Advent 2 Sermon in Hastings, NE

Isaiah 35:1-10

 James 5:7-10

Matthew11:2-11

So my mom called me a few days ago and said, ‘wasn’t it this time last year that we were down in the city handing out 20’s like they were dollar bills?’  This is true.  They came down to see the Macy's Christmas windows and every time they saw someone sitting on the corner with a cup, or asking for a buck, they gave them $10s and $20s.  And it was pretty unusual for my parents… I mean, don’t get me wrong, my mom and stepdad are generous people.  But they rarely visited Chicago, and when they did, they were even less likely to do so in a way that allowed them to encounter panhandlers on every street corner like most of us who live there.  It just happened to be a combination of events – on a day that they were planning to visit me, the pastor happened to give an amazing Advent Sermon that inspired my usually frugal parents to take out a few hundreds at the cash machine and give it all away.  And – the funniest thing – they were kind of giddy as they did so. 

I never heard that sermon, but I wish I had.  In fact, I wish I was giving it right now! 

A few years ago in Seminary I walked to get lunch with one of my favorite Seminary classmates named Seamus.  Seamus is one of kind in his trust in the gospel.  This day, we went to get Medici’s pizza and he pulled some cash out at the ATM.  Now, Seamus had a terrible habit of paying for everyone’s meals – and this afternoon was no different. (Terrible for him, I mean.  It was always good for me, but I worried about his budget.)  As we started walking back to school, a man stopped us on the street and asked for a few dollars to get something to eat.  Seamus put his hand in his pocket, handed it to the guy and said, “God Bless, brother” before the guy finished his sentence.  We turned and continued walking.  I had glimpsed the fold of money he handed over but knew Seamus well enough to be nonchalant.  After a few minutes, I asked, ‘how much do you think you just gave him?’  “well,” said Seamus, “I took out $60, the pizza was $18, so I’d expect about 42 dollars.”  All I said was, ‘you made his day.’

I’m not trying to admonish you all into giving away all your money today – rather, I want to share stories of the unexpected joy of generosity.  We follow an unexpected God.  Rather, for centuries people expected God, but expected Him to show up in a certain way.  Even John the Baptist here is looking or a different kind of sign.  He’s expecting God to yield fire and sword, and separate the wheat from the chaff.  God doesn’t follow the expected route, and John has to send disciples to ask, “Are you the one we’ve been waiting for?”

We are living in a time of waiting.  God has broken into the world, and started us on a path to redemption, but it is not yet, not complete yet.  We are still waiting, living into that which is already and still, not yet here.

I spent some time in bible study talking about working with the homeless through an organization in Chicago called The Night Ministry. The Night Ministry operates a bus that runs every night, from 6 pm to 12 am, and makes 3 stops in neighborhoods where there are high densities of people living without housing, or people who are transient between homes.  The bus offers coffee, sometimes food, and access to a nurse, but most importantly the night ministry offers conversation with no obligations.  The mission statement of the night ministry is primarily that all humans require the dignity of relationship, and secondly, that change is more likely to happen when one has relationships in their lives.

My job, as a Seminarian intern, was to be in relationship with the people who came to the bus.  Be their friend. Make small talk.  Care for them. 

And I tell you, I was kinda terrified.  I had spent over 10 years being an organizer and advocate in Chicago for ‘the least of these’. But I had never actually been in relationship myself.  I wasn’t sure that I could do it.  I had the usual worries, of course – the same ones we all have.  People who live on the street are sometimes dirty. Smelly.  Mentally unstable.  Could be violent.  Might resent me for having some money.  Might ask me for more than I want to give away.

The unexpected was that, as the summer wore on, I found myself as comfortable in community with those folks as I had ever been anywhere else in my life.  Their welcome was surprising. Their joy in seeing you was sincere.  And our time spent together was just as fun as spending time with the people in my social strata.  That summer, because of those relationships, I actually felt more grounded and joyful and content than most times I can remember.

I know in the world we’re in right now, it can be difficult to imagine the kingdom of heaven on earth.  We have school shootings and terrorist bombings…raging forest fires and melting glaciers… personal illness and deaths of loved ones…and political discord and the very real feelings that our values – each of us – are under attack by some other segment of society.

In the midst of all this, we have the words of scripture, asking us to rejoice in the coming of something – crocuses blooming and deserts greening and lions laying down with lambs and water springing forth bringing new life… a place where the blind see and the lame walk and the deaf hear…diseases are cured and the dead walk again.  And we have good news for the poor.

In the midst of our anxiety, God asks us to have joy.  Rejoice! Scripture says.  Rejoice! Says the song.

In this time of waiting, of living in a world that has felt the touch of God, and yet still is not fully redeemed, God never gives up on offering the world opportunities to become more like the realm of heaven.  And that in that new realm, there is joy in knowing that anything is possible.  Maybe, rather than looking for that external sign, we have to look within ourselves to see how to bring the gospel to life.

Do you know what’s trending on facebook since the election?  In my facebook newsfeed, I keep seeing random acts of kindness that go beyond kind.  Someone paying for the coffee and leaving a $20 gift card for the person behind them at Starbucks.  Someone offering a ride to an elderly stranger struggling on the sidewalk – and spending the day making sure they finished all their errands!  Someone bringing food to the homeless but returning to build tiny homes for every person sleeping on the ground under a particular overpass.

Maybe the new realm heaven is in the lunacy of excessive generosity.  Maybe it’s in giving of ourselves in unexpected ways.  Maybe we have to be open to unexpected joy. Maybe we have to go so far in caring that we surprise ourselves.  Living into the new realm may require us to take a leap of faith, a leap of trust, to leave our common sense behind.  But in that, there is joy!  Because that is the gospel!

My parents were giddy that day in Chicago not because of the gratitude they received for the money, but because they were surprising themselves with their generosity. Seamus is one of my favorite people, not just because of his incredible gift for scripture insights, but because of his stubborn insistence to live into the gospel without regret.  I was happy that summer I worked with the homeless because, it turned out, the generosity it took for me to make room in my life for people I’d normally never be friends with gave me unexpected joy.

What would it cost us to live into the new realm of heaven as if it was already here? Because, truly, we have the unique power to express the joy of the gospel every day.  Maybe we are the sign that the gospel is real. Perhaps this is one of those instances where we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

Advent 1 Sermon in Hastings, NE

Isaiah 2:1-5
Romans 15: 4-13

Matthew 24:36-44

I am full of anticipation this Sunday morning.  Are you?

Specifically, I am eager with anticipation to finish painting my house, so that I can get to the fun of decorating for Christmas!  Last Sunday, as I watched all these beautiful and meaningful decorations go up in the Sanctuary, I was daydreaming about my boxes in the closet and the waiting is really an exercise in patience.  Personally, I have a soft spot in my heart for goofy Christmas artifacts – some of which you’ll probably get to see this Christmas season.  Whenever my mother tried to throw the weird ones away, I grabbed them up.  I can’t wait to see how my hodgepodge collection of Christmas kitsch will fit in my new home.

One particular piece I’m looking forward to - Somewhere in my hodgepodge mix of boxes, I have 3 ancient electric candles that seem quaint compared to all the shiny and colorful decorations I have bought over the years.

As the homes in Hastings decorate for Christmas, I suspect I’ll see some of these single candles in windows around town.  The candles have a special historical meaning.

According to the internets, placing a burning candle in one's window dates back to colonial times. Candles represented friendship and were seen as a sign of welcome to others.  The candle was sometimes placed in the window when a member of the family was away, but could also be a sign of good news or a beacon to weary travelers. In early America, homes were often miles apart. The sight of a candle in a window from a distance was a sign of "welcome" to those wishing to visit.

Many different countries and cultures also claim this tradition of a lit candle in the window - and in some places, it was a sign of resistance. For instance, in Ireland in the early 1600’s, during the period of Catholic suppression by the English Protestants, no public church was allowed for the Irish. Priests who had formerly performed Sunday and holiday services hid in forest and fields surrounding villages, and they would visit individual homes at night to say mass. During the holidays, people would light candles in their windows and leave their doors unlocked in the hope that a nearby priest would visit and say the holiday services in their home.

In this season of Advent we talk about waiting for the arrival of God, a point of light in a dark world, and this first Sunday our candle of hope reminds me of these candles in the window.  Advent derives from the latin word, ‘Adventus’, which translates as coming or arriving.  The advent candle was designed to give people light if they didn’t know their way.  A far off hope in the darkness.

Today’s scripture encourages us to keep our candles lit!  We are urged to stay awake and be vigilant in watching for Jesus.

What does it mean for us to be vigilant in following Jesus?  Of those who were left behind in scripture – a woman at the mill, a man in the field, and people in the time of Noah eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage – none of these people were doing anything wrong.  There is no judgment in the scripture except to say that they were not watchful.  They were taking life for granted.  They were distracted by the ups and downs of life and had grown complacent in their efforts to serve God.  

We are often distracted by the ups and downs of life, the requirements of work and activity, the fun of our possessions. These things begin to take on primary importance.  And, like the master of the house, we do our best to avert the thief in the night.

Jesus was a sort of thief, though.

Like a thief, Jesus snuck into the world in the form of a poor infant child.  He maneuvered his way through the ‘criminal underground’ – collecting friends like prostitutes and tax collectors.  Proclaiming his message to peasants and exiles – the kind of people that few ever noticed or listened to….until it was impossible not to hear them.

Like a thief, Jesus discovered the valuables of the society - the hearts and minds of the people.  His intention to demonstrate love, service and healing regardless of society’s ideas of who was proper and deserving of community acceptance created a new kinship that spanned across all social divides.  It created a new and different kingdom.

Like a thief, Jesus stole the compliance of people.  Never again would the powers of the age be able to fully squash out a rebellion – because this rebellion, this Christian rebellion, came from the heart, was guided by love, demonstrated through compassion, and lit the way for others to follow suit.

If the Roman Empire or the leaders of the Jewish community could have seen him coming, you know they would have secured their kingdom, bolted the gates, sent away all the first-born males, and appointed armed guards at the lookouts. You know they would have protected their possessions and not let their house be broken into.   But like the thief, the Son of Man came at an unexpected hour.

Our God is a God of reversals.  In a world that reveres strength, wealth and victory, he arrived fragile, poor and vulnerable.  In a world that busies itself with excluding groups and labeling others, he ignored our categories and offered his gifts to all people.  In a world that likes to cast blame and escape humiliation, he took blame and humiliation.  In a world that likes to win, he lost – lost the political battle, lost popularity, and lost his life.  And yet, he won us over.  Because through him, we glimpsed that burning light of compassion and forgiveness, wisdom and sacrifice, which never went out.  Like the Advent candle, Jesus says you are welcome, you are safe here, I will share my warmth, food, and comfort with you.

In his commitment to sharing God’s message, Jesus put it all on the line.  He risked his health by healing people with contagious disease; he risked his social standing by keeping company with outcasts; he ultimately risked his life to show the meaning of compassion and redemption for all people.  He lit a spark in the hearts of the people, and it just keeps burning. 

Indeed, followers of Christ have kept this light burning through the centuries.  While often we Christians, just like everyone, become comfortable in our lives, and distracted by our possessions, and complacent within a system, there has always been Christians lighting up the world by being vigilant for love in every age.

Where there was sickness, followers of Christ have offered healing.  From the smallpox plagues in the 2^nd Century, to Medieval monasteries caring for the sick, to the first US hospitals founded by faith institutions, healing has been led by people because of their faith.

When there was devastation, compassionate people have offered shelter, warmth, and food.  Amidst every war and natural disaster in history, it is religious people around the world who are the first to respond to the wounded, the displaced, and the starving.  From Bread for the World to Christian Aid to PADS, there is a light in the window for people in need.

Where there was fear, good people around the world have offered safety.  From warring factions in ancient England to the Pilgrims on our shores, to hiding and safe passage for Jews in World War II, to political and humanitarian asylum today - the practice of people finding safety in a church stretches through the centuries.  In fact, the word ‘sanctuary’ has become synonymous with a safe haven and the right to asylum.

This is the candle that burns bright in our hearts. It is the light of responsive compassion, abounding generosity, and full hospitality.  Jesus changed the course of history because never before had society considered that since “God loves humanity, Christians cannot please God unless they love one another.  As God demonstrated his love through sacrifice, humans must demonstrate their love through sacrifice on behalf of one another….” Not just for family or tribe, but for everyone. 

As I light up my candles this year, I pray those candles will be a beacon for people in need to find their way to me.  I hope they sends the message that I will offer welcome, respite and company in sickness, and warmth, food, and safe haven for their fears.  And I ask that as we experience this Advent season, we consider how we want to demonstrate our compassion, generosity, and hospitality to the people we encounter.  How can we, as individuals and as FCUCC, be vigilant in our love to steal away their fear, solve their isolation and soothe their desperation?  This is our time to wake up, because God is promising us to be remade in his own presence and help create his Kingdom.  What will we do with our chance to show Christ’s light burning brightly in the window of our hearts?      …….Amen.

First Sermon in Hastings, NE

Jeremiah 23:1-6

Psalm 46

Luke 23:33-43

Last Sunday, Pastor Damen stood up here and gave voice to so many things that were in my head that I wondered if somehow it was a ‘welcome Jessica’ sermon.  (I have been getting such a warm welcome here in Hastings that this doesn’t actually seem impossible!) He spoke about how, in the aftermath of the election, we all seemed to be feeling vulnerable and raw; and how the election showed one thing decisively – that we are a nation deeply divided that doesn’t seem to be listening to one another.

Maybe these things struck me because Damen and I think alike, or maybe it’s because even though I’ve now entered ministry, I just can’t shed the community organizer lens I was trained with. 

Community organizing receives a lot of legend and lore - especially since 2008 Presidential campaign.  But it’s really just the art of getting people who care about the same thing to work together, understand where they have power and how to use it, and embolden them to take leadership in their community.  There was a radical and egotistical guy named Alinsky who tried to put his best guesses at how to do this into book form, and then it kind of grew organically from there.  (And – it grew most in Chicago, where Alinsky and his organization were based; where there’s a protest every week; and where it can feel like every other person you meet is an organizer.)

Now, the fundamental building block in community organizing is the one to one meeting, which is used intentionally to build a strong, honest and public relationship between two people.  A one to one meeting is not chit-chat; it is a focused effort to get to know someone thoroughly; to understand what they care about and why – and, eventually, to understand what would motivate them to join in their community’s leadership.  This obviously doesn’t happen in just one meeting, and everyone from organizer to volunteer is trained to embrace this skill. But we hope to create a bond of trust in a relationship outside of the family or workplace.  Through one to one meetings, people begin to care about others from very different walks of life that they’d never have had the chance to care about before; and together, they begin to recognize their common humanity and common dreams.

Critical to a good 1-1 is really good listening. It’s important to look for moments where people are most passionate, and why – for those places where God is calling to them or weighing heavily on their heart.  It’s also critical to ask good, insighftrul questions.  While the polite thing to do might be to avoid subjects that cause someone to get emotional, a skilled organizer has the courage to dig deeper into those feelings.  We might say, “I can see that this topic is affecting you – why is that?”  “How did your challenging circumstances impact your life?”  “What impact are you hoping to leave with your children?”

As organizers, we get this same treatment in our one to ones.  It’s important that we bring our honest and open selves into the conversation, so that we are sharing our own emotions equally.  Being open like this is a risk, and allowing people to see your exposed underbelly is never comfortable and often scary.  But so often, it is in those exposed spaces where we are most able to experience deep caring and deep transformation. Sometimes, it is in our most vulnerable state that we can feel closest to God.

Today is Christ the King Sunday – a day universally celebrated by all denominations around the world as recognition of the Reign of Christ.  It was created by Pope Pius the 11^th, fairly recently in Christian standards, around 1925.   This day was created so that the nations would see that the church has the right to freedom and immunity from the state, and for the faithful of the world to gain courage and strength in the reminder that Christ reigns in in our minds, hearts, wills and bodies. 

But the language of this Sunday – Christ the King - is at odds with itself.  If you look up the Gospel reading for Christ the King Sunday in any year, it always features Jesus on the cross. Not exactly most people's image of a king.

In Ancient Israel the rightful king was one who would restore Israel to its former glory. Even here, in the Old Testament book of Jeremiah, we enter the story when there are two political leaders and a lot of disagreement.  The kingdom is divided over who should be the rightful ruler and who would lead them to ruin. (We don’t know anything about that, do we?)

Good leadership was, then, about returning to political power.  But in Jesus, we are shown a different story of power. This story was so unexpected, so hard to believe, that the wise men who went looking for the newly proclaimed King didn’t know where to find him.  The people from his hometown didn’t recognize him.  He came in weak form – as a fragile infant born to a poverty-stricken couple who had no place to lodge in their hour of need.  It was not in power and glory, but love and vulnerability that God appeared to bring about his kingdom.

Throughout his life, this man went to the broken places, the forgotten places, and the vulnerable places in our world.  He took risks traveling to distant places and he found us in our woundedness – on the margins of society, squandering in poverty, wracked with illness, and excluded from the relationships of community.  He healed the possessed, fed the starving and ate with the diseased.  Even when he was exhausted, he didn’t turn his back on people coming to him for help.  In his life, Jesus paid critical attention to the needs of the physical bodies that surrounded him.

We often speak and sing of Christ in terms of victory – indeed, he was Victorious over death, but not in typical terms. He began in the most unexpected place and ended in the most unexpected way. In Jesus, we have a king who doesn’t win with might and glory, but who is crucified.  We have a king who is beaten, mocked and humiliated, but forgives the very people who have secured his death. We have a king who accepts his fate, yet while hanging on his cross, continues to grant salvation to the condemned on the cross next to him.

God came to us in human form to share in our vulnerability, in order to bring about a new Kingdom.

Because the kingdom of this world is about saving yourself – but the Kingdom of God is about giving yourself.

The kingdom of this world is about competition – but the kingdom of God is about forgiveness.

The kingdom of this world is about vengeance, anger, and outrage – But that is not the kingdom of God. The kingdom of God is where you bless those who hurt you and persecute you.

This is not a ‘king’ that was recognizable then, or would be now. Never before in history, or since, has one man’s death meant so much for so many people. And never before had a king been a king for being vulnerable and dying.  It changed the world.

Because in actuality, our power is in our love for each other.  And shortly after that day, a small group of Jesus followers went out and did likewise.  They took this message of love and compassion to the broken places, the forgotten places, and the vulnerable places, and gave of themselves.  This was truly revolutionary. These followers, focused on the kingdom of God, began a tidal wave that engulfed the globe.  And it started with a small group of committed people.

Through this last week, I have been listening to your stories and your hopes.  And I have heard it said a few times, ‘if only we had more people to do the work we want to do.’  But this church has already done immense good work, and will continue to do so in the future.  You have fed and cared for hundreds of vulnerable and wounded people.  You have fundraised and supported this community with hundreds of dollars in the midst of a broken world.  And your reach is greater than you know – because in those places, we too meet God.

In every community organizing job I’ve ever had, there never fails to be a few specific pictures on the wall.  One is of small fish banding together to go after the big fish, with the caption “Organize!”  The other picture that is guaranteed to be on the wall is a quote from American anthropologist Margaret Mead, which reads, “Never doubt a small group of thoughtful, committed individuals can change the world.  Indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”

Small groups of committed people have changed the world.  We have pledged to follow a man who was an incarnational response to the vulnerability of our human condition.  Christ responded to the brokenness of this world by caring for us, and commanded us to go and do likewise.  

Christ the King Sunday recommits us to our mission. Christ is still the King, and we are still called to help bring about the Kingdom of God.

Amen.

'True Love: A Woman's Authority': Sermon from March 6, 2016

Gospel of Mary, Chapter10

Andrew responded, addressing the brothers and sisters, "Say what you will about the things she has said, but I do not believe that the S[a]vior said these things, f[or] indeed these teachings are strange ideas."
     Peter responded, bringing up similar concerns. He questioned them about the Savior: "Did he, then, speak with a woman in private without our knowing about it? Are we to turn around and listen to her? Did he choose her over us?"
     Then [M]ary wept and said to Peter, "My brother Peter, what are you imagining? Do you think that I have thought up these things by myself in my heart or that I am telling lies about the Savior?"
Levi answered, speaking to Peter, "Peter, you have always been a wrathful person. Now I see you contending against the woman like the Adversaries. For if the Savior made her worthy, who are you then for your part to reject her? Assuredly the Savior's knowledge of her is completely reliable. That is why he loved her more than us.
     "Rather we should be ashamed. We should clothe ourselves with the perfect Human, acquire it for ourselves as he commanded us, and announce the good news, not laying down any other rule or law that differs from what the Savior said."
     After [he had said these] things, they started going out [to] teach and to preach.

So I just celebrated a birthday last week, and I have question for you… How old you think I am?  Not something you are usually allowed to ask, right?  Most women hate the onset of age, and we like to pretend we are 29 for decades. But in some ways I look forward to it.  See, I have spent most of my career in politics and community organizing. My first job was working in the office for the first Democrat ever elected in a solidly Republican county in Illinois, and I would sometimes represent him at events.  Then, I transitioned into community organizing and advocating for just policies – first with health care reform, then with immigration, and now often with public investment and public health. I’ve had a career of trying to bring to light issues of injustice for those who are invisible, to bring more compassion into the spaces where our systems have failed.

As you can imagine, I’ve spoken a lot to not entirely friendly audiences, trying to convince them that hopeful things are possible and necessary. And I’ve done this as a young woman, with a youngish face – and worse yet - FRECKLES.  (Most people lose their freckles when they leave adolescence, and I prayed for that moment…but no, not for me.)  So, as a freckled young faced political person, there is a part of me that welcomes this march of age with the eagerness that maybe some crows feet will add to my authority. Because I’ve had too many experiences of people patting me on the head, congratulating me for my passion, and sending me on my way without taking me seriously. 

Reading today’s scripture, I understood the frustration that made Mary Magdalene weep when contradicted by Peter. This passage sadly echoes the most important and consistent reference to Mary Magdalene that we have from the traditional New Testament.  In every gospel, Mary of Magdalene is acknowledged as the first at the tomb and the first to witness the resurrection.  In every gospel, Mary hastens to tell the male disciples, who regard her testimony with disbelief.  They are in disbelief both at the events, and because the interaction was in private, with a woman. 

Somehow, the word of a woman was not equal to the word of a man.  Is not equal to that of a man.  Two thousand years later, there are still far too many instances of being called ‘passionate’ instead of ‘authoritative.’ 

Passion, to me, denotes love. The Gospel of Mary mentions passion that has no likeness and is contrary to nature. Pastor Damien talked about our passion as that which goes beyond our typical human nature – our passion for our soul mates, our passion for knowledge, our passion that drives us to have a deeper understanding of the universe. In these ways, I see passion as the outward expression of love. Webster’s dictionary defines passion as ‘a strong and barely controllable emotion.’

But the root of passion originates from the Latin, ‘pati’, meaning to suffer. This is where get the Passion of the Christ, relating to the 40 days in the Wilderness and suffering during his last week. By this etymology, to have com/passion is to suffer with another person.  To me, this is still an expression of love.  When we suffer, it is often because we love something dearly.  Like a mother watching a child go through rejection … or the adult child feeling powerless to help their aging parent hold onto their coordination … or that spouse trying to be supportive to a partner going through job loss … a passion for good, for change, for advocacy arises from this place of love. 

Is this not the story of our Mary of Magdala? Was she not there in compassion at the foot of the cross, standing vigil in her grief at the tomb, and through her devastation, still there to collect Jesus’ body at the tomb?  No one can deny that Mary Magdalene loved Jesus.  And it is through this love, this passion, that Mary derives her authority.  

As a community organizer, we often talk about the transformative power of personal stories. In advocating in the public sphere for better policies, no tool is as important as the personal story.  Experts can be found to support all points of view.  Data can be manipulated and twisted.  Only your personal story cannot be disputed.  When you’ve overturned every stone, investigated every option for health insurance, bent over backward for coverage and still you remain uninsured because of something in your health history, (for example), your witness is more powerful than any report… It is truth.  No one can claim more authority over your personal experience than you.

These stories are key in community organizing…but I’ve also seen them be transformative for women when those women realize, for the first time, that their personal story matters.  That their personal story gives them authority.  That their personal story can make change.  While the historic church and society has long denied women authority in institutions of power, female authority is clear when it arises from a place of love, and never more so than when it relates to the arenas that have been typically relegated as ‘women’s work’: ...with children, with family, as caretakers, and for ourselves.  History shows us that women who, motivated by love, build on that authority of caring and compassion often move mountains and impact wider populations through their personal story.

I am reminded of Representative Jan Schakowsky, an Illinois Congressperson I have the privilege to know who is one of the liberal lions in DC.  Jan began her public life in 1969 when, as a housewife with 2 young kids, she was worried about buying a rancid package of pepper steak.  She asked the butcher about the age of the steak, but the butcher didn’t take her seriously. He said if she had a problem with it, she could shop somewhere else. One week later, she heard another mother complaining about the same thing. They joined forces to fight the grocery store, and through smarts, determination, and chutzpah, their public campaign was the reason we have expiration dates on our meat today. 

I’m reminded of Alice Tregay, a late civil rights activist in Chicago, one of the thousands of nameless advocates that put their lives on the line with Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  My friend Alice, an African American woman, paired up with another Alice, who was white, and coordinated visits to Chicago real estate offices in the 60’s.  They documented how each family, similar in economic status and differing only in race, was shown homes in completely different neighborhoods.  Black Alice and White Alice used their lived experience to expose illegal red-lining policies in place all throughout the city of Chicago, responsible for keeping black families in dilapidated parts of the city and allowing white flight.

And I’m reminded of Dr. Mona Hanna-Attisha, the scientist who uncovered the lead levels in Flint’s water supply.  After over a year of residents’ complaints, state officials still rejected a September report showing elevated lead levels.  So Dr. Mona did some research, and then something unorthodox. In her words, “we shared [our] results at a press conference, and you don’t usually share research at press conferences. It’s supposed to be shared in published medical journals, which now it is. But we had an ethical, moral, professional responsibility to alert our community about this crisis, this emergency.” Following this, Dr. Mona was attacked in the press, called “an unfortunate researcher” and blamed for inciting mass hysteria.  But she persevered, and in the end, her determination halted widespread poisoning. 

Regardless of how often people try to discredit this type of authority, it perseveres because it holds inherent truth borne of experience and of compassion. If any of these women had quit loving their children, their neighbors, their race or their communities because someone doubted their authority, we would be in a very different place.  But they have a wonderful example in Mary of Magdalene, a wealthy woman who was closer to Jesus than any other disciple.  She loved him fiercely, and in doing so, witnessed something transformative.  She had an encounter with the resurrected Jesus that shook her down to her soul.  She went and testified to that good news to the Apostles, despite the backlash that could be expected. She knew her story mattered.

In the Secret Lives of Bees, Sue Monk Kidd writes about a young white girl who is hiding out with her black Nanny and 3 other African American women who make honey for a company called ‘Black Madonna’.  And even though this dialogue refers to a different Mary from scripture, she pulls on the same authority rooted in love:

”When you’re unsure of yourself,” August said, “when you start pulling back into doubt and small living, she [Mary] is the one inside you saying, ‘Get up from there and live like the glorious girl you are.’ She’s the power inside you, you understand?”

“And whatever it is that keeps widening your heart, that’s Mary, too, not only the power inside you but the love. And when you get down to it, Lily, that’s the only purpose grand enough for a human life. Not just to love – but to persist in love.”

Thanks to the persistence of Mary of Magdala, the Apostle to the Apostles, we all have the opportunity to be transformed for a grand purpose.  

We all have this core authority to speak from love – male or female or neither, child or adult or neither, wealthy, poor, minority or majority.  When we speak from a place of authentic knowledge of those we love, of their lives or their sufferings, that power cannot be denied. Imagine the impact you might have if you were as determined as Mary Magdalene to use your authority to testify to ‘the Good’. How does your story matter?  How would our world be transformed if we all persisted in love?

I leave you with that passionate question.

Amen.