posts

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.”

“Prima Scriptura” and the Wesleyan Quadrilateral

by Hailey Lyons

  1. Scripture – Prima Scriptura
  2. Tradition – Teachings and History of the Church
  3. Reason – Informed Interpretation of Scripture and Common Sense
  4. Experience – Personal Interaction and Narrative

The Wesleyan Quadrilateral holds a special place in my heart. While I was still struggling to understand how to accept my identity, I came across it as a way of broadening theology beyond Sola Scriptura. The expression of the Quadrilateral I encountered emphasized Experience as a way of overcoming dominant scriptural interpretations where Reason and Tradition could not.

It is saddening to see that this expression doesn’t fully extend to our Methodist siblings. In a heated fight over the fate of LGBT members and clergy, the Wesleyan Quadrilateral has become the grounds on which the United Methodist Church divides. A stunted version of the Quadrilateral places outsized importance in Prima Scriptura and undervaluing Experience, denying our LGBT Methodist siblings the right of marriage and service in clergy.

I can’t emphasize enough just how heartbreaking such a fight is. The Quadrilateral has been the primary theological tool for training and teaching in the UMC for generations now, and it has wrought much good alongside the bad. Again, it was the theological bridge for me to accept my identity and move towards a more inclusive faith. It is by no means the ultimate model for theological study, but it was never intended to be. The fact that it has been taken to be so only further problematizes its use. Ridding the Quadrilateral of Experience isn’t the root problem, as dangerous as that’s proving to be.

The Quadrilateral’s hierarchy is the root problem.

Prima Scriptura is in principle not the same as Sola Scriptura. Prima Scriptura places scripture at the forefront of the Quadrilateral, while normally allowing Tradition, Reason, and Experience to be lenses of interpretation. Sola Scriptura deifies the Bible itself, placing it over and against interpretations Evangelical theologians and church leaders disagree with. Such a doctrine makes it easier to promote only one, authoritative interpretation of scripture and enforce inerrancy. Anyone utilizing the Wesleyan Quadrilateral would do well to understand the difference between the two and ensure neither they nor their ecclesial family cross into Sola Scriptura.

And yet Prima Scriptura already restricts the other elements of the Quadrilateral, influencing them into behaving circularly rather than collectively. When such occurs, in spite of being named a Quadrilateral, Outler’s theology reverts to the authoritarian Sola Scriptura. The checks and balances of the Quadrilateral become a mockery of theological study. We can strive as much as possible to create change within the system, but eventually we have to realize the problem is the system itself. Prima Scriptura has proven too tantalizing an opportunity for those who would do others harm.

What is the solution to the problem of Prima Scriptura? Many of our Methodist siblings have been better able to effectuate the checks and balances I mentioned earlier, keeping Experience in the Quadrilateral and coming to places of inclusion and progressiveness. But it still doesn’t solve the root problem, only postponing the discussion for another day.

There are two potential solutions: reform the Quadrilateral and make its elements coequal, or abolish it. Neither solution solves the divide in the UMC, but they offer hope for greater reform.

Reforming the Quadrilateral is a softer transition, but that doesn’t mean an easier one. It might create wider ground for discussion and disagreement, and might push congregations, conferences, and seminaries further towards inclusion. There is still much the Quadrilateral might offer in the way of orienting theology in a postmodern world, with an intersectional quality that allows for inward critiques. And yet, it would be irresponsible to ignore the tremendous difficulties Quadrilateral reformers have already faced in upholding Experience, much less creating a more equalized Quadrilateral. The results have been painful to say the least.

Abolishing the Quadrilateral cuts the conversation entirely in what may amount more to scorched earth than a clean break. It has the chance to fragment theological discourse from the academy down to local church bible studies and prayer meetings. But perhaps this raises the opportunity for new theologies to be written and implemented.

Any time Christian doctrine is reduced to so heavy an emphasis on scripture that it drowns out the collective experiences, traditions, and reasoning of individuals, it becomes a system of oppression and domination. This is made infinitely harder when the system upholds oppression and domination at its founding. Such an idea isn’t unique to Christianity, either.

Prima Scriptura must go, and with it the Quadrilateral.

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.

(This prayer is paraphrased from Book of Worship © 1986 Office of Church Life and Leadership, United Church of Christ, pp. 182-183.)

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.

image credit: Doug Ross, multimedia journalist

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.

image credit: Doug Ross, multimedia journalist

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.

Peak Experience

guest post by Rev. Deb Worley

“You were called to this kind of endurance, because Christ suffered on your behalf. He left you an example so that you might follow in his footsteps.” (1 Peter 2:21)

“…and I will seek You in the morning, and I will learn to walk in your ways,
and step by step you’ll lead me, and I will follow you all of my days…
…and on this road to righteousness sometimes the climb can be so steep,
I may falter in my steps but never beyond your reach…”)

For a few days of my vacation last week, I was camping with Ryan and John at Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve, just north of Alamosa, CO. What an incredible place! They had camped there a few years ago with their Boy Scout troop, and convinced me that one of the things we needed to do while we were there was hike to the peak. “Sure,” I said, always up for a hike with my kids (especially one that THEY were eager to do!).

We started out reasonably early Tuesday morning (about 8:45–remember these are two teenage boys who had been in the habit of sleeping in until noon or later most of the summer!), and made pretty good time…for a little while. But the air got warmer, the sand got hotter, and the dunes got steeper! More than once I had to stop to catch my breath and take a swig of water, shouting at Ryan–whose longer (and stronger!) legs seemed to cover more ground both more quickly and more easily–to hold up. John, who hasn’t quite surpassed me in height–or length of leg!–YET, more naturally kept pace closer to me. 

The midway point, looking back to
where we began (the green!)

As the peak got closer, the dunes got steeper and my needs for a break, more frequent! Walking in sand, even on level ground, is difficult; and walking up fairly steep sand dunes felt like a clear case of two steps forward, one step back! At one point, the boys told me I could stop and just stay where I was while they went to the peak, and they would “pick me up” on the way back. There was no way in heck I was going to do that!

So I plodded on…and at some point realized that it was easier to make progress if I made an effort to step in John’s (and/or Ryan’s) footsteps, if I didn’t feel like I had to forge my own path when they had already created a path of sorts for me to follow. So from that point on, that’s what I did–I no longer looked up to see how much further we had to go, I didn’t check to make sure we were going in the right direction, I didn’t feel badly if the boys got too far ahead of me. I just kept my head down and took one step at a time, focusing only on putting my feet in the footsteps they left as they walked in front of me. I figured I’d get to the peak if they got to the peak, and they seemed to know how to get there!

Same place, looking toward the peak
(the farthest, highest point!)

And we made it! And it was awesome! Well, truth be told, it was brutal! A killer hike! Way harder than I had expected it to be!! BUT…we did it. We all made it. Even the 50+ year old mom in the group! And did it feel good when we got to the peak! Really, really good. And not just because the worst was over (although I confess, there was tremendous relief in knowing that!). But because we had worked so hard to get there. Really, really hard! 

In some ways I feel like we are all doing something like that in these times. We are doing a hard thing, living in and through these uncertain times, doing things that are harder than we had expected them to be, with these “things” lasting longer than we thought they would….

And even beyond “these times,” just living life presents us all with hard things. Things that wear us out and wear us down, things that necessitate stopping for a break, sometimes more frequently than at other times. Challenges in our lives that cause us to feel like others are forging ahead with more ease and strength, more clarity of direction and purpose….

In those times, and in these times, perhaps we can take some comfort in following in Jesus’s footsteps. 

In those times, and in these times, perhaps we can, at least for a time, stop trying to figure out “how much further” we have to go, and stop worrying about whether we’re going in the right direction, and let go of our need to compare our progress to that of anyone else around us…

In those times, and in these times, what if we focused on just taking the next step, and doing what we can to make sure that that “next step” is one Jesus left for us to follow, trusting that the direction his footsteps lead us is where, in fact, we want to be going…. 

It might be a hard path to follow. In fact, I can almost guarantee it will be a hard path to follow. It might even be harder than we expect it to be.

But I have no doubt that the destination will be awesome. 

Peace, and persistence, be with us all…as we follow in Jesus’s footsteps, one step at a time. 

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.

Rev. James Briney; photo by Lou Waters
Rev. James Briney; photo by Lou Waters

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.

To the Rescue

by Victoria S. Ubben

In 2008, cancer crept into our family when no one was looking.  Our family was thrown into a bit of a turmoil until we could find a way out of a very dark place.  After some treatment and some healing, our youngest son (only age 10 at the time) wanted to raise money to help find a “cure” for lymphoma (and other blood cancers). The Scenic Shore 150 is one of Wisconsin’s most popular bike rides and is the largest locally organized and supported event for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. The sandy shoreline of Lake Michigan is the gorgeous setting for a weekend of riding in support of a cure for blood cancer.

I was serving on the pastoral team of a congregation in Valparaiso, IN, and we had enough interest in our congregation to build a bicycling team to help raise money to find a cure.  Our team committed to ride bicycles in July, 2008, in the Scenic Shore 150, a two-day 150-mile cycling event. 

Our church bicycling team was named the “Still Speaking Cycling Team,” as this was the moment in time when the national United Church of Christ had launched a re-branding and marketing campaign called, “God is Still Speaking.”  Intensive training began for our team and we all set out to raise money for every mile that our team would ride in Wisconsin. 

On Saturday: our team would pedal 75 miles north from Mequon to Manitowac and then spend the night in Manitowac. On Sunday: our team would pedal the final 75 miles toward Door Country, ending in Sturgeon Bay.  My job in Wisconsin was to drive our van the 150 miles to pick up tired, overheated, or sick bicyclists who could no longer “Still Cycle” along the route.  I became lost driving the van.

July 19-20, 2008, was probably the most humid and the steamiest Wisconsin summer of the century.  When one of our bicyclists called me on my cell phone and asked me to come back and pick up one tired, tuckered out bicyclist on our team, I asked “Where are you?”  I was given a location.  This was in 2008, before G.P.S. was commonplace.  I was given an address – an intersection of two streets in some small town on the shore of Lake Michigan.  All I had was an intersection and a hand-drawn map of the bicycle route.

“Okay.  Stay there.  I shall turn this van around and come to the rescue!”  I tried to re-trace the miles that I had driven.  Going by memory, I tried to back-track to find our cyclist (sporting the distinctive black and red jersey with the “Still Speaking” comma logo on the front of it) at some random intersection of two streets in some town in Wisconsin.

But I became hopelessly lost somewhere out in the cornfields.  It dawned on me that these lush, green cornfields seemed quite far away from the “scenic shore” of the blue water of Lake Michigan. I had directions and a map.  Why was it that I could not find our tuckered-out team? 

I did not save the day that day.  Some other support vehicle, authorized by the Scenic Shore 150 event, picked up our disabled bicyclist and transported him to safety.  It was not until that evening as we were recovering with other bicyclists that we came to understand what had happened.  All of this occurred on DAY ONE of our journey and I was looking at the map for DAY TWO.  There is no way that I could ever find our disabled bicyclist because I was using the wrong map.

During this Covid-19 pandemic, we may very well feel lost.  Beyond FEELING lost, perhaps some of us really ARE lost.  Where are we?  Where are we going?  Can we ever find our way through this darkness?  Who will come to rescue us?  Do we have a team support vehicle?  What if our support vehicle cannot find us in this strange and foreign place?

The comfort of the Christian tradition is that God always knows where we are.  God never needs a map to find us.  God is always on the right page.  There is one who is coming to save us, pick us up, and bring us home.