the Lord wept...

"As Jesus came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, 'If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes.'"
Luke 19:41-42

I took this photograph in 2007 when I was visiting Jerusalem for Holy Week and Easter. It was taken on the grounds of Dominus Flevit, a Roman Catholic Church on the Mount of Olives that commemorates Jesus' weeping over Jerusalem before entering it on Palm Sunday.

The modern architecture of the church is roughly in the shape of a tear.

This photo, peering into Jerusalem from Dominus Flevit (which means "the Lord Wept") through the all-too-common razor wire in a city that has known centuries of weeping, helped to capture for me, in a way that my words at the time could not, the sadness of that part of the world that must still deeply grieve the heart of Christ.

Jerusalem can seem painfully sad. The landscape is scarred by cement and stone walls meant to exclude one people from another. Windows and doors on apartment buildings and college dormitories are fitted with armored covers to protect the inhabitants from unpredictable outbreaks of war. Religious ceremonies are guarded by teenagers carrying automatic rifles. The infighting among religious groups vying for space is held perilously in check by a centuries-old document called the Status Quo (honest-to-God!). The only chance for keeping any remote semblance of a tenuous peace is upholding the Status Quo and abiding by the rulings of long ago.

Even the Old City itself is a collection of subtle divisions: you may enter in Palestine, but after walking a few blocks you may find yourself in Israel. A few blocks more and you may find yourself in Armenia or Rome or Greece. They are divisions that most tourists would never recognize - at least not until having crossed them - but the people who know the city know their place within it and rarely stray.

My experiences in Jerusalem were profoundly life-changing and life-giving. I would never exchange them for anything.

But, at least in part, I feel like I know why Jesus wept that Palm Sunday so long ago.

I have wept over Jerusalem, too.

Whenever the people of God are torn by division and infighting, I believe that it grieves the heart of God.

Whenever we build walls that are meant to exclude, I believe that Jesus weeps again.

Today, the Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth - a diocese that has long held fast to its walls to hold out women, and gay and lesbian people and their allies, and any other progressive or nontraditional voices that may have dared to attempt entry - today they voted to "leave" the Episcopal Church.

Obviously, a diocese - a creation of the General Church which is, in itself, held in trust for the General Church - cannot "leave" the General Church. But my purpose here is not to debate the legal or ecclesial realities. There will be time enough for that later.

My purpose, instead, is to notice that once again, the church has grieved the heart of God.

Once again, Jesus weeps.

I ask your prayers for the Episcopal Church in Fort Worth. I ask your prayers for those who felt the need to abandon the church and for those who feel called to rebuild it.

For more news on the matter, I refer you to the blog of my friend Katie Sherrod. Not only is she one of the true prophets of the church and a progressive voice on the ground in Fort Worth, but she's a rock star writer and can really capture the heart of most matters she approaches with subtlety, grace, and wit.

And while you're at it, say a prayer for Katie. Because while I'm sure that she's not one bit surprised, I have no doubt but that she's grieving for our church, too.

Baptismal Revolutionaries

November 2, 2008
All Saints’ Sunday
Matthew 5:1-12

In the name of God: Source of all being, Incarnate Word, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

One of the reasons that I love Jesus so much is that he had this way of turning the world on its end. I’ve always had something of a soft spot in my heart for troublemakers – those saints of the ages who stood up against the ways of the world to reach toward a world that could be. So really, it was only a matter of time before I began loving Jesus. He was a troublemaker of the best sort.

When we think of Jesus as troublemaker, we tend to get a kind of “Jesus Christ Superstar” image of Jesus arguing with Judas about the merits of Mary Magdalene, or turning over the tables of the money changers in the temple, or rebuking Peter with an angry, “Get behind me, Satan!” Those are the dramatic moments. But the troublemaking Jesus that stirs my soul is a little subtler. It’s a little more pervasive than any action-filled vignette could capture.

Certainly in the eyes of the authority of his day, Jesus was a troublemaker. He didn’t behave. He didn’t “play the game” and make the right friends. He didn’t climb the social ladder to gain influence. Instead, he challenged his society. He had incredibly high expectations for those around him – higher than anyone had considered before. He demanded that people think about their relationships with God and with each other in new ways, and very often they hated him for it.

This morning’s Gospel lesson is a fine example of that. In the Beatitudes, Jesus takes everything that the people following him thought they knew about the world and he turns it around.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven…”

I didn’t know it at the time when I was told to memorize these words as a child in Sunday School, but these are the words of revolution. The blood of the martyrs has been shed over these words. The memories of all the saints are preserved – right there.

It’s not a popular message, but it is the Christian message.

There are plenty of churches where you could go to hear safer messages: sermon series’ about how you can use your Christian faith to have a happier marriage or to be more successful in your career. But Jesus’ message to us is not so much about finding success in the traditional ways of the world than it is about finding a successful relationship with God. It is a revolution against the dominant social establishment in favor of a higher order.

It is this message of revolution to which we are called in the mystery of our baptism: to turn the world upside down so that we can see God in ever-new ways and so that we can see the Christ in each other a little more clearly.

It is this message of revolution that knits us together with the saints into one communion and one fellowship in the mystical Body of Christ.

Christ calls us to be troublemakers.

Through the pages of our history as a church we see it again and again. The people we revere as examples of the faith are those that succeeded in turning the world upside down and who helped to show us all new ways of seeking and serving Christ in all persons and better ways of loving our neighbors as ourselves.

Elizabeth Cady Stanton, whose feast we celebrate on July 20th each year, was one of the 19th century founders of the Women’s Rights Movement. Born into a family of political power and social standing, she could have chosen to live a life of ease by upholding the status quo. Instead, she heard the call to strive for justice and peace among all people, and she dedicated her life to seeking equal rights for women in the church, in the workplace, and in society at large.

Jonathan Myrick Daniels was a seminarian at the Episcopal Theological School in Cambridge, Massachusetts in the 1960s. Moved by the revolutionary words of the Magnificat: “He hath put down the mighty from their seat and hath exalted the humble and meek,” he felt called to minister to oppressed African Americans in Selma, Alabama. After an appeal by Martin Luther King, Jr., he took a leave of absence from seminary to go to Alabama to help secure voting rights for African Americans. He was arrested for his efforts and on the day of his release he was shot and killed on the street by an unemployed highway worker who blamed the Civil Rights Movement for his economic hardship. Jonathan heard the call of his baptism and lived and died as a proclamation of the Good News of God in Christ.

Though we have hundreds of examples of the saints that we honor and celebrate in our tradition, there are countless other examples of troublemakers who have lived and who continue to live their lives as baptismal revolutionaries – saints who continually endeavor to turn the world upside-down so that we all might reach some better life.

In her All Saints’ Day message to the church, our Presiding Bishop asks that we bring with us today both the memory of a saint who we know and the memory of a saint who remains unknown to us. Perhaps that unknown saint is some member of the community who does the quiet and often-overlooked task of looking after others – the meals on wheels volunteer, or the woman on her front porch quietly keeping watch over the children at play on the street. Or perhaps the unknown saint is the one who does the work that we forget to do or would rather not do: the concerned one who sifts through the trash to sort the recyclables that we have blithely tossed aside, or the nurse, who on his break, spends a few minutes offering companionship to one who is dying alone.

The theologian, Jay McDaniel said, “Whenever and wherever we see wisdom, compassion, and freedom in our world, even if only for a moment, we see God’s spirit.”

In those moments of communion with God’s spirit, we are knit into the communion of the saints. In those all-too-rare moments when we are agents of wisdom, compassion, and freedom, we are the troublemakers, disrupting the world that would have been. We are the baptismal revolutionaries that Christ has called us to be.

Amen.

IT WON'T BE ME!!!!

My dear friend and mentor, the Rev. Elizabeth Kaeton sent this to me.

Clearly she doesn't know that I spend the whole quadrennium just WAITING for another opportunity to vote for President! (I'm such a political nerd...)

But the message is clear. Will we have another Florida? Will it be YOUR fault??

VOTE OBAMA!!!

Shamelessly stealing

So this one's been circulating wildly through the blogosphere, but it's absolutely worth stealing and sharing with you.

What if Jesus were running for POTUS?

Enjoy!

Time with the family

Last week I had to run down South for a couple of days to tend to some family business, and one of the good pieces of news that came out of that was that I had a chance to meet the two newest Richardsons: my nephews Miles and Gaines.

They were born prematurely on September 8th. Both are doing well and growing, if not as fast as we would all like!

Miles (the larger one) may be heading home soon. It was a real joy for me to be able to hold him a few times and feed him and for us to begin to get to know one another. Like his mother, he sleeps a LOT. But here's a rare picture of him with his eyes open.


Gaines is much smaller than his brother, but still strong and doing well. He's still too small to hold, but I was able to reach into his isolette and play with him a little. He seems to be fond of high fives and fist bumps. Like his father, Gaines avoids sleep at all costs! Usually he can be seen doing somersaults in his little isolette, but here's a rare shot of him sleeping.


While both boys still have a ways to go before they're entirely out of the woods, one thing remains certain: they're clearly the smartest and most attractive boys in the whole NICU! :)

Thank you for all of your prayers. I look forward to seeing them again soon!

I've never been more proud of my homeland...

Here's a little zydeco Obama anthem from Louisiana... The music of my people!

Really, I'm so proud. For most of my life I thought my immediate family and I were the only Democrats left in Louisiana.

And now - two weeks before the election - let's take a little break from my obvious political preferences and simply pause to consider the seriousness of all that faces our nation.

Almighty God, to whom we must account for all our powers and privileges: Guide the people of the United States in the election of officials and representatives; that, by faithful administration and wise laws, the rights of all may be protected and our nation be enabled to fulfill your purposes; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (BCP, 822)

Toilet talk at tonight's debate

There was a lot of talk about "Joe the plumber" at tonight's debate.

Well, I did a bit of research and discovered this:

• Barack Obama's tax plan will tax the 5% of businesses that have revenue in excess of $250,000.00 a year
• The higher tax rate will apply ONLY to the part of the revenue that exceeds $250,000.00 per year
• Did I mention that ONLY 5% of businesses have profits that exceed $250,000.00 per year!!
• In the case of "Joe the plumber", he's planning to buy a business that generates $250,000.00-$280,000.00
• The current tax rate of 36% would apply to the first $250,000.00
• Additional earnings would be taxed at the higher rate of 39%
• Banking my figures on the high end ($280,000.00) the tax difference for "Joe the plumber" under Obama's plan would be:

$900

Seriously???!!!

John McCain made "Joe the plumber" a major campaign issue over $900???!!!

Give me a break...

Source: Political Punch (ABC)

NOTE:

So... Several people have written to me about the difference between "profit" and "revenue". To this, I can only respond: this is why I studied theology and not economics. I can handle figures, but I must admit that I really don't understand the kind of complex economics that are necessary to successfully administer a small business.

What I do understand, on the other hand, is justice. Though my numbers are probably wrong from any actual administrative point of view, my point remains the same - if your business is generating $280,000.00 a year in profit, then suck it up and pay your extra $900 in taxes. It's for the good of the community.

As my brother reminded me, even that can be self serving. If your $900 in extra taxes makes the quality of life of the actual middle class stronger (God help us if we actually start talking about helping the POOR!), then that will actually help the wealthy, too! When the economy is stronger and when there is a stronger middle class and fewer people in poverty, then they're all more likely to actually CALL a plumber when they need one, rather than letting problems wait or fixing them for themselves.

"Trickle down economics" has been proven to be a fallacy. But let's start talking about "trickly UP economics". Help those who NEED the help, and the wealthy will have their day. I guarantee it!