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A Thanksgiving mini-miracle at Oro Valley UCC

guest post by Janet Delgado, office manager at Oro Valley UCC

written the morning of Thanksgiving Day, Thursday, November 28, 2019

I just put my potato casserole in the oven. It needs to be ready this afternoon when I carry it across town to spend the rest of the day with good friends. While it’s baking, I want to take a minute to say, “Happy Thanksgiving” to all of you. Working as the Office Manager at Oro Valley United Church of Christ is a blessing for me as I witness your kindness on a regular basis.

Around 10:00 on Tuesday morning I received a phone call from a lovely OVUCC member-couple. They asked if I knew of anyone that might be alone, and thus eating alone, on Thanksgiving Day. If I heard of someone, they hoped to invite that person, whoever it might be, to join them at their table to share a traditional turkey dinner.

A short time later, about noon on Tuesday, I had a call from another caring member. She was concerned about a church member she knew that would be alone on Thursday and hoped to find company for them. I told her I would see what could be arranged and let her know.

The get-together was arranged. From two simple phone calls to the church office, I believe a “mini-miracle” happened. There was a need and God brought good people together that met that need.

My casserole smells good as it’s baking and makes my little house feel cozy. Particularly on this day, it reminds me how fortunate I am not to suffer hunger and to have shelter. However, as I now live alone and am aging, I am reminded that I could suffer “aloneness.” Thanks to the good people that I am surrounded by, and with God’s intervention and guidance, I know that won’t happen at OVUCC—no aloneness here!

Later today I will sit at a table with another OVUCC member-couple and their friends. I was invited, along with another single lady, to join them for their lovingly prepared thanksgiving meal. As we go around the table and recite what we are thankful for, my prayer will be, “Thank you God for the people at this table, thank You for my far-away family, thank You for letting me regularly see the kindness of my fellow church members, and thank You for letting me witness Your mini-miracles that happen so often at Oro Valley United Church of Christ. Amen.”

Have a lovely Thanksgiving Day,

Warmly, Janet Delgado

Black Transgender Lives Matter

by Hailey Lyons

Every day, our black trans siblings deal with the intersection of white supremacy and transphobia. Every day they risk misgendering, violence, and murder simply by living as themselves. They are targeted for hate crimes and are the targets of racist and transphobic jokes from construction sites to comfortable CEO offices. Our president propagates white supremacy. Our supposed democratic republic sets up barriers to the recognition of trans people and institutes policies to further the exploitation of people of color. Our prison system profits from the mass incarceration of black people.

We in the UCC need to be uncomfortable. We need to challenge white supremacy in our own spaces just as much as we fight the system. We need to recognize our complicity in and benefit from the systems of whiteness. The UCC has done and continues to do much of that work, but we need to go further than consciousness-raising and discomfort. We must destroy white privilege. We must tear asunder the structures in place that affirm whiteness. We must reconsider our beloved traditions that keep many of our congregations in a bygone era rooted in whiteness.

Black trans activists started the LGBT equality movement in America, and it is precisely their voices that are being erased in current movements toward LGBT equality and recognition. Being Open and Affirming is not enough, we need to aggressively model celebration of the trans community in our congregations and in public. Too often the Open and Affirming creed is simply an open door that trans people walk through and realize that our congregations are just another heteronormative, cisgender-dominated space.

When Jesus stormed the temple grounds, upending tables and tossing out people and animals alike, he called out the temple for becoming a house of commodities. Rather than a holy place, the temple commodified the acts of worship into a system of profit condoned by the so-called priests of God. Jesus violently cleansed the temple of its commodification, disrupting an economy benefiting those in power and exploiting the people. The first Isaiah delivered a stinging rebuke on the stench of the multitude of burnt offerings given to God because they are rooted in the commodification of worship itself. He attacked the very system set up to atone for the sins of Israel because it was a morally empty venture intent on appeasing God by adhering to tradition without passion. Rather, the Israelites should, “learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow,”.

The churches of my Evangelical upbringing denied the existence of racism, denied the existence of those who weren’t cisgender. Even as they brought in diverse people, the theological message never strayed from white supremacy. The worship style changed, and the music became more upbeat and ‘contemporary’ – which was just a few thousand rip-offs of whatever U2 was producing – but the theology itself was morally bankrupt, leading them to commodify both the acts of worship and worship itself.

It is a privilege to be in the UCC where our theology acknowledges the sin of white supremacy and actively works to dismantle systemic racism. But don’t stop there. Let us carry forward the work into our liturgies, our polity, and our acts of worship. Let us dismantle the systems of whiteness still present in our congregations and hierarchies. For all lives to matter, black trans lives must also matter, and that means confronting our ideologies of white supremacy and transphobia, challenging those legacies wherever we see them, especially in our congregations.

Going Along to Get Along Can Be Deadly

by James Briney

In service to a political outcome, smart people are manipulating facts just as competent attorneys do, depending on whether they represent a plaintiff or defendant. Being clever and being right are different things. When we fail to think for ourselves, we become susceptible to questionable sources, and vulnerable to ‘the clever’ in pursuit of their own agenda.

In the days to come, the nature of our governance and our very lives are at stake. It is imperative to think clearly and to act accordingly. There is no virtue in going along to get along when we have the power to save lives and to become a more perfect union.

As a natural phenomena, herd immunity that can’t be avoided is a daunting reality. Advocating, promoting, and practicing herd immunity exacerbates an already deadly threat. It amounts to reckless endangerment.

A revealing number of decision makers have pursued a deadly response to the virus that is killing us by the hundreds of thousands. They had options. They were advised what to do. They chose not to.

Clarity comes to mind when we make decisions based on the health and safety of all creation. We don’t have to be stupid to do dumb things. It’s not too late to make informed choices in the interest of our own health and safety.

For those who believe that we have turned the corner in terms of the virus, think about what happens when a corner is taken at a high rate of speed. This is one of those times when we are called upon to stand up and be counted, not merely to go along to get along with those at the wheel who are putting us in danger.

Remembering Our Saints

by Victoria S. Ubben

Halloween 2020, will be a Halloween like no other in the history of the USA. These really are frightening times for our nation and the world. We need not encourage our children and grandchildren to be “spooked” by ghosts and goblins and vampires and bats this year.

Our family knows personally of several people who have died recently from Coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19), and perhaps your family does, too. (Thankfully, we also know of some who have recovered from COVID-19.) Besides remembering lives lost by COVID-19, this is the time to remember other lives lost due to violence, accidents, or various illnesses and other conditions.

I offer you three ways that you might find comfort in your distress.

1. Music might help. To help me remember all of the saints who have died this year, I recently to listened to a recorded version of Requiem in D minor, Op. D by Gabriel Faure’ (1845-1924) and I share with you a link to a video so that you can hear it also.

Here is an English translation of some of the Latin lyrics that are comforting and uplifting during what is a sad or frightening time to many people:

“May eternal light shine on them, O Lord,
with Thy saints forever,
because Thou are merciful.

Grant them eternal rest, O Lord,
and may perpetual light shine on them.”

2. Inspirational Prose might help. To help us remember all the saints who have died this year, find some prose or poetry with strong visual images. Here is one of my favorites:

Gone from My Sight by Henry Van Dyke (1852-1933)

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says, “There, she is gone!”

“Gone where?” Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!” There are other eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: “Here she comes!”

And that is dying.

3. Biblical readings and liturgy might help. To help us remember all the saints who have died this year, turn to the ancient scripture, liturgy, and religious traditions. Try reading these aloud (either alone or 6 feet apart from others). Here is a benediction with which to close.

One Voice: With clean hands and pure hearts, hold fast to the faith of the saints who went before us.

Many Voices: In our living and in our dying, we all belong to God.

One Voice: With hopeful hearts and expectant spirits, receive the blessing of Almighty God.

Many Voices: In our living and in our dying, we all belong to God.

One Voice: Thanks be to God! Amen.

Herd Immunity and Bearing Witness

by James Briney

Baseless beliefs practiced with intention are not a solution for what ails us as a nation. Holding fast to false hope founded on political calculation is an invitation to annihilation. Those who embrace the notion of herd immunity are a threat to safe practices. Herd immunity with intention is political and medical malpractice that is endangering everyone.

Sin is compounded and magnified when people are encouraged to follow a path strewn with errant convictions. It is problematic that individuals go astray. It is far worse to lead others astray. Fostering the conditions for herd immunity is a sin.

Instead of taking responsibility, decision makers at the highest levels have fragmented their response. They did the opposite of what the new testament is all about which is to notice, to care and to act within our means as a community. Hold accountable the current administration that knew of the threat months before taking minimally effective actions.

Sound decisions and best practices are born when we make an issue about caring for others. That notion applies to individuals as well as those in positions of public trust. Early on the present administration was warned in certain terms that action must be taken without delay to counter the virus that plagues our nation. That advice was dismissed.

The litany of abundant grievances held by those who see our leaders misapplying their authority is known. There is no excuse for advocating arguments that favor herd immunity. Or for those who claim that sparing our economy must come at the cost of failing to spare lives.

Such beliefs amount to careless disregard for the gift of life and the variety of talents that include our ability to discern and apply reason, information and facts. Given the options it is a mystery that anyone would choose to deny demonstrable truths that have been discovered and communicated.

Choosing to be in the midst of gatherings at the invitation of our leaders in this present day environment is akin to thousands of innocent people being fired upon by assault weapons made automatic by bump stocks. People who gather in celebration fueled by reckless behaviors in ill advised environments are not innocent but no less at risk.

The virus will keep firing long after therapies are discovered and applied for generations to come. People of faith are capable of forgiving those who do harm to us. The perpetrators of unnecessary and avoidable mass death have yet to repent or seek forgiveness. Instead they have doubled down and have remained complicit.

It is not the pandemic that has undermined our economy and way of life so much as attitudes and policies that undermine sound practices. History records that we make progress when we live in accordance with the knowledge and conscience of our better selves.

We are among few nations that have sufficient resources to reclaim the credibility, stability and continuity of a government founded on life affirming principles. Discovering and applying therapies to address the pandemic are underway. Eradicating epidemic idiot logic, willful negligence and exploitation is just as worthy of our attention.

Footnote: “I believe that sin is anything that separates us from God and each other. Covid is teaching us that a little separation can bring us together in the effort to save lives.”

Burn the Gloom

by Victoria S. Ubben

“…he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by others; a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity; as one from whom others hide their faces…Surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases…But he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed.”

This (above) is part of Isaiah 53 (in the Old Testament of the Bible). I grew up in congregations of the United Church of Christ and most years on Good Friday I heard this piece of Hebrew scripture read and then I imagined that these words from the prophet Isaiah were to be applied to Jesus Christ. I have come to learn that many traditions look for a scapegoat or a savior to make right our wrongs of the past. Some traditions are meaningful and lasting and some traditions that emerge are short-lived or just for fun. Here is a tale about a Santa Fe tradition that is meaningful AND fun.

For 96 years in a row the people of Santa Fe, New Mexico, have observed a unique custom known now as the “Burning of Zozobra.” This has become a collective way for the citizens here to rid our hearts, our homes, and our city of all things negative and unwanted. September of 2020 is a good time to burn the negativity and gloominess of the past 6 months or so.

The story is: back in 1924 a local Santa Fe artist named Will Shuster built an ugly, flammable effigy – something like a scarecrow we saw on the midwestern farms of yesteryear. This effigy originally was 6 feet tall (about the size of a man), but over the decades, this effigy has grown to be over 50 feet tall and has become one of the world’s tallest marionettes. Yes, Zozobra has morphed into a marionette — citizens below this huge effigy move his arms as he groans and moans as he goes down in flames.

Why is this flammable monster called “Zozobra” amongst the locals in Santa Fe? Some say that the name comes from a Spanish expression meaning “the gloomy one,” while some say that it is loosely related to the Spanish word for “anxiety.” Be it gloom or anxiety (or both), this effigy takes all the gloom and anxiety (and disappointment and sorrow and pain) into himself (literally) and then the effigy and all that is inside it is burnt.

In years past, locals stuffed the head and body of this effigy with things flammable like old parking tickets, divorce papers, paid off mortgage debt, notices of late fees, and bad report cards (“glooms”). This year, due to the pandemic, Santa Feans who wanted to send their troubles and sorrows up in smoke were asked to email them into the project headquarters where they were printed out and stuffed inside.

September 4, 2020, was the date of the previously-scheduled burning of Zozobra at a park near my home, strategically located right next to the fire station. If our city is planning a huge bonfire, locating it next to the fire station is a great idea (and remember, Santa Fe in September is known for its high winds and a very dry climate: a certain recipe for fire disaster). Due to the social-distancing mandate imposed by the Covid-19 pandemic, we stayed home and had great front-row seats in our backyard. We sat out back and watched Zozobra burn and then we wrote down and then tossed our own troubles and regrets into the small, controlled fire that I had prepared on our brick patio.

Ponder: How can this distinctive Santa Fe tradition of burning Zozobra inspire you as you navigate the journey ahead?

Specifically, are you tired of the pandemic? Is online education for your children difficult? Zoom meetings tedious? Tired of the racism, injustice, and political unrest in our country? Missing your friends and your church community? Just sick of it all?

Or… reflect on what you have done to cause gloom or anxiety for others. What do you want to leave behind? What can you burn (literally or figuratively) so that you can begin anew? Write down your anxieties and your “gloom.” Burn them up.

While the Zozobra effigy of Santa Fe is certainly not a willing scapegoat, he is a symbolic representation of the burning of all that is evil and anxiety-producing in our culture. In the many diverse branches of the Christian “family tree,” Jesus is sometimes understood as the one who somehow sets us free from our burdens and worries. So, whatever your tradition might be, perhaps some fire (e.g., a candle) and a prayer might be healing and helpful during this Covid-19 time.

To get you started, here is a paraphrased version of part of an Ash Wednesday prayer that is often used in congregations of the United Church of Christ:

We confess to you, O God, all our past unfaithfulness. The pride, hypocrisy, and impatience in our lives. We confess to you, O God, our self-indulgent appetites and ways and our exploitation of other people. We confess our anger at our own frustration and our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves. We confess our love of worldly goods and comforts and our dishonesty in our daily life and work. Restore us, O God, for your mercy is great. Amen.

images credit: Robert Bisser

What Does It Mean to be Transgender in the UCC?

by Hailey Lyons

I never imagined I’d be here today. I mean that in the sense that I’m alive, and also a member of a local church. I certainly didn’t set out on my faith journey expecting to end up here, and I’m sure I won’t be able to predict where that journey takes me in the future, either.

My upbringing wasn’t particularly unique; there were thousands of Southern Baptist pastors’ kids running around America playing sports and teaching youth groups at the time, and I’m sure that’s still the case today. The brand of masculinity thrown at me by my parents was also pretty generic: “be tough and lead.” I got the tough part down by playing multiple sports and settling down on football by the time I got to high school. The leadership part wasn’t as obvious – I sincerely doubt I would’ve been allowed to preach Sunday sermons at our church as a child. And yet there I was, teaching youth classes and subbing in for the occasional adult group. When Dad moved to a different slide of his hour-long – if we were lucky – sermon I was the one to click to it in PowerPoint. When my older brother led us in worship, I made sure his guitar didn’t sound too pitchy and that his vocals were turned up.

I’d say I had a solid relationship with God: I had an active prayer life, did multiple run-throughs of the Bible a year, and regularly read through a bookshelf filled with works of apologists like Lee Strobel, Ken Ham, and Rick Warren. And yet I had the nagging feeling I was missing something.

And because I didn’t have the language, much less the understanding to express what was missing, I blamed my discomfort on sinfulness. I labeled myself as prideful and mysteriously afflicted by the struggle of theologically wrestling with God. Why not? This was the attitude taken by all the preachers I knew. It was easy to excuse a lack of certainty – or too much of it – on some kind of internal struggle with pride and trying to figure out God’s will.

As a college student, my eyes were opened to the myriad experiences of humanity all around me. Arizona State University’s Tempe campus is – outside of COVID-19 season – a vibrantly diverse world unto itself.

It wasn’t long before I found that a good portion of my friends were members of the LGBT community, some more open than others. Some more religious than others too, and that really bothered me. Why did my Calvinist, Evangelical faith demand I view everyone as totally and indelibly depraved and unable to do any good outside the direct divine intervention of God Almighty? Why was it that the doctrine of predestination meant God wasn’t going to let some people go to heaven?

Layers and layers peeled back slowly and painfully. It took 3 years of deep questioning, pretending to be someone I wasn’t, and listening to the experiences of people around me. As a college ministry leader and youth teacher, half of my life was devoted to being on the church campus and “doing life” with other members. We were all trying our best to “work through our own salvation,” and the theological methodology was irrevocably tainted with shame and suffering.

Knowing what the consequences would be – largely because I’d gotten to know leadership’s orientation toward the LGBT community firsthand – I left my home church. It hurt worse than anything I’d ever experienced, and I felt like I’d wasted those 3 years. I didn’t want to lose the friends I’d made, or the community I’d helped build, or that indescribable feeling I used to get, arriving late to service and hearing 200 voices lifted up in corporate worship.

But the fact is that I didn’t waste that time. And while I lost friends, community, and a particular liturgy, I found something that made it all worth it: myself.

When I walked through the doors at Desert Palm UCC in Tempe, Arizona, my first impression was absolute shock. My former church had made a point of approaching newcomers, but the sheer amount of open love that I felt from everyone was mind-blowing.

It also helped doing research prior to even driving into the parking lot. When one looks up open and affirming churches or, as I did, look through a network like Gay Church, there are a lot of options that pop up around Tempe. Most are denominationally affiliated, with a few outliers that either unequivocally support the LGBT community in their faith statement or keep it intentionally vague.

A few things struck me immediately after looking into the UCC:

A clearly labeled, congregational polity
Engaged in Social Justice initiatives since its foundation
A comprehensive, Open and Affirming message without loopholes

And yet, even knowing this didn’t prepare me for the warm welcome I received.

In the weeks that turned into months of attending Desert Palm, I found people who respect my pronouns without question. People who were genuinely curious about my faith journey without asking me to conform my theology to some incredibly narrow faith statement.

So, what does it mean to be transgender in the UCC?

It starts with a warm welcome.

Since coming to Desert Palm, I’ve had the privilege to work on our new college and young adult ministry aimed at bringing the UCC’s message of radical love and commitment to social justice to Arizona State University by engaging with students in a way that doesn’t demand conversion or attendance at weekly propaganda meetings disguised as bible studies. We’re here to engage a diverse community with extravagant welcome that enables today’s youth to explore their faith journeys without fear.

Being transgender in the UCC is a blessing of welcome and safety, and an opportunity to further a Just World for All.

Breaking Away

by Victoria S Ubben

Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us that, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” Is there a season for a pandemic? Is there a time for Covid-19? Is there a time when this social-distancing and mask-wearing will end?

As I spend time during this Covid-19 pandemic reflecting on more than 32 years of ordained ministry with the United Church of Christ, there is always some sorrow as one ministry concludes, and another begins.

*image credit: Doug Ross, multimedia journalist*

I resigned from a pastoral team at a church that I had been serving for seven-and-a-half years in 2013 because (1) that “season” had ended and (2) God was calling me and some other ministers to try a new sort of ministry in our city. The purpose of this new calling was to launch a parachurch ministry to reach and serve the rapidly growing number of people who were choosing not to engage in traditional churches. Our downtown-based ministry was called “BreakAway” because it did not sound like a name of a church. We rented space upstairs, above a popular restaurant, right across the street from our county courthouse, in a place that did not look like a church. “BreakAway Ministry” began gradually in 2013, was full-time by 2015, and then (as quickly as we had begun) we were called on to something new. By 2016 this season for this unique downtown ministry had come to an end; God’s still-speaking voice had called me onward to a new form of ministry in rural Indiana.

Moving out of our rental space, shutting down a Facebook page, obtaining a new email address, dis-assembling our webpage, printing hard copies of a three-year inspirational blog, thanking our donors, and saying “good-bye” to those who had shared a BreakAway journey with us… carried significant sorrow. What was once effective and worthwhile, no longer could be “packaged” in the same way. BreakAway lived for three years and sustained countless people on a spiritual journey who may never find their way back to the organized church again. Our memories of a three-year ministry (2013 to 2016) are always tinged with joy and gladness as we reflect on them now.

The Covid-19 pandemic has changed us. Some of what once was, shall never return. Parts of what used to work in our lives and in ministry may not work now…or in the future. Could it be that God reminds us through this pandemic that pieces of what was meaningful, effective, and useful in the not-so-distant past…are already gone? With God’s grace, we shall move through this pandemic and onto new ways of doing things. This season of a pandemic teaches us that sometimes we must break away from the way things used to be… and make some bold, new discoveries in this moment in time. In just 6 months of this pandemic, many of our churches (and various ministries) already have changed and adapted. Will we ever be the same again? Probably not.

Look to Jesus as our example; his ministry adapted to the situation in which he found himself. He certainly broke away from the religious establishment of his day and he met people where they were, and in the ways that he could. Jesus met with lepers, tax collectors, and prostitutes (to name a few). He met them on a mountain, by the river, on a lake, and in an upper room.

There is a season. There is a time. There are people waiting…here and now…to hear God’s word of grace and peace.

Prayer for this season: Oh God, you are the One who enables us to break away from whatever holds us back. Enable us to adapt in the ways that we must during this pandemic so that what we do glorifies you and uplifts other people along the way. Amen.

Genuine Encounters

by James Briney

While campaigning for public office in 1968 I parked in front of a notorious club that catered to patrons who used more than alcohol. As an ambulance attendant I had been to that establishment two summers before, when dozens of adult males were lined up outside. Inside was a dead woman with six bullets in her back. The victim, the ambulance driver, and I were the only individuals who were not persons of color. When the police arrived the shotgun bolted to a frame in their cruiser went missing.

The campaign that brought me back to that location resulted in a happy reunion. It began when a prostitute told me I had parked behind a car that had a dead man in the trunk. She advised me to drive away. In less than a block a voice called my name. “Briney, that you.” I had not heard that voice since tenth grade after friends and I were attacked following a Friday night football game. Boys wielding boards with nails in them put two of us in the hospital. I was treated and released.

Monday morning I satisfied the mandatory requirement to dress for gym class. Standing in shorts in front of my locker with my arm in a sling, is when I had heard that voice for the first time. It belonged to a student relying on social promotion as a graduation strategy. He had a fierce reputation and the stature to match it. The locker room cleared out and I figured he had come to finish me off. Instead he wanted to know what I had told the police.

I had told the police I did not know who had done us harm. My inquisitor took me at my word. Using language of the era he asked why I had not accused someone of his race. Then he looked me in the eye, nodded, and walked away. He returned to my locker Wednesday morning. Word had gotten around that Tuesday night a gang of boys had been punished. He said “You won’t have no more trouble. Some of the little brothers have to learn to make distinctions.”

Until I returned to the vicinity where once I had been to retrieve a body, I had not seen my locker room visitor. Not until he got in the car with his companions who were carrying appliances. He proceeded to give me directions. “Go straight. Turn here. Stop there. Let us out.” Then he said: “We’re even.” I had just driven the getaway car in the aftermath of a robbery. I appreciated this encounter as I have others. Each acquainted me with improbable allies.

Many incidents lead to greater violence. Plenty are exploited to advance an agenda. It’s a mystery to me why some people of faith promote agendas that are antithetical to their professed beliefs. Some declare they are helping God usher in the end- times. Societal armageddon’s are of our own making. The story that began this piece is indicative of numerous encounters throughout the course of my life and ministry. I have taken something precious from each one.

In winter months my Mother drove me to middle school in a big Mercury, the model with the slant window in the back. From a segregated neighborhood kids cut through our backyard on their way to school. A few regulars climbed on top of the car and others held on. Encounters of this kind make it less likely we will marginalize each other later in life. The holy books are a collection of selected stories that reveal and inspire God’s relationship with humanity. Read as a whole they are about loving our neighbor in practice, as a matter of justice, peace and inclusion.

Respect and Integrity are at the center of each genuine encounter. I witness such interactions at Ironwood Ridge High School. Their annual assemblies feature students honoring veterans. Students who have interviewed and befriended veterans tell their stories. Their program includes the tradition of recognizing an excellent educator and a student who writes about their own notion of integrity. Those who have served get to see that their service was worth it.

There is a lot going on in our nation and the world. It is up to us to hold ourselves accountable as we move forward in faith toward a more perfect union that realizes liberty and justice for all. What we think, how we act, and what we believe, makes a difference for better or for worse. Becoming intentional tends to help us accomplish what we set out to do. In a terminal ward in the old St. Vincent’s Hospital in Indianapolis I expressed my intention.

After a misdiagnosis I was disemboweled during a botched surgery. In recovery I did not make any deals with God. But I did whisper a prayer that if I survived I would do the will of God, whether I knew what it was, or not. I am wary of people who claim that God has ordained them to do their own will. History offers such examples. Fresh examples are in evidence today. An article of my faith is that when you know the right thing to do but are not certain of the outcome, do it anyway.

Ethical constructs cover a lot of ground. From the rationale for a just war, to best practices in business, cultural and scientific endeavors, and a bunch of other situations and predicaments. They present considerations that define the right thing to do. Integrity is doing it. Our friends are where we find them and not all encounters are harrowing. But they are formative because they give us occasion to discover and reveal the content of our character.

Relatively few of us put our lives on the line in service to our country. But at one time or another all of us get to make choices that may cost us status or a job. In the context of wisdom and mercy will we go-along to get-along. Will we agree to disagree. Will we be complacent or complicit. Will we make distinctions. Will we be the voice of courage and conviction. Will we rise to the occasion with a measure of restraint.

James Briney is a graduate of Pontiac Central High School in Michigan. He earned a bachelor of arts degree in Philosophy from Olivet College in Michigan. He graduated with a Master of Divinity degree from Winebrenner Theological Seminary in Findlay, Ohio. Briney worked as the assistant to Mayor Richard G. Lugar in Indianapolis when he was a student at Christian Theological Seminary and the Catholic Seminary Institute.

Rev. Briney is a member of the Church of the Good Shepherd in Sahuarita, Arizona. Prior to retiring, he served 4 United Church of Christ congregations: Plymouth United Church of Christ (Goshen, Indiana) Emma Lowery United Church of Christ (Luzerne, Michigan) The United Church of Christ (Medford, Wisconsin) Oro Valley United Church of Christ (Oro Valley, Arizona). He is a member of the Confraternity of Saint Gregory’s Abbey, an Anglican Benedictine Community in Three Rivers, Michigan.

Thank You

by Mike Lonergan, minister of Church of the Painted Hills UCC

Rev. Michael Lonergan at the SaveAsylum event.

Our event, SaveAsylum: Protesting the Dismantling of Asylum, had just finished. The event took place in Nogales on both sides of the monument to hate and fear on our southern border. As the master of ceremonies on the U.S. side I offered an opening prayer and read a statement reminding everyone that U. S. law gives people the right to apply for asylum. Then we heard the testimonies of six children of God whose quest for asylum was being held up because the republican administration refuses to obey the law and is now using COVID 19 as a cover for its bigotry.

We listened to a recording of a Guatemalan woman’s testimony. She fled her home after she and her family received death threats and the authorities would not help her. She still fears for her safety and would not appear publicly to tell her story.

After listening to that recording we heard directly from our neighbors from Nicaragua, Venezuela, Cuba and Mexico who shared their stories of fleeing violence and persecution at home and suffering abuse as they tried to reach the U. S. to apply for asylum. After each testimony was offered on the Mexican side, an assurance of support was offered by the people gathered on the U. S. side, who then heard the English translation of the testimony.

The event ended with a call to action, followed by a powerful reading of a modern statement of blessings and woes. This reading listed the blessings the asylum seekers will receive and it offered warnings to those responsible for the horrendous treatment these asylum seekers receive.

After the event concluded I was talking to a colleague on the other side of the wall. When my conversation with the person on the other side of the wall finished, the woman standing next to them placed her hand on the mesh between the posts. The mesh, an additional layer of cruelty added to prevent divided families from sharing meals with each other or children of God from sharing communion. The woman placed her hand on the mesh, and with a look of gratitude I will never forget, looked in my eyes and said “thank you.” I put my hand on the mesh against her hand and looked back and said “you’re welcome.”

In that instance the mesh failed. The mesh that is intended to add to the dehumanization of people on the southern side of the border did not stop me from experiencing my common humanity with the child of God whose hand was on the mesh against mine.

That simple, humble act of gratitude will stay with me. It will be my motivation to submit a comment against yet another rule change proposed by the republican administration to prevent children of God from seeking asylum as U. S. and international law permits and to keep contacting our senators and representatives demanding that they make public statements opposing the republican administration’s suspension of the processing of asylum applications. My common humanity with the child of God whose hand was against mine on the mesh requires this of me, at a minimum.

images credits: Leslie Carlson and Mike Lonergan.