Month: January 2021

Racial Injustice and Mental Health

guest post by Ray Littleford of Desert Palm UCC; this post originally appeared in the Desert Breeze

February 14 may be Valentine’s Day, and in the United Church of Christ, it is also designated as Racial Justice Sunday, and the theme across the denomination is Compassionate Community.  It is well established that experiencing racial discrimination often leads to mental health problems that detract from quality-of-life over the course of a year or even a lifetime.  Numerous studies have found that rates of anxiety, depression and posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) are significantly higher among minority groups in the United States. 

Historically, Dr. Benjamin Rush, a signer of the Declaration of Independence and the first American physician to study mental disorders, declared that Negroes were not inferior to Whites.  In the 1850s, however, Dr. Samuel Cartwright defined “drapetomania” as the disease which causes slaves to run away, and “dysaethesia aethiopica” as the condition that causes laziness and made slaves insensitive to punishment.  A century later it was theorized that the urban violence among blacks in the 1960s was due to brain dysfunction.

There is also the problem of the over-diagnosis of schizophrenia among African-American males, nearly four times greater than that of white males.  The diagnosis was applied to many hostile and aggressive black men, and then they were treated with high doses of antipsychotic medications. 

Articles in prominent journals of mental health and psychiatry have explored the reluctance of African-Americans, Native Americans, Asian-Americans and Latinx individuals to seek mental health treatment.  Cultural paranoia and lack of trust in the medical community are often mentioned, as well as concerns regarding the cultural competence and understanding of clinicians.  Mental health professionals are predominantly white (e.g. only 2% of US psychologists are African-American) so these professions need to do a better job of attracting minority groups.

Finally, another area of discrimination is the lack of awareness by physicians of physiological differences of various racial groups in how medications are metabolized by the liver.  This can result in either toxic levels of medications or ineffective levels.  If you have tried several different psychiatric medications with poor results, then ask your physician to order genetic testing of the liver enzymes.  Most insurance plans will authorize it, and then the test results can point to the medications that are well metabolized by your liver, not too fast or too slow.

I believe we are making progress in reducing the stigma of mental illness in the general population.  It behooves us to extend this progress to people of all races and ethnicities so that biases in diagnosis and accessibility to treatment are eliminated.  As members of DPUCC, our witness to the community is that everyone is welcome here.  In the words of the Apostle Paul:

If our Message is obscure to anyone, it’s not because we’re holding back in any way.  No, it’s because these other people are looking or going the wrong way and refuse to give it serious attention.  All they have eyes for is the fashionable god of darkness.  They think he can give them what they want, and that they won’t have to bother believing a Truth they can’t see.  They’re stone-blind to the dayspring brightness of the Message that shines with Christ, who gives us the best picture of God we’ll ever get.  Remember, our Message is not about ourselves; we’re proclaiming Jesus Christ, the Master.  All we are is messengers, errand runners from Jesus for you.  It started when God said, “Light up the darkness!” and our lives filled up with light as we saw and understood God in the face of Christ, all bright and beautiful.  (2 Cor 4:3-6, The Message)

“Put a muzzle on it!”

Rev. Talitha Arnold, United Church of Santa Fe

As a pastor, I probably shouldn’t confess this, but I have a hard time with some of the stories the Bible tells about Jesus. His zapping a fig tree for not bearing fruit (when it wasn’t the season for figs) is one. (Mark 11:12-25) His chastising Martha for being busy in the kitchen is another. (Luke 10:38-42) How else was dinner going to get fixed?

These days—eleven months into the pandemic, economic upheaval, and virtual church—the story of Jesus calming the storm (Mark 4:35-41) is at the top of the list. According to Mark’s Gospel, one night Jesus decides he wants to get to the other side of the Sea of Galilee. Peter and the other fishermen-turned-disciples humor him and set sail. Before they reach shore, they get caught in a storm that threatens to swamp the boat and dump all of them into the drink.

But in the midst of the howling wind and crashing waves, Jesus calmly rebukes the storm. “Peace, be still,” he says, according to the King James Version. J.B. Phillips translates Jesus’ words as “hush now” and the Wycliffe Bible as “Wax dumb.” The Message translates Jesus’ command as “settle down,” as if Jesus were talking to an errant child, and not a raging storm that’s about to drown them all.

Given the myriad of storms that swirl around us—from the pandemic to economic upheaval to “alternate facts” to conspiracy plots—I need a Jesus who does more than say “hush now” or “settle down” to the howling winds. Speaking personally, on a day in which my computer was hacked, my dog figured out how to unlatch the back gate to get out, and a backlog of work swamps my desk, I need a Jesus who stands up to the chaos and pushes back at the waves of disruption, be they global or part of daily life.

Believe it or not, that’s the Jesus in this story. In the Gospel’s original Greek, he snarls at the screeching wind and crashing waves: “Put a muzzle on it!” That’s the literal translation of how this story was first told. It’s a far cry from the gentle, long-suffering Jesus of some later translations.

I find Jesus’ snarl to the wind and waves comforting. When the storms of life rage around us and within us, it’s good to remember that Jesus didn’t stay safe on the shore but was in the boat with Peter and the others that night—and is with us as well. When like those fishermen, we’re caught in storms we’re not sure we can weather, I’m glad for the One whose power can silence even the loudest clamor. When we can’t calm our own waves of doubt or quiet the inner howls of despair, I’m thankful for the One who can put a muzzle on it all.

Most of all, I’m thankful for the One whose voice we can still hear through such an ancient story that still offers new life. Perhaps you are, too.a

Blessings,
Talitha

P.S. Nizhoni came back 🙂

Attitude

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening.’ Then the Lord said to Samuel, ‘See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle….I am about to punish [Eli’s] house forever…’

“Samuel lay there until morning…afraid to tell the vision to Eli. But Eli called Samuel and said, ‘Samuel, my son….What was it that [the Lord] told you? Do not hide it from me….’ So Samuel told him everything…. Then [Eli] said, ‘It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.'” 

(1 Samuel 3:10-18…ish…)

The above passage is a significantly abbreviated version of the familiar “Calling of Samuel” passage (cf. 1 Samuel 3), wherein “the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under [the priest] Eli” (1 Samuel 3:1). Prior to what we read above, God had already called three times: “Samuel! Samuel!” And all three times Samuel had gone to Eli, saying, “You called?” The first two times, Eli said, “I didn’t call you. Go back to bed.” The third time it hit him: “Ah! GOD is calling you! If it happens again, say, ‘Yes, God? I’m listening.’” 

That’s where we pick up the story: “Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening.’” Often, it seems, the focus of this passage is on God calling, and on listening for God’s call. When I read it this week, however, there were a couple of other parts that stood out to me.

One is just Samuel’s response to hearing what was going to happen to Eli–he “lay there until morning” (cf. 1 Sam. 3:15). So, I’m not the first person (nor, I suspect, will I be the last) to lay awake until morning, my mind spinning over things (especially bad things!) that are out of my control. In fact, not only am I not the first person to spend a sleepless night, fearing what lies ahead, but I’m in good company! 

The other thing that spoke to me was Eli’s response to what Samuel told him. Samuel had just delivered some pretty unwelcome(!) news–that God was “about to punish [Eli’s] house forever” (cf. 1 Sam. 3:13). I don’t know exactly what that would look like–to have your house and family punished by God forever–but surely it’s not a good thing. Surely, in fact, it’s a terrible thing. 

And how did Eli respond? Did he say, “What?? That’s not fair!” No. Did he say, “What?? Why me??” No. Did he say, “Surely ‘forever’ doesn’t really mean forever…” No. Did he otherwise moan or whine or complain or rage? No. 

He said, “It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

“It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

And I thought, “Wow…if only I could adopt that attitude….” That speaks to me of trusting in God, no matter what. Of claiming God’s goodness, no matter the circumstances.

“It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

That speaks to me of trusting in a bigger picture, even though it can’t be seen. Of claiming to be part of a bigger–and better–story, even though this part sucks. 

“It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

That speaks to me of faith.

Does that mean in every situation that is “unwelcome,” we are to simply sit back and accept it, without complaining or raging? Or doing anything to change it? Of course not. 

But perhaps there are times–particularly when the unwelcome situations are out of our control (not that any of us can relate to that concept…!)–when an attitude of “It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him” could be helpful.

Just a thought.

Peace be with us all.
Deb

The Use of Violence

by Hailey Lyons

I am not the only one who watched the storming of the Capitol in utter horror. And I am certainly not the only one who watched it without surprise. We knew this was coming, we knew for decades that this was going to happen.

What was unexpected to the neoliberals was what I and other marginalized peoples have been warning about for decades. As we departed from Evangelicalism and conservative ideologies, as we grew up in open opposition to the powers that oppress us, and as we ran to mainline and progressive havens, we warned about the dangers to come. But we were not heard. Instead, we could neither truly escape the past nor shrug off the painful present, leaving us in rage and silence.

The terrorists that stormed the Capitol did so with signs like ‘Jesus Saves’ and American flags, Confederate flags, and ‘Proud American Christian’ flags. Their jubilance was palpable as they attacked the press and stood on the Capitol for steps an hours-long photo-op. They invaded offices of members of Congress, planted bombs, and posed in the chambers themselves. Their purpose was clear: to defy the will of the people and vaunt the power of white supremacy and Christian nationalism.

And yet, all I see from the media and from ecumenical responses are denouncements of violence. The media and our political institutions use symbolic language to talk about America’s status as a place of peace and hope. Church leaders talk about Jesus’ nonviolence as if it were enshrouded in sacred history and understood as truth by all. They shame their institutions and denominations.

To say that Jesus was nonviolent is to ignore the Scriptures. The man who spoke out in synagogues and on mountainsides in the face of Roman colonial and Pharisaical rule did so with the knowledge that his teachings and practices were a violent rejection of them. The man who braided a whip and struck people and livestock, overturning tables in the temple of the Lord was not nonviolent. The man who preached that we were to turn our cheek once slapped to allow only a dishonorable strike be the next one was not nonviolent. The man who announced that his was the way of truth and life; the man whose death spawned an entire religion that would for centuries violently oppose powers and principalities was not nonviolent. Even in its appropriation as state religion, Christianity has ever been a religion of violence. To say otherwise cherry picks church history in the same manner we malign Evangelicals for.

America is not a place of peace and nonviolence. Our arms and munitions fund wars all around the world and have done so for an exceedingly long time. Our laws and governments privilege violence against the marginalized to keep us marginalized. Our culture is rooted in violent destruction of those who oppose us. We are not a shining beacon of democracy; we are an imperial power inherited from colonial Europe.

No broad civil rights movement has ever been achieved in America without violence. From the Civil War to recognize black bodies as human; to women’s suffrage and the street carnage; to the Civil Rights Movement of the 60s that saw still more black and brown bodies murdered and brutalized; to the Stonewall Riots that demanded LGBT bodies be seen and not murdered or brutalized; to the Black Lives Matter and ANTIFA marches in recent years. Martin Luther King Jr. knowingly incited violence during his marches, and toward the end of his life he was on the crux of announcing far bolder and violent measures to take racial equality by force. As police moved in to arrest and brutalize and murder LGBT people at Stonewall, they stood up and fought back directly. Had they not, I wouldn’t have the right to be where I am today.

In my coming out and coming to understand my peoples’ history and culture, I am horrified at the violent methods by which transgender bodies have been systematically oppressed, brutalized, and murdered. I live with the terror of knowing that not passing in public subjects me to the possibility of verbal abuse, a beating, or being killed. Simply by choosing to be myself I am an act of violence, of violent rejection of the multifold violence done to me.

Religious and political institutions ignore the fact that violence is not and has never been solely an expression of physical force. Violence takes many forms, and most often it is epistemic and psychological. While we distract from the real issue at hand and titillate on the use of violence, we must understand that the epistemic and psychological forms of violence are the most common tools of those in power. For us on the margins, it is not just physical violence that we face when we march in the streets, but the epistemic and psychological violence by institutions seeking to rip legitimacy away from us. Marching in and of itself is an act of violence, violently rejecting the oppressive powers that would see us isolated and alone in order to be more quietly brutalized and murdered.

When we read Scripture, we find Christ is most often present where power and violence clash with the marginalized. Christ is a force of violence, but where the state privileges power, Christ privileges people. Two ideologies – power and people – clashing against each other necessitate violence, or otherwise there would be no opposition. When American neoliberal culture and Evangelicalism perpetuate the idea that violence is evil, they take away the opportunity for opposition to them, and instead rule unchecked. This is nothing less than hypocrisy and perpetuates still more violence and oppression. Neoliberals and Evangelicals alike are horrified by it and yet don’t hesitate to use it when it benefits them. We should condemn why the terrorists were at the Capitol rather than critiquing the methodology when we were just cheering Black Lives Matter on and acknowledging the only language that gets the attention of those in power is violence. It is nothing short of hypocrisy and grandstanding.

It’s not just our burden, but our requirement as Christians to check this oppressive power with the people. Whether marching in the streets, teaching a different curriculum, or favoring the marginalized over those in power, these are all acts of violence. They are also immense acts of love and compassion and empathy, binding us together in solidarity against power and violence. If we do not acknowledge those facts and cower in the shadows when the word violence is used like a slur, then we will never achieve equality and we will never be truly heard on the margins.

Let us remember where the true war is being fought. Let us adjust course and fight the fight as Jesus and the Prophets did, knowing that things can be better. Knowing that one day our children and grandchildren will know a world in which violence is no longer necessary because there is nothing but the people. Until then, we fight.

What Do We Mean When We Say ‘Justice’?

by Hailey Lyons

The greatest joy I have found in helping lead our UCC@ASU ministry is the moment an individual recognizes that we’re there to jump in alongside them, lift them up, and fight for justice. For far too long, Evangelical institutions have dominated the scene at ASU, creating a narrative that demands conformity to strict theology and causes lasting harm. When I was still a member of an Evangelical institution and doing campus ministry, a word that rang in our ears and filled our mouths with distaste was ‘justice’.

This seven-letter word has caused Evangelicalism and white, heteronormative communities around America, to reflexively cringe. This is because seeking justice inherently challenges their positions of power. This is because seeking justice inherently rebukes whiteness, heteronormativity, and strict gender roles. Even in the UCC, a denomination founded on seeking justice, we still find bastions of white supremacy, heteronormativity, and transphobia. We still have much to learn about actually doing the work of justice.

The UCC has largely become inoculated to the word ‘justice’. Sure, it goes on our slogans and marketing campaigns, but from there it fizzles out like soda going flat. It retains some of its taste as sugary juice, and one might still recognize it, but the carbonation is completely gone. The fire, the passion, the zeal to be transformative is gone. Instead, it is flat. Inert. The UCC has a long and storied history of seeking justice on the front lines of national debates, but this obscures the fact that too often local UCC churches distill the message of justice into only putting up a slogan in the building or on the website and separate from the transformation that justice requires. It’s not enough to just do a food drive in your church. It’s not enough to go to the border and help struggling migrants avoid dehydration and starvation. It’s not enough to label your church as Open and Affirming. These things are wonderful, but they are not enough.

The heart of the problem is churches choosing complacency rather than the true, transformative work of Christ. Instead of changing our polity, liturgy, and curriculums we uphold whiteness, heteronormativity, and transphobia. We inject ourselves into public discourse on a few areas to make ourselves feel better when we’re as colonizing as every other invasive non-profit that exists for its own gratification.

Our ministerial call in the UCC is to embrace transformative justice as a catalyst for change. “God is still speaking,” isn’t just a cute denominational phrase, it’s a rallying cry to the spark of change found in the margins. If we yield to the discomfort and withdraw from change because we can’t deal with our own complicity, we reject the idea that God is still speaking. We reject the embrace of justice and trade it for institutional security.

Justice is our call, our urgent need. Transformative justice that embodies the Christ in both the personal and the systemic, both the local church and the universal one. Jesus died, but the Christ lives on in the church. Radical rejection of oppressive systems and powers and total love tempered by communal striving toward mutual servanthood aren’t just attributes of the Christ, but the call of the church. Jesus’ ministry wasn’t a campaign as a synagogue leader or a pharisee to bring more Samaritans and Romans into the fold, but to evolve spiritual praxis into something totally different, radically new.

Justice is an analogous term to the Christ, one that the law cannot aspire to because the law is too often trapped by the oppressive systems and powers to truly strive communally toward mutual servanthood with total love. Too often the church is wrapped up in the opposite side, bogging itself down in what it means to love and communally strive toward mutual servanthood so that its rejection of oppressive systems and powers is watered down to the personal or too weak to make systemic change.

The UCC has an amazing opportunity to embody the Christ through seeking justice, but that means doing the work. We have the chance to do something totally different and radically new, but rather than getting caught up in visions of a restored UCC population: do the work. When we say justice let us truly mean the burning, urgent passion to embody the Christ in all its transformative power.

The Quest for the Government You Deserve Is Never Easy or Over

by Rev. James Briney

Lou Waters sent me an email the morning of November 6th, 2020, a half hour before he was to be interviewed about our Presidential election on a news radio program in Majorca. They picked the right guy.  Early in his career as a Tucson television newsman, then as a founding anchor for a start-up cable news network the world came to know as CNN, Lou covered major political conventions and reported on significant global events. In anticipation of doing the interview with a broadcaster in Spain, Lou wrote to me about the election that: “It still feels like we’re all still waiting for the divorce court to decide who gets custody of us.”  

Since the interview with Lou, a decisive and growing majority of voters determined who will become the next head of our large and diverse American family.  My diverse family includes my daughter, Jen who is a family nurse practitioner in Colorado. She was thirteen when I married her mother who had been a single parent. My son, Juan is a carpenter in northern Michigan. He was born in a tomato field in Mexico. Through a lengthy adoption process, postponed by the events of 9-11, he became a member of our family as a young adult. On three occasions I have baptized one or more of his children.  One Godparent is Vietnamese.  Another is gay.

My family includes Mexicans, Africans, Japanese, and people of Native American and Jewish ancestry.  My great aunt and uncle worked with Gandhi to build a hospital and a school while serving as missionaries in India for twenty-five years. In their retirement I lived with them from age four to five as they made do on a twenty-two dollar a month pension. My family represents a variety of religious views and includes a non-believer. In common with the United States of America, my family is comprised of individuals along the spectrum of identities, ages, opportunities, and predicaments.

The virus that is sickening and killing so many is keeping prudent families apart for holidays and other occasions. Yet families need not gather at a common table to engage in conversations that nourish relationships and feed souls.  We all have a frame of reference.  I am the product of divorced parents, fractured relationships and all sorts of experiences in ministry and in life that make real the possibility of reconciliation and healing. All families have the work of maintaining and repairing relationships. Our country has the work of governing and repairing alliances.  Seasons of the Church such as Lent and Advent give us pause for self-examination and to anticipate, contemplate and celebrate things that matter. 

Elections offer a kind of resurrection. So does public discourse when we evaluate sources of information that instruct our beliefs. Just as promoting herd immunity is political and medical malpractice, it is theological malpractice to sensationalize the manufactured war on Christmas, instead of addressing the real war on truth. Clergy fail their flocks, and laypersons their constituencies, when they abandon their integrity in favor of such calculated distractions. Commercializing Christmas and romanticizing Saint Valentine’s Day is the easy way out. The times call for us to do more than exchange gifts and go on a date. 

Jesus says we must love one another as he loves us.  He does not say that we have to like anyone. Even so, we are called to be one in his name. The significant rise in hate crimes is a stark reminder that we are in deep trouble and in need of bridging the political divide. Elections confront us with the necessity that our republic is worth fighting for and that our democracy is worth voting for.  Mark Twain said that war is the way we learn about geography.  Elections are the way we learn about democracy as a means to fulfill the intentions of our founders. We are not going to get there by agreeing to disagree or believing that perception is reality. 

Addressing substantive issues in a factual forthright manner is the way to distinguish reality from perception.  Every American is in jeopardy when facts don’t matter and numbers don’t count. Exaggeration is not progress.  A few thousand is not more than a million. Yet that was asserted when adoring fans of the 45th President surrounded the motorcade escorting him to play golf in the aftermath of the election. They have yet to accept the reality of a free, fair and secure election result. The policies, practices and initiatives of leaders have merit when they stand the test of time in the light of day, not because they are contrary and entertaining. It’s time to change the channel.

Democracy is vulnerable when the electorate is susceptible to insidious and nefarious appeals aimed at our emotions and backed by unlimited financing. Charles Koch says it was a colossal mistake for him to have invested in a sensationalized ideological partisan bias. A problematic thing about our form of governance is that superficial answers to deeply ingrained problems tend to perpetuate imbalance and precipitate gridlock.  Actions taken without regard for consequences are an invitation to entrenched resistance that borders on violence. The laws of physics apply to politics. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. 

The rejoinder to scare tactics that re-stimulate the fears of immigrants, is pointing out that the United States is not becoming a socialist nation.  We are the opposite of regimes they fled. Our capitalist economy creates jobs and incentivizes philanthropy that sustains generosity.  Grants and gifts are distributed through community foundations and privately funded initiatives. Food banks and shelters, churches and rescue missions abound. The wealth of our nation empowers the formation of alliances that contribute to a strong defense against nations that exploit their people and restrict their opportunities.  The outcome of recent elections give cause to expect the renewal of our alliances and the restoration of our reputation.

Being worthy of the privileges our country affords requires respect for those who came before. Those who made sacrifices to create our country, establish our traditions and secure our freedoms include patriots who became known as the Greatest Generation. They also became the entitlement generation that has enjoyed the fruits of their labor, pensions, Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, personal investments, and inheritance. The promise of America is that such possibilities will become available to everyone, without anyone being denied through no fault of their own.

It seemed like a long time between the polls closing on November 3rd and when the President-elect was determined. The same goes for political campaigns. We complain they take too long. They do not. They last just long enough to enjoin significant participation, so the ideals that form the bedrock of our nation will endure.  Likewise, we criticize the careers of public servants as lasting too long, when in fact they last no longer than voters choose for them to last. 

It took every day of the recent election process for registered voters to show up and be counted in record numbers. It took the incoming 46th President of the United States a little more than half a century as an elected official to be recognized as worthy of the highest office voters confer.  He will assume the Presidency having been elected to one term on the New Castle County Council, six terms in the United States Senate, two terms as Vice President—and three runs for the Presidency.  
Lou Waters has witnessed and experienced being involved in deliberate ways that make a difference, having served with integrity as a reporter and as an elected official. Lou still chooses to be of service. Everyone is able to do what they will within their means. It all begins with noticing, caring, and doing something, instead of passing on an opportunity because it seems insignificant. The recent election indicates something about our intentions. But it will not unite us anymore than past elections made us post-racial. Becoming a more perfect union requires initiating relationships in good faith and with good intention. 

Our violent divorce from the King of England led to a harmonious partnership. Our Civil War led to a prolonged trial separation. It need not take a war, armed revolution, or an insurrection to find our way forward. History is inviting us to renew our vow of allegiance to the Constitution of the United States of America. The gospel invites us to recognize all of creation as one, by embracing every soul as our sisters and brothers.  There is no North, South, East, or West in the Kingdom of God, only the essential reality that we are one in the name of all that is holy. Nation states and political boundaries are not preeminent when it comes to figuring out what matters most.

Think about the influences you give your attention to.  Just because an activist paints a slogan on a sign that says defund the police does not mean that eliminating funding for law enforcement is ever going to happen. It means it has become imperative to fund training for interventions that de-escalate non-violent encounters. For that to happen leaders in cooperation with all concerned must make distinctions. It is up to you to elect and support such candidates.

No one is exempt when it comes to making informed decisions that do not rely on talking points that incite fear and outrage. Identifying and allocating resources to protect and defend communities is the responsibility of the individuals you elect. You will find your way along the arc of history that bends toward justice when you strive to make the best use of what you know to be true, and make use of what you have. The quest for the government you deserve is never easy, or over. 

My family manages to carry on and I trust that our country will too.  As competent individuals fill vacancies in the government and reclaim institutional memory, I believe that our country will find ways to resolve the issues that threaten our security and undermine our democracy.  As the new administration comes to power, and new Senators from the State of Georgia determine the disposition of the Senate, think about what you want for our nation and its place in the world.  As history unfolds in turmoil keep in mind that Gandhi said: “A living faith will last in the blackest storm.” 

Keeping faith is the intangible ingredient that bolsters our resolve ‘while we’re all still waiting’ to see how things turn out. Our democracy is in constant flux in terms of anticipation and outcomes. Always it is vulnerable. Living in hope in the midst of ‘the blackest storm’ is not naive when we embrace the resolve to carry on. There is reason to believe that all will be well—providing we do our part. In the fullness of time the past is ash and our future is dust. What we do in our time matters, for better or for worse. We are responsible for making America better. We are accountable for making ourselves better.

For the time being we know who has custody of us. We know how much damage a malevolent president and malicious presidency can do. The foreseeable future bodes well for good news to appear in updated reports awaited in Spain and around the world. When Lou Waters gives his next interview, I trust and pray that we will continue to care as much—and be as pleased—as the audience in Majorca. 

Epiphany 2021

by Rev. Victoria S. Ubben

Sometimes God seems so invisible … trying to see God is like trying to see the white paint along the edge of the highway … while we drive white-knuckled through a white-out snowstorm. Sometimes God seems so silent … listening for God is like listening to the snow falling during the bleak midwinter… can you hear the snow falling?

Some of my earliest Christmas memories date back to when my brother and I were very young. We sat on the light blue shag carpet in the den by the crackling fire in the fireplace. Our great-grandmother Lulu sat in her chair by the fire, wrapped up in a crochet afghan that reminded me of a multi-colored, warm waffle. Our grandfather Emmett looked out the big picture window and asked me, “Can you hear the snow falling?” “No,” I replied, “but I can SEE it.” And then my grandfather taught my brother and me that we must use our imaginations and listen to the stories of our ancestors to “hear” God’s voice. My mother reinforced these stories as we grew in faith and now I have passed them along to my own children. Listen to the stories of our spiritual ancestors and then use your imagination (and what science and history have taught you) to fill in the blanks in the story.

After Christmas had passed and we were counting the days until Epiphany, my grandfather pulled out his well-worn old King James version of his Bible with a genuine leather cover. He turned to Matthew and read selections from chapter two. The story that he read to us sounded something like this:

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is this child who has been born king of the Jews? For we have observed his star at its rising, and we have come to pay him homage.’ Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, ‘Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.’ When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was…they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.” (Matthew 2:1-2, 7-11, New Revised Standard Version)

Much of what follows has grown out of my (mostly) German family traditions which have evolved as our ancestors told stories near the fireplace. Some of this is fact, some is fiction, some is what might have happened or what could have happened… some of what follows can be proven and some cannot. But all of this is the story that my family has always told as we counted the twelves days from Christmas to the Epiphany. Giving credit to appropriate historical sources to back this up is impossible here… this is the story my family has always told as we roasted … “chestnuts on the open fire.”

Magi on dining room table with four candles lit

Epiphany follows the Twelve Days of Christmas (which usually are counted from December 26 until January 6, which is the Twelfth Day). The four Advent candles in our Advent wreath have been replaced by the twelve white candles on our fireplace mantle, representing the supposed twelve-day journey of the wise kings to Bethlehem. Thus, in our home, the three kings with a camel or two and a few rocks painted gold start at the east end of our 8-foot dining table. Each night for twelve nights, we march the kings forward, inching more closely to the baby Jesus, Mary and Joseph who are set up on the west end of the table. Each night as the kings move from east to west, we light one more candle, indicating one more day on this long journey to Bethlehem.

The colors of Epiphany are white, representing newness, and gold, representing kingship. The word, “epiphany” means “to show” or “to make known” or “to reveal.” We remember the wise ones who brought gifts to the Christ child and they “reveal” to all the known world that Jesus is King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

Were there really three kings? We do not know how many kings (or magi or wise ones or astrologers) there were. But the scripture indicates that these wise ones brought three gifts. What is important is not the number of kings, but the gifts that they brought to Jesus. We were taught these were symbolic gifts, foreshadowing what Jesus would be for us and for all humankind. At our Epiphany feast each year, my mother would put out the gifts by our place-settings that the kings brought to the baby Jesus: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

1. The gold represents kingship. When were we young children, chocolate coins covered with gold foil represented the gold the kings brought to Jesus. The significance of this gift was the foreshadowing that the baby Jesus would grow to be our king.

2. The frankincense represents the priestly function of Jesus (as the “great high priest”). Burning a bit of frankincense in a small dish at each place-setting reminded me of how holy, other-worldly, and “God-like” Jesus must be. Frankincense is highly fragrant when burned and was (and still is) used by some priests in worship.

3. The myrrh represents the humanness of Jesus. He had a real body and one day he would die and be buried. Myrrh is made from the sap of a tree and was used in biblical times for embalming the dead. A few drops of myrrh essential oil in a small dish at each place-setting reminded me of a damp, decaying, and musty forest.

2020 finally has ended. Seeing God and hearing God in 2020 was challenging for so many as we navigated a global pandemic. And now we begin our journey forward into 2021. As we move into the year ahead, listen, look, give your gifts to the new-born Christ child in the manger, and recall the lyrics to a familiar Christmas carol (written by Gloria Shayne Baker and Noel Regney):

Said the night wind to the little lamb:
“Do you see what I see?
Way up in the sky, little lamb
Do you see what I see?
A star, a star, dancing in the night
With a tail as big as a kite
With a tail as big as a kite”

Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy:
“Do you hear what I hear?
Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy
Do you hear what I hear?
A song, a song, high above the trees
With a voice as big as the sea
With a voice as big as the sea”

Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king:
“Do you know what I know?
In your palace warm, mighty king
Do you know what I know?
A Child, a Child shivers in the cold
Let us bring Him silver and gold
Let us bring Him silver and gold”

Said the king to the people everywhere:
“Listen to what I say!
Pray for peace, people everywhere!
Listen to what I say!
The Child, the Child, sleeping in the night
He will bring us goodness and light
He will bring us goodness and light”

featured image credit: Robert Bisser

other images credit: Rev. Victoria S. Ubben