Month: June 2019

Stumbling Blocks and Millstones

guest post by John Indermark, retired UCC minister, member of First Christian Church (DOC), Tucson

In Matthew 18, right after bringing a small child among the disciples to answer a question about who was the greatest in God’s sovereign realm, Jesus offered this additional word about children and “little ones” in our midst:   

If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones . . . it would be better for you if a great millstone were fastened around your neck and you were drowned in the depth of the sea. (18:6)

Now, I get it that Mid-Eastern teachers of Jesus’ day often engaged in hyperbole, and Jesus was no exception. Camels passing through a needle’s eye . . . cutting off one’s hand if it causes you to sin . . . a servant who runs up a personal debt equivalent to the annual taxable income for Syria, Phoenicia, Judea, and Samaria combined at that time. All exaggerations for the sake of highlighting crucial points. 

Exaggeration or not, we take Jesus’ point about the offense of causing grief to children and vulnerable ones. By the way, the Greek word translated as “stumbling block” is skandolon – in English, scandal.

Matthew 18 came to my mind when the most recent news (read, “scandal”) of a detention facility in Clint, Texas broke: children still in cages, youngsters having to care for infants who are not even family while subject to outbreaks of lice and other gross indignities.  And understanding that such conditions do not come reported from distant Third World sites, but 5 hours east of our church on Interstate 10. 

As a result, one cannot help but hear Jesus’ words in Matthew in an unexpected way. And one is led to wonder: what would Jesus do in response? Which is to say, what would Jesus have us do?

Here we are again.

by Karen Richter

By my account, we are here at Immigrations and Customs Enforcement for the 55th time… beginning in December 2014. We mark this anniversary – the month by month by month recognition of the entry of our friend Misael Perez Cabrera into sanctuary at Shadow Rock United Church of Christ. We didn’t know then that Misael would be in sanctuary for over 100 days. We didn’t know that we would welcome others into sanctuary. We didn’t know what it would cost our fellowship.

We didn’t know the blessings this work would bring to us either. How we would welcome Misael’s beautiful baby boy. How we would rally around a family to take a child to Lego camp, to make possible family reunions and sports teams and tutoring. How we would stand with a woman who chose to return to Mexico to be with her husband who was deported. How some of us would come to embrace a new vision of borders as a place where people can meet and learn from one another peacefully.

Yesterday, I taught a class… I’m a teacher in the way I move through the world so much more than an activist or rabble rouser. In this class we talked about the tasks and callings that are entrusted to us – personally and as part of groups and communities that we are part of. There are things that are entrusted to me, to Karen… my children, my friendships, my calling as teacher and spiritual director. What is entrusted to those of us gathered here today? To progressive people of conscience? To Christians who see the face of Christ in every immigrant neighbor, every refugee, every asylum seeker?

What is entrusted to us? The people in sanctuary, the asylum seekers who pass through our shelters and church buildings – their safety and wellbeing are entrusted to us. The idea that immigrants bring immeasurable gifts to our neighborhoods – this hopeful idea is entrusted to us. The understanding of our scripture that includes the repeated command to care for the immigrant, the widow, the orphan – this sacred duty is entrusted to us.

So here we are again. We stand here in hope, in faithfulness, in community. We persist. We pray.

Please join me in prayer. We begin in silence.

Spirit of Life; Spirit of Love:

We are thankful for the opportunity to speak here today, for the privilege of standing with our sanctuary guests. We ask for energy to work for justice, for deepening compassion, for spiritual courage. May our hope match the hope of our migrant neighbors. Give us softened hearts to reach out in friendship and trust. Be with us as we continue to advocate for our vision of compassionate immigration policy. We pray today with the confident faith of Jesus, child migrant, teacher, brother.

AMEN.

On Puzzles, and stories

by Sandra Chapin

Puzzles exercise the brain. This kind of workout is something I can do on a daily basis. Putting pencil to paper for a little Sudoku (a math puzzle – more entertaining than figuring out my bank balance) while cable news hosts keep me over-informed. Putting finger to computer for online jigsaw puzzles when I need a break from TV. Yes, my mind is sharp and my eyes are strained.

Get back to real life, you say? Can’t get away from puzzles.

Composer Richard Rogers sang on that subject. From The King and I…

There are times I almost think
I am not sure of what I absolutely know
Very often find confusion
In conclusion I concluded long ago
In my head are many facts
That, as a student, I have studied to procure
In my head are many facts
Of which I wish I was more certain I was sure!

Is a puzzlement

A great story set to music. The King of Siam reached out to Anna, the governess from England, to unravel some of the puzzles that persisted in his head. Through conversation and companionship, they both benefited by learning from (and disagreeing with) each other. They were like puzzle pieces representing Eastern and Western thought, and when their edges adapted and found a fit, a better image and understanding of the world emerged.

St. Paul’s is a puzzle. My next sentence choice could take take us in many directions, but the point I want to make here is that we are pieces that fit together. Surprisingly. Each one is the product of a different history. Our shapes vary. (Let’s not get into that.) Our ages may cluster around some vague measure of maturity, but our outlook on life is all over the map.

The analogy is obvious. When one piece is missing – when a unique voice, hug or smile is not present – the picture is not as colorful or meaningful as we’ve experienced before.

But our puzzle is not “done” even when all pieces are present and accounted for.

These short phrases are from a recently concluded TV epic with enough plot twists to boggle the most nimble puzzle fan.

What unites people?

Armies? Gold? Flags?

Stories.

There’s nothing in the world more powerful than a good story.

Tyrion Lannister
Game of Thrones
Final episode

In our church gatherings on Sundays or during the week, in our conversations, without a sense of hurry and in the embrace of trust, we share our stories. Mostly they are not epic. They are best told not in sound bites (or tweets), not in speeches, but in response to a skilled listener who lets the word images unravel from the head and heart of the teller. No prodding. No judgment. No subject changing. No filling a silence with commentary.

Storytelling is a waiting game.

Is the puzzle of a person’s entire story ever complete?

The picture on the box may be of a covered bridge in the fall, and every jigsawed piece has its place. But what does it feel like to ride a bicycle as a twelve-year old into that darkened corridor, the rhythm of wheels drumming on weathered floor planks? Beneath is the stream where you and Grandpa fished all summer, hooking more jokes than trout. Does this bridge connect home and school? Childhood and adulthood?

Stories: bridges into the heart. A story may be given away, yet remain owned. Maybe we don’t tell it the same way twice, as memories are rediscovered or put aside. Shared, it can linger with a listener. Or result in a joyful moment, like the flash of the silver trout, darting away, laughing.

Stories unite people. And puzzle pieces.

image: Copyright ©2018 by Dianne Phelan Müller