Reports from the Road: From Judgment to Blessing

“Homosexuals are going to hell. The Bible says so. You can read it in Romans 1.”

My conversation companions froze in their places and averted their eyes. What would happen next? His voice was rather loud. We were in the second pew and seemed exposed to the whole community. Or that’s what it felt like to be caught in that moment.

At the closing worship service of a synod assembly, I was seated early in the second pew talking with two supporters about the same-gender  “Freedom to Marry” legislation in Minnesota. A man dressed stiffly in a suit and tie awkwardly made his way into the pew and sat beside me. He listened briefly to our animated talk and asked what we were discussing. When he heard our subject, he quickly proclaimed: “Homosexuals are going to hell. The Bible says so.”

Worship would begin in less than five minutes. I began to ask him questions about his experience with LGBT people – family and co-workers. I learned he had already condemned his gay cousin and that their relationship was fractured. He was fearful about what same-gender people being out and married might mean in our state.

I gently suggested that we turn to Romans 2:1 because it describes the Apostle Paul’s first chapter: “You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge the other, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things.” In other words: Do not judge others, lest you be judged by God.

We talked until the organ prelude began and our conversation was shut down without resolution.  As I lifted my hymnal for the opening hymn, I noticed that my conversation partner did not have one. So, we held the same book of Evangelical Lutheran Worship for the entire service. We stood shoulder to shoulder, singing hymns and liturgy, and sharing Christ’s peace and Holy Communion. A connection was made. Disagreements were put aside, if not released.

As we left the sanctuary, we shook hands. He offered a blessing for my safe drive home. I wished him well. We had moved from judgment to blessing during that service. Engaging our neighbor, even the ones who would condemn us, is the work of reconciliation. It is amazing what the love of God in Christ Jesus can do. Reconciling works…for the sake of the world.

Congratulations, Zion Lutheran!

We are pleased to announce our newest RIC congregation--Zion Lutheran Church in Elgin, IL!



Zion Lutheran is a friendly church with an active community-based ministry. Hot meals are served every Tuesday for low income residents, monthly breakfasts for the homeless are served, community groups use the facility for all sorts of activities, volunteers foster partnership with the neighboring elementary school and deliver Meals on Wheels, teams have taken mission trips, and the congregation is preparing to send mentors to Lowrie Elementary as a part of Kids Hope USA. We are excited that Zion is adding the RIC commitment to their bouquet of welcoming hospitality!

Life at the Intersection blog post for May 27 - Michael Cobbler

In the cafeteria at Public School 129 in Brooklyn, I had just given a bag of chocolate cookies to Junebug, the bully who had taken my lunch from me the day before. He had given a cookie to Bootsie, a member of his crew, to make sure it was okay to eat. Junebug demanded that Bootsie eat the cookie. Bootsie took a bite, smiled for a moment, and then fell on the floor.

"I've been poisoned!"

"You better not be kidding!" Junebug sternly replied.

"I sure am kidding--the cookie tastes great!"

Junebug passed out the cookies to his crew and said to Bootsie, "Don't you play with me like that!

He then turns to me and says, "Thanks for the cookies, punk--and thank your momma, too!"

"You are most welcome!"

Two days later, I saw Junebug during recess. I said, "Junebug, I have some more cookies for you--three full bags."

"Now these are really poison, right?"

"No, they are not--and they're all for you."

"What am I going to do with all these cookies?"

"Whatever you want--give them to your friends, give them to the teachers, give them to the principal--it's your choice!"

He took them with a wary look in his eyes--could he trust the fellow he bullied three days ago on Thursday? "Don't be messin' with me, man, don't be messin' with me!

"My mother and I hope you enjoy them yourself, and also the people who receive them from you."

I saw Junebug next on Friday afternoon in the playground, surrounded by his friends. I approached him with a large bag of cookies, saying, "Junebug, here are some…"

"Arrgh!" he cried out, running out of the playground onto Quincy Street, away from his friends, his cookies, me, and soon after that, his days of bullying.

Junebug and I did become friends after the events of that week, often playing on the same punch ball team in pickup games on Stuyvesant Avenue. Many years later, as an adult, I asked my mother what prompted her to deal with my cold anger as she did on that Monday. She said, in effect, that it was all too easy to lose a son to rage or retaliation on the streets of Bedford-Stuyvesant. She was concerned that she had already lost my two older brothers, and she was determined not to lose me.

Thank you, Mom, for teaching and showing me how to be creative in the face of oppression. I, and all of us, need that godly gift all the more these days. Next time, let's talk basketball (sort of)! See you all real soon at the intersection!

Reports from the Road: What does the designation "Reconciling in Christ" mean in 2013?

Thanks to Adam Johnston for sharing his letter with Anita Hill, Regional Director for North and South Dakota and Minnesota , ReconcilingWorks: Lutherans for Full Participation

March 17, 2013 

To the Members of St Mark’s Lutheran Church, Fargo, North Dakota: 

I attended the congregational meeting to vote on seeking a buyer for St. Mark's property today, and I had a realization. St. Mark's Lutheran Church [a Reconciling in Christ congregation] is the first faith community where I've felt like I was home. I've only known the church for a little over a year, and I've been a member for less than that. Nonetheless, St. Mark's has become a home for me. As the results were read, I immediately felt a wave of sorrow. A loss. As I looked around the sanctuary, gauging others' responses, my own response changed. I felt an enormous sense of community, and the strength of this congregation's members was resonating in that holy space. I realized the church was no more home to me than the house I'm renting in Moorhead, or the hotel I stayed at on my last vacation. My rented house is home because of the people I live with: 4 of my best friends. The hotel felt like home because my dad was in the other bed. And this church building feels like home because of the men and women who have welcomed me unquestioningly; men and women who have become my role models; men and women who have inspired my faith at a time when it was nearly gone. I realized that the sale of a building will never be able to eliminate that community, and a sense of peace came over me. When that peace settled in, I had tears in my eyes; they were not, however, tears of sadness, sorrow, or loss. They were tears of love, tears of hope. They were the same tears I cried as I returned to my family after my first 2-week vacation alone. St. Mark's has made such an impact on my life over the last year; I cannot imagine how this change must feel for those who have been a part of this family for years, or even decades. For those who felt the heavy weight of loss as the results were read, I hope each person had the chance to look around and feel the strength and community that I felt filling that space. That feeling is going to grow, adapt, and live in whatever space it is given in the future. And that makes me excited to be a part of St. Mark's Lutheran Congregation.

With love for my church family,

Adam Johnston

A New RIC Congregation: Augustana Lutheran Church!

 

Congratulations to our newest RIC congregation, Augustana Lutheran Church in Saskatoon, SK! A congregation rich in social and healing ministry, Augustana is home to a unique Sunday service that includes both traditional liturgy and jazz worship. This congregation is excited to become a part of the RIC community and we are excited to welcome them to join us on the journey of hospitality and reconciliation! Please join us in congratulating and welcoming them!

Life at the Intersection blog post for May 4 - Michael Cobbler column

Peace and blessings to you all! Many of us have deep appreciation for the caregivers who reared us in our early years and the ways they guided and shaped our lives then - and now. In this two-part intersections piece, I would like to give thanks to my sainted mother Loreece, who taught me a powerful and precious lesson about the intersection of oppressions well before I knew what that was.

One day I was on my way to Public School 129, an elementary school in Brooklyn, New York, with my books and my favorite lunch of chocolate milk, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and homemade chocolate chip cookies in hand. As I walked up Stuyvesant Ave. and turned onto Quincy St., I was face-to-face with Junebug, a local bully. He stopped me and said, “Punk, what you got in that bag?” I stuttered, “J-J-J-J-Junebug, it’s my lunch.” He ordered, “Give it to me!” I responded, “B-B-B-B-But it’s my favorite lunch.” Junebug knocked me to the ground, snatched the bag from my hand and hollered, “I told you to give it to me, and now look at what you’ve done!” He proudly walked away with his free lunch.

My glasses were in one place, my books were in another, and I was filled with cold anger. I usually participated in class, but I said nothing in school that day. There were no witnesses, so I thought it would be foolish to tell anyone at school what happened to me. When I got home, Mom could tell something was up, because I didn’t say anything about my day at school. She asked, “How was school today?”

“I’m going to kill him!”

“You are going to kill someone? Who might that person be?”

“I’m going to kill Junebug.”

Mom thought for a moment, and then said, “And why are you going to kill Junebug?”

“He stole my lunch from me this morning, and I’m going to kill him!”

Mom thought again and said, “Well, before you kill Junebug, there’s something I want you to do with me.”

Revenge was high on my mind that afternoon, but Mom had a plan, and she made me promise that I would follow it step-by-step without wavering or shortcuts.

The next day, I saw Junebug in the lunchroom. As soon as he saw me, he said, “There goes that four-eyed punk! His friends started laughing at me. I then pulled two bags out of my pockets and said, “Hi, Junebug. Here are some cookies. My mom and I made them just for you.”

“You and your momma made them just for me? Hey, guys, the punk and his momma made some cookies for me! …Are they poisoned?”

“No, they are not poisoned. There are a dozen of them. You can even share them with your friends.”

“Don’t be messin’ with me!” Junebug took the bags and said to one friend, “Hey, Bootsie, eat one of those cookies!”

“I don’t want to die!” exclaimed Bootsie.

“Eat the cookie!!

To be continued next week.

Life at the Intersection blog post for April 26 - Michael Cobbler column

Greetings to you this hopeful spring season! Life at the intersection of oppressions requires the addressing of “perceived competing concerns,” the building of fruitful and powerful alliances, and the crafting of what I call “blended blessings” for the well-being of humankind and the honoring of God. In my reflections in this period between Earth Day (April 22) and the International Day against Homophobia and Transphobia (IDAHOT - May 17), a favorite folktale of mine from Trinidad came to mind. Richard Dorson tells this story in Folktales Told around the World, and David Augsburger tells it in abridged form in Conflict Mediation across Cultures. It is called “Wisdom of the Mediator.”

Once upon a time there was a poor devout man with an old, blind mother and a bitter, barren wife. His life was miserable, so each morning he rose early and went to the temple to pray for the blessing of God to relieve his family’s suffering.

After twelve years of prayer, he heard a voice—the voice of God. “What one thing do you desire?” “I don’t know,” he said. “I really didn’t expect you to ask. Do you mind if I go home and ask my mother and my wife?”

After receiving permission, he ran home, and first met his mother. “Son, if you will ask God to restore my eyes so that I may see again, you will never be indebted to me for anything.”

Then the man went to his wife and told her of God’s promise. “Forget your mother; she is old; she will soon close her eyes for the last time. Ask for a son who may care for us, and perhaps bring us wealth.”

The mother was listening, and she came with her cane and began to beat the wife. “No, it must be my eyesight.” The wife fought back, pulling her hair, and a terrible fight ensued.

The poor man ran from the house to a wise adviser, an old man who had mediated many conflicts, and he told him his dilemma. “My mother wants eyesight, my wife wants a son, and I, I wish for a bit of money so we can eat every day. What shall I ask? Whose needs come first?”

The adviser thought for a moment, then he answered: “Ah, my friend, you must not choose for any one of your family alone, but for the good of all. Although you may ask only one thing of God, ask wisely. Tomorrow morning you shall say, ‘O Lord, I ask nothing for myself; my wife seeks nothing for herself; but my mother is blind, and her desire is, before she dies, to see her grandson eating milk and rice from a golden bowl.’”

In our addressing perceived competing concerns with grace, clarity, and courage, and in our engaging in life-affirming and powerful alliances, may we, too, create blended blessings that bring joy and justice to people, and honor to God.

Next week, I will give a personal testimony and a tribute to my mother, who showed me how to love humankind. See you at the intersection!