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A sermon preached at Niles Discovery Church, Fremont, California,
on Sunday, August 13, 2017, by the Rev. Jeffrey Spencer.
Scriptures:  1 Kings 19:9-15a and Matthew 14:22-33
Copyright © 2017 by Jeffrey S. Spencer

Before I get into my sermon, I need to say some things about what has transpired over the past 40 hours in Charlottesville, Virginia.  As you know, a group of at least a thousand white supremacists, neo-Nazis, and Klu Klux Klanners gathered there, along with five to six thousand counter-protestors.[1]  It did not take long for things to turn violent, but then the mere rallying of white nationalists is in and of itself violent for people of color.  According to the LA Times, the violence started within the white supremacist rally.[2]  The violence peaked when a car was driven at high speed into a crowd of counter-protestors, apparently on purpose by a white supremacist,[3] killing one and injuring many others.

I suspect that the vast majority of the white supremacists gathered in Charlottesville consider themselves to be Christians.  But “supremacy” is the precise opposite of Jesus’ message.  Jesus calls us to love one another – even our enemies – and to place others’ needs before our own, even to die for one another.  The idea of ‘supremacy’ is absurd to Jesus.  Racism goes against everything that Jesus taught.  It promotes hatred, not love; anger, not compassion; vengeance, not mercy.  It is a sin.

“So,” as Father James Martin put it, “‘Christian white supremacist’ is an oxymoron.  Every time you shout ‘White Power!’ you might as well be shouting ‘Crucify him!’  And any time you lift your hand in a Nazi salute, you might as well be lifting your hand to nail Jesus to the Cross.  And lest you miss the point, your Savior is Jewish.”[4]

Now, I don’t think there are any who disagree with what I’ve said.  There may be some who are uncomfortable with the tone or the framing, but I’d be very surprised if any of you disagree with the substance.  So, why did I say it?  Because I needed to.  Week after week, I get up here in this pulpit to preach the gospel of Jesus and when something is happening in the world that violates the gospel, I need to say so.  To be silent is insufficient.  White silence is violence.  To be silent is to offer my consent.  And I do not consent to racism.

The events of the week, and especially of the last day and a half have left me wondering what else to say to you.  I usually have a good idea of where my sermon is going by Tuesday.  I typically have the main points figured out by Wednesday or Thursday.  All that changed for me yesterday as new from Charlottesville, Virginia – that had started showing up in the Twitter feed the night before – was reported on NPR and I started reading more online.  Yesterday afternoon, I pushed the work I had done on my sermon aside and started over.

And it wasn’t just Charlottesville.  The news of the dangerous posturing of the President of the United States and the ruler of North Korea tilled the soils of my heart and left me feeling a low-grade anxiety.  I can’t help but wonder about how those of you here and throughout our country – throughout our world – who deal with chronic conditions of anxiety and/or depression and/or post-traumatic stress are coping.  I pray that you are doing the self-care that you need and I hope that the rest of this sermon may even be a balm in some small way for you as writing it has been for me.

As I went back to the texts yesterday, I found some comfort in the reading from 1 Kings and the verses that come before it.  Elijah is depressed.  “Elijah has come to the wilderness to die, certain that he is the only faithful one left in Israel.  His orchestration of the upstaging of Baal – when, quite against the odds, the fire of the Lord consumed Elijah’s water-soaked altar – caught the attention of Queen Jezebel, never one to suffer humiliation gladly.  Now he has a price on his head.  Exhausted, despondent, and somewhat resentful over this turn of events, Elijah sits ‘under a solitary broom tree’ and [turns to God in prayer and] asks to die (1 Kings 19:4).”[5]

Talbot Davis calls Elijah’s prayer “the worst prayer in the Bible.”  “[Elijah’s] trauma piles up, the weight becomes unbearable, and Elijah wants to end it all.  And although it is the worst prayer in the Bible, I’m really glad it’s here.  Because I know some of you have prayed it.  Or [maybe, even now,] you are praying it.”[6]  When hope is gone, when madness seems to surround you, when the pain is relentless, it can seem like there is only one prayer to pray, “Take my life.  Do it now.  Instantly.  Painlessly.  Fix it, take it, do it.  I’m tired of being responsible for it.”[7]

That is certainly where Elijah was.  But listen to God’s response.  “All at once an angel touched [Elijah] and said, ‘Get up and eat.’  [Elijah] looked around, and there by his head was some bread baked over hot coals, and a jar of water.  He ate and drank and then lay down again” (1 Kings 19:5b-6).  “And in case you missed it the first time, the same thing happens in 19:7-8a:  ‘The angel of the Lord came back a second time and touched [Elijah] and said, “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.”  So he got up and ate and drank.’

“And the repetition is the key.  The answer to this painfully large prayer is massively small:  bread, water, and a bed.  Elijah wants a snap answer, a quick fix, and God grants the start of a slow process – bread, water, bed.  [It is] As if recovering hope can never be a matter of great leaps, but always involves small steps.”[8]

Davis points out that God puts a burden on Elijah.  It’s not a big burden.  It’s a manageable burden, but it’s on Elijah.  “God sent the provision but Elijah has to act on it to receive it.  It’s not like the [angel] put an IV line in and Elijah will receive nourishment whether he wants it or not.  He had to act.  He had to own.  He wanted to be totally passive – wanted God to do something instantaneous for him.  Either kill him or make him all better in a snap.  But instead God gives a task, a massively small task:  Get up and eat.  I’m sending bread, water and a bed but you’ve gotta get up and take advantage of what I’m providing.”[9]

So, here’s my takeaway from this exchange (and I realize I haven’t gotten to the reading yet, but bear with me):  God won’t do for you want God wants to do with you.

Well, Elijah does get up and eats, and wanders the hills until he gets to Mount Horeb.  And he finds a cave there and spends the night.  And the word of Yahweh comes to him saying, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

Elijah says (and I’m paraphrasing here), “I’ve been faithful, but look at what they’re trying to do to me.  They’re trying to kill me!”

God does not say, “Dude, you were just asking me to kill you,” which I think is awfully nice of God.  Instead, God says, “Time for an object lesson.  Get out of the cave and stand on the mountain.”  Then there is a mighty wind, and an earthquake, and great fire.  Surely Elijah recognized these signs, just as Moses had when he was on the mountain.  “But this time, God is not in any of them.  God has changed languages – speaking now in the ‘sound of sheer silence.’”[10]

It is in the silence that Elijah realizes the presence of Yahweh.  In is in that profound stillness that Elijah realizes he is in the presence of God.  And he goes and stands at the entrance of the cave.  The voice comes to him again:  “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

“I have been faithful, but the people of Israel have not.  I really think I’m the only faithful one left, and they are coming to hunt me down.”

And God says, “You’re not done.  I’ve got more for you to do.  Get going.”

And here’s take away number 2:  Even when we’re at our lowest, God has work for us to do.

If you were here last week, you’ll remember that the reason Jesus went off into the wilderness was because King Herod had executed John the Baptist.  The principalities and powers of his day was doing their best to silence God’s truth and so they killed John.  Jesus, another proclaimer of God’s truth, knew he could be next and he went off to do a little self-care.  He went off to pray.  It didn’t happen.  The crowd followed him.  He fed them.  Jesus ordered the disciples to get in a boat and go away.  Then he dispersed the crowd.  And Jesus finally got some time to himself to pray.

The night falls and the boat is out there on the lake when a storm kicks up.  Waves batter the boat and even the wind is against them.

Even the wind is against them.  When things are bad, it really does seem like things can pile on.

In the midst of all this, Jesus comes to them, walking on the water.  Laurel Dykstra notes that the disciples’ fear and Jesus’ response is striking in this passage.  “Although the boat is battered by waves and wind, the disciples are not ‘troubled’ (tarasso in Greek) until they see Jesus (Matthew 14:26).  Certainly they are afraid to see someone walking on water, but the only other place in Matthew this word appears is when Herod learns that Jesus is born (Matthew 2:3).”[11]  It seems to me that Jesus showing up in turbulent times is not necessarily comforting.  In fact, for those of us who would follow him – and even for those who oppose him – Jesus showing up can be upsetting, even troubling.

And then there’s what Jesus does.  Jesus doesn’t respond to the troubled disciples by stilling the storm.  Instead, he just says, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid” (Matthew 14:27).  Dykstra points out that this echoes what the Israelites are told when they are backed up against the Red Sea and the Egyptian army is closing in on them. “Do not be afraid.  Stand firm,” Moses tells them (Exodus 14:13).[12]

“Do not be afraid.”  These words are so common to the biblical narrative that we almost don’t hear them.  The Israelites are told, “Do not be afraid,” as they are backed up against the sea.  Mary, Joseph, Zechariah, and the shepherds in the fields are all told, “Do not be afraid” leading up to and at the birth of Jesus.  In Luke’s gospel, those words are part of Jesus’ invitation to Peter to become a follower.  In a couple chapters from where we are today in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus will speak these words to the disciples who are with him at the Transfiguration.  And at the resurrection, the first thing the angel tells the women who come to the tomb is, “Do not be afraid.”

But of course I’m afraid, Jesus.  Have you been listening to what Kim Jong-un and Donald Trump have been saying this past week?  Have you heard the hate being spewed by the racist, neo-Nazis, Ku Klux Klanners in Virginia this weekend?  Of course I’m afraid.

But it’s not just that, Jesus.  I know that when you show up, you’re going to lay claim to me and ask me to do something risky.  Of course I’m afraid.

When Peter stepped out of the boat to walk toward you, of course he floundered – and not just because he took his eyes off you.  He floundered because he became afraid.  And, quite frankly, that fear was justified.  “It’s a storm, for heaven’s sake, raging powerfully enough to sink the boat, let alone drown a single person.  He has, in other words, perfectly good reason to be afraid.”[13]  And so do I and so do the rest of the people here today.

Of course we have reason to be afraid.  “Whether it’s a fear of the return of illness, of the stability of a fragile relationship, of loneliness after loss, of not being accepted by those we esteem, of whether we’ll fare well in a new chapter in our lives,… of the direction of our country”[14] – you name it, there is a lot in our lives that gives us reason to be afraid.

So, of course Jesus needs to tell us, “Do not be afraid.”  Fear is debilitating.  “It sneaks up on us, paralyzes us, and makes it difficult to move forward at all, let alone with confidence.  Fear, in short, is one of the primary things that robs the children of God of the abundant life God intends for us …”[15]  I agree with David Lose:  When Jesus says to Peter, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” I think it’s more of a lament than a rebuke.

“In response to Peter’s fear, however, Jesus doesn’t simply urge him to [have] courage [nor does he] instruct Peter to keep his eyes on him.  Rather, when Peter begins to sink, Jesus reaches out and grabs him, saving him from drowning and restoring him to his vocation as disciple.  And so also with us!  Jesus will not let us go.  Jesus is with us.  Jesus will not give up on us.  Jesus will grab hold of us when we falter and restore us to where we can be of service.

“This the promise at the heart of this story, all of Matthew’s Gospel, and indeed of our faith:  that God will never give up, that God is with us and for us, that God, in the end, will do what we cannot.  And this promise is the one thing I know of that helps us cope with and transcend fear.  Transcend, not defeat.  Fear is a part of our lives, and we should take care that being fearful is not equated with faithlessness.  Courage, after all, isn’t the absence of fear but the ability to take our stand and do what needs to be done even when we’re afraid.”[16]

So, in the face of the news, let me say this to you – and to me:  Do not be afraid.

Amen.

[1] Connie Larkman, “Charlottesville state of emergency ends ‘Unite the Right’ rally,” United Church of Christ, http://www.ucc.org/news_charlottesville_state_of_emergency_ends_unite_the_right_rally_08122017 (posted and accessed 12 August 2017).

[2] Matt Pearce, Robert Armengol, David S. Cloud, “Three dead, dozens hurt after Virginia white nationalist rally is dispersed; Trump blames ‘many sides,’” Los Angeles Times, http://www.latimes.com/nation/nationnow/la-na-charlottesville-white-nationalists-rally-20170812-story.html (posted 12 August 2017; accessed 13 August 2017).

[3] Michael Edison Hayden, Adam Kelsey, and Lucien Bruggeman, “Man charged with murder for allegedly plowing into crowd in Charlottesville following white nationalist rally,” ABC News, http://abcnews.go.com/US/car-hits-crowd-protesters-white-nationalist-rally-virginia/story (posted and accessed 12 August 2017).

[4] James Martin, SJ, Facebook post https://www.facebook.com/FrJamesMartin/posts/10154669492056496 (posted and accessed 12 August 2017).

[5] Kari Jo Verhulst, “Recognizing God’s Presence,” Sojourners, https://sojo.net/preaching-the-word/recognizing-gods-presence-0 (accessed 12 August 2017).

[6] Talbot Davis, “How God Answers the Worst Prayer in the Bible,” Ministry Matters, http://www.ministrymatters.com/all/entry/8345/how-god-answers-the-worst-prayer-in-the-bible (posted 10 August 2017; accessed 12 August 2017).

[7] Ibid.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Verhulst, op. cit.

[11] Laurel Dykstra, “Here Comes Trouble,” Sojourners, https://sojo.net/preaching-the-word/here-comes-trouble?parent=51401 (accessed 12 August 2017).

[12] Ibid.

[13] David Lose, “Pentecost 10 A: Something More,” …in the Meantime, http://www.davidlose.net/2017/08/pentecost-10-a-something-more/ (posted 7 August 2017; accessed 12 August 2017).

[14] Ibid.

[15] Ibid.

[16] Ibid.

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What follows is a lengthy report, which, honestly, I would have made shorter if I could have figured out how.

Assembly and Synod – background

Both the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) and the United Church of Christ (which are commonly abbreviated as DOC and UCC respectively) are covenantally based; each congregation has autonomy to govern their own affairs and all the congregations live in covenant with the other congregations and expressions of the denominations. In the DOC, congregations are grouped geographically into Regions (we’re part of the Christian Church in Northern California-Nevada). In the UCC, congregations are grouped geographically into Associations (we’re part of the Bay Association) and the Associations are grouped geographically into Conferences (we’re part of the Northern California-Nevada Conference).

Both denominations have denomination-wide ministries. In the DOC there are the National Benevolent Association (that’s right, the NBA), Disciples Home Mission, the Council for Christian Unity, and the Division of Oversea Ministries/Global Ministries (to name just four of the at least fifteen General Ministries of the denomination. In the UCC there are Local Church Ministries, Justice and Witness Ministries, and Wider Church Ministries/Global Ministries (to name just three of the six National Settings of the denomination).

We are a part of the regional and general ministries of our denominations both because of our congregation’s covenant to be part of the denominations and because of our financial support of these ministries through our annual budget.

I spent the first two weeks of July attending the national/international gatherings of our two denominations. For the UCC, it is a national gathering because our churches are all within the USA. For the DOC, it’s an international gathering because we have congregations in both Canada and the USA. There aren’t very many DOC congregations in Canada so, sadly, much of the language used at the meeting tended to forget about them.

These meetings happen every two years on the odd numbered years. The UCC’s gathering is called General Synod and the DOC’s gathering is called General Assembly. Delegates to the UCC’s General Synod are selected by Conferences; I attended General Synod as a “visitor” and got to participate in banquets, worship, and workshops, but I didn’t get a voice or a vote on the resolutions that came before the Synod. Delegates to the DOC’s General Assembly are potentially all the pastors in the DOC plus delegates selected by congregations (typically two per congregation). We could have sent four delegates (me, Pastor Brenda, and two church members), but I was the only person representing the congregation at General Assembly.

Synod and Assembly – themes

General Synod was held in Baltimore and happened first. The theme for General Synod was “Make Glad,” based on a verse from Psalm 46. Psalm 46 is a scripture that is very meaningful to me and I will be preaching on it on August 20 when we mark the thirtieth anniversary of my ordination.

It seems to me that General Synod focuses primarily on the resolutions they consider. The whole resolution process is very involved. The resolutions typically come from Conferences or ministries in the national settings of the church. Then they are assigned to committees randomly made up of delegates from across the UCC. The committee can modify the resolution, wordsmithing it, hopefully improving it, and (in some cases) combining it with other similar resolutions that come to Synod. Once the committee has modified the resolution, it is presented to the whole Synod, where it is debated, potentially further amended, and voted on. It’s quite an involved process and it means that the schedule is different every day.

William Barber

There are some workshops that are offered. I attended one where the Disciple of Christ minister the Rev. Dr. William Barber, II, spoke. Actually, I’m not sure Dr. Barber knows how to give a speech; he knows how to preach. He also spoke (I mean preached) at a Gala that night. It was one of two amazing sermons I heard at Synod. Dr. Barber is helping to organize a new, nationwide Poor People’s Campaign here on the fiftieth anniversary of the original Poor People’s Campaign organized by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I will be preaching about this new Poor People’s Campaign in September.

Another highlight of Synod was a keynote conversation with Glennon Doyle, an author and the founder of Momastery, an online community where millions of readers meet each week to experience her shameless and laugh-out-loud funny essays about faith, freedom, addiction, recovery, motherhood and serving the marginalized. To be honest, I had low expectations, but Glennon was engaging, witty, and insightful. She has a YouTube channel (https://www.youtube.com/user/glennonmelton) that you might want to check out.

General Assembly was held in Indianapolis. The theme for this General Assembly was “One” and the focus scripture was John 17:20-21, a line from the lengthy prayer Jesus prays in the Gospel of John before his arrest and crucifixion. “I ask not only on behalf of these [the disciples], but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” Some of you may recognize that the official motto of the UCC comes from these two verses: “That they may all be one.” I was amused that it was the DOC that was focusing on this verse.

The really big thing that happened at General Assembly was the election of a new General Minister and President. Sharon Watkins completed two six-year terms so it was time for someone new. We elected Teresa “Terri” Hord Owens as the new GMP. Terri is the first African American woman to take a leadership role like this in an historically mainline church in the USA. She may even be the first African American woman to take leadership of any denomination in the USA. I think her election points to the strides the DOC has made in addressing racism within the denomination and how the General Assembly’s theme, ‘One,’ is being lived out in the church.

Assembly has a higher emphasis on education and worship than does Synod (at least that’s my experience) and maybe that’s why there seem to be more visitors at Assembly. Instead of spending so much time on wordsmithing resolutions, the Assembly either says, “Yes, this is the sense of the Assembly” or “No, this isn’t the sense of the Assembly” or “This needs more work before we will vote on it.” This allows the Assembly to talk about the issues rather than the wording, but I still noticed a lack of voices of opposition to issues being discussed. One of the issues we discussed was how to include more voices in the discussions about the issues, both before Assembly within local churches and during Assembly. No decisions were made, but it is something that the DOC is seeking to do. And it is a reminder to me that we need to find creative ways to make sure all voices are heard when the church (in all its settings) seeks to understand God’s will and call.

Synod and Assembly – Resolutions

I guess it’s not surprising that similar issues came before both the Synod and the Assembly. Both gatherings adopted resolutions calling both the church and the nation to grow in our welcome of immigrants. Both bodies adopted resolutions condemning Israel for its treatment of Palestinian juveniles arrested in the occupied territories. Both bodies made amendments to their organizing documents (the Constitution and Bylaws in the case of the UCC and the Design in the case of the DOC); the amendments to the UCC’s Constitution still need to be ratified by the Conferences.

Both the Synod and the Assembly adopted resolutions on climate change, though their foci were different. The Synod resolution focused on the prophetic role of the church in addressing climate change. In addition to calling on the church to continue learning about and advocating for policies that address climate change, the Assembly resolution calls for members, congregations, and ministries of the denomination to become carbon neutral by 2030 and carbon positive by 2035. This is a bold invitation and I hope we will take it seriously. I think our biggest challenge as a congregation will be figuring out how to make up for the carbon we release by burning natural gas to heat the church.

The Assembly adopted the resolution endorsed by our congregation, repudiating the Doctrine of Discovery. I spoke in favor of this resolution, telling the Assembly of your endorsement of it. The UCC had adopted a repudiation a few Synods ago. The Synod adopted a resolution on the economy that calls for a $15 per hour minimum wage.

The Synod adopted a resolution that will change the way some of our denominational ministries do fundraising. I am not yet clear on the implications of this resolution for our congregation. It will be interesting to see how it is lived out. Meanwhile, the Assembly received and commended to the congregations a study document on “Stewardship as a Spiritual Discipline,” a document I hope we will engage with in the coming biennium.

Synod and Assembly – the non-meeting (the really good) stuff

While I’m always fascinated by the process of writing, (in the case of the UCC) amending, discussing, and voting on resolutions, they are not the only important thing that happens at these events for me. The most important thing for me is the sense of connection attending brings me. I am reminded how we, our congregation and each of us, are part of something bigger. I get to hear stories about what’s happening at other churches, what’s going well and what they’re struggling with. I am reminded that we are not alone.

I also treasure the opportunity to hear great preaching. Sometimes this happens at the formal worship services. Sometimes this happens at banquets and rallies. Banquets may be too strong a word. Eating cafeteria scrambled eggs off of plastic plates (yeah, I’ll be complaining about the plastic plates) at 7:00 in the morning is hard to think of as a banquet. Still, it is worth going because you never know what you’ll learn. Two of the best sermons I heard were at breakfast banquets. And even when there isn’t a great preacher, the banquets are interesting. They are sponsored by one or two of the ministries or special interest groups of the denominations and they are one of the best ways to network with people in the denominations who are passionate about those issues and ministries.

Traci Blackmon

I got to hear the Rev. Traci Blackmon (who was elected one of the executive ministers of the UCC at Synod) preach at both gatherings. Her sermon at General Synod was built around an image that I may well use sometime in the future. Her sermon at General Assembly (at a breakfast meeting, really) is making me rethink protesting and nonviolent tactics. And as I mentioned earlier, I got to hear the Rev. Dr. William Barber, II, a few times at the meetings. Every time he spoke about a resolution being considered by the General Assembly (and I think he did three times), the whole assembly knew they had heard the word of God.

If you would like to see photos from General Synod, check out bit.ly/2uH94NR. I’m not aware of a central gathering of photos from General Assembly, but if you do a photo search on Facebook for #docweareone or search for that hashtag on Twitter, you’ll find some.

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Some people think my preaching is “awfully political.” I think it’s awfully gospel.

I don’t say it’s wrong to mock people with disabilities because it’s political; I say it’s wrong because the gospel of Jesus Christ says it’s wrong.

I don’t reject the notion that demeaning, groping, insulting, and assaulting women is “just how men are” because it’s political; I say it’s wrong because the gospel of Jesus Christ says it’s wrong.

I don’t demand policy changes, even risking arrest, that address climate change because it’s political; I put my body on the line because the gospel of Jesus Christ says I must care for my neighbors, the poor, the vulnerable — the very people who will suffer the most because of climate change.

I don’t support a free press because it’s political; I support a free press because the freedom to follow Jesus is link to the freedom of speech.

I don’t speak out when religious and ethnic minorities are targeted with misinformation campaigns that have dramatically increased hate crimes against them because it’s political; I say it’s wrong because the gospel of Jesus Christ says it’s wrong.

Don’t believe that the president of the United States is above the rule of law because it’s political; I believe that everyone is accountable, especially our leaders, to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I don’t say it’s wrong to turn away desperate refugee families, including many children, from safety (a decision that is based on misinformation and fear) because it’s political; I say it’s wrong because the gospel of Jesus Christ says it’s wrong.

I don’t call my Senators to oppose a healthcare bill that would likely increase the abortion rate and definitely leave my friends with special needs kids bankrupt and desperate because it’s political; I call my Senators because the gospel of Jesus Christ tells me to care for the sick.

I don’t expect the president of the United States to behave with some semblance of decorum and decency, even on Twitter, because it’s political; I expect proper behavior because the gospel of Jesus Christ expect proper behavior.

I don’t get angry when Christian leaders shrug off sexual assault, lying, racism, bullying, cruelty to the vulnerable, and unapologetic greed and self-aggrandizement because it’s political; I say it’s wrong because the gospel of Jesus Christ says it’s wrong.

I don’t turn over tables when Christians sing hymns in honor of this administration’s ethno-nationalist agenda because it’s political; I do it because the gospel of Jesus Christ says it’s wrong.

Sure, it may look political to you, but it’s following the Gospel of Jesus Christ to me.


This post was inspired by a Facebook post by Rachel Held Evens. You can read her original post at https://www.facebook.com/rachelheldevans.page/posts/10155101515379442

A sermon preached at Niles Discovery Church, Fremont, California,
on Sunday, May 21, 2017, by the Rev. Jeffrey Spencer.
Scriptures:  John 6:35-40 and John 15:1-11
Copyright © 2017 by Jeffrey S. Spencer

Of the many images for God used in the Bible, the image of bread and vine is one – perhaps the one – I can most relate to.  God as shepherd – I know someone up in Washington who has a herd of sheep, but she didn’t get them until after I moved to Fremont and we’ve never talked about them.  God as king – Queen Elizabeth is the most prominent monarch in my mind, and she’s more of a figurehead then a ruler, so that image seems a little hollow.  But God as bread and vine – that I can relate to.  Especially the bread part.

When I was a kid, there was one particular brand of bread that we bought:  Arnold’s Brick Oven white bread.  The only time my mother would buy Wonder bread was if she decided to let us eat fluffernutters – which is a type of sandwich that proves I grew up in New England.  Because my mom didn’t drive and we were a family of six, my mother went to the grocery store almost every day – or she sent one of us kids.  I suppose it was because I was sometimes responsible for bringing home the right brand of bread that I remember what it was.

I also remember when whole wheat bread just started getting some buzz.  My mother thought that maybe we should switch breads, but my father (I think jokingly) insisted that the reason whole wheat bread was brown is that they used the flour they had swept up from the floor.

“White bread has an interesting history.  For centuries, people have been striving to produce ever whiter flour and ever whiter loaves.  This is a story of cultural preference and symbolism, and it is also a story of technology.  According to food activist and writer Michael Pollan, ‘The prestige of white flour is ancient and has several sources, some practical, others sentimental.  Whiteness has always symbolized cleanness, and … the whiteness of flour symbolized its purity.’  For centuries, white flour was hard to obtain; only the rich could afford white bread.  But in the middle of the nineteenth century, roller milling – in which millstones were replaced with metal or porcelain drums that were arranged to grind the flour more finely – made white flour inexpensive, readily available, ‘and whiter than it had ever been.’  So even people of modest means began to buy porcelain-white flour and bake pretty white loaves in their ovens.

“Within a few decades, further technological innovation – developments in ‘microbiology, cereal chemistry, climate control, and industrial design’ – had again reshaped people’s daily bread:  in 1890, 90 percent of bread eaten in the United States was made by women at home; by 1930, 90 percent of America’s bread ‘was baked outside the home by men in increasingly distant factories.’  In a study called White Bread: A Social History of the Store-Bought Loaf, Aaron Bobrow-Strain suggests that the appeal of ‘modern bread’ – industrial white bread – went beyond convenience.  People loved the ‘streamline’ look of company-baked bread.  When the first automatically sliced bread was sold in the United States (in the summer of 1928, in Chillicothe, Missouri), a reporter wrote, ‘The housewife can well experience a thrill of pleasure when she first sees a loaf of this bread with each slice the exact counterpart of its fellows.  So near and precise are the slices, and so definitely better than anyone could possibly slice by hand with a bread knife that one realizes instantly that here is a refinement that will receive a hearty and permanent welcome.’  The guaranteed perfection of a store-bought loaf appealed to an America in love with science and captive to fantasies of scientific perfection.  The Ladies’ Home Journal wrote in 1923 that in contrast to the housewife who baked by guesswork and was likely to produce the occasionally underdone or misshapen loaf, ‘modern inventions have made an exact science of baking, and there is no reason whatever for failure.’

“Americans loved the bread’s predictable uniformity, and they loved its whiteness.  Echoing Pollan, Bobrow-Strain argues that white bread ‘had long stood as a symbol of wealth and status – and in America, racial purity,’ but in the early twentieth century, Americans’ preference for white flour took on still new meanings.  In an era obsessed with hygiene and sanitation the color white came to represent ‘scientific control’ – all those white lab coats, all those sparkling white kitchen appliances.  Physicians took to the pages of national magazines to urge families, especially immigrant families and poor families, to whitewash their walls; dark walls would camouflage dirt, but on white walls dirt would, in the words of one pundit-physician, be ‘so conspicuous that shame’ would ‘compel … the Polacks and Hungarians’ to clean.…

“So, in short, the history of the lovely white loaf may be found in American’s optimistic quest for scientific perfectibility and in American’s history of [racism,] shaming immigrants and shaming women.”

Lauren Winner concludes, “It seems an odd genealogy for the bread that, week in and week out, Christians name as Jesus.  Jesus, who consorted with shamed women.  Jesus, who is neither orderly nor predictable.  Jesus, who, with his parents, became a migrant to Egypt when his own country turned inhospitable to him.  Jesus, who makes possible our immigration to the Kingdom of God.  Jesus, whose skin is darker than the flour we prize.”[1]

Perhaps Jesus is more pumpernickel than sourdough.  Rather than the modern white loaf, perhaps Jesus is a misshapen, burnt around the edges, under-baked-in-the-middle, hand-made loaf of bread.

“In calling Himself ‘the bread of life’ – and not, say crème caramel or caviar – Jesus is identifying with basic food, with sustenance, with the food that, for centuries afterward, would figure in the protest efforts of poor and marginalized people.  No one holds caviar riots; people riot for bread.  So to speak of God as bread is to speak of God’s most elemental provision for us.

“Especially for people who have lived with hunger, this is a powerful, palpable image.  But I admit that it is a biblical metaphor at which I sometimes find myself staring blankly.  I have never been hungry for more than thirty-five minutes, and, though I always need to be nourished, I rarely notice this need, and I rarely credit God with my nourishment (more often I either take my nourishment for granted or credit myself – my labors, which provide the money to buy the food …).  So for me (and maybe for you), the image of bread as provision can be a bit of a corrective, showing me how insensible to my dependence on God I really am.  But instructing me in my hunger is not all this image can do.  Bread is basic food, but bread nonetheless contains meanings beyond sustenance.”[2]

And there is something sweet (pun intended) about imaging God not just as bread, but as toast with strawberry jam.  God as the potato bread of the grilled cheese sandwich I dip into the tomato soup on a cold, rainy, winter day.  God as the chocolate tea bread my goddaughter’s mother served at my goddaughter’s tea party when she was three.  God is not just provision; God is delight.  God is not just necessity; God is enjoyment.  God is not just sustenance; God is pleasure.[3]

Winner writes, “In the Middle Ages, several female mystics compare the soul in union with God to bread that soaks up – and grows engorged with – honey or mead.…  Jesus means for us to see bread as a metonym for Him, for His body, for His nearness.”[4]  These sentences sent me scurrying off to a dictionary – well, to Google – to find out what a “metonym” is.  A metonym is “a word, name, or expression used as a substitute for something else with which it is closely associated.  For example, Washington is a metonym for the federal government of the US.”[5]  So Jesus means for us to hear “bread” as a word that substitutes for him, for his body, for his nearness.

Winner goes on:  “The mystics’ prayers would suggest that our own bodies, too, are metonymed as bread, bread that expands with Jesus when we draw close to Him.”[6]  We are the bread, dipped, not into any old honey, but dipped into the honey of life.  Our lives are expanded and sweetened by our relationship with Jesus, by our union with Jesus.

“This is a reverse Communion image.  Usually, at Communion, we draw near to God by opening our hands to receive a crumb of bread.”[7]  In this image, we draw near to God and find God’s hand opened to us.  And we place into God’s hand the crumbs of our pain, our fear, our grief, knowing they soak in God’s sweetness.

“‘Who will enable me to find rest in you?  Who will grant me that you come to my heart and intoxicate it, so that I forget my evils and embrace my one and only good, yourself?’  So prayed Augustine at the beginning of his Confessions.  His plea that God intoxicate his heart is a good reminder that our defining meal as Christians doesn’t just include bread,” but also the juice of the vine.[8]  Jesus identifies himself as the vine, God as the vinedresser, and his own blood as that which is pressed from the fruit of the vine.

Jesus wasn’t the first to use this vineyard imagery.  Centuries earlier, the prophets used vine and vineyard imagery to describe life with God.  “God has brought the vines out of Egypt, cleared the ground, planted the vines, and watched over them.”[9]  But the fruit these rescued vines produce is not always good.  Injustice and idolatry lead to a clearing of the vineyard, Isaiah says.  God’s desire for the vineyard has always been righteousness and justice.

I think it’s safe to assume that the original people for whom John wrote his gospel would have been familiar with this prophetic imagery.  “They would have known that they were the vines, and God was the vinedresser who cleared the field and tended it.…”[10]

“Usually we hear in Jesus’s identification of Himself as vine a statement of our dependence on Him, and an instruction about what we need to thrive – if we abide in Jesus, we will have life; if we try to separate ourselves from Jesus, we will not.  But perhaps Jesus the true vine tells us about something beyond our reliance on God.  Perhaps the image also tells us about the perils of incarnation.  It is as if Jesus studied the Hebrew scriptures and found the most precarious depiction of humanity He could, and said, ‘That is who I am:  I am allying with humanity when it is most endangered.’  When I am producing bad fruit and farthest from God’s pleasure, Jesus is already in that place.  It is not alien to Him, and I am not alone.”[11]

I don’t want to ignore or in any way diminish the seriousness of the excessive use or abuse of alcohol or the addiction to alcohol, but I do want to return to Augustine’s prayer.  “Perhaps,” Winner writes, “if I receive Jesus as wine, I would know divine intoxication again.  (Would it be bearable?  Just as being drunk [on love] seems to interfere with what I think I am supposed to do in a given day, or a given life, surely being intoxicated with Jesus would, too.)  I get hints of divine intoxication now and again – quick flashes in prayer once or twice a year.  Perhaps at the heavenly banquet, we will find good, true inebriation, excess that is somehow not unsafe.  Or excess in a place where safety is no longer a concern; excess in a place where, since everything has been reordered for and by God, there is no other order, no other program, for divine intoxication to disrupt.

“In the Bible, men and women observing others caught up in intense devotion to God tended to mistake those people … as drunk:  Hannah was ‘pouring out [her] soul to the Lord,’ beseeching the Lord for a child, and a priest who happened upon her thought she was blotto; those observing the apostles, newly filled with the Holy Spirit on Pentecost, made the same charge.”[12]

Of course, one of the side effects of getting drunk is the hangover.  And because I do not live in constant ecstatic connection with God, I sometimes fear the after-effects.  Perhaps this might be one case where partaking of the hair of the dog might actually be good for you.

“I am the bread of life.”  The bread of life is provision and delight, necessity and enjoyment, sustenance and pleasure.  And we, too, are bread, invited to dip ourselves into the sweetness of God that we may absorb all that goodness.

“I am the true vine.”  We are dependent on God to help us produce good fruit in our lives.  And we are invited to drink of the fruit of the vine that we might be intoxicated with the love of God.

This is an invitation to feast.

Amen.

[1] Lauren F. Winner, Wearing God, (New York: HarperOne, 2015) 103-107.

[2] Ibid, 93-94.

[3] Ibid, 95.

[4] Ibid, 115.

[5] https://www.google.com/#q=metonym (20 May 2017).

[6] Winner, op. cit., 115-116.

[7] Ibid, 116.

[8] Ibid, 117.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Ibid, 119.

[11] Ibid, 120.

[12] Ibid, 127.

A sermon preached at Niles Discovery Church, Fremont, California,
on Sunday, April 2, 2017, by the Rev. Jeffrey Spencer.
Scriptures:  2 Corinthians 5:11-21 and Psalm 51:1-12
Copyright © 2017 by Jeffrey S. Spencer

I had a seminary professor who thought that the church’s mission was summed up in our reading from 2 Corinthians.  He said that the church’s mission is summed up in the line about how God was in Christ, reconciling the world with God, and now God has given us this ministry of reconciliation.  The church’s job, this professor said, can be summed up like this:  we are to be a vehicle of reconciling the world with God.

While I think the universal church’s job does include reconciling humanity and God, I think there is an additional task:  Reconciling humanity with itself.  Of course, since I don’t believe creation and God are all the separable, the act of some aspect of creation coming back into right relationship with itself is a form of that aspect of creation being reconciled with God.  So, maybe I’m not disagreeing with my professor all that much.  I’ll stop there, before I get lost in some theological esoterica, saying this:  the church’s mission includes, and perhaps should even be focused on, reconciliation.

The full passage we heard from this letter to the Christians in Corinth is about Jesus changing lives.  Here’s my paraphrase of the reading (remember that Paul is writing):
Knowing God revealed in Jesus has changed us.  Sure, to some people we now seem a little nuts – but that’s because God has changed us.  And if we don’t seem nuts to you, that’s because God is changing you, too.  Our priorities have changed.  How we view the world has changed.  How we view you has changed.  We used to live in the world in a way that separated us from God and from people.  No more.  Now we’re reconciled with God.  Nothing stands in the way of our relationship with God.  And now we are helping people find that change in their own lives.

When I take a metaphoric look at the stories in the gospels of Jesus healing people metaphorically, I see Jesus doing exactly what Paul says Jesus was doing.  Jesus was bringing people back into right relationship with God and with their communities.  And when I look at what Jesus said, as recorded in the gospels, he was calling communities to get into right relationship with God and all their people.

I think the act of reconciliation is salvific.  And that, John claims, is what Jesus was all about:  “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him” (John 3:17, NRSV).  But reconciliation isn’t easy.  If you’ve ever experienced a betrayal in a relationship with someone you love, you know how difficult reconciliation is.  Salvation isn’t easy.  Jesuit John Harriott wrote, “Salvation is not comfortable.  Salvation is not a gentle application of Vaseline to a small cut, but the breaking and resetting of ill-set bones.  We discover our need when we are faced with situations over which we have no control, and in which we have no hope.”[1]

A demand of reconciliation is change.  And change is hard.  A result of salvation is change.  And change is hard.  But Jesus was about transforming lives.  And that hard, painful work is exactly what it’s going to take if we are going to be about the work of ending racism.

The rest of the sermon is primarily for the white people in the congregation (including myself).  That is because I have come to realize that racism is a white person’s disease and it is only if we white people do our work that it can finally be banished.

Being able to claim a “white” identity in the United States comes with certain social, cultural, and economic advantages, from getting a call back for a job interview, to finding an apartment, to getting a booking an Airbnb.  I’ve explored in the previous sermons in this series how this privilege has deep historic roots in our culture.  But acknowledging it, this privilege, is not intended to induce guilt.  Rather, acknowledging it helps us build a sense of responsibility.[2]

If you have any doubts about the reality of white privilege, I encourage you to read the essay “Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack,” by Peggy McIntosh.[3]  In it, she rattles off over two dozen simple ways white folk experience privilege without even realizing it in day-to-day life.  These privileges were born out of a culture of white supremacy – a reality I’ve explored over the past few weeks.

Two professors at Calvin College have pointed out that the denial of the reality of white privilege is actually born out of that same white supremacy.  “If you deny white privilege, if society is indeed meritocratic and the game is essentially fair, it is difficult to avoid assumptions about who tends to win and who tends to lose.  If the white population is not privileged in some way, how else does one explain the discrepancies between them and people of color?  What’s left is assuming that white people are just smarter, more moral, work harder, or have a stronger culture.”[4]

Peggy McIntosh says, “White privilege is like an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, maps, passports, codebooks, visas, clothes, tools and blank checks” that white folk walk around with without even realizing it.  We even open the knapsack and take out those resources from time to time without even realizing it.  Waking up to the reality that we are doing it, waking up to the reality of this privilege is the first step in the transformation of white people, the first step that is needed to end racism.

You see, this is very much a gospel activity.  Racism is a sin.  And Jesus’ ministry of reconciliation is a ministry of repentance, of turning from sin and toward the beloved community.  But it’s hard work, because white supremacy is an idol, and if you ever want to see someone get mad, really mad, threaten their idol.  And just to remind you, an idol is anything we hold onto more tightly than God, anything we worship and honor and value more highly than God.  An idol is any power that holds more sway in our lives than God.  And power, Richard Rohr points out, “never surrenders without a fight.”[5]

“If your entire life has been to live unquestioned in your position of power – a power that was culturally given to you but you think you earned – there is almost no way you will give it up without major failure, suffering, humiliation, or defeat.”[6]  That’s why a growing awareness of white privilege can hurt so much.

Which brings us to the second step in the transformation Jesus wants to work on us white people.  The Calvin College professors advise, “Resist rushing past or suppressing the deep sadness of this idolatry.  It is so easy to medicate with avoidance, delusion, and quick tears.  Repentance requires real sorrow and grief.  It is a sorrow that acknowledges that we have missed the mark, that we have fallen so very short.”[7]

Heather Caliri suggests we can find a model in the story of King Josiah in 2 Kings.  “In 2 Kings 22, Josiah starts restoring the temple after his father and grandfather neglected it.  In the midst of construction, Josiah’s high priest finds the book of the Law and reads it in front of the king.  Upon hearing it, Josiah tears his clothes in grief.…

“Before Josiah’s reign, two generations of Judeans neglected to teach the law.  Josiah and his subjects literally didn’t know any better.  “God still holds them responsible for the sins of their fathers.  To our Western ears, that might sound unfair, even if generational sin is a constant Biblical theme.  Like Josiah, we inherited [the] sin [of racism] not of our own making.  Yet it’s very much our problem.

“Saying things are better now is no excuse.  Josiah could have said the same – after all, he was trying to restore the temple before he discovered the Law.  God required hard repentance anyway.

“Josiah, grieved by his discovery, sent for [the Prophet] Huldah and listened as she blasted him with more bad news.  Josiah could have tuned out her negativity – especially when the sins didn’t happen on his watch, and he’d already done so much to change things.  Instead, he listened.”[8]

To be honest, that’s mostly what I’ve been doing in this sermon series.  I’ve been reading and researching our history and discovering things I’d never been taught.  I’ve sought out articles by and stories from people of color to better understand how they experience this culture.  I have tried, with some success, to open my eyes to the horror of slavery and its brutal legacy, and to the near genocide of the first peoples who lived on this land.  In that process, I have worked on recognizing my prejudices and biases.  This has not been easy work, but if we take Josiah’s story seriously, we must do as he did and patiently listen.  Then, and only then, will we be ready to take action.

“Once Josiah hears [the Prophet] Huldah’s words, he acts.  He burns Asherah poles, deposes priests and dismantles idolatry for 20 years.  Josiah demolishes a complex, idolatrous system.

“Systems span generations.  When our ancestors set up a sinful system, we carry on sinning unless someone dismantles it with tireless energy.  That’s why holding children accountable for the sins of their fathers makes sense.

“Josiah also teaches us who should dismantle systems.  Josiah confronted a system that, as king, benefited him enormously.  But his leadership was crucial – how can anything change unless those with power take action?

“In our own country, black people and other people of color largely lead the way on racial justice, even though they’ve historically had little institutional power.  Though some people and some white institutions have taken brave steps, we have not, as a people, stepped up as Josiah did.  [Since] white people created racist systems, God tasks us with the primary responsibility for challenging them.”[9]

So, here are a few concrete things white people can do to start the process of dismantling racism:

  1. Don’t ask African-American to forget what their ancestors went through as slaves in this country, or ask them to ignore how that impacts them daily.
  2. Don’t detach ourselves from what our ancestors or people that look like us have created, maintained, and have benefited from—and that we continue to benefit from.
  3. Remember that we were born into a system of white supremacy that we did not create, but must actively help to dismantle.
  4. Don’t be afraid to have the ugly conversations with people who look like us, and don’t be afraid to listen to and learn from the people who don’t look like us.
  5. Shut up while people of color tell their own stories, in their own ways, and to their own ends.
  6. Accept the truths and experiences of racial injustice shared by people of color as valid.
  7. Listen to people of color, advocate for people of color, sympathize with people of color, fight alongside people of color, and raise our voices to match the outcries being made by people of color.
  8. Be an ally by standing up against racial injustice, celebrating racial diversity, and taking on this fight as our own.[10]

“Josiah’s story is ultimately a tragedy.  When he dies, his own son goes right back to the idolatrous systems Josiah worked to eradicate.

“I once assumed that the Civil Rights movement had taken care of the sins of previous generations.  Josiah’s failure reveals my naiveté.  Between slavery and [the latest] versions of Jim Crow, we’ve experienced nearly [400] years of state-supported racism in America.  Josiah, in contrast, inherited a fairly new problem:  His father and grandfather wreaked havoc for only 57 years.  Yet 20 years of Josiah’s sustained effort wasn’t enough.  If Josiah couldn’t accomplish change in one generation, how can we assume we did [or we will]?”[11]

This will be a long struggle.  It is a multi-generational struggle.  White people have a lot to confess, and turning the whole system around in an act of societal repentance is a very big ask.  But it is the transformational ministry Jesus is doing in us individually and in us as a church.  And it is the transformational ministry, this ministry of reconciliation, Jesus has given to us.

Amen.

[1] John Harriott, SJ, quoted by Ryan Dowell Baum on Facebook, https://www.facebook.com/revryandb/posts/1725011814455430 (posted and accessed 29 March 2017).

[2] Joseph Kuilema and Christina Edmondson, “Confronting White Privilege,” The Banner, http://thebanner.org/features/2017/01/confronting-white-privilege (posted 20 January 2017; accessed 27 March 2017).

[3] Peggy McIntosh, “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack,” The National SEED Project, https://nationalseedproject.org/white-privilege-unpacking-the-invisible-knapsack (copyright 1989).

[4] Kuilema and Edmondson, op. cit.

[5] Romal J. Tune, “Richard Rohr on White Privilege,” Sojourners, https://sojo.net/articles/richard-rohr-white-privilege (posted 19 January 2016; accessed 27 March 2017).

[6] Ibid.

[7] Kuilema and Edmondson, op. cit.

[8] Heather Caliri, “Repenting of Systemic Racism,” Relevant, http://archives.relevantmagazine.com/current/repenting-systemic-racism (posted 7 September 2016; accessed 27 March 2017).  I’ve done some re-setting of her paragraphs.

[9] Ibid.

[10] This is taken from one of my own Facebook posts from 24 February 2016.

[11] Caliri, op. cit.

A sermon preached at Niles Discovery Church, Fremont, California,
on Sunday, March 26, 2017, by the Rev. Jeffrey Spencer.
Scriptures:  Mark 5:1-20 and “Kids Who Die,” by Langston Hughes
Copyright © 2017 by Jeffrey S. Spencer

Today’s gospel lesson is a wonderful, dramatic story.  Jesus has been teaching by the Sea of Galilee.  That night, he and his disciples get in a boat to cross the sea.  While Jesus sleeps, a storm kicks up, severely scaring the disciples.  They wake Jesus and he stills the storm.

They get to the other side of the sea, in the country of the Gerasenes, an area where Gentiles live.  They step out of the boat and are met by a madman who has made his home in the cemetery.  I’ve always pictured Jesus coming ashore and wandering directly into the cemetery, though that’s not exactly what the scripture says.  I’ve also pictured the man as naked and unbathed, with matted hair and beard.  The story doesn’t say that either, though later, when he’s been saved by Jesus, there is a line about him being clothed.

There is no question but that the man is tormented.  He has lost his own voice to what torments him; all he does is howl.  When words come out of this mouth, that the words of the demons that we hear.  He injures himself because he is in so much pain.  The demons that torment him have stripped away his humanity – completely.  Only the demons speak, and when they do, they recognize who Jesus is and the threat Jesus poses.

The story is rich with symbolism.  In the Hebrew scriptures, the sea represents chaos.  In the story right before this one, Jesus show he is master over chaos when he calms the chaotic, life-threatening storm on the sea.  The man who meets them when they come ashore is the personification of chaos.  They come ashore in the land of the unclean (the Gentiles), in an area that is unclean (a cemetery), and are confronted by someone who is unclean (the man who is possessed).

If there is any person who is less than fully human, it’s this guy.  If there is anyone who is less worthy, of less value, it’s this guy.  This man is “other” on so many levels.  And Jesus sees right through this “otherness,” seeing the man’s true humanity.

When I picked this lesson for this sermon, I thought about the “otherness” of the man possessed.  I thought about how racism “others” people of color.  Racism says that whiteness is normal and people who aren’t white are abnormal, not fully human, less than, other.  I looked at how Jesus saw through that “otherness” and heard a call to go and do likewise.

But as I reflected on this scripture this past week, I came to see society in the man possessed.  Society is possessed by the demon of racism.  And racism has a legion of faces.

This is not Kelly’s son, but this child is just about the age of her son in the story she tells.

“My son was about 2 years old,” writes Kelly Brown Douglas.  “I had taken him to the park to play in a Flintstones-like car that was in the park’s playground.  This particular park was next door to an elementary school.  After being in the park for about 15 minutes, what appeared to be a class of first graders recessed into the park.  Two little boys, one blonde-haired the other redheaded, ran down to the car where my son was playing.  Seeing them coming, my son immediately jumped out.  Soon the two little boys began fighting over who was going to play in the car.  My son looked on with the fascination of a 2-year-old.  The little redheaded boy, who seemed to be winning the battle for the car, saw my son looking.  He suddenly stopped fighting for the car and turned toward my son.  With all the venom that a 7- or 8-year-old boy could muster, he pointed his finger at my son and said, ‘You better stop looking at us, before I put you in jail where you belong.’  This little white boy was angry.  A black boy had intruded upon his space.  My son was guilty of being black, in the park, and looking.

“I was horrified.  Before I could say anything to the offending boy the white teacher, who was in earshot, approached.  She clearly heard what the little boy said to my son.  I expected her to have a conversation with the little boy and to make him apologize.  Instead, she looked at my 2-year-old son as if he were the perpetrator of some crime, and said to the little boys, ‘Come on with me, before there is trouble.’  At that moment, I was seething with anger.  I took my son and left the park.

“As we walked away, I felt an unspeakable sadness and pain.  At 2 years old, my son was already viewed as a criminal.  At 7 or 8 years old the link between a black boy’s body and a criminal had already been forged in the mind of a little white boy.  If at 2 years old, a white teacher already regarded my son as a troublemaker, I feared what the future might bring.”[1]

That is one of the legion of faces of racism today; there are many others.  I asked a group of friends who live in the Tri-Cities[2] to share with me their experiences with racism.  I tried to get a cross-section of ages and ethnic backgrounds, and I was blessed with several responses, especially given how quick a response I had asked for in my request.  Here’s just a sample.

One friend is a Muslim woman.  She and her husband are immigrants from Pakistan.  They have three children.  She told me that their eldest has pale skin and, when little, was often mistaken for a Caucasian.  His experience was quite different from that of his little brother.  The younger brother tans easily and has a mole on his forehead.  From early elementary school, he was teased.  In Middle School, he was called names like “Zit Face,” “terrorist,” “Gandhi dot,” and “sand monkey” – to mention just a few of the names that his mother is aware of.

A European-American shared some incidents she witnessed or learned about in her neighborhood.  In Union City, after an off-campus shooting, the Union City police pulled together suspected gang members and their friends, all of whom were African American, for questioning.  She wonders what role racism played in that roundup.

Her neighbor reported his car tagged with a gang symbol.  Some of the responding police suggested the perpetrators were wannabe gang members and called them “grease monkeys” and “welfare cases.”

Another friend, a middle-aged woman from south Asia, immigrated in 1978 and became a citizen in 1986.  She shared how for the first twenty-plus years she lived in the United States, she volunteered in her children’s schools, in Girl Scouts, in camps, in sports programs, and on the boards of several non-profit organizations.  Then came the attacks on September 11, 2001.  “It is painful to be labeled as terrorist,” she told me, “because of the 9/11 tragedy, [especially] after being a part of the American fabric for over 20 years and serving and trying to make America a better nation for all.  Our loyalties are questioned every day since that tragedy by asking us to condemn those or any other terrorists acts since then, no matter who is responsible and where it happens.”

This is a woman with a deeply compassionate heart, and she told me about another incident that happened to a young Latina who worked in Starbucks.  One day, my friend saw that the barista was upset and asked her what had happened.  Earlier that day, a customer had asked the barista a question about school.  The barista proudly told the customer that she had just graduated from high school.  The customer responded, “So this is it for you because your kind do not go to college, you will get pregnant and have babies.”  The barista was too stunned to respond, even though she could have said that she had a full scholarship to attend a university that fall.

These stories I’ve shared are about just one form of power that Racism takes.  You know the old expression, “It’s only the tip of the iceberg.”  It refers to the fact that the vast majority of an iceberg is underwater.  It applies here.  These overt acts of racism are the portion of the iceberg we can easily see.  Below the surface there are other powers at work.

The first power we see is “Power Against” or “Power Over.”  This is the power I’ve talked about so far, the power that works against people of color.  When racism wields this power, it tells the shop clerk to follow that African-American kids through the store because she is suspect, that it’s okay for a cop to label a Latino kid a “grease monkey,” and that the future for a 2-year-old black boy is jail.

The second power of racism is often harder to see.  It is the “Power For” people who are white.  This is the power that allows me to assume I will be treated justly in the court system, or to assume that I will get a job interview based solely on the fact that my name “sounds” white.  This is the power that gets me a bank loan when an equally qualified person of color doesn’t get it.  It is the power that allows me to assume that I will be shown the apartment if it’s available, as assumption people of color cannot always make.

One of the people who I asked to share stories of racism told me one about a time her daughter got caught shoplifting.  The mom threatened to “let them” have her arrested, and that this would ruin her chances to get into college, and there would be all kinds of consequences for her stupid actions, and (as the mom put it) “blah, blah, blah.”  The mom talked about grounding, severe consequences at home that hadn’t yet been imagined.  She said to the child that you need to apologize, assure the store person that you will never do anything like this again.  This went on until the store person said to the mom, “Obviously, you will make sure this doesn’t happen again.  Your child’s name will be kept on our records and isn’t allowed back in here.”  No police report filed.  No jail time.  No criminal record.  The daughter got to go home, got go to college.  The mom points out that she and her daughter are white.

This is racism’s Power For white people at work.

So is the fact that the GI Bill made home loans available to white GIs after World War II, but not to black GIs.[3]

One of my friends pointed out that white people general don’t acknowledge that their families have benefited from access to college educations, home loans, inherited wealth, job preferences, networking, safe travel, white-biased testing, financial and social training, etc.  All this is racism’s Power For white people.

And then there’s the third power of racism, the Power that Distorts the truth:  that we are each and all made in the image of God.  This is the power of racism that gets deeply and perhaps I should say demonically internalized.  Any time I feel better than, more than, scared of someone of darker hue, this is the result of this third power of racism distorting the truth in me.

A white friend shared with me about dating an African-American man.  My friend said, “Watching women clutch their purses or actually cross the street when they walked by my beautiful and gentle boyfriend was shocking to me.  Overhearing a family ask to move their seats away from our vicinity in a Black Angus restaurant was an eye-opener.”  This is racism’s Power that Distorts at work.  Racism distorted these strangers’ views of my friend’s boyfriend.

It is the same Power of racism at work in a friend who is of several races.  He shared with me how through his adolescence he tried so hard to be white.  He said, “I desperately wanted to be accepted by the White community.  I wanted to be as white as possible, forsaking the color of my skin, my heritage, and my culture,” this despite the fact that his white friends often bullied him, calling him “half-breed.”  Racism distorted my friend’s sense of his own full humanity and it has taken a lot of personal work to reclaim it.

Being aware of these Powers racism has is a start, but it is not enough.  Some of the work that we need to do is very personal, and I’ll talk about that next week.  The other work is communal work.  Obviously, standing up to overt acts of racial prejudice is one way we can address racism’s Power Against.  Working on policy change so that racism’s Power Against and Power For are rooted out is another activity we can engage in.  For instance, we could work for criminal justice reform and an end to mass incarceration.  And we as a congregation could develop partnerships with faith communities whose members are predominantly people of color.

The past sermons in this series have shown just how deeply racism runs in our culture and country.  We are not going to get rid of it easily.  But the more we are aware of racism’s powers, the more likely we will find ways to cast out this demonic legion that possesses us.

Amen.

[1] Kelly Brown Douglas, “The Stories That Matter from a Black Mother to Her Son,” Sojourners, https://sojo.net/articles/faith-action/stories-matter-black-mother-her-son (posted and accessed 20 March 2017).

[2] Fremont, Newark, and Union City are called the “Tri-Cities” here in the San Francisco Bay Area.

[3] See, for instance, http://americanexperience.si.edu/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/After-the-War-Blacks-and-the-GI-Bill.pdf and http://www.demos.org/blog/11/11/13/how-gi-bill-left-out-african-americans.

There was so much ground to cover in today’s sermon that I just couldn’t cover everything. One thing I didn’t talk about was the racist tweet from Congressman Steve King of Iowa, posted on March 12.

As you can see, King’s tweet is in support of his fellow anti-immigrant demagogue Geert Wilders (who is seeking to become the next Dutch prime minister), praising him as one who “understands that culture and demographics are our destiny. We can’t restore our civilization with somebody else’s babies.”

The “our” of “our destiny” is White people. Since he’s tweeting about someone in Europe, one could assume that this isn’t just about White America, but it is about something bigger. And, sure enough, it is.

Asked by New Day host Chris Cuomo to defend the comments on March 13, King doubled down on his view that “western civilization” must be defended. Pressed on whether he believes “a Muslim American, an Italian American, Jewish American, [are] all equal, all the same thing,” King hesitated.

“They contribute differently to our culture and civilization,” the Iowa Republican responded. “Individuals will contribute differently, not equally to this civilization and society. Certain groups of people will do more from a productive side than other groups of people will.” Watch the video.

When King talks about “the American civilization” and “the American culture,” he’s talking about White, Anglo-Saxon-based culture. And when he talks about “assimilation,” he’s talking about stripping non-Whites of their culture so the White-supremacist culture of controlling the United States doesn’t have to change. I have no doubt that Congressman King believes that the racist, Anglo-Saxon-based culture that has held power in the United States is supreme to all other cultures. It is a racist belief.

The Southern Poverty Law Center points out that this racist belief is based on lies.

It’s a lie, for example, that immigrants don’t want to learn English. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, 56% of first-generation immigrants speak English “well” or “very well,” and the demand for English instruction actually far outstrips supply.

It’s a lie that immigrants are violent or criminal. According to a new report by The Sentencing Project, immigrants commit crimes at lower rates than native-born citizens. Higher levels of immigration may even have contributed to the historic drop in crime rates, researchers say.

In the run-up to both of President Trump’s Muslim bans, perhaps the most widely circulated lie has been that refugees are not screened before entering the country, that banning them will keep the U.S. safe from terror.  This is patently false.  Refugees undergo more rigorous screenings than any other individuals the government allows in the U.S., and we know that no deaths in the U.S. have been attributed to people from the countries covered by either executive order in the last 30 years.

All of these lies, however far-fetched, are based on the same dangerous falsehood:  that immigrants and refugees are somehow not like us:  that they’re not students in search of an education; that they’re not families trying to make ends meet; that as “somebody else’s babies,” they don’t belong here.

The truth is that immigrants are our neighbors and our friends.  They are Americans.

A sermon preached at Niles Discovery Church, Fremont, California,
on Sunday, March 19, 2017, by the Rev. Jeffrey Spencer.
Scriptures: 1 John 4:18-21 and Deuteronomy 24:14-22
Copyright © 2017 by Jeffrey S. Spencer

It might be helpful if I being with a little glossary. Refugees are people fleeing civil unrest, war, famine, or persecution, sometimes a combination. They are leaving everything they have known to start over in a place they believe is safe. Not all people who flee civil unrest, war, famine, or persecution end up fleeing to another country. Some simply move to another part of their country – and are called “internally displaced.” But when they move to another country, they are considered “refugees.”

We are probably more aware of the refugees fleeing Syria and Iraq than other refugees. However, because of famine that is looming in four countries, I suspect we will be seeing more refugee crises.

In addition to the four countries mentioned in that video, the United Nations has identified Kenya as another country facing a food crisis, where more than 2.7 million people are food insecure, and that this number could reach four million by April.[1]

When we talk about U.S. immigration policy, we’re talking about refugees, yes. But more likely, we’re talking about immigrants. Immigrants are people moving from one country to another primarily for economic or educational opportunities, or for family reunification. Immigrants can follow a process defined in law and go to a new country legally, or they can go to a new country without following the process defined in law and go to the new country illegally. Immigrants who come to the United States legally often, but not always, have a specific opportunity identified – a job lined up or a college admission. Immigrants who come to the United States illegally rarely have a specific opportunity identified.

When my great-great-great-great – actually, I don’t remember how many greats it is – grandparents moved to this continent, they didn’t have visas. The people who lived here at the time didn’t issue visas. John and Priscilla were on a boat called Mayflower and they thought that the permission of the English government to establish a colony was all the permission they needed.[2]

150 years later, their descendants (at least some of them) decided it was time to declare their independence from Great Britain. Thirteen years later, the founding fathers got around to putting together the nuts and bolts of the new nation and its government, and when the first Congress convened in 1790, one of the first acts they passed was a naturalization act. This law “provided the first rules to be followed by the United States in the granting of national citizenship. This law limited naturalization to aliens who were ‘free white persons’ and thus left out indentured servants, slaves, free blacks, and later Asians, as well as women.”[3]

It would be anachronistic to call this restriction “racist” (or “sexist”). Notions of race weren’t really developed for another hundred years or so. Still, as I’ve talked about in previous sermons in this series, this attitude that white Anglo-Saxons are better than other humans weaved the patterns of racism into the fabric of our nation.

Immigration into this new nation came from two places initially. The bulk of the immigration was from Western Europe. There was also, until 1804, the importation of Africans to serve as slaves. (After 1804, the slave population continued to grow because the child of a slave was a slave.) The Western Europeans were sufficiently like the Anglo-Saxon founders of the nation and they assimilated rather smoothly. The Africans were held in bondage and so were not seen as a threat to the Anglo-Saxon-American way of life. But that started to change in the 1800s.

If you’re like me, you were taught that the Irish potato famine was caused by a fungal blight that wiped out the potato crop in Ireland. “While the blight did strike and take down most of Ireland’s potatoes, the truth is that Ireland was exporting more than enough food to feed everyone at the same time as the famine was happening. Run as a colony of the vast British Empire, Ireland was a colonial food-producing operation, much like India and the sugar islands of the Caribbean, but locals were not allowed to eat the very food they were producing.

“In other words, a million Irish starved for no reason other than greed.”[4] But this is a sermon on immigration policy, not economic policy, so we’ll save that line of thought for another day.

Not only did a million of Irish starve, but about two million emigrated, most (about three-quarters) coming to the United States. They faced suspicion upon their arrival here. They weren’t WASPs, and this bothered those who were in power. As with other non-WASP immigrants, they faced a “nativist” backlash. Catholics, Jews, and people speaking anything other than English were the favored targets of nativism. Technically speaking, “Nativism is the political position of supporting a favored status for the native majority of a nation while targeting and threatening newcomers or immigrants.”[5] In the United States, “native majority” had nothing to do with Native Americans. It meant – and still means – English-speaking, white people.

Also in the middle of the 1800s, gold was discovered in California. Not only did this mean that east coasters came to the west coast, but people from all around the world came to the west coast – even from China. “There is a rich an interesting history of the conflicts that developed between the Chinese immigrants and the Americans who had migrated from the eastern United States. Riots and violence were regularly recurring features. A generation of populist politicians built their careers by stirring up hysteria against the yellow peril. Finally, agitation reached a level sufficient to persuade congress to pass the Chinese Exclusion Act”[6] in 1882. Not only did the Chinese Exclusion Act keep new immigrants from China out of the country, it also “affected the Chinese who had already settled in the United States. Any Chinese who left the United States had to obtain certifications for reentry, and the Act made Chinese immigrants permanent aliens by excluding them from U.S. citizenship.”[7]

“When the US entered World War I, about one in four US residents were not native born. Tension between the new arrivals and the nativists was chronically high. Following the war this resulted in an effort to shut down immigration. This was codified in the Immigration Act of 1924. Also know as the Johnson-Reed Act, it “limited the number of immigrants who could be admitted from any country to 2% of the number of people from that country who were already living in the United States in 1890…. The law was aimed at further restricting the Southern and Eastern Europeans who were immigrating in large numbers starting in the 1890s, as well as prohibiting the immigration of East Asians and Asian Indians.”[8]

My maternal grandmother got caught by this act. There were so few Swiss in the United States in 1890, the number allowed in during the mid and late 1920s was very small, and she repeatedly didn’t make the quota. I need to do a little family archeology to find out how she eventually made it into the United States.

If we’re surveying U.S. immigration policy, we can’t skip over the so-called “Mexican Repatriation” – a blot on our country’s history that I never learned about in school. “The Mexican Repatriation refers to a forced migration that took place between 1929 and 1939, when as many as one million people [estimates vary from hundreds of thousands to two million people] of Mexican descent were forced or pressured to leave the US. The term ‘Repatriation,’ though commonly used, is inaccurate, since approximately 60% of those driven out were U.S. citizens.”[9] Because the forced movement was based on race while it ignored citizenship, one might wonder if this effort meets the modern standards to label it an incident of ethnic cleansing.

As we did following World War I, after World War II, the United States tightened immigration rules. The Immigration and Naturalization Act of 1952 organized the various rules and laws into one act. On the surface, it looked like the law moved away from racism. “The Act abolished racial restrictions found in United States immigration and naturalization statutes going back to the Naturalization Act of 1790.”[10] However, these restrictions were replaced with nation-of-origin quotas. But if you allow 51,227 people to immigrate from Germany but only 512 from the Belgian Congo – well, maybe you just have racial restrictions by another name.[11]

The nation-of-origin quotas actually only applied to one class of immigrant, topping the number of these regular immigrants at 270,000 per year. This did not include those with special skills for employment or who had relatives who were U.S. citizens; they were exempt from the quota. And it did not include refugees, who could apply for immigration under a procedure set following World War II though international agreement.

The last significant immigration act was passed in 1965. This act “abolished the national origins quota system that had structured American immigration policy since the 1920s, replacing it with a preference system that focused on immigrants’ skills and family relationships with citizens or residents of the U.S. Numerical restrictions on visas were set at 170,000 per year, not including immediate relatives of U.S. citizens,” and some other rarified cases.[12] While this was a step in the right direction, vestiges of racism remain in the practice of administering immigration law. Officially, Congress ended the national-origins quotas to create a policy that was “equal.” But “equal” means that every country has the same cap, and this was actually done to limit legal immigration from Mexico and countries in Asia.[13] A 1986 law included extra visas for nationals from 36 countries, most of which are in Europe.[14] The Diversity Visa program launched by the 1990 immigration reform bill was established to favor Europeans.[15]

This brings us to today. Today, we live in a country of about 320 million people. About 300 million of them are citizens.[16] Of the remaining roughly 20 million, about half are legal immigrants and the other half are in the country illegally. The immigrants who are here without documentation either came without documents or overstayed the permission they had to be here. It has been the policy of the United States to deport the people who are here without documentation. Poking around trying to find numbers, I discovered that definitions have changed. It looks to me like administrations didn’t classify removals of people who had just illegally crossed the border as deportations until the Obama administration (and it’s not clear to me when the Obama administration started calling them deportations). So President Obama may or may not have deported more people than any other President (at least so far) – it’s unclear.

Two things are clear:

  1. Deportations are continuing under the Trump administration – though according to the USA Today, “The first major immigration raid under President Trump shows a clear shift in the federal government’s deportation strategy, focusing more on undocumented immigrants without criminal records than under President Obama.”[17]
  2. The levels of anxiety in families where one or more of the parents is here without documentation is skyrocketing as they fear that their families may be torn apart by a deportation.[18]

Meanwhile, President Trump has tried yet again to ban travel from Syria, Iran, Libya, Sudan, Yemen, and Somalia – at least temporarily. (Yes, the last two countries on that list are facing famine.) The order also bans all refugees from entering the country for at least 120 days. While the ban has been halted by federal judges, it is clear what the President wants to do.

I don’t want to argue the constitutionality of order – I’ll let the lawyers and judges hash that out. What I want to talk about is how this legacy of racism in our immigration policies goes against the gospel of Jesus Christ. When our policies say – directly or indirectly – that you are more or less worthy because of your race (in this case, worthy or unworthy to become part of our country), that goes against the truth that we are all created in the image of God, that we are all precious in the heart of God, that we are all equal in the eyes of God.

Heck, it goes against one of the strongest through line in scripture. Listen to this.

Listen again to these words from our lesson from 1 John: “Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.”

So, how do we as a church address this legacy of racism in our immigration policy? I’ve got a couple ideas. We could investigate becoming a sanctuary congregation. We could volunteer to sponsor a refugee family. A contingent of our congregation could participate in a border immersion program and report back to the congregation. And if you want to do something personally, you can volunteer at an immigrants’ rights organization.

Since we are a non-creedal church, we generally don’t recite creeds. I know I’m resistant to reciting creeds because I want to go through them with a pen so I can cross out things that I don’t believe or that I think are too easily open to misinterpretation. Still, I’m going to invite you to join me in reciting a creed today – not as a statement of belief, but as a statement of hope.

 

Immigrants’ Creed[19]

I believe in Almighty God, who guided the people in exile and in exodus, the God of Joseph in Egypt and Daniel in Babylon, the God of foreigners and immigrants.

I believe in Jesus Christ, a displaced Galilean, who was born away from his people and his home, who fled his country with his parents when his life was in danger. When he returned to his own country he suffered under the oppression of Pontius Pilate, the servant of a foreign power. Jesus was persecuted, beaten, tortured, and unjustly condemned to death.
But on the third day Jesus rose from the dead, not as a scorned foreigner but to offer us citizenship in God’s kingdom.

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the eternal immigrant from God’s kingdom among us, who speaks all languages, lives in all countries, and reunites all races.

I believe that the Church is the secure home for foreigners and for all believers. I believe that the communion of saints begins when we embrace all God’s people in all their diversity. I believe in forgiveness, which makes us all equal before God, and in reconciliation, which heals our brokenness.

I believe that in the Resurrection God will unite us as one people in which all are distinct and all are alike at the same time.

I believe in life eternal, in which no one will be foreigner but all will be citizens of the kingdom where God reigns forever and ever. Amen.

 

[1] “UN aid chief urges global action as starvation, famine loom for 20 million across four countries,” UN News Centre, http://www.un.org/apps/news/story.asp?NewsID=56339#.WM4hgxiZOH1 (posted 10 March 2017; accessed 15 March 2017).

[2] I think it’s something like 13 or 14 “greats” between John Alden and Priscilla Mullins (they married once they were in the Americas) and me.

[3] Richard Lyon, “A History Of American Racist Immigration Law,” Daily Kos, http://www.dailykos.com/story/2010/5/14/866285/- (posted 14 May 2010; accessed 15 March 2017).

[4] Ocean Malandra, “EarthRx: The Irish Potato Famine Was Caused by Capitalism, Not a Fungus,” Paste, https://www.pastemagazine.com/articles/2017/03/earthrx-the-irish-potato-famine-was-caused-by-capi.html (posted 13 March 2016; accessed 17 March 2017).

[5] Wikipedia, “Nativism (politics),” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nativism_(politics) (accessed 18 March 2017).

[6] Lyon, op. cit.

[7] Wikipedia, “Chinese Exclusion Act,” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chinese_Exclusion_Act (accessed 18 March 2017).

[8] Lyon, op. cit.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Wikipedia, “Immigration and Nationality Act of 1952,” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Immigration_and_Nationality_Act_of_1952 (accessed 18 March 2017).

[11] These are sample numbers shared with my by Jim Peck.

[12] Students at the University of Washington-Bothell, “1965 Immigration and Nationality Act …” U.S. Immigration Legislation Online, http://library.uwb.edu/Static/USimmigration/1965_immigration_and_nationality_act.html (accessed 18 March 2017).

[13] David Cook-Martin and David Scott FitzGerald, “How Legacies of Racism Persist in U.S. Immigration Policy,” Scholars Strategy Network, http://www.scholarsstrategynetwork.org/brief/how-legacies-racism-persist-us-immigration-policy (posted June 2014; accessed 18 March 2017).

[14] Ibid.

[15] Ibid.

[16] “Population Distribution by Citizenship Status,” The Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation, http://kff.org/other/state-indicator/distribution-by-citizenship-status/?currentTimeframe=0&sortModel=%7B%22colId%22:%22Location%22,%22sort%22:%22asc%22%7D (accessed 18 March 2017).

[17] Alan Gomez, “Trump immigration raids show greater focus on non-criminals,” USA Today, http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2017/02/16/president-trump-immigration-raids-target-fewer-criminals/97988770/ (posted 16 February 2017, accessed 19 March 2017).

[18] See, for instance, Andrew Gumbel, “Doctors see a new condition among immigrant children: fear of Trump,” The Guardian, https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2016/nov/25/donald-trump-immigration-deportation-children-doctors (posted 25 November 2016; accessed 18 March 2017).

[19] Written by José Luis Casal, now director of Presbyterian World Mission, prepared it for a worship service for the Assembly of APCE in Chicago around 1998 or 1999.

A sermon preached at Niles Discovery Church, Fremont, California,
on Sunday, March 12, 2017, by the Rev. Jeffrey Spencer.
Scriptures: Galatians 3:23-39 and Daniel 1:1-21
Copyright © 2017 by Jeffrey S. Spencer

Protestors in Washington this past Friday

“Despite bitter cold, wind, rain and hail,” the PBS Newshour reports, “hundreds of members of Native American tribes and supporters from around the country turned out Friday to march on the White House, in an effort to turn the momentum of the Standing Rock protests [against the building of a oil pipeline through and near reservation land] into a more sustained movement for native rights.

“The march and a rally in Lafayette Square across from the White House came after four days of protest, prayer and lobbying on Capitol Hill, where Native communities called for the protection of natural resources and demanded the new administration honor treaties with indigenous peoples.”[1]

Five and a quarter centuries after the Doctrine of Discovery emboldened Europeans to come to the Americas and claim them, five and a quarter centuries after the people living on America’s soil were first enslaved or killed with the blessing of the church, the descendants of those first nations are still fighting for their rights and their sovereignty.

If you’re wondering how it is possible that the Doctrine of Discovery is still active in our society, the answer is easy: It’s in our cultural DNA. Let me explain what I mean.

Last week, I talked about how the church is responsible for creating the Doctrine of Discovery and blessing the colonial expansion of Christian nations, which of course meant European countries. Thanks to the Doctrine, by the 1600s, Spain had established colonies in Central and South America, the Caribbean, and what is now Florida. Likewise, the Portuguese had established a foothold in South American.

England had gained military power and started establishing colonies in North America. The Doctrine of Discovery gave the justification for the English to do this. Back in 1497, just a few years after Columbus’ first voyage to the Americas, a English-financed explorer planted the English flag in what is now Newfoundland, so they felt they could claim they had “discovered” the land. In 1607, they founded Jamestown, and in 1621 the Plymouth colony was established by English Pilgrims.

In 1619, a year before the Pilgrims set out to establish their utopia, a Dutch ship arrived in Jamestown that would have repercussions for the next four hundred years. The ship carried Africans, but they were not passengers. They were the cargo. While they may have been the first slaves brought to an English colony as cargo, they were hardly the first slave brought from Africa to the Americas. “By 1619, a million blacks had already been brought from Africa to South America and the Caribbean, to the Portuguese and Spanish colonies, to work as slaves.”[2]

Dum Diversas

The African slave trade was justified the same way the conquest of the Americas and the enslavement or murder of the native peoples living there was justified: the Doctrine of Discovery. Successive Popes had said that European kings should “invade, capture, vanquish, and subdue … all Saracens and Pagans and all enemies of Christ … to reduce their persons in perpetual slavery … and to take away all of their possessions and property” (to quote the 1452 Papal Bull Dum Diversas). Historian Howard Zinn notes, “By 1800, 10 to 15 million blacks had been transported as slaves to the Americas, representing perhaps one-third of those originally seized in Africa. It is roughly estimated that Africa lost 50 million human beings to death and slavery in those centuries we call the beginnings of modern Western civilization, at the hands of slave traders and plantation owners in Western Europe and America, the countries deemed the most advanced in the world.”[3]

A century and a half after the English started establishing colonies in North America and importing Africans to work as slaves, the colonists decided it was time to break ties with the king. And so they fought a war and managed to win, declaring their independence with the words, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” Of course, when they said “all men,” they didn’t mean all people. They meant all property-owning, white, males.

Although this new nation was founded on freedom from tyranny, the idea that white people and Christians had certain divine rights was nevertheless ingrained in our nation’s cultural DNA and quite literally into our policies. As someone raised in New England and whose family goes back to the Mayflower, I like to think of myself as coming from a people who opposed the evils of slavery. But New Englanders profited directly and indirectly from the slave trade and the three-fifths compromise in our constitution was pushed by the Yankees. They didn’t want Blacks counted as people when it came to deciding how many Representatives southern states received. And nobody wanted the Indians counted. Thus, it was compromised that the population of the states would be set by “adding to the whole Number of free Persons, including those bound to Service for a Term of Years [that is, indentured servants], and excluding Indians not taxed, three fifths of all other Persons.”[4] Well, the only other people who were left were slaves of African ancestry.

Chief Justice John Marshall, author of the M’Intosh decision

Another way this supremacy of the white people because part of our policies and cultural DNA was through the court. The 1823 Supreme Court decision in Johnson v. M’Intosh is a key example. While the decision is often framed as “private citizens could not purchase lands from Native Americans,”[5] what it really said is that Indians really didn’t own the property in the first place. The decision “begins with a lengthy discussion of history of the European discovery of the Americas and the legal foundations of the American Colonies. In particular, [the decision] focuses on the manner in which each European power acquired land from the indigenous occupants. Synthesizing the law of nations, [it] traces the outlines of the ‘discovery doctrine’ – namely, that a European power gains radical title (also known as sovereignty) to the land it discovers. As a corollary, the discovering power gains the exclusive right to extinguish the ‘right of occupancy’ of the indigenous occupants, which otherwise survived the assumption of sovereignty.”[6]

Then the decision says that when the United States “declared independence from Great Britain, the United States government inherited the British right of preemption over Native American lands. The legal result is that the only Native American conveyances of land which can create valid title are sales of land to the federal government.”[7] The decision literally calls the Native peoples “heathens” in justifying this decision.

For Native Americans, this decision foreshadowed the Trail of Tears and almost two hundred years of forced removals, violence, and broken treaties. The very things the Standing Rock Sioux were protesting this weekend are a direct legacy of these attitudes and this decision.

John O’Sullivan

In 1845, the political leader and prominent editor named John L. O’Sullivan gave the Doctrine of Discovery a uniquely American flavor when he coined the term “Manifest Destiny” to defend U.S. expansion and claims of new territory to the west. It furthered the sense among U.S. citizens of an inevitable or natural right to expand the nation and to spread “freedom and democracy” (though only to those deemed capable of self-government, which certainly did not include Blacks or Native Americans). Of course, Johnson v. M’Intosh gave the legal cover for simply taking the land from the inhabitants as our nation pushed west.

Our denominations are not immune from the racism of the Doctrine of Discovery and the United States’ spin on it, Manifest Destiny. The Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) was complicit in white American exceptionalism. The denomination’s founders, Barton Stone and Alexander Campbell, were 19th century men. As white, free, land-owning, educated, males, they acquired great privilege. There is little wonder they adopted, most likely without any conscious thought, the American power construct.

Campbell was an immigrant from Scotland. Immigrants choose to live in a land different from their birth, and Campbell had a deep desire for his chosen nation to be the best. Fully adopting the social concept of manifest destiny, adding a touch of Protestant superiority, mixing in some white superiority, and Campbell developed a social construct for Disciples. Writing “The Destiny of Our Country” in the August 1852 edition of the Millennial Harbinger, Campbell pronounced, “In our countries [sic] destiny is involved the destiny of Protestantism, and in its destiny the destiny of all the nations of the world. God has given, in awful charge, to Protestant England and Protestant America – the Anglo-Saxon race – the fortunes, not of Christendom only, but of all the world.”[8]

Alexander Campbell

As the issue of slavery took on a greater and greater importance in the United States, Campbell wrote, “Much as I may sympathize with a black man, I love the white man more,” thus endorsing a church system that places white folk first and theologically supported Aquinas’ argument of soul layering (which I talked about last week), placing the white soul a notch higher than the soul of a person of color.[9]

After the Civil War, during the initial months of his administration, President Ulysses S. Grant decided he needed to address the so-called “Indian Problem.” Disciples pastor David Bell points out, “five years earlier the United States had ended a war to ensure only one nation would occupy the land from sea to shining sea. However, once the Civil War was over, the reality that years of treaty making between the U.S. and American Tribes had created multiple independent Indian nations across the American landscape confronted the Grant administration. The question before the Grant administration was how to eliminate the Indian nations – thus the Grant Peace policy.

“To eliminate Tribal sovereignty and nationhood the U.S. had to first ‘abrogate’ existing treaties. A rider on the March 3, 1871 Indian appropriation bill made it a reality that, ‘no Indian nation or tribe within the territory of the United States shall be acknowledged or recognized as an independent nation, tribe, or power with whom the United States may contract by treaty’ [U.S. Statutes at Large, 16:566]. This radical congressional action of dismantling Tribal identity and structure changed the U.S. government’s opinion of American Tribes from that of sovereign nations to that of designated ‘wards.’”[10]

Now that Native Americans were considered wards, the United States initiated a program to do away with Indian identity. In 1870, Congress passed an appropriation for Indian education. This allowed the government to recruit a wide variety of Christian denominations to establish Indian mission school with the goal of converting and civilizing the Indians. Attendance at these mission schools was made mandatory on many reservations for all native children aged six through sixteen.[11] I’m not sure if the Disciples of Christ actually ran such a school on the Yakama Reservation in Washington, but I do know that the DOC has had a mission on the reservation since about this time, a mission that still functions today.

The good news is that how the mission functions has changed in many ways since it was founded. Just this year, they have supported the call for Native rights at the Standing Rock demonstrations and at Oak Flats, and they will be working with the Inter-Tribal coalition of the Diné, Ute Mountain, Hopi, Zuni, and Ute to bring awareness and support for the Bears Ears National Monument. The Yakama Christian Mission has gone from a tool of white supremacy to a vehicle of protection of “the North American Landscape and her Indigenous People.”[12]

The United Church of Christ is also complicit in white supremacy. The Congregationalists (one of the predecessor denominations of the UCC) sent missionaries out into the world – that is, out to the heathens who just happened to be non-whites – to bring them Christianity and civilization. One of the places they went was Hawaii. The Congregationalist missionaries and perhaps moreso their children were complicit in the overthrow of Queen Liliʻuokalani.

As the UCC said in their 1993 apology to the Hawaiian people, “Some of these [missionary] men and women … sometimes confused the ways of the West with the ways of the Christ. Assumptions of cultural and racial superiority and alien economic understanding led some of them and those who followed them to discount or undervalue the strengths of the mature society they encountered. Therefore, the rich indigenous values of na Kanaka Maoli, their language, their spirituality, and their regard for the land, were denigrated. The resulting social, political, and economic implications of these harmful attitudes contributed to the suffering of na Kanaka Maoli in that time and into the present.” The United Church of Christ’s apology came with some money for restitution, too.[13]

Apologies and restitution are a start. Changing behavior to demonstrate a new attitude is a start. But what else can we as a church do to overcome how deeply ingrained racism is not just in our society, but in the churches as well?

If we really believe what Paul wrote to the Galatians, that distinctions of ethnicity and distinctions of economic and societal status and even distinctions of gender do not matter, for we are all one in Christ, then we need to do our best to remove racism from our cultural DNA.

The culture that Daniel and his friends were forced into wanted them to violate their consciences. The Babylonians wanted them to do things that went against their values, but they held fast and made a way of conscience when one might of thought there could be no way. My hope is that we can do the same – that we will hold fast to our values of equality and community even when the culture around us continues to allow white supremacy to function.

Last year, the General Board of the Disciples of Christ received a report from the “Racist Language Audit Task Force.” The report goes through the official documents of the denomination – the bylaws (called the “Design”), the standing rules for meetings, denominational policies, and other such documents – and makes specific recommendations of how these documents can be changed to be less racist. In essence, they made recommendations for how the General Ministries of the DOC can work to remove some of the racism from the denomination’s DNA.

As you know, during this sermon series, I am making a suggestion of a possible action we as a congregation or we as individuals can take to respond to some aspect of racism. My suggestion for this week is that we create our own Racist Language Audit Task Force to recommend how our bylaws, policies, and meeting rules (and even our Strategic Plan, if it’s needed) could be less racist.

That’s one concrete example of something we can do to be less racist. I want to offer one more concrete example of something some other people did. I’m not sure how we can apply it to our congregation, but it is a story that gives me hope.

About five weeks ago, a Native American man told Diana Butler Bass a story about something that had happened at the Standing Rock protests in the preceding months. She wrote about this story: “At the height of the prayer protest, there was also great violence. At one point, a white man stood up and called out, ‘Everyone here who is white, come to the front! We will form a shield that the security forces must shoot us first!’ And they did so. All the white folks who had gathered at Standing Rock surrounded all the native people, all holding hands, and stood between the water protectors and the guns.

“The native man told me this story with tears in his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘terrible things are happening. But never in my life – never in the history of my tribe – did white people stand between us and the bullets. Terrible things are happening. And beautiful, brave things as well.’”[14]

May we all find beautiful, brave things to do. Amen.

[1] Elizabeth Flock and Iman Smith, “Strengthened by Standing Rock, Native Americans march on D.C. What’s next for the movement?” PBS Newshour, http://www.pbs.org/newshour/updates/strengthened-standing-rock-native-americans-march-d-c-whats-next-movement/ (posted and accessed 10 March 2017).

[2] Howard Zinn, “Drawing the Color Line,” History Is a Weapon, http://www.historyisaweapon.com/defcon1/zinncolorline.html (accessed 10 March 2017).

[3] Ibid.

[4] The Constitution of the United States of America, Article 1, Section 2.

[5] “Johnson v. M’Intosh,” Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johnson_v._M’Intosh (accessed 10 March 2017).

[6] Ibid.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Alexander Campbell, quoted by David B. Bell, “Disciples Unified Destiny,” Landscape Mending, https://landscapemending.wordpress.com/bent-grass-a-breif-history-of-cdod-and-doc/ (posted 20 July 2011; accessed 10 March 2017).

[9] Ibid.

[10] David B. Bell, “An 1870 Faith Based Initiative,” Landscape Mending, https://landscapemending.wordpress.com/bent-grass-a-breif-history-of-cdod-and-doc/ (posted 20 July 2011; accessed 10 March 2017). Verb tenses changed to fit the past tense voice of the sermon.

[11] Ibid.

[12] The Yakama Christian Mission’s mission statement is “To advocate and educate in favor of the North American Landscape and her Indigenous People.” Learn more at https://yakamamission.org/.

[13] The Rev. Mr. Paul Sherry, as part of his formal apology to the Hawaiian people on behalf of the United Church of Christ, recorded at https://uccapology.wordpress.com (accessed 10 March 2017).

[14] Diana Butler Bass, in a Facebook post https://www.facebook.com/Diana.Butler.Bass/posts/10154589452273500 on 11 February 2017 (accessed most recently on 10 March 2017).

A sermon preached at Niles Discovery Church, Fremont, California,
on Sunday, March 5, 2017, by the Rev. Jeffrey Spencer.
Scriptures: Matthew
Copyright © 2017 by Jeffrey S. Spencer

My mother, it turns out, was right. I was in ninth grade when I announced that I wanted to become a minister when I grew up. While my parents thought this was just the latest in a string of professions I wanted to pursue (in third grade, I wanted to be a forest ranger), my mother took full advantage of the announcement.

The public high school I went to was large enough and well funded enough that it offered several options and several levels for classes in many subjects. Several languages were taught at various levels. Everything from math basics to second year calculus were taught by the math department. The social studies department offered several choices of subjects.

I was taking World Civilizations I in ninth grade and had no desire to take World Civilizations II in tenth grade – too much reading and writing. But my mother said that if I wanted to be a minister, I needed to know my history so I needed to take World Civ II in tenth grade.

That’s right: my mom knew how to take advantage of whatever resources were at hand to get her kids to do what she wanted. And, yes, she was right: Understanding history is important for doing theology.

Today, we’re going to do a little history because it’s a necessary part of understanding the church’s role in normalizing racism in the United States. Oh, but the history we learn versus the history that actually happened …

For instance, in fourteen hundred and ninety-two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue. And what is Columbus famous for? Well, I was taught that Columbus discovered America. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

We actually need to start before Jesus. We need to start back with Aristotle. Aristotle thought that all living things (plants, animals, humans) have a structure. Plants have a vegetative structure that is primarily about taking in nutrients, reproducing, and such. Animals have this structure plus a sensitive structure that interacts via the sense with the environment and that creates desire. Humans add to this a rational structure – which, according to Aristotle, makes us unique. Thus, Aristotle thought there was a hierarchy of living things, with humans at the pinnacle.[1]

slide1Saint Augustine of Hippo took Aristotle’s argument and restructured it into a theological construct. In his famous Confessions, Augustine held “… a perfect man to be in Christ – not the body of a man only, nor, in the body, an animal soul without a rational one as well, but a true man. And this man I held to be superior to all others, not only because he was a form of the Truth, but also because of the great excellence and perfection of his human nature, due to his participation in wisdom.”[2]

If I’m reading this correctly, Augustine held that humans were superior to other creatures because of our connection to and our participation in wisdom. That is, humans are special because of our rationality. And I think he may also be suggesting (or at least he could be interpreted to be suggesting) that Christians (that is, those who are in Christ) are more connected to rationality than other humans.

“Thomas Aquinas furthers Augustine’s work of setting the ‘rational soul’ of humans against that of the ‘animal soul.’ Aquinas holds much of creation has a soul, yet there is clearly a difference between the rational soul of humans and [the soul] of, say, a dog. This standpoint places the rational human soul as better than and therefore above all other created souls. Thus, Aquinas argues for soul layering where the human rational soul is above all other created souls. This soul layering argument allowed Christianity to create a structure of belief where not only does the animal soul reside at a level lower than that of the rational human soul, but also, those humans who are not rational have a soul that resides somewhere between that of the rational person and that of a dog.”[3]

A couple hundred years before Aquinas, “in 1095, at the beginning of the Crusades, Pope Urban II issued an edict – the Papal Bull Terra Nullius (meaning empty land). It gave the kings and princes of Europe the right to ‘discover’ or claim land in non-Christian areas. This policy was extended in 1452 [a couple hundred years after Aquinas] when Pope Nicholas V issued the bull Romanus Pontifex, declaring war against all non-Christians throughout the world and authorizing the conquest of their nations and territories. These edicts treated non-Christians as uncivilized and subhuman, and therefore without rights to any land or nation. Christian leaders claimed a God-given right to take control of all lands and used this idea to justify war, colonization, and even slavery.

“By the time Christopher Columbus set sail in 1492, this Doctrine of Discovery was a well-established idea in the Christian world. When he reached the Americas, Columbus performed a ceremony to ‘take possession’ of all lands ‘discovered,’ meaning all territory not occupied by Christians. Upon his return to Europe in 1493, Pope Alexander VI issued the bull Inter Cetera, granting Spain the right to conquer the lands that Columbus had already ‘discovered’ and all lands that it might come upon in the future. This decree also expressed the Pope’s wish to convert the natives of these lands to Catholicism in order to strengthen the ‘Christian Empire.’”[4]

Keep in mind that all of this is happening before the Reformation. So this is action by our direct spiritual ancestors. And I can’t escape a connection to this Doctrine by saying that I’m a Mayflower descendant, not a descendant of the Spanish. You see, the Doctrine of Discovery is baked into our United States culture (and I’ll get into that next week).

No, this Doctrine of Discovery, which allowed European kings and princes to send armies into non-Christian lands (that is non-European lands), allowed Europeans to come to the Americas and subjugate the peoples already living here, for they were judged to be insufficiently rational to be equal to the European conquerors.

I find this philosophy that allowed Christians to come and kill people just because they were not Christian to be directly contradicted by the brief section of the Sermon on the Mount we heard today. When Jesus said, “Love you enemies,” I don’t think he meant we should kill them, or enslave them, or commit genocide against them. Yet that is what Christians did when they “discovered” the Americas.

But maybe that’s too easy, too glib a biblical response to this history of ours. The story of Jesus and the Syrophoenician woman invites us to a little more nuance, in part because the story is troubling. The story is troubling because Jesus comes across as a bit of a jerk. A desperate woman with a seriously sick child comes to Jesus seeking help, and Jesus response is an ethnic slur. No theological tap dance can avoid it: Jesus calls this unnamed woman a dog, and that’s an ethnic slur. And though the modern concept of “race” had not yet been developed, this ethnic slur is pretty close to being a racial slur.

Jesus and the Syrophoenician Woman by Rembrandt

“Jesus and the Syrophoenician Woman” by Rembrandt

“To be clear,” writes David Henson, “while there is some debate about the social and cultural dynamics at work here, Jesus holds all the power in this exchange. The woman doesn’t approach with arrogance or a sense of entitlement associated with wealth or privilege. Rather she comes to him in the most human way possible, desperate and pleading for her daughter. And he responds by dehumanizing her with ethnic prejudice, if not bigotry. In our modern terms, we know that power plus [racial] prejudice equals racism.”[5]

When faced with the complexities of the sin of personal and systemic racism, it is much easier to think of Jesus as transcending them all and loving all peoples regardless of skin color or culture of origin. We want Jesus to be the simple, easy answer to all our problems and to all of society’s problems. Jesus loves the little children of the world, and their little dogs, too.

In truth, at least in Mark’s gospel, rather than being part of the solution to ethnic prejudice, Jesus seems to be very much part of the problem, according to this story. When confronted with the gentile pagan in this story, he explains that his message and ministry are for Israelites only, a comment of ethnic exclusion and prejudice that calls to mind a similar refrain from a more modern time – whites only – that reverberated throughout our country not too long ago, and seems to be echoing still. It wouldn’t be fair, Jesus explains, to take the banquet prepared for his people – the children, the humans – and give it to gentiles – the dogs, the less than human.

If it does nothing else, the story of the Syrophoenician woman teaches us the dynamics of power and prejudice, of how even the best of humanity (I’m talking Jesus here) can get caught up in systems of oppression, in a culture of supremacy. Just as we are today in our culture, Jesus was reared into the prejudiced worldview of his culture. He could not easily escape it. And neither can we.

“But being caught in such evil, however, does not make one an overt racist.  It is what happens in the moments afterwards that makes that determination. How we respond, when confronted with the narratives of the oppressed or the Other, reveals who we truly are. Do we continue to ignore or deny these realities of oppression? Mock them? Continue to brush them aside with dismissive prejudice as dogs?

“Or do we, like Jesus, do the miraculous and listen to them, be changed by the power of the truth they are speaking?

“When this woman, in boldness, confronts Jesus and his ethnic slur, Jesus listens. And he hears.

“[I think] it is the only time recorded in the gospels in which Jesus changes his mind.

“‘But even the dogs get table scraps,’ she replies, a subtle calling out of his dehumanizing language.

“Jesus is astounded, the holy wind knocked out of him. A moment before, she was but a dog to him. In the next, the scales fall from his eyes as he listens to her and sees her for what she truly is, a woman of great faith.

“Jesus does the most difficult thing for those of us born into prejudice and power.

“He listens. And allows himself to be fundamentally changed.

“When it happens, when we finally have ears to hear, we will never be the same, will never be able to listen to the lies of the dominant oppressors the same way again.”[6]

The movie The Mission (a movie that connects to the sin of the Doctrine of Discovery deeply) ends with the slaughter of a group of native peoples in South America by European “discoverers.” Then, in the penultimate scene, Señor Hontar, the governor of the Portuguese-claimed territories and the Papal emissary Cardinal Altamirano are together in a room when they get news of the slaughter.

Hontar says to the Cardinal: We must work in the world, your eminence. The world is thus.

The Cardinal corrects him: No, Señor Hontar. Thus have we made the world.

The Christian church, through the Doctrine of Discovery, has made this corner of the world racist. So what do we do about it?

My goal in this sermon series is to give you something concrete you can do individually or we can do as a congregation to address some aspect of racism. Here’s what I have in mind this week. Because the church has normalized the sin of racism by espousing the Doctrine of Discovery, it seems to me that the first thing we can do it to repudiate the Doctrine.

And we actually have an opportunity to do this as a congregation. The Disciples of Christ will hold their General Assembly this summer and one of the resolutions that will be voted on will be a repudiation of the Doctrine of Discovery. We can, as a congregation, endorse this resolution formally and send word to the General Assembly of our action. Copies of the resolution are in the fellowship hall, I believe on the snack table.

I think that, if we are to endorse the resolution, endorsement should be done by a formal vote of the congregation, and there are three ways we can do that:

  • One or more of you can request that the Cabinet call a Special Congregational Meeting, which could be held in April, for the purpose of voting on endorsement.
  • One or more of you can ask the Cabinet to put endorsement of the resolution on the Annual Meeting agenda (which will be held on May 7).
  • Or, if it’s not on the Annual Meeting agenda, one of you can make a motion at the Annual Meeting that we endorse the resolution.

How we proceed – if we proceed – is really up to you.

[1] John G. Messerly, “Summary of Aristotle’s Theory of Human Nature,” Reason and Meaning, http://reasonandmeaning.com/2014/10/17/theories-of-human-nature-chapter-9-aristotle-part-1/ (posted 17 October 2014; accessed 4 March 2017).

[2] Quoted by David B. Bell, “When Reason Becomes Faith,” Bent Grass: DoD and DOC History, https://landscapemending.wordpress.com/bent-grass-a-breif-history-of-cdod-and-doc/ (posted 2 July 2011; accessed 4 March 2017).

[3] Bell, “When Reason Becomes Faith,” op. cit.

[4] “Lewis and Clark: The Unheard Voices,” Anti-Defamation League, http://archive.adl.org/education/curriculum_connections/doctrine_of_discovery.html (posted 2005; accessed 4 March 2017).

[5] David R. Henson, “Crumbs: Jesus and the Ethnic Slur,” Patheos, http://www.patheos.com/blogs/davidhenson/2015/09/crumbs-jesus-and-the-ethnic-slur-lectionary-reflection-mark-724-37/ (posted 2 September 2015; accessed 4 March 2017).

[6] Ibid.

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