the human tendencies to live by fear or denial—and the human propensity to abuse power and to erase people. He decried the damage done by dysfunctional and oppressive social structures—and he offered a healing vision of a human community. He affirmed taking decisive action in critical moments. And he knew the importance of living by faith in God’s deep goodness and grace.

These are among the central features of Jesus’ ministry. They’re part of the message that led him to the cross. And they offer insight, wisdom, even good news to those of us wondering how we—as persons of faith—respond to the challenge of Climate Change.

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So welcome to Lent, this season in which we intentionally reflect on our own mortality, on our need for repentance—for turning around—and on the journey undertaken by Jesus that culminates in the Cross. This year during Lent we ask, What does it mean to follow Jesus toward the Cross … on a precariously warming planet?

In tonight’s lesson I hear four pieces of wisdom.

First, we read, “Jesus set his face to go to Jerusalem.” This is the wisdom of fierce resolve. We’ll talk next week about how we discern the right moment, but once discerned, it’s critical that we not vacillate. We, too, have a journey to begin. We, too, need to “set our face.”

Soon after beginning his journey Jesus is not welcomed by a Samaritan village. Now there is long and complicated animosity between Jews and Samaritans, including 1000 years of disagreement over the rightful location of the Temple. So it’s irritating, annoying, maybe even disappointing, that these villagers fail to show Jesus and his disciples hospitality on their pilgrimage to the “wrong” Temple—but it’s hardly surprising.

What is surprising, if you’ve been paying attention to Jesus’ ministry—is how James and John respond: “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?”

Luke tells us only that “Jesus turned and rebuked them,” which I suspect is polite Greek for telling us, “And Jesus turned to them with rage, saying, have you not heard anything I’ve said so far?!”

This second bit of wisdom is remembering what we know. As we respond to Climate Change there will also be moments of frustration, disappointment, opposition. Like the disciples, we’ll be tempted to lash out at those who appear to be in the way. But the measure of our response should not be the anger or the urgency we feel. It should be the whole of what we know. The overwhelming threat of Climate Change is not a reason to set aside our Christianity but to deepen it.

Third, Jesus says, “Foxes have holes, and birds have nests,” but it is not so for the One who chooses faithfulness above all else. This piece of uncomfortable but essential wisdom might be coined: moving from temptation to tabernacle.

Last Sunday we heard the story of Jesus’ temptation. There were other paths that called out to him. Fame and fortune. Miracle and empire. Simple comfort and familiarity. He could have chosen to be a fox with a hole or a bird with a nest. Instead, he chose to be ever restless for the healing and liberation of his people.

He chose to keep the company of a God who found a tabernacle preferable to a Temple. With its canvas walls and tent poles the tabernacle moved through the wilderness with the Israelites on their journey. Its sides billowed with the wind, breathing in and out, as it were, with the presence of a Living God.

We sometimes imagine that Christianity is about finding comfort and security. But this wisdom reminds us it’s actually about venturing into holy insecurity, counting as comfort that we are in the company of Jesus and one another. That was true long before Climate Change arrived on the scene, but it will be especially true in the years ahead.

Finally Jesus says, with what we might mistake as a tone of impatience, “Look, no one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” Those would be hard words, except that the one who speaks them alsoand already—has a hand to the plow. This fourth wisdom simply says, about that first Lenten journey—and about this Lenten journey—it’s time to be all in. Words offered not as a threat of exclusion, as though “you better be ‘all in’ or else,” but rather as the wise observation of a fellow traveler that this road, which MUST be traveled, can ONLY be traveled safely and faithfully by being fully present here and now. All in.

My friends, Jesus never gave Climate Change a second thought. But we will—many times over. And as we move through Lent this year, there are echoes in his ministry that offer wisdom for us today.

We will need to exercise fierce resolve.

We will need to remember what we know.

We will need to move from temptation to tabernacle.

And we will need to be all in.

The good news is that we can do all these things (and more—we have four more Wednesdays together yet!) in the company of Jesus and one another. And that is truly Gospel. Amen.

 

QUESTIONS for reflection and conversation:

  1. Did anything surprise you or strike you as helpful about what I described as the “creation-rich context” of Jesus faith?
  2. Of the four bits of wisdom lifted up in this evening’s text—(1) fierce resolve; (2) remembering what we know; (3) moving from temptation to tabernacle; and (4) being all in—which did you find most insightful, most comforting, or most challenging?
  3. What else will you take away from tonight’s reflection?

http://www.davidrweiss.com / drw59mn@gmail.com