Why Zimmerman's Account Doesn't Matter

Since everybody in the country has weighed in on the Trayvon Martin case, I thought I would throw in my opinion, ill-formed as it is, from nothing but news accounts. Doesn't that make you want to read this? But, given the debate around race that this has sparked, with today's anniversary of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., and with this week marking the most holy week on the Christian calendar, I thought I would toss in a very simple contribution to this national dialogue: I don't care whether Zimmerman's account is 100% true; he deserves to be arrested and prosecuted. And, this is why.

He called 911, informed him of the situation, and was told not to pursue the "suspicious" person...and he did.

End of story.

So, let's back up: What made Trayvon "suspicious" in the first place? What made Zimmerman say "the guy looks like he's up to no good, or he's on drugs or something?" Well, it was raining...and he was walking...yes, walking. And, according to Zimmerman, "looking at houses."

I walk in my neighborhood and look at houses all the time. I live in Seattle, so I definitely walk in the rain - a lot. I look at people's gardens, check out their houses - their colors, their paint selections, whether they are having any work done. I have never been stopped by the police for doing this, even while wearing a hooded rain coat. Why? What makes Trayvon different from me? I'm a white woman. He was a six foot tall black young man.

I've been around long enough to know that if I were to be stopped, all I would have to do is smile and say "hi" and ask how the police officer is doing. Nice. Friendly. All good. If I were stopped by a neighbor, all I would have to say is, "I live around the corner. It's nice to meet you." And, that would be that. Why? I am a white woman.

Trayvon didn't have this chance. His neighbor didn't say, "Hi! I haven't met you before. I live around the corner. Did you just move here?" No. Zimmerman called the police. While not a polite thing to do just because someone is walking in the neighborhood, it is not a criminal thing to do. But, it set into motion events that would end in the death of a teenager.

After Zimmerman has some back and forth with dispatch and does a lot of staring at Trayvon, Trayvon gets scared and runs away on the advice of his girlfriend. What does Zimmerman do? He goes after him. This is the key part. He goes after him. He pursues him. And, he does so in defiance of the police dispatcher. "Are you following him?" "Yeah," says Zimmerman. Dispatch: "Ok, we don't need you to do that." Zimmerman: "Ok." And, yet, he continues to pursue him.

Flash forward.

Enhanced video released today indicates that Zimmerman did have wounds to his head. How did those come about? What constitutes self-defense?

If a guy is walking down the street and I decide to follow him, can I shoot him because he looks mean? What if he stops and looks in some windows? Can I shoot him? What if I am following him and he decides to run away from me and I run after him and he gets upset and turns back to confront me? Can I shoot him and it be self-defense? It seems to me that in every one of these cases, I am the aggressor. He is the one acting in self-defense. I don't care how weird, suspicious, or mean he looks, I am the one acting. He is responding.

So, without knowing anything else..even taking Zimmerman fully at his word...it doesn't matter. Maybe Trayvon, all of a sudden, on the way home from buying a soda and some candy decided to turn into a thief. He decided on this rainy night to try his hand at breaking and entering even though he had never done that before. He just up and wanted to become a burglar. Let's say that's all true (although I don't believe it for a second). Let's say that Trayvon ran and eventually turned around and challenged Zimmerman. Let's say that he even threw the first punch. It all comes down to this to me: He was chased. He was pursued. He was acting in self defense.

On this day when I wish I could celebrate that the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr.'s vision had come to pass - that vision of a different world in which people were judged on the content of the character - I cannot. Women are murdered for wearing an hijab. Boys are shot for wearing a hoodie. And countless people are stopped for "walking while black" and the "fortunate" ones are the ones who get to go home humiliated and infuriated. This is not King's dream.

In this week when I wish I could celebrate an Easter with no Good Friday - that is, I wish that I could celebrate living fully in God's reign - a reign of peace, justice, and compassion, I cannot. We continue to crucify the peaceful and the weak, the least and the last, the marginalized and the poor. We live in a world too full of Good Fridays and too few Easter moments. This Holy Week we read of children tortured by their governments (Syria), women murdered for their religion (Shaima Alawadi), boys killed in their own gated communities, and police officers shot 28 times by their fellow officers. It doesn't matter to me if these folks broke the law or not, none of them deserves what happened to them. And, that, is the depth of the lament in Good Friday. Good Friday is not a remembrance of the execution of one man 2000 years ago, it is an entering in to the ways in which we still kill the divine and sacred among us every single day.

So, I don't care if Zimmerman's account is factual or not, it simply doesn't matter.

Hobbling the Occupy Movement

Forty days ago I was struck by a car while I was walking. Thank goodness my injuries were not life threatening. For this I am very grateful. However, I have been left wounded; I am still hobbling on crutches, limping without crutches, and going through the too long and arduous process of healing. All of this has taken place as the Occupy movement has come to Seattle and set up its tent. I have been forced to watch from the sidelines shaking my crutches in frustration that I am unable to offer my time and presence. It has been my sense that I would not be a pastoral presence to the occupiers, a mediating influence between them and the police, or an effective witness in the street. All I have been able to do is pray...from a distance. And pray, I have done.

Seattle, by its nature, is a liberal city. For assistance during the most recent election, I turned to a progressive voting guide. Where else would one do this and find candidate after candidate equally acceptable to the progressive voter? Mostly, a person had to choose the issues that were of most importance and vote for the candidate that shared a passion for it. It was a liberal v liberal election, a progressive v progressive election. Given the overall liberality of the city, it didn't take long for the city council to consider divesting money from big banks and explore more ethical means of banking. The mayor praised the movement and committed to ensuring its ability to maintain its presence. A town hall was held to discuss the city council's decision to affirm and support the general principles of the movement. But, like so many things, the Seattle-Occupy relationship fast became complicated.

Skirmishes with police dotted daily proceedings. The town hall was interrupted by occupiers who decried the process. The daily worker grew frustrated that protests ostensibly geared for their benefit were disrupting their sleep and obstructing their streets. I have followed the conversation and watched it unfold, but I have not been able to be part of it.

Then, yesterday afternoon, the Occupy Seattle Facebook page indicated that the afternoon's protest was being met with an even larger police presence. This lit up the Livestream conversation as people wondered if Occupy Seattle would be going the way of Occupy Wall Street, Occupy Oakland, and Occupy Portland. Was the tension about to reach an untenable level? Would the police, militarized and frustrated, about to ratchet up the confrontation? "Come down," the cry went out. I looked at my crutches, felt my swollen knee, and knew that I could not come down. I could neither parade nor process, much less carry a sign or wear a robe. I read the feed.

As most in the nation know, tensions did finally mount to a breaking point. The police, claiming to do nothing more than keep the streets clear, pepper sprayed the group and arrested several people. Among those in the melee were a pregnant woman, a United Methodist colleague, and a wonderfully prophetic 84 year old Seattle woman. Dorli Rainey is a character who cannot be summed up in a sentence or two. If you want to know her, visit her website. Yes, she has a website.

Agitating for change is a dicey process. On the one hand, change won't occur without agitation. On the other, the desired change will be elusive if the agitation shakes off needed support. The Occupy movement has struggled to find the balance between too little and too much agitation. Those who maintain that protestors "should" do it legally without upsetting anyone don't understand that the goal of the movement is not simply to vent frustration "at the man." Rather, the goal is to question and demand change in political and economic decision making processes and the policies which they create. Any system that consistently and relentlessly values the rich and powerful at the expense of the poor and vulnerable is a corrupt system. To those in the Abrahamic traditions, it is an evil system. Moreover, it is such an ensconced system that a lot of agitation is needed to force it to change. That is why agitation and even confrontation are needed. That is why lawful protest won't work. It won't agitate enough to upset large and deeply rooted institutions, processes, or policies. Heck, lawful protest wouldn't even garner attention of the press, which is vital in creating change. On the other hand, those who yearn for confrontation for the sake of confrontation do so at the peril of the overall goal. Commuters are part of the 99% as are police, fire fighters, and neighbors trying to sleep. Neighborliness must be a part of the movement if the movement is going to really be about a better society - a better community.

I have not been able to be part of Seattle's Occupy community - to either turn up the heat of agitation or provide a calming presence that fosters neighborliness. This timeout for me has been a great lesson in humility and patience. Despite daily hopes of heading out to be present with folks, to hear their stories, to pray with those who need, or to witness the yearnings of so many who hope for so much better, I have been sidelined. And, somehow, miraculously, the people continue to walk, chant, and agitate...all without me. Amazing. (I hope you are reading the sarcasm in my fingers that type this.)

Movements like this need us all. Yet, movements like this are bigger than any one of us. The church is like this. It needs every caring hand to reach out and every gospel changed heart to pray. But, church is bigger than any one of us. It is about a dream, a hope, a vision of another world, a new heaven and a new earth. We are not indispensable as individuals. Yet, we are vitally needed. I don't know what will wind up happening with the overall Occupy movement, especially as cities begin to crack down on them. On this point, the Occupy movement could learn from the Jesus movement. We certainly faced steep odds in the face of enormous empire, and we found a way to thrive. What I do know about the Occupy movement is that its work is not done. It has achieved an amazing amount by casting the whole nation into conversation about banks, the economy, the intersection between greed and the environment, and the ruthless treatment of the poor. Mazel tov! There is more to be done, though. Money is still the language of politics. Money still flows to the wealthy and not to those in need. Money will always threaten to displace honest and sincere dialogue about the common good. The goals of the Occupy movement will still be there when my leg finally heals and I can walk with them down this journey. But, part of me wishes that this were not so. The better part of me wishes that all of the concerns would be addressed so that my ambulatory self would be unnecessary. The better part of wishes that the powers and principalities that so desperately want to hobble the Occupy movement would themselves be hobbled such that their limitless power no more could hurt, foreclose, outsource, defraud, and impoverish the working class and the unemployed.

I am in a reflective mood these days. it is hard to let go. It is difficult to know that all that I have to offer are my prayers. But, perhaps that is my lesson this time around. Perhaps it is my gift. I have prayer to offer. I have perspective, distance, and prayer. I do not need to hobble the Occupy Seattle scene with my presence. Rather, I can use my wounded body to remember all who are wounded, all who struggle to make it through a day, all who cry out in pain. I can carry my crutches as a reminder that our culture leans on oil and other dirty energy. Every time I lean forward to swing my hurting leg onward I can think of how we lean on the least and the last and allow them to hold the rest of us up and provide us with cheap goods. Every time my knee spasms or my back hurts I can feel the pain of those without work, those losing their homes, those who do not think there is anything good left to feel. And, I can hope for the time when I will be free from these crutches, unencumbered and truly myself once again just as I hope for police who act with restraint and city councils who do not turn deaf ears to the cries of pain in their communities and a Congress that will seek a common good and a president who will move the country toward peaceableness, clean(er) energy policies, and neighborliness throughout the world. I cannot be in the streets right now, but I can pray for those who are. And, pray I will.

I will not hobble the Occupy movement by withholding my prayers.

Micah 6:8 - Prayer by Walter Brueggemann

As I prepare for worship this week, I recall Walter Brueggemann's prayer delivered on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in 1999. It is based on Micah 6:8. You may find this prayer in Brueggemann's book "Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth."

"Deliver us from amnesia

God of peace,

God of justice,

God of freedom,

We give you thanks for your cadences of

peace, justice, and freedom,

Cadences that have surged through the lives

of Martin

and Ralph,

and Rosa,

and John,

and Hosea,

and Jesse,

and Andy,

and all that nameless mass of risk-takers who have been

obedient to your promises

and susceptible to your dreams.

Deliver us from amnesia

concerning their courage in the face of violence,

their peace-making against hate,

and their hunger for you in a devouring economy.

Deliver us from amnesia:

turn our memory into hope,

turn our gratitude into energy,

turn our well-being into impatience.

That these same cadences of your will may pulse even among us.

Amen."

God's Shalom/God's Kingdom - Sermon Isaiah 65:17-25

This week we marked Veteran’s Day, first known in the US as Armistice Day. It falls on November 11 every year to commemorate the ending of formal hostilities of the First World War, which concluded on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918 with the signing of the Armistice, even though the Treaty of Versailles remained some months away. President Woodrow Wilson declared November 11, 1919 Armistice day, and it became a national holiday in 1938, with a proclamation that the “day be dedicated to the cause of world peace and to be thereafter celebrated and known as 'Armistice Day'." In order to honor those who had died in World War I, it highlighted the immeasurable value of real and lasting peace. However, by 1953, the United States realized that the Great War indeed was not the War to End all Wars. We had fought yet another world war and had become mired in Korea. A new declaration was made that changed Armistice Day to Veterans Day, a day to honor all veterans of all wars. Today, it is common to honor all who have served this country - in times of peace as well as war. But I think of the 1938 declaration that established Armistice Day as a day dedicated to the cause of peace.

It seems that countries highly value visions of peace when they are made acutely aware of the cost of war. Yet, when the ravages of war are removed from their purview or are exploited for political purposes or gain, countries easily betray visions of peaceful civic society, of the common good, of international accord. Peace becomes derided as an utopian dream of the foolish and the childish. For the sake of real life, we are told to sacrifice this hope on the altar of the pragmatism of adulthood. We will not attain peace - at least not this kind of peace - we are told. It is more realistic to let this vision go and to adopt another, lesser vision. Often times a lesser vision presents peace as the absence of personal sacrifice or discomfort. This peace is a numbed state - a kind of stasis. To reach it, we may hurt other people, engage in unjust practices, or create unjust and inhumane policies. The goal, you see, is to remove any threat that might bring personal or tribal or national discomfort, ill ease, pain, or loss. Yet, this is not the peace of our Bible, of our religion, or of our God. Real peace is not known by the absence of risk; it is known by its willingness to risk for the sake of the weakest, the least, the last, and the lost. Peace is not just an end result of some process. Peace is also the process of living. Peace is both process and result.

The Hebrew word “shalom,” which we translate into English as “peace” cannot be translated easily. It is a rich word with many nuances. It means completeness, wholeness, safety, fullness, and welfare. It is relational; peace happens within communities and among people. There is an understanding that shalom is joyful and happy. When used as a verb it means to “make right” to “make amends” and even “to pay the price.” The Talmud says that "The entire Torah is for the sake of the ways of shalom." The rich heritage of shalom - of peace - cannot be reduced to the lack of armed conflict or to the baseline goal of a numbed existence.

As the Israelites return to their broken city Jerusalem after years of exile, they come without a strong sense of collective religious and cultural identity. They find a city without strong leadership and struggling its way out of ruins. And, the Temple, destroyed by invaders, has not been rebuilt yet. The symbol of God’s love, covenant, and ability is in ruins. The joy of freedom gives way to the hardships of creating a new society. This section of Isaiah is for their ears. It is written as hope for their future. It is a vision of what life may be like for a people filled with uncertainty and despair as well as hope. It is a vision of God’s shalom incarnate in Jerusalem.

Isaiah’s prophetic tradition gives the people of Jerusalem a very specific blueprint by which to rebuild their society. He offers a concrete plan for this new earth that God is creating, in which Jerusalem will be a joy. Infant mortality, mourning, homelessness, and oppressive tenant farming will have no home in this new earth. In this new earth, there will be no distinction between predator and prey; they shall live in harmony. One will not devour the other.

It is vital for Christians to understand how important Isaiah’s vision and others like it are for Christianity. In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus is portrayed as a new Isaiah. At his first public teaching, he reads from Isaiah 58 and 61, which announce the year of the Lord’s favor, the Sabbath year, and he declares that in the presence of those in the synagogue on that day that God’s Sabbath year, God’s holy vision for God’s people, is present in him. It is a bold proclamation, and we, as followers of this Jesus, as confessors of this Christ, need to understand this. In the Hebrew scriptures, this vision is known by the word shalom. In the New Testament, it is referred to as the “kingdom of God.” And, it is for this shalom - this kingdom of God - for which Jesus lives, dies, and for which he reigns today.

Jesus receives Isaiah's vision and he brings it to Galilee hundreds of years later. He brings it to us today, another 2,000 years later. Jesus came proclaiming God’s kingdom. He came proclaiming it with all that he was: with his teachings, through his healings, by breaking bread, in his compassion, by feeding others, in raising the dead, in restoring communities, and by his own incarnation. When he was met with violence, he did not respond with violence. God’s peace - God’s kingdom - cannot be brokered through violence.

As the body of Christ, is our mission any different? As Christ’s hands and feet on Phinney Ridge in 2010, is this vision of shalom - of God’s kingdom or society - any less needed? Are there those, even in this room today, who don’t need to hear it proclaimed that in the midst of your ruin, God is at work to build something new? In our city and state, with looming deficits, do we not need a vision of a society that cares for the common good? Governor Gregoire has called for an across the board $500 million cut to programs next year. We face a $4 billion deficit next year. We have a state budget that is currently 70% constitutionally protected. By and large, that leaves programs that deal with the least, the last, the weakest, and the lost to be cut.

Isaiah’s scripture is about public policy as much as it is about a poetic picture. Peace is about public policy as much as it is about high ideals. Following in Isaiah’s tradition, Jesus came into the world with a different public policy, one that challenged the injustices of his day and ours as well. God’s kingdom threatens the kingdoms of this world; God’s vision of a new society threatens the established societies of this world that depend upon unjust and unholy practices for the sake of a few at the expense of the many. The role of the church is to be the conscience of the community. It is our job to stand with the least and to believe with God that a new earth is being built - right here among our ruins, even as we struggle to envision what that new earth might be. It is our sacred duty to be a joy in a hurting world, to proclaim a way of life in which children do not die before their time or come to calamity, in which the tears of mourning and oppression are dried, in which the homeless are housed, in which the farmer no longer toils for a task master. We are called to hold before the people a vision of peace that roots in the heart, manifests in our local communities, and is extended for the sake of international accord.

If Veterans Day is to be a day dedicated to the cause of world peace, and if we want our country’s treasures to be spent and our families’ blood to be spilled only when absolutely necessary, the church must lift its voice in line with Isaiah and Jesus, holding up a vision of peace for which we aspire. Peace is not an idle dream of the foolish, unless we believe God to be foolish. Peace is not a state of safety achieved at the expense of others’ welfare. Next week is Christ the King or Reign of Christ Sunday, the last Sunday of the Christian calendar before we step into the expectant and anticipatory season of Advent. But, for us to celebrate Christ’s world, we must ask ourselves the character of this world. Shalom is the core component of this world. And, there is nothing idle or foolish about it. It is real business to be dealt with in budget processes and in pubic policy. It is found in how we respond to neighbor and foe. It is in the every day choices that we make to build our society one relationship at a time, one policy at a time, one choice at a time. It is not foolish. It is a challenge to be sure, but it is not an idle dream. It is a holy dream, one that requires us to exercise the might of reason and to trust in the power of mystery and to believe in the work of the Holy One to transform this world, for God says, “For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth... be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating.” Let it be so. Amen.

Churches to Ring their Bells for Climate Change - December 13

"Churches will chime in for environmental stewardship by sounding their bells or other instruments 350 times at 3 p.m. on Sunday. The 350 chimes represent the parts per million that many scientists say is the safe upper limit for carbon dioxide in the atmosphere," says an article from the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life.

I live in the Pacific Northwest of the US. It is the most beautiful place on Earth. Mountains, plateaus, valleys, desert, whales, salmon, bears, huge evergreens, fruit trees, tulips, wheat, brooks and rivers everywhere, cougars, moose, elk, otters, seals, and sea lions - life is abundant here. It is a blessing to see the sun paint the sky every hue imaginable as it rises and sets. Everyday offers a new breathtaking scene. But, when I look at God's miraculous, wondrous, powerful world and I see the negative impacts that humankind leaves upon it, my heart breaks. Climate Change is something the authors of the Bible could never have foreseen. The ability for human beings to change the climate of the Earth? For us to kill reefs, create dead zones in the water, make it increasingly difficult for ice to form on the poles, to cut down whole forests? It was unforeseeable and unthinkable.

Today it is observable, but it must become thinkable. I believe that our congregations, as the arms and legs of Christ in the world - the great healer, the redeemer, the prophet, God in sandals - it is our Christian obligation to care for God's creation. Congregations need to start thinking about the planet and all of its inhabitants - all God's creatures, every one - and to take clear and bold steps to call for public policy that values this holy and living organism called Earth. We need to start talking about Climate Change and how we might become a force for healing and wholeness - Shalom. We have the ability. We have the tools necessary. We have everything we need to heal this Earth and all that makes her so wondrous. We are the stewards of God's creation - the creation upon which God's holy eyes looked and delighted, into which God breathed life pronounced it "good."

If your church has a bell tower, ring your bells this Sunday at 3 PM. If you don't have a bell tower, find some other way to "chime in" 350 times to show the world that Christians care, are informed, and are ready to do our part not only for the healing of the nations, but for the healing of the Earth itself.

short shrifting christmas

Christmas is almost here. Throughout Advent I have been one of many pastors asking parishioners to wait patiently; Christmas will come. Protestants and people who have come to the church without a childhood background of learning Advent rituals want to skip right past Advent. Why focus on the darkness? Why hold at a distance the joy and happiness associated with Christmas, especially if all we're doing is holding it off for the sake of waiting?

Over and over pastors like me (and, well, me) have told people to wait, so why, then, have I called this article "short shrifting christmas" when it seems like what I really mean is that we short shrift Advent? Well, it's because I think that in our rush to Christmas we lose the heart of Christmas. We are so weary by the time Christmas Day arrives that many of us are relieved to tear down the tree and toss it out back. We're beat. We're irritated with the Christmas carols that play relentlessly on the radio, in the elevator, at our doctor's office, in department stores, and even walking down city streets...Our minds are screaming, "Make this stop!!!!" while we plaster the Christmas smile on our faces. The jump to Christmas before Thanksgiving robs us of two beautiful liturgical seasons, neither of which have a whit to do with presents - or even family for that matter. Advent invites us into a season of prayer and preparation for the coming of God Among Us. What a holy season! Christmas is the inbreaking of God into the world - your world, my world, the world torn apart by ruthless killing, heartless prejudice, and barbaric war. We short shrift Christmas because we forget that, at its heart, it is a holy day in a holy season that demands for us to look at God - and to see, really see, God in the midst of the weakest and most vulnerable.

Christmas is a justice holiday. God breaks into the world and forces us to see how the most vulnerable are tossed aside (a child born in a barn? a cave? pick your story). This leads to the inevitable questions, "How do we respond to the most vulnerable? Do we perpetuate systems that create the injustice that marginalize and oppress? How might we live differently by recognizing the holiness in all of life, not just the strong, the pretty, the grand, and the convenient?"

We short shrift Christmas when we don't wait for God to act in God's time - to break into our world with an invitation to become something new, something we have yet to imagine. Christmas begins on Christmas Day; it doesn't end there. We have twelve days of it. It's too bad we're sick of the idea of it before it's even begun. I wonder how we might be in the world if we let Christmas come to us rather than grabbing for it every November, greedily grasping at saccharine images that offer us no real hope, no real transformation. Christmas, if we let it, gives us a young woman Mary frightened and faithful, Joseph confused but persevering, Elizabeth and Zecheria stricken dumb by his incredulity and sent singing with his joy, Elizabeth pregnant with a prophet, King Herod filled with fear, wise astronomers on a mission, shepherds unceremoniously - strike that...very ceremoniously - taken from their work and sent on a weird journey, and a messy birth in bad circumstances. This story invites us into the mess and filth of life, into the fear that accompanies every life changing journey, into a story of hope and wonder and awe at the idea of life emerging...without apology. The grandeur of angels crashing into our world of shepherds. The heavenly host with harps of gold clattering against our reality of poverty and homelessness.

It's too bad that we short shrift Christmas - tired of it before it comes. It really is something great.