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Sunday, June 28, 2020 || Fourth Sunday After Pentecost Pastor Christy Wright We invite you to light a candle at 9 AM and join us in prayer NEW: Audio worship is also available at (978) 990-5000, access code 719365#. Just dial in, enter the access code on your keypad, and you will hear the service begin with music. Scripture Reading 1 John 4:16-21 So we have known and believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them. Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness on the day of judgment, because as he is, so are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. We love because he first loved us. Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their siblings are liars; for those who do not love a sibling whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from God is this: those who love God must love their siblings also. Sermon You wouldn’t know it now, but my brother and I were fierce rivals when we were younger. My brother is nearly five years older than me, just old enough that we never went to the same schools at the same time - which was lucky: we probably would have ended up in the principal’s office together more than a few times. But when we did spend time together - namely, fighting over control of the TV, general bickering, and sometimes even broken windows and doors - we fought like cats and dogs. We would wrestle around on the floor, while our parents would threaten groundings, not being able to see our friends, and other lost privileges if we didn’t shape up. Slowly but surely, our relationship became more bearable as I moved through high school and my brother went to college. I don’t know how it happened, really, but eventually we saw each other as equals, and we even started to listen to records together, get lunch out every once in a while, and work on projects as a duo, from photography to website design. I have no idea how we’ve come so far, but I know that I am so incredibly blessed to have him in my life, and I was honored to even officiate his wedding this past fall and gain a wonderful sister-in-law. God works in mysterious ways, and love conquers all. This morning’s scripture reading reminds us that love is the basis for our relationship with God. Love manifests itself through our relationships with others, and our actions reflect that love. But what happens when our relationships are based in fear? Where does that come from? And why is it so hard to rid our lives of this fear? Since the pandemic started, I’ve witnessed a strange pattern in our society, moving in four waves. At the first news reports of a mysterious virus that spread through the air, we hunkered down in our homes, hoarding toilet paper and clearing out the bread section at the grocery store. We fought as though it was “every man for himself,” and folks were shockingly quite hostile to one another in public, especially when there was only one item left on the shelf and too many people to decide who won the prize. There’s a story about this attitude in the Bible - a rich man tore down his small silos and instead built enormous ones, large enough to hold all his grain in its abundance, with no plans to share with anyone else. But when the man died, the goods went to waste - the wealth was worthless, and no one benefitted from the abundance. This man was acting out of fear, fear of scarcity, and we too, during the beginning stages of the pandemic, were acting from a place of scarcity rather than abundance. The second wave came when it became clear that we were in it for the long haul, and we started to soften, and we began to recognize that there was plenty for everyone: we realized that we were better together. Donations to local organizations skyrocketed, folks were volunteering at food pantries, and first responders celebrated with surprise birthday parades. It was truly beautiful to witness love overflowing throughout our community and beyond. And then in the third wave, the stories of injustice began to break on our shores about folks who had been killed and violently mistreated due to the color of their skin. The outrage of folks of color and their allies was more than we could handle. Riots broke out, and many were injured and killed in their wake. Most protests and rallies were peaceful, but sometimes the rhetoric on all sides became perilous and bitter. And, now, in the fourth wave, we find ourselves sitting with our questions, but with very few answers. Some of us are exhausted, but it’s mostly because we don’t know what to do, or how we might remedy the situation. For the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., he recognized two types of fear that appear among humankind. “Normal fear protects us; abnormal fear paralyzes us,” he said. “Normal fear motivates us to improve our individual and collective welfare; abnormal fear constantly poisons and distorts our inner lives.” In our current climate, we experienced abnormal fear as we stocked up on milk and eggs while others went without. We experienced normal, healthy fear when we realized just how isolated everyone was feeling, so we provided them with joy through our visits and gifts, celebrating our graduates and lifting up our essential workers. Then we hit a wave of abnormal fear as we awoke to the reality of racism in our country, as we felt unbalanced under the weight of truth. And now, as we sit with the questions that are before us, we have a choice for how we are to respond: with continued abnormal fear that divides and drives hostility even deeper, or with healthy fear that challenges us to learn and grow. For MLK, all kinds of fear are “mastered through love. … Such love confronts evil without flinching. … Such love overcomes the world even from a rough-hewn cross against the skyline.” Just as Jesus showed love by forgiving those who killed him, those who employed an unjust system to oppress and harm him and his disciples, we are called to love in the same depth and breadth. Yes. It is hard. In fact, it is impossible. Except that we have the Holy Spirit walking with us through it all. One thing that the Holy Spirit makes us aware of is our interconnected nature with all of humanity and creation. We know that we are all part of the one Body of Christ; as the Christian community, we are bound together through the power of the Holy Spirit, each created with our unique gifts and talents. We are all needed and necessary and loved in the life of the Church. The same is true with all people, not just those who claim the Christian faith. And the same is true with all of creation, for when we pull on one thread of the world, all else shifts and changes. When we recognize that God is love, and we are called to love our siblings, our fundamental understanding of life can change. The way I see it is that life is not structured in a hierarchy pyramid scheme, but rather as a net, all of life connected in a circular pattern, throughout which and in the midst of which, God is working in the most beautiful Divine ways. MLK states that “all humanity are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.” And we know this to be true through Romans 12, which celebrates our interconnected nature, for when one weeps, we all weep. And when one rejoices, we all rejoice. Through this, we are comforted because we know we are not alone. And through this, we are also challenged to see that our freedom is bound in the freedom of others. If we believe this to be true, then we should understand that black and brown liberation from racism is bound in our white awakening to racism. We have work to do. And it doesn’t end here. This is just the beginning. While we will be moving forward as a church into a new sermon series based on the seven days of creation over the next couple of months, we have a lot of personal work to do. I know that I’ve personally only scratched the surface in my learning about race and its intersections with faith, so I too, will be embarking on a personal journey toward educating myself on how to eradicate the racism in my heart. I’ve included a reading list in this week’s mailing, and I would invite you to join in this journey as we reflect on all that is before us. I’d like to close with a quote from MLK that reminds us of the freedom we all have to gain through the power of God’s great love, through which we are called to love, too: “Hatred and bitterness can never cure the disease of fear; only love can do that. Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illumines it.” May we strive for love. Amen. Anti-Racism Reading List Strength to Love by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr (1963) Waking Up White by Debbie Irving (2014) White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo (2018) The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander (2012) How to Be An Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi (2019) Tears We Cannot Stop: A Sermon to White America by Michael Eric Dyson (2017) Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates (2015) If you are interested in starting a reading group or book club, reach out to Pastor Christy, and we’ll set a regular time to meet. Hymn: For the Healing of the Nations, UMH 428 1. For the healing of the nations, Lord We pray with one accord; For a just and equal sharing of things That earth affords; To a life of love in action Help us rise and pledge our word, Help us rise and pledge our word. 2. Lead us forward into freedom; From despair your world release, That, redeemed from war and hatred, All may come and go in peace. Show us how through care and goodness Fear will die and hope increase, Fear will die and hope increase. 3. All that kills abundant living, Let it from the earth be banned; Pride of status, race, or schooling, Dogmas that obscure your plan. In our common quest for justice May we hallow life’s brief span, May we hallow life’s brief span. 4. You, Creator God, have written Your great name on humankind; For our growing in your likeness Bring life of Christ to mind, That by our response and service Earth its destiny may find, Earth its destiny may find. And now, may the peace of the Lord Christ go with you wherever God may send you; may God guide you through the wilderness, protect you through the storm; may God bring you home rejoicing at the wonders God has shown you; may God bring you home rejoicing once again into our doors.
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A Study of Forgiveness Sunday, June 21, 2020 || Third Sunday After Pentecost Pastor Christy Wright We invite you to light a candle at 9 AM and join us in prayer NEW: Audio worship is also available at (978) 990-5000, access code 719365#. Just dial in, enter the access code on your keypad, and you will hear the service begin with music. Scripture Reading Romans 6:1-11 What are we to say? Should we continue in sin in order that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin go on living in it? Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. We know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved to sin. For whoever has died is free from sin. But if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him. The death he died, he died to sin, once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus. Sermon One of the things I consistently struggle with is the idea of failure. Whether I try a new recipe that goes horribly wrong (picture this: smoke alarms blaring and my dog Cosmo running for cover), or if it’s a situation where I’ve stuck my foot in my mouth and said something that caused pain, recognizing the failure - and dealing with the aftermath - hurts. It’s uncomfortable and produces a twinge in the stomach as though we’ve been sucker punched by our own actions. It produces doubt about where we are in life, wondering if we made the wrong decisions or simply need to reassess our path. As we’re reckoning with racism in the United States, reflections of my own habits of racism have brought to light even more failures. And yes, it hurts. Yes, it’s uncomfortable, and it certainly has led to doubt. But can you imagine what it would feel like to be forgiven? What freedom and joy it would be to hear: You are forgiven. During Advent, back in December, I talked about Mary’s journey as a mother, as an unwed virgin who suddenly found herself to be pregnant, with a husband-to-be who was hurt, uncomfortable, and filled with doubt. The crux of the message was that it wasn’t Mary’s fault that she was pregnant, that her pregnancy caused upheaval and crisis within the community. It wasn’t her fault that Joseph’s reputation was on the line because of her meeting with the Divine who blessed her with a child, the Messiah. Sometimes we need to be reminded that it’s not our fault, that sometimes we carry guilt that isn’t ours. But sometimes we do need to recognize the fault and pain we have caused others. On the one hand, over and over throughout the Bible, we are reminded of the sin that we often inherit from those who have gone before us. We are reminded of humanity’s brokenness. We read stories of great failure, of war, of pain, and of the people who committed such acts. Sin shows up not so much as patterns of behavior, but rather as systems of hurt people hurting people. Sin is not so much a checklist of bad deeds, but rather a fragmented and disjointed picture of humanity, far from perfect. And on the other hand, we see glimpses of humanity as innately good, blessed and made in the image of God. We have the potential to heal and reconcile and cultivate peace. We are a beautiful mess, all simply trying to live life fully in the care and love for God and all of creation. But how is it possible to hold these two understandings of humanity together in one cohesive reality? The answer, at least from what I can see, is forgiveness. This forgiveness emerges on many planes: living into the forgiveness of God, the forgiveness of others, and the forgiveness of ourselves - all of which breeds freedom, freedom to breathe in deeply and embrace the love and compassion we have through Christ, the ultimate example of forgiveness. As Jesus hung on the cross, he was mocked by those surrounding him, and Jesus’ final plea was, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke at length about the power of forgiveness, especially forgiveness of unintentional harm. Such harm is often invisible to us until we take a step back and understand where we’ve gone wrong. “The men who cried, ‘Crucify him,’ were not bad men but rather blind men,” MLK states. “The jeering mob that lined the roadside that led to Calvary was composed not of evil people but of blind people. They knew not what they did,” he continues. But the good news is that Jesus intervened for their sake. Not only was Jesus willing to die an unjust death at their hands, but he also advocated for their very goodness, that they themselves weren’t evil, but were instead worthy of forgiveness from God. This great love is inconceivable, because Jesus could have just as easily asked for revenge, for God’s wrath, for destruction. But instead, he laid down all he had for the sake of others. What great love is this, that we are always freely forgiven by God, called good and worthy? What great love is this to know you are forgiven. But perhaps for us, the forgiveness of others doesn’t come as easily as it did to Jesus. When we’ve been deeply hurt by someone’s actions or inactions, the pain is sure to linger, and it will ache much the same way a broken bone can ache ages after it has fully healed. MLK explains that “forgiveness does not mean ignoring what has been done. … It means, rather, that the act no longer remains as a barrier to the relationship. Forgiveness is a catalyst creating the atmosphere necessary for a fresh start and a new beginning. It is the lifting of a burden or the canceling of a debt.” Another example of this freedom is in Matthew 18, when Jesus is questioned by Peter about how often we should forgive one another. Jesus responds by saying, “seventy times seven times,” a symbolic response that opens the door not only to reconciled relationships, but also to a new way of life. MLK explains that, to Jesus, “forgiveness is not an occasional act; it is a permanent attitude.” What a joy would it be to live into this new attitude? What a joy it would be to bear the words you are forgiven to someone who needs to hear it today. So often, the most difficult part of moving through a painful situation is the forgiveness of ourselves. As we replay that conversation, or those actions, or the way we stayed silent in the face of injustice, we often think of how we could have responded in healthier and more helpful ways. We wish we could take back what we said; we wish we hadn’t done what we did. And as we pile on the guilt, the shame, the embarrassment, the feelings of unworthiness, we get buried in a false narrative that prevents us from moving forward. In the words of the Apostle Paul in our scripture from Romans today, it’s almost as though we are re-crucifying ourselves with Jesus, that we are dying again with Christ. But God’s ultimate desire for us is to live into the freedom of the resurrection, now, the freedom of forgiveness that pulls us up from the mire and puts us on the path of looking up and out - up to God, and outward to others. Jesus died once, for all. By continuing to live in unforgiveness of ourselves, we are living into the death of Jesus, rather than into his resurrection. As we are moved by the Holy Spirit, we will come to terms with our humanity, and, with the help of God, we will finally be able to say to ourselves, you are forgiven. In the life of the church, confession is a practice that exists not simply for us to be absolved of our sin through God, but it is also a communal confession, where forgiveness is given in all directions: the Divine, one another, and ourselves. It is a way of humbling ourselves while also recognizing the beauty and freedom of hearing the words, You are forgiven. To forgive, and to receive forgiveness, is to break the cycle of violence that was set in motion from the stories of Genesis onward. And as MLK puts it, “returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. … Love is the most durable power in the world. This creative force, so beautifully exemplified in the life of our Christ, is the most potent instrument available in humankind’s quest for peace.” Through the grace of God, in union with the convicting winds of the Holy Spirit, and in the example of Christ, we are forgiven. Go, and live into the footsteps of Jesus’ ministry, loving and forgiving, healing, reconciling, and cultivating peace. Amen. Hymn: Blessed Assurance, UMH 369 1. Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine! O what a foretaste of glory divine! Heir of salvation, purchase of God, Born of the Spirit, washed in his blood. Refrain This is my story, this is my song, Praising my Savior all the day long! This is my story, this is my song, Praising my Savior all the day long! 2. Perfect submission, perfect delight, Visions of rapture now burst on my sight; Angels descending bring from above Echoes of mercy, whispers of love Refrain 3. Perfect submission, all is at rest; I in my Savior am happy and blest; Watching and waiting, looking above, Filled with God’s goodness, lost in God’s love. Refrain And now, may the peace of the Lord Christ go with you wherever God may send you; may God guide you through the wilderness, protect you through the storm; may God bring you home rejoicing at the wonders God has shown you; may God bring you home rejoicing once again into our doors.
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Sunday, June 14, 2020 || Second Sunday After Pentecost Pastor Christy Wright We invite you to light a candle at 9 AM and join us in prayer NEW: Audio worship is also available at (978) 990-5000, access code 719365#. Just dial in, enter the access code on your keypad, and you will hear the service begin with music. Scripture Reading Romans 12:1-5 I appeal to you therefore, siblings, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God - what is good and acceptable and perfect. For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of yourself more highly than you ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned. For as in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another. Sermon Many of you know that I really enjoy road trips. Well, enjoy may be an understatement. I love road trips. I love the freedom and the sense of adventure whenever I pull out of my driveway and watch my worries disappear in the rearview mirror. But today I want to tell you a story of freedom and adventure that catalyzed self-reflection and awareness. In 2017, I took a road trip down to Baton Rouge, Louisiana for a wedding of a couple of my close friends. A few weeks beforehand, I contacted folks along the route and made plans to stay with them: from Boston, Massachusetts → Richmond, Virginia → North Carolina → Baton Rouge, Louisiana → Dallas, Texas → St. Louis, Missouri → Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania → Boston, Massachusetts. I had an incredible time at the wedding, and as I made my way back up north, I decided to stop in Memphis for some of the world’s best BBQ for lunch. And I was not disappointed - it was incredible. But as I made my way back to the highway, I figured it would be a good time to fill up my tank. I stopped just off the entrance ramp at a busy gas station, at midday, when I was suddenly flooded with anxiety. Something about the gas station made me feel uneasy, guarded, and extremely vigilant of my surroundings. I remember watching the numbers tick away on the gas pump, wishing they would move faster. My heart was pounding, and I tried not to make eye contact with anyone. I kept my head down, and even before the tank was topped off, I quickly replaced the pump, jumped in my car, locked the doors, and drove away, the afternoon sun bouncing around in my rearview mirror. One thing about the road is that it forces you to confront your thoughts, especially when you’re alone. You’re able to wade through and untangle your experiences to figure out inner motivations and deeply held beliefs. And as I drove, a sense of understanding and sadness dawned on me. At this point, I had been traveling for several days, through several cities, across thousands of miles, by myself. And up until this point, I had always felt safe, secure, free to move about the world without feeling threatened. But something was different at this Memphis gas station. Why did I feel so uncomfortable there? The truth is that there were people of color there, simply living their lives, getting gas just like I was, perhaps on their way to work, or maybe even driving back from a wedding like me. I didn’t know their stories; I didn’t know their names. But in that moment, I had made them to be a threat in my own mind. In that moment, my racism was invisible, but as soon as I hit the road again, it was right there, obvious and undeniable. And of course, I immediately started to justify myself - after all, I was a young white woman, traveling alone, so of course I’d want to be aware of my surroundings and be suspicious, cautious. But why now? Why would I justify my thoughts like this, when I already had traveled so far without a thought in the world? As we continue to grapple with racism as a nation, and as a congregation, it’s important to recall memories like these. It’s a reminder of how far we’ve come, and how far we have to go. I personally have so much work to do, and I invite you with me on this journey as we uncover racism in this historic time in our nation. The theological backing for this week’s sermon is based on the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s sermon series, The Strength to Love. In MLK’s reflections, he finds that the Apostle Paul is calling us not only to nonconformity, but also to transformation. He says that “only through an inner spiritual transformation do we gain the strength to fight vigorously the evils of the world in a humble and loving spirit.” (Transformed Nonconformist, 1963) And thanks be to God that we are not the ones who do the transformative work on our own hearts: that is the work of the Holy Spirit, who calls us out when we mess up, who helps to be bold, but compassionate. To be truthful, but loving. To have integrity and to have courage. But when we fail (when, not if), the Holy Spirit is right there with us, picking up the pieces, showing us where we went wrong, and inviting us back into the journey again with fresh eyes to see things we hadn’t seen before. We are called to be a holy and living sacrifice, meaning that we are not static in our journey with God - rather, we are continually growing, being nurtured by God’s great love for us. So when we look in our own rearview mirrors, we may witness something that we didn’t expect to see, something that was hidden before, something invisible that we may have even refused to acknowledge. You see, racism isn’t just about the Ku Klux Klan or white supremacy, or other overt displays of racism. It’s also about our attitudes, our thoughts, our anxieties, fears, and judgements that no one else sees. But this is not meant to incite guilt or shame - rather, it is a recognition of our beautiful and messy roots in humanity and the goodness of God. Though we are human and fallible, we are created in the image of God, and as we grow, God’s love and grace overwhelms. As MLK put it, “by opening our lives to God in Christ, we become new creatures.” God’s patience wades with us and untangles our experiences, opening our eyes to what others see, to what others experience. Born out of such reflection is not humiliation, or embarrassment, but rather gratitude and joy, for we are still learning, and grace abounds even when we feel like we don’t deserve it. We never outgrow discipleship; God isn’t finished with us yet, and what good news is that? Hymn: Whom Shall I Send? UMH 582 1. Whom shall I send? Our Maker cries; And many, when they hear God’s voice, Are sure where their vocation lies; But many shrink from such a choice. 2. For who can serve a God so pure, Or claim to speak in such a name, While doubt makes every step unsure, And self confuses every aim? 3. And yet, believing God who calls Knows what we are and still may be Our past defeats, our future falls, We dare to answer: Lord, send me! 4. Those who are called God purifies, And daily gives us strength to bend Our thoughts, our skills, our energies, And life itself to this one end. Prayer of St. Francis Lord, make us an instrument of your peace: where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen. And now, may the peace of the Lord Christ go with you wherever God may send you; may God guide you through the wilderness, protect you through the storm; may God bring you home rejoicing at the wonders God has shown you; may God bring you home rejoicing once again into our doors.
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I Have A Dream Sunday, June 7, 2020 || Peace with Justice Sunday Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. We invite you to light a candle at 9 AM and join us in prayer NEW: Audio worship is also available at (978) 990-5000, access code 719365#. Just dial in, enter the access code on your keypad, and you will hear the service begin with music. Scripture Reading Genesis 4:1-10 Now the man (Adam) knew his wife Eve, and she conceived and bore Cain, saying, “I have produced a man with the help of the LORD.” Next she bore his brother Abel. Now Abel was a keeper of sheep, and Cain a tiller of the ground. In the course of time Cain brought to the LORD an offering of the fruit of the ground, and Abel for his part brought of the firstlings of his flock, their fat portions. And the LORD had regard for Abel and his offering, but for Cain and his offering, he had no regard. So Cain was very angry, and his countenance fell. The LORD said to Cain, “Why are you angry, and why has your countenance fallen? If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it.” Cain said to his brother Abel, “Let us go out into the field.” And when they were in the field, Cain rose up against his brother Abel, and killed him. Then the LORD said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?” He said, “I do not know; am I my brother’s keeper?” And the LORD said, “What have you done? Listen; your brother’s blood is crying out to me from the ground!” A Note from Pastor Christy Dear Beloved Congregation, I am heartbroken by all that is happening across our nation and world. This year was initially marked by Australian wildfires. Fast forward, and Covid-19 has claimed the lives of over 100,000 people in the States and upwards of 370,000 worldwide. We are contending with the heavy grief, and the personal and collective trauma of those who have been most impacted by those deaths, including families of color who have been disproportionately affected, and the first responders who have tended to the sick and dying. And now we mourn the loss of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and so many black and brown folks who were killed by systems of racism that are very much alive. Their blood cries from the ground, and God asks, “What have you done?” In this time of unrest in our country, it’s difficult to understand how and why racism has reared its ugly head. Many of us thought the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s had resolved the issues. But upon deeper reflection, I confess that I have been complicit in systems of racism and oppression. I confess that I have not done all I can to declare that black and brown lives matter in word and deed. And I confess that I have much work to do in recognizing my own racism and white privilege. Our siblings’ blood cries from the ground, and God asks, “What have you done?" Over the next several months, we need to have conversations surrounding race, and what it means to be white in this historic time in our country. These conversations may be uncomfortable and difficult. They may be convicting and sometimes offensive. But these are necessary conversations. We must understand how the roots of racism have planted themselves in systems of housing disparity, educational divides, healthcare injustice, food access, and everyday discrimination through implicit bias from the streets to the courts and in the biases held consciously or unconsciously by even well-meaning folks like us. On this Peace with Justice Sunday, we will begin with Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s famous speech, “I Have a Dream.” Many of us have quoted this important speech, but few may have read or heard the entire piece. MLK Jr. invites us to examine his dream for the United States of America, and how we might grow, as white people, into that vision. This conversation is important for us as we grow in our understanding of what God is calling us into, and therefore, we will be holding Tuesday morning weekly discussions at 10 AM through conference call, (978) 990-5000, access code 719365#. If you have any questions, concerns, or just want to talk things through with me directly, phone calls are always welcome. In Christ, Pastor Christy “I Have a Dream” by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (August 28, 1963) I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation. Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity. But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself in exile in his own land. And so we’ve come here today to dramatize a shameful condition. In a sense we’ve come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.” But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so we’ve come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God’s children. It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. 1963 is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges. But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: in the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny, and they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating for whites only. We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream. I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.” I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of “interposition” and “nullification,” one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day. This will be the day, this will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with new meaning: “My country, ‘tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring!” And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California. But not only that: Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia. Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee. Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring. And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: “Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!” An Excerpt from Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “The Other America” (March 14, 1968) Now I wanted to say something about the fact that we have lived over these last two or three summers with agony and we have seen our cities going up in flames. And I would be the first to say that I am still committed to militant, powerful, massive, non-violence as the most potent weapon in grappling with the problem from a direct action point of view. I'm absolutely convinced that a riot merely intensifies the fears of the white community while relieving the guilt. And I feel that we must always work with an effective, powerful weapon and method that brings about tangible results. But it is not enough for me to stand before you tonight and condemn riots. It would be morally irresponsible for me to do that without, at the same time, condemning the contingent, intolerable conditions that exist in our society. These conditions are the things that cause individuals to feel that they have no other alternative than to engage in violent rebellions to get attention. And I must say tonight that a riot is the language of the unheard. And what is it America has failed to hear? It has failed to hear that the plight of the negro poor has worsened over the last twelve or fifteen years. It has failed to hear that the promises of freedom and justice have not been met. And it has failed to hear that large segments of white society are more concerned about tranquility and the status quo than about justice and humanity. Hymn: Let There Be Light, UMH 440 1. Let there be light, Let there be understanding, Let all the nations gather, Let them be face to face. 2. Open our lips, Open our minds to ponder, Open the door of concord Opening into grace 3. Perish the sword, Perish the angry judgment Perish the bombs and hunger Perish the fight for gain. 4. Hallow our love, Hallow the deaths of martyrs, Hallow their holy freedom Hallowed be your name. 5. Your kingdom come, Your Spirit turn to language Your people speak together Your Spirit never fade. 6. Let there be light, Open our hearts to wonder, Perish the way of terror Hallow the world God made. And now, may the peace of the Lord Christ go with you wherever God may send you; may God guide you through the wilderness, protect you through the storm; may God bring you home rejoicing at the wonders God has shown you; may God bring you home rejoicing once again into our doors. |
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January 2022
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