Sunday Sermon

Normally I'm not one to publish a sermon online (or anywhere else) after preaching it in a particular setting.  I believe the words written do not have the same meaning when not spoken.  It's hard to embody a sermon electronically.  However, since I got a huge assist on this one from my Facebook friends, I thought I'd share for folks to see what our online conversation produced.  Thanks again for everyone that helped answer my question about love.  Enjoy!

Arlington Community Church, January 27, 2012

Perhaps, like many of you, I feel I have a special relationship with chapter 13 of First Corinthians.  When Kelse and I were married almost five years ago, verses four through eight were the only scripture we had read in our ceremony.  When I was in Phoenix later that year, exploring a mall near the hotel I was staying at, I found a large heart shaped wall hanging with those words inscribed in the middle, surrounded by flowers and vines.  So often I hear those words echo within my soul, starting so simply, telling me that love is patient.  And love is kind.  And it is not envious.  And on and on.  It’s a wonderful meditation on love that I fully embrace.  But there is more to this chapter, and it starts by telling us that if we do not have love, we have nothing.  Naturally, not wanting to be nothing, I asked myself: what is love?  What do I need to have, or, more importantly, what do I need to do so that I can be more than a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal?

So over the last week, I’ve been on a quest to discover the meaning of the word “love.” As Christians we talk about love all the time, but do we really fully understand what it is?  I’m not sure that I do.  So I began researching love so that I might better know.  First, I consulted the scripture.  In this chapter we hear so many different things here of what love is and what love is not.  Love is patient and kind.  It is not envious or prideful.  It rejoices in the truth.  It bears all things.  It believes, it hopes, and it endures, without end.  In this scripture, love is one thing and many things, and it is all over the place.  In fact, in chapter 13 of First Corinthians, the word love appears in my translation nine different times.  There are another five times in which it is referred to with a pronoun.  Put another way, a full five percent of this scripture is simply one word: love.  That’s a lot of love.  But I always argue for more love, and I wish Paul had given us a little more to go on here because these words he gives us are not definitions but instead personifications of love.  They are abstractions, not descriptions.  I cannot touch kind.  I cannot hear patience.  I cannot put love in a cookie jar and place it on my coffee table and say, “See, there it is!  I have love!  Would you like to have some?  I made it just for you!”  These abstractions in this didn’t give me enough to go on, so I realized I had to go somewhere else.  Where else do you go when you want to understand the meaning of something?  I consulted a dictionary. 

I found fourteen different definitions for the word “love” when used as a noun, including “a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person” or “a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend” or “affectionate concern for the well-being of others” or even “the benevolent affection of God for His creatures, or the reverent affection due from them to God.”  Then I found six more definitions of how to use love as a verb, including “to have a profoundly tender, passionate affection for” and “to need or require; benefit greatly from.”  After reading the dictionary, I felt closer to understanding love, but there was still much left to decipher.  Which of these definitions of love should I settle on?  I needed to do some more research.

Next, I consulted popular music, for where have some of our modern conceptions of love been told to us but through music?  I discovered that all you need is love, that I can’t get enough of your love, that love will keep us alive, that your love keeps lifting me higher, and that I would do anything for love.  I also learned that love hurts, that only love can break your heart, that love is a battlefield, and that there are fifty ways to leave your lover.  (pause) Confused yet?  I certainly was.  I was almost back to square one.  So I tried something new again, and I consulted my friends.

Rather than asking a few folks face to face, this was a question I crowdsourced.  By that, I mean I took to the internet and asked the nearly 400 people I am connected to on Facebook to fill in the following sentence: love is (blank).  Very quickly I received a number of responses, some growing off of others.  Here’s some of what I got:  Love is where we want to be.  Love is the best chance that we’ve got.  Love is ferocious.  It is a verb, something that you do.  It is intense, it is hard to catch, it is the great revealer.  It is a choice, it is elusive, it is rough, and it is messy and disruptive.  Love is underrated, it is justice and mercy, and it is family and friends.  Perhaps the most abstract response was that love is blue.  Perhaps my favorite was almost as abstract: love is not bound by geography…and frequently smelly.  In retrospect, I enjoyed hearing from my friends on this subject, but as I thought about it more I realized this exercise didn’t give me insight into what love is so much as it gave me insight into the current emotional state of my friends.  It was time again to look somewhere else.

As part of this process, I even consulted our President.  I listened intently to hear what President Obama had to say in his inaugural address on Monday.  I was inspired by his words as he named the struggle for equality this country has seen, from women, to African-Americans, to lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people.  Beyond that, I heard him say that if “we are truly created equal, then surely the love we commit to one another must be equal as well.”  (pause) Ah.  Now I feel like I’m getting closer to the truth.  Out of all of this research I’ve learned that love is many, many things, but here  I find that the love we give one another must be as equal as we are to one another.  Put another way, love is a communal effort given individually.

                Armed with this mindset, I went back to the scripture and discovered more that I was missing.  As I said earlier, the thirteenth chapter is more than just verses four through eight.  In the end of the chapter, we hear that prophecies and tongues and knowledge, these spiritual gifts that Paul has been addressing and we have been discussing over the past few weeks, they all come to an end.  But what about love?  Love never ends.  Love is with us from the moment we are conceived, grows with us as we age, and remains as we continue on into what comes after this life.  Some might think of this as the love we carry with us into the Great Beyond, but I think of it as the love we leave behind as we travel onward.  It’s the love that is poured into us, grows, and comes bursting forth with every new person that we meet.

                This is why I was so inspired by our President’s speech: the more love we give to each other, the more we understand it and know it for ourselves.  That’s the nature of equal love: we get just as much as we give.  That’s what kept tugging at me all week as I explored my own understanding of what love is.  Love is a feeling that can’t be quantified.  Love has layers upon layers of meaning, meaning that is found with each new connection of love that we make, from one individual to another.

                That concept of new and growing love echoed true for me last week as we baptized Jay Sunday afternoon.  After we spoke some traditional phrases and gathered around the baptismal font while Jay had water and oil sprinkled on his tiny forehead, there was a moment in which the entire community was given a charge in caring for Jay.  Pastor Jim Mitulski spoke of the love gathered in that place, connected to Jay through the touch we surrounded him with.  And then Jim said something I will never forget: he turned to look directly at our six week old baby and said, “Jay, there is nothing, nothing, nothing that you can ever do that will break this love for you.”  (pause) Love endures, for there is nothing, nothing, nothing we can do to break it.  (pause) Now, if Paul had written that, and that was all that Paul had ever written, it would have sufficed for me.  But even then, it still does not tell me what love is, or tell me how I should love.  After a baptism, a Presidential speech, some scriptural and cultural research, and asking some friends, I’m still back to the beginning again: what is love?

                I went back to the scripture in my bible one more time to see if reading this passage again and again might bring new light to this subject.  That’s when I saw it: a note I hadn’t followed up on before.  It told me to relate this scripture to First Corinthians, chapter eight, verse one.  Here, in this one verse, my quest came to an end, for is says in that verse, “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.”  Love builds up.  So there it is.  After all my searching, three little words that tell me all I need to know.  Love builds up.  Shall we try some of chapter 13 again with that in mind?

“If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love build up, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.  If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love build up, I am nothing.  If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love build up, I gain nothing.”

It makes sense to me now.  If love is that which builds up, then that is what I must do, and what we must do.  That’s what I heard last weekend when we baptized Jay.  That’s what I heard from the President on Monday morning.  That’s what I heard when I asked my friends.  When we love, we are building up each other, equally.  As I think of the charge I was given to love Jay, I think of how, over his lifetime, I have the honor of building him up to be the best Jay Basil Hills he can be, whatever that may mean.  In the process, I get to build up myself, and my wife, and my family, and my friends, and my neighbors, and the folks at church, and the strangers walking by on the street, and the person halfway across the world that I have yet to meet.  I get to build them up just as they get to build me up.  That’s the love we share for one another, and that’s the love that I give to you.  Take this moment, and every moment, to love those around you.  Remember the community of love you are an important part of, and share with them as equally as we are created equally.  Build them up as they would want you to build them up.  With patience.  And kindness.  Without envy or pride.  By rejoicing in truth.  By bearing, and believing, and hoping, and enduring.  Without end.  Amen.

Baby Name Madness (Part 5)

The time is nearly at hand.  Our advent is almost over.  We went to the hospital this morning in anticipation of an impending birth.  Now, while the hospital staff agreed that Kelse's labor had started, they also noted we had a ways to go before we were ready.  So now we're back home, waiting for the next development.

With such a development, it's now time for our final installment of Baby Name Madness.  This cut gets us down to the final four names, two first and two middle names.  Only four combinations, so your guessing odds are all the up to a one in four chance of randomly getting it right?  What are your final guesses today?  Stay tuned to Facebook in the coming days for your introduction to the newest member of the Hills family!

Baby Name Madness (part 4)

The week of the due date is upon is.  If you're curious of a specific date, you might look at December 7th.  But, as we all know, babies do what they will do when it comes to being born, so it really could be any moment now.  Thus it's time for another round of cuts as we find ourselves in the final eight names, four first names and four last names. That means there are only sixteen name combinations.  There are a few favorites and a few underdogs left.  Which of these sixteen is your favorite?  Which of these sixteen do you think is our selection?

Baby Name Madness (part 3)

We're getting so much closer now, with the baby due next week.  The doctor said last Friday that the baby isn't coming anytime soon, but I ask, what does soon mean?  The next few hours?  The next few days?  The next week?  The next two weeks?  It's all relative.  So, perhaps any minute now.  Or perhaps in two weeks. In any case, we're on with the countdown.  Eliminating another half of the names leaves us with our sweet sixteen.  Eight first names and eight middle names left.  What happened to your choice?  Are you still holding strong, have you lost half of your bracket, or are you out of the running?  What's your new guess?  We're looking forward to hearing what you think!

Baby Name Madness (part 2)

Now that we've all had a chance to make our guesses and fill out our brackets, it's time to make some progress toward revealing the name.  After all, the due date approaches, and we don't want to be caught falling behind if baby comes early.  So, welcome to the first round of cuts!

Remember, the names on the left will lead to the first name, and the names on the right will lead to the middle name.  Some notable upsets: for first names, Robin over Logan, Tristan over Oliver, and Hobbes over David.  For the middle names, Harvey over Trevor, Basil over Anthony, and Elijah over Hector.

Round three will be out soon, but let us know what you're thinking now!  What are you sad to see go?  What do you like from what remains?  What's your latest guess at his name?

Baby Name Madness (part 1)

Welcome to the tournament of a lifetime!  From this list of sixty-four names will come a reveal of the final name we have picked for our soon-to-come baby boy.  On the left, thirty-two names that will be narrowed down to a first name.  On the right, thirty-two names that will be narrowed down to a middle name.

Over the next few weeks, we'll be whittling down to the final selections.  In the meantime, let us know your favorite parings!  Argue for one name to win over another!  Feeling adventurous?  Fill out a complete bracket if you like and send it in: prize for the winner!

Come with us on the journey as we take our final steps into parenthood.

And Now For Something Completely Different

When I started seminary, I thought of how I spent my college years.  Really, I didn't have any frame of reference of what graduate school was going to be like, especially considering the expedited manner in which I chose to head back to school, applied, was accepted, and moved in (all that happened in about a month an a half, with much of it happening in the last week) before starting school again.  So all I could count on was a recollection of my four years at Doane, what I did while I was there, and how I spent my time.

My first resolution was to be better in my classes.  I didn't apply myself in college as much as I could have, and my grades reflected it.  I wanted to be better in seminary, and as I finally thought I knew what I wanted to do with my life, it might be easier (or at least make more sense) to apply myself.  With that came more of a time commitment to my classes and homework, and less time commitment to fun stuff.

The first two semesters of the process were hard.  I mean it was adjusting to being back in school full time after a six year absence, and settling in to a new place, and meeting new people, and learning new things.  And then time for my relationship, which was somewhat long-distance-like for the first month or two.  And then time for myself.  As part of the process of all these changes, I wanted to keep track of myself, and so I started this blog.  For a while, it was good.  I was keeping up with my classes well enough and taking care of what I needed to take care of, and keeping up with writing here.  I felt like I could handle what I was doing, but I also felt like adding more would lead to overload.

Then second year started.  And all that I thought I couldn't be busier led me to see how much free time I had in my first year.  Classes, still, but now harder, and add internship hours, and home church responsibilities, and denominational requirements, and what I could be involved with at school.  Then second semester started, and I added more responsibilities for myself without taking others away.  Essentially, combined with my somewhat lengthy process of studying or writing, it leaves little time for the things I really enjoy.  So the blog went to the side for a bit, explaining my lack of posts for a while.

But then there are things that need to be said, things that need to be done.  I've been distracted over the last week by a number of different things coming together at once, all in the middle of Holy Week.  I spoke about new beginnings during the Easter Sunrise Service because that is what was weighing on my mind so much.  In the midst of the end of Jesus' life, the end of The End, I thought only of new life.

That's because in the middle of last week, we learned that Kelse is pregnant.

Just as the three women at the tomb were terrified and amazed into silence after knowing the Resurrection, I was terrified and amazed of this new chapter of our lives, and didn't want to speak of it.  Are we sure the tests are right?  What do we need to do?  What do we need to plan for?  Who do we tell?  Who do we ask for help?  When is everything happening?  How do we need to change what we eat, or how we sleep, or what we buy?  Sure, plenty of experts exist on the subject, including in my family, but every pregnancy is different, as every child and every family is different.

From the start, I didn't want to talk to people about it.  I didn't want to talk to people about even the idea that we might have something like that happen in the future, or that we might be trying.  I think part of that is the fear of something going wrong, and then having to relive that pain every time someone asks about it.  And I think part of it is that very superstitious part of me (multiple baseball reference alert!): as soon as you start talking about the no-hitter, it disappears.  As soon as you start talking about the hitting streak, it goes away.  As soon as you acknowledge that which is good, it leaves you.  I didn't want to talk about it and then not have anything happen, and then have to keep talking about it.  You can't talk your way out of a slump, but you can make it worse.

But here we are now, new life growing.  I have no idea what to expect of the future.  At least when I started school again, I had a frame of reference from college to fall back on.  This is some whole other universe.  There are still so many questions, and I don't know what to do.  But I suppose I am not unique in that feeling in a situation like this.  What parent knows all the right answers from the get go?  So each day is a new day, each step is a new step, and each moment is something new to learn.  We've had one appointment at the doctor, and another coming up on Friday, and then more will come after that.  We'll most assuredly get help along the way, and people will recommend things, and we'll make our own decisions on what to do.  And we'll be busy.  After all, the classes don't stop.  The work responsibilities don't stop.  The bills don't stop coming in.  The need to care for each other and care for ourselves never stops.

And I guess that's the super long story on why my blog posts might be sporadic for a while still.

Brief thought from Taiwan...

I see bubbling stars.
I hear shining water.
Flashing lights and unknown language pierce the beauty
With peace.
The long, hard day rolls away into warm air and cricket chirps.
This is night in Taiwan.

A three month tour

Is the new year really only days away?  Seems like I was writing my last post only a week ago, not three months ago!

What a busy three months it has been.  The semester has come and gone.  In the meantime, a lot has happened to keep me busy and short on blog writing time.  In fact, I was so busy I barely had time to watch movies.  Only yesterday did I finally find three hours in which to watch Spartacus, a movie we've had from Netflix since September.  Anna and I have also been watching NewsRadio over the last week or so, and I think we'll complete the series tonight before moving on to Futurama.  But what happened over the last three months to keep me so busy?

Well, for starters, there were classes.  I worked particularly hard on my classes this semester, which, of course, required plenty of studying and homework time.  In reflecting back on this semester, I found it incredibly formative in my theological thought processes as well as better understanding different points of view.  Grades aren't in yet, though I know I did pretty well.  However, even if I didn't, I feel like I learned more this semester than all of last year put together.  It was an amazing journey.

In addition to my class work, I also had my internship.  I started at the beginning of September, had an official welcome in the middle of September, and my first sermon at the beginning of October.  I've also been a part of making dinner for the Wednesday night Arts Program, and once a month hosted a movie afternoon.  I've also preached three other times, including on Christmas day.  Part of my journey this semester was discovering how much I enjoy preaching, and how I can also preach well.

In November, I was accepted as a member in discernment with the Northern California Nevada Conference of the United Church of Christ.  It was great to have Diandra and Jim with me for that part of the journey.  Another step towards ordination!

In December, I was voted as a member of the Board of Directors at New Spirit Community Church.  I've never done anything like this before, but I wanted to join to give me experience in church administration as well as have a hand in continuing the efforts of New Spirit to keep it a vibrant church that will continue to grow.  Though I won't be in church for the next five months because of my internship, I'm looking forward to taking part in church life in this level of service.

Finally, I am heading to Taiwan in a week and a half for my intercession class.  This will be the first time I've ever left the United States.  It's an incredible opportunity, and I'm very excited about it.  I have no idea what to expect while we are there for two weeks, but I'm open to learning whatever I can in my time there.

So, bland blog post, I know, but it's something to help get me back on track.  I'm going to try to write more about my Taiwan trip, but I'm not sure about internet availability while I'm there, so it may all be on paper with the good bits posted later.  I'm also preaching again the Sunday after I get back, so there might be some great insights to be had there.  As for next semester, if it's anything like this past one, there won't be much time for updates either.  But I'll strive to do what I can, and hopefully that'll work out.

This is not the end. This is not the beginning.

God save us everyone
Will we burn inside the fires of a thousand suns
For the sins of our hands
The sins of our tongues
The sins of our fathers
The sins of our young

-Linkin Park, "The Catalyst"

If execution is a proper deterrent, why do we still have to use it?  One might think the possibility of losing one's life as retribution for actions taken would serve enough to keep people from committing said actions.  That said actions continue to occur, I can only conclude that it does not serve as a deterrent, and if it doesn't, then why are we killing people?

Tonight, Facebook is inundated with statements from friends regarding the execution of Troy Davis in Georgia.  Many of my seminary and clergy friends are weighing in on the injustice of everything this evening, while none of my friends beyond that sphere seem to have noticed.  The general sentiment is that the state of Georgia has just murdered an innocent man, as serious doubt emerged that he actually killed and off-duty police officer in 1989, but I'm not here to argue his guilt or innocence.  I didn't read the news at the time of the supposed crime, I didn't sit in the courtroom as the evidence was presented against him, and I did not sit on the jury to convict him.  In fact, before the last 24 hours, I'm not sure I knew anything about Troy Davis.

I wonder which of my friends did know something about him.

Glaringly absent from the commentary on the death of Troy Davis was commentary on the death of Lawrence Brewer.  While I didn't know his name before today, either, I did know his story, and you might too.  Lawrence Brewer was convicted for killing James Byrd, a name I didn't have to look up.  Byrd was chained to the back of a pick-up truck and dragged to his death in 1998 by Brewer and two accomplices.  I clearly remember it because it was a very high-profile case of modern racism by a white supremacist.

As I read about the stories of Brewer and Davis earlier today, I felt a sense of loss for both of them, but I must confess I felt more compassion for Brewer.  So many voices rose to the defense of a possibly innocent man to prevent an atrocity, with hardly a whisper of concern for a clearly guilty man facing the same atrocity.

Of course, the atrocity isn't that an innocent man would die.  The atrocity is that any person might be murdered by the government.  And, of course, as we are a government of the people, by the people, for the people, what we mean to say is that we are the murderers.  It's tough to stomach the thought that I had a hand  in someone's death.  Just because I didn't agree with it or didn't support it doesn't change the fact that I have, as have you, had a hand in numerous state deaths.

So I mourn for Davis.  And I mourn for Brewer.  And I mourn that Brewer death slid past us almost unnoticed.  Outside my window I can clearly hear the chimes of the clock tower on Cal campus every hour, on the hour, and when I heard the bell toll tonight I felt it was convicting me.  Who am I to recognize one death as more or less important than another?  But, more importantly, who am I to focus on this for the day of death for both men, and claim ignorance every other day?  How can I argue for an injustice when I only do so at my convience?  I'm pretty sure that's not how it works, or at least how it is supposed to work.

Did you know there are three more executions scheduled across the country this month?  Did you know there is one scheduled in Alabama tomorrow?  As I considered what I felt was my own failure to recognize the need for equal compassion to all condemned to die by the hands of the state, I found a desire to not let it happen again.  So I found a website that will give you all kinds of information concerning capital punishment in the United States, including a schedule for upcoming executions.  I hope to be more aware of these events moving forward.  Do with it what you will, but I feel the least we can do is pray for peace and compassion for the victims of those convicted of crimes resulting in the death penalty, as well as peace and compassion for the convicted.  For it is not up to me to say who lives and who dies, not matter what the cause.

I found solace tonight in music, as I often do.  While Linkin Park was a heavy dose for the evening, I also held on to a song I heard coming home from my internship tonight, a thought that surely echoes those of many affected families tonight:

Why can't we pantomime, just close our eyes
And sleep sweet dreams
Me and you with wings on our feet

-R.E.M., "The Great Beyond"

I'm left wondering about the divide between those that oppose the death penalty and those that support it.  I wonder how a roomful of humans can applaud a statistic that place Texas at the forefront of state killings.  I wonder how to start a dialogue with those people, to see what kind of injustice it is for any person to lose their life at the hands of another.  I wonder what kind of action we might consider as justice to soothe the pain caused by violent crimes.  I wonder a lot about how to make things better, and I'm no closer to an answer than I was when I started, but I feel as though I'm starting down some other unknown path.

Tonight, I pray for Troy Davis.  Tonight, I pray for Lawrence Brewer.  Tonight, I pray for Derrick Mason. Tonight, I pray for the day when I no longer need to pray these prayers.

A (brief) reflection of the last decade.

I spent this morning listening to music to help me remember.

I didn't do it to remember 9/11.  I don't need any help remembering that.  Maybe I was far removed from the events of that morning geographically as I spent hours in class, but I distinctly remember the images of planes and  buildings that day, replayed over and over on television for us to try to understand and fail miserably.  I remember the hurt and anger and confusion I couldn't get a hold on, and eventually finding myself in a long hug from Abeth where I finally sobbed it all out as I tried wrap my head around the concept of "why."

Instead, I listened to remind myself that, despite the pain, fear, and hatred that has spouted from far corners of the globe as a response to both that days events and our country's own reaction, those ways are not my ways.  I also remember the darkness of October 2001, when I felt so conflicted as our country invaded Afghanistan.  I wanted to be able to stand in defense of our country, but I also felt that killing people in a far flung country felt more like revenge than justice.  The day the war started, I found the lyrics to a howie&scott song, "Mightier Than the Sword," and posted them on my dorm door as I still searched for my own voice in support of love and peace:

Our hands are
Our feet are
Our words are
Our lives are…
Mightier than the sword

In the days, months, and years following 9/11, there was so much talk about victory over the terrorists. As true to me as it is now, the only way I can understand victory over terrorism is not backing down from business as usual: living life without fear of the other, spending our time loving and helping each other, and building together all things new so that we as humans around the world stand together as one.  What would life be like if we did that instead of tearing each other down through our words and actions of violence?

Now a year into seminary and a different kind of life for myself, I stand for love.  That's what I wanted to remember this morning, and what I want to remember every morning.

How I Spent My Summer "Vacation" Q&A

After my last post, I received some ideas to address in a follow-up.  If you haven’t read that post, you might want to head over there first, as these responses make less sense without that context.  Thanks for all for your questions, and feel free to add more!

As my last post was a summary designed to engage the positive things I could learn from the experience, some of these topics didn’t really fit, but they were nonetheless often part of my original observations that I have expanded some upon reflection.  Often, the lack of mention of certain aspects of my journey in my original post meant that I didn’t feel a way to learn something new that I might be able to incorporate into something new, instead reflecting what I thought of as what not to do.  So, to the questions:

What are the signs of emotional connection?  I think to help with this I need to establish a baseline of connection in my normal worship experiences.  In the past, as I have attended UCC churches, there is a variety of expression from the congregation within the service.  That is in no way a comprehensive experience, and indeed due to the nature of the UCC, each UCC church is different from the last.  But the common sense I have gotten in a UCC service is a calm demeanor from the congregation, with limited interaction between congregants and/or pastors within the service.  At the most basic, the service involves a very short time of greeting between congregants, and all other movement is based on standing or sitting at the appropriate time (hymns, calls to worship, offerings, blessings, etc.) but not often extended to lateral movement.  Additionally, there may occasionally be a music selection that includes some clapping, but not as often as weekly, or sometimes even monthly.  There is little to no response to the actions of the pastor, particularly during the sermon.  My own church (New Spirit Community Church) is expanded much beyond that, incorporating lateral movement for longer periods at various points in the service, and more energy-inducing music that contains clapping or even dancing at multiple points during a service in a mostly weekly basis.  Both of those situations do not necessarily mark the amount of emotional connection within a service, as emotion can often be inwardly expressed, especially in a group where the norms are not an open to movement, but they are not as readily apparent to a visitor.

In all of the churches I visited this summer, there was no question in the heightened emotional connection of the congregation through physical movement and vocal expression, far more than any church I have regularly attended.  Though lateral movement was not often apparent, vertical movement was.  During opening music, everyone stood, often with arms raised as a praise motion to receive the inspiration of the Spirit.  Singing was a primary expression of emotion, with volume of voice and extent of physical movement and dance increasing with increasing awareness of emotional connection.  In one church, I was particularly amazed at the volume increase of the congregational singing after an emotional and energetic sermon over the level established before the sermon.  There was also encouragement of emotional expression from the congregation by the pastors.  For example, if the pastor noted a particular reaction from the congregation he thought of as positive of expressive (in terms of emotional release), there would be a kind of pause in the service as that moment was stretched to heighten the experience.  Music from the band or choir would increase in volume, as would the singing of the congregation.  From this, I could see more hands in the air in praise, more swaying or dancing from the congregation, and sometimes some form of speaking in tongues.

Other forms of emotional connection throughout the service included shouting and crying.  Both of these were very common in all the churches I attended.  Shouting would occur at any point in the service as response to the music or the sermon.  Sometimes it was in response to the encouragement of the preacher (“Can I get an amen?”), but there were also plenty of moments of improvisational, inspirational shouting of praise.  If the music or the sermon touched a particularly strong nerve, the ultimate response was crying.  Some churches offered tissues by passing them, or by stocking them in pews, showing recognition of the power of emotional connection within the church.  The avenue of connection for this expression varied from church to church based on the theology of the sermon or music, but it was prevalent throughout the churches as a whole.

In summary, the emotional connection had a wide range of expression, from more movement in a stationary position (swaying, dancing, arms raised) to increased volume (shouting, singing, music) to cathartic release (speaking in tongues, crying).

What is the make-up of the congregation?  This was certainly something that varied by church.  One church I visited was mostly African-American through historic tradition.  The rest seemed to be mostly Euro-American in make-up to varying degrees, some having much more diversity than others.  Some churches offered services in languages other than English.  However, I do not recollect any mention of race, even within the church predominantly African-American.  Every church had a wide range of age groups, but I particularly focused on the large amount of inclusion of families, children, and young adults.  There was a specific focus of engagement to many different age groups, especially youth and young adults.  I also had a sense of middle to upper class engagement in every church except the African-American church, reflecting the geographical location of the churches (downtown Oakland versus Bay Area suburbs).  No church engaged sexual orientation or gender identification as a positive way of inclusion, and some were, to me, offensive in their opposition to that inclusion.

I did not feel that any church truly reflected diversity in terms of percentages of population in the area across a number of different demographics, but I did feel the diversity of congregational make-up was greater than most of my previous church experiences, both outside and within the UCC.  However, this diversity of congregational make-up was not reflected in the church leadership.  Every pastor (except at the African-American church) was Euro-American.  Every pastor was male.  Every senior pastor was older, though some had guest preachers that were much younger.  Diversity was never a topic of music or sermon in any church.

How did the preacher use scripture?  This was one of the largest difficulties I had with the churches.  Most churches did not have a separate reading of the scripture; it was folded into the sermon.  Within those sermons came some different uses of scripture.  One church used John 11 as a scripture, with the sermon as first-person perspective from the viewpoint of the writer of John witnessing the events of raising Lazarus from the dead.  Another church had ten different scriptural references, one or two verses apiece, within the sermon from six different books of the New Testament and the Old Testament.  Another church had six scriptural references from six different Old Testament and New Testament books, one to seven verses apiece.  At no point in any church did I feel the sermon was used to critically examine scripture, instead the scripture was often picked out of context to serve the needs of the preacher, including sometimes skipping lines within the same pericope to only use the verses that served the preacher’s needs.

How did these churches address social justice?  Most of the churches had some sort of outreach to the poor.  This seemed to mostly come in a way to feed the hungry in the local community once a week or once a month.  There may have been more efforts beyond, but they were not advertised within the service or other media present.  The focus for most churches was on prosperity/personal liberation as well as salvation.  Therefore, there wasn’t much of a social justice aspect of the church or worship, which I found highly disappointing.  I considered what one might be able to accomplish with so many people working towards one goal, and realized there are certainly very positive and very negative results that can come from that.  I would have been very interested to see what social justice might look like in a mega-church setting, but it just wasn’t there.

How I Spent My Summer "Vacation"

Earlier this year, I decided it might be a fun and enlightening exercise to take some time to visit other churches over the summer. The more I thought about it, I reasoned that I had been to plenty UCC churches in my lifetime, and I’ll have ample opportunity to experience other ones in the future, so this might be an excellent opportunity to search out places I hadn’t experienced before. As I continued to discern what might be the best churches to visit, I realized there was a large segment of Christianity I really had no background in at all: mega-churches. I wondered what made so many people come to these services. I really had no idea, and couldn’t accurately conjecture without any base of knowledge.

Therefore, I resolved to spend (usually) every other week of the summer to visit a mega-church somewhere in the Bay Area, with the off weeks spent at my home church, New Spirit Community Church in Berkeley. However, I didn’t know where to start in picking a mega-church, and that’s when the internet came to my rescue. I found the Database of Mega-churches after a fast Google search, and I was on my way. One can sort by Name, Denomination, State, and Size, and also search individual states. I looked at a number of candidates, and narrowed it down under the following criteria: each church should be in a different geographical sphere of the Greater Bay Area, each church should be a different denomination, and each church should be a large as possible. Through those criteria, I figured I could get a decent cross-section of what it might be like to attend a mega-church in California. Here are my selections, with date of attendance, size, and denomination included:

6 /19
Jubilee Christian Center – 10,000 (Non-Denominational)
105 Nortech Parkway, San Jose, CA

7/10
Greater St. Paul Baptist Church – 5,000 (Baptist)
1827 Martin Luther King Jr. Way, Oakland, CA

7/24
Menlo Park Presbyterian Church – 3,200 (Presbyterian Church, USA)
950 Santa Cruz Ave, Menlo Park, CA

7/31
Bayside Church – 9,983 (Evangelical Covenant)
8191 Sierra College Blvd., Roseville, CA

8/14
Calvary Temple – 10,515 (Assemblies of God)
1601 Coffee Rd., Modesto, CA

Each church was different from the last, as all churches are. There was a variety in theology among the churches, none of which I can say I was comfortable with. There was also imagery and language used within each church that I was uncomfortable with. I did not feel that I could attend any of these churches on a regular basis due to these conflicts with my own beliefs. However, I did not attended these churches to discover what I could find wrong about them, but instead to see what they were doing that worked well and could be useful in a progressive church setting. As such, I found a few common themes among the churches that were informative to me about why so many people might attend the churches.

Every church had a similar order of worship. Again, there were always variations dependent on the individual church, but there was not much deviation from a simple service structure: opening music, pastoral prayer, announcements, and offering, more music, message, music, and end. Some churches dwelled on certain areas longer than others as well. Some did more music, some had more message, and some had both. But they all carried the same simple structure of worship.

Every church used technology to enhance the sanctuary and the service. All five churches had at least two screens at the front of the sanctuary, one to either side of the center/stage area. Before church, these screens contained information on upcoming events and other announcements. During church, the screens contained words for all of the music, either taking up the whole screen or running along the bottom of the screen over live video of the congregation and musicians. Also, the screens focused on the pastor during the sermon, flashing any scriptural references made throughout the sermon. Additionally, there was often a video of upcoming events, and a few words from the head pastor if he was away for the week.

Because of these screens, most churches did not have a traditional bulletin, but instead passed out informational pamphlets about the church as people entered the sanctuary. In my opinion, the screens helped to create a better sense of community in the church; people were always looking up instead of looking down when singing, and people could see how the entire congregation or certain individuals were reacting to moments in the service, especially at moments of high emotion and connection.

Every church used music that was powerful: energetic, and emotional. Every church had a band that included at least a drum kit, electric guitar, electric bass, piano/keyboard and vocalist. Others included more instruments and vocalists, some many more. The music was always the start of the service, and generally centered on up-tempo, praise-type music. At times, the music dipped to a slower pace, but would often pick up the tempo again with the next song. Music was used in some places as an emphatic response to the message, but was mostly centered on the beginning of the service. Often, there was recorded music played over the sound system before and after the service as people entered and exited, but all music within the service was performed live by the band and choir.

Every church used the structure of the service to make an emotional connection with the congregation. From the first notes of the opening music to the message to the music to end the service, there was always an effort to make a community in the sanctuary based on an emotional connection with each other and the divine, often emphasized on the divine. Each message was crafted to have uplifting effect on the people of the congregation, and the congregation responded. There were often testimonies from the pastor within the sermon to drive home the point found within the scriptural references of the day. The music at the beginning was used as an emotional introduction to the service, to make initial connections, but the message was the heart of the emotional experience. The message varied in length from church to church, ranging from twenty minutes to over an hour, but was always delivered with an overabundance of energy to complete and enhance the emotional connection to the congregation. People were most expressive during the most intense periods of emotion in the service, whether brought on by the message or the music.
It was hard for me to understand why someone might want to find themselves in a mega-church. The size of the church removes the individuality of a person in church. But I realized that the emotional connection to each other, to the worship leaders, and to the divine were of profound importance, and overrode any thought of an individual lost in a sea of people. Each church also provided community opportunities outside of a worship service through smaller bible studies and congregational groups and events, as well as excellent child care and education from infants to young adults.

So my conclusion was that the draw of the mega-church was the inspirational and emotional experience brought through energetic expression in contemporary music and message delivery. Of all the churches I experienced, I found the most informative and most desirable to be the Bayside Church of Roseville, CA.

While I did not agree with the theology of Bayside Church, I was blown away by the presentation and involvement of the service. They are 100% committed to making the service a very positive experience, best seen in the performance of the music. All music was done by what could easily be called a rock band. They were so experienced and together in their presentation, I could easily see them as a successful opening act for a popular modern alternative rock act. Each song was performed with passion and spirit unmatched in any other church I attended. The message was met with equal passion and spirit, and the congregation responded energetically to both. If I could recommend any of these churches to go to in an effort to understand my church visiting experience this summer that would be the one.

My take away from this project is that there are ways to connect to people that are independent of theology. I think the attendees of these services are looking for a place to find inspiration and acceptance in a modern context, and these churches are very good at providing that. But I also found myself in question moving forward: what would a progressive mega-church look like? In other words, how can I take my experience at Bayside Church and translate it to a church with progressive theology? That’s the next step for projects on the horizon.

This was an amazing experience for me. I learned quite a bit that I’ll be able to reference as I move forward into ministry. I want to thank most especially Riess Potterveld for support on this adventure, as well as Nate Mazur for accompanying me on the last two church visits. Also thanks to support of friends and family as I went on this journey, particularly in events surrounding some of the visits. Finally, I encourage you to all to find your own journey, and experience something opposite of how you think or feel. You might be surprised what you learn!

Bath time and bananas would never be the same.

I'm sure you've seen the news this week.  It's been all over the place, as if we had nothing better to worry about this week.  Or maybe we just want to escape whatever roller coaster the stock market is sending us on?

Yes, people are getting up in arms about Bert and Ernie.  Sure, quite a few of us grew up singing about our rubber duckies, but I guess we can't just leave it alone.  Bert and Ernie are examples for children these days, as they always have been, and it appears we are concerned about what that example might be.

One might think, given my hefty support of same-gender loving marriage, that I would be in full support of the idea of a wedding for Bert and Ernie.  But they'd be quite wrong.

It's not that I'm opposed to the idea of them getting married.  Sure, if that's who they are, then go for it.  But is that who they are?  The good folks at Sesame Street keep telling us that Bert and Ernie aren't gay, and are instead best friends and roommates.  I don't think they were created as gay characters, and if they weren't then, why are they now?

In an age where we are fighting for a revolution in gender identity, is it fair for us to project our own ideas of who somebody is or isn't onto their lived experience absent their own input?  I understand they are puppets (as the folks at Sesame Street are also keen to point out) and subject to whatever character traits and thoughts created for them by human writers, but I know I didn't think about that when I was growing up. I knew of Bert and Ernie as people that are friendly with each other, because that's what they are portrayed as.  Anything else added to that is our own projection of what we want to see, for better or for worse.

Should Sesame Street have gay, married characters?  Well, I think an example of all forms of love, as well as an example of the different areas of gender identity would be good for an educational program to show, especially for those that might not get it in any other context.  But that's a different argument.  For us to decide that Bert and Ernie are gay and should be married is no better than us deciding who is gay based on how they dress, the people they hang out with, or how they speak.  Same goes for gender identity.  It is not for us to project our own desires and perceptions on other people.  That's how we end up with stereotyping and discrimination.

So if we want to petition Sesame Street to address gender and sexual orientation topics in an educational and positive way, I'm in.  But if we want to petition Sesame Street to address our own ideas of what people (or in this case, puppets) should do without respecting who they are, then I'm out.  I'll have fun with Bert and Ernie over bananas and bath time:

My Surreal Sunday

It was unexpected.  By that, I mean, having never been punched in the face before, I didn't recognize what was happening until after it happened.  It was a touch past surreal.  Maybe next time I'll know I should duck.

I have no idea how the day ended up this way.  The plan: head to Menlo Park Presbyterian Church for morning service, chill out in the area for a bunch of hours, and then head back to the church for the 7 PM young adult service.  As part of my day hanging around, I thought a movie would be a good time killer, so I found a big theater, drove over there after the service got out around noon, parked the car, and went looking for some food.

Ah, Redwood City, a fine downtown area indeed, if not a tad on the ritzy side.  As I rounded a corner towards the "food court" area next to the theater, I passed a man on the sidewalk that seemed to give me a strange look. So it goes sometimes, I thought, and continued on.  About halfway down the street, as I was checking out the many food options, I realized the man that gave me a strange look was following me, and that's when he approached me.

We had a short conversation about what I was doing and what my plans were, and I had a sense that something strange was going on.  We walked into the Chipotle together, as I figured burritos were a good choice of food.  Plus, it was a public establishment that might discourage any untoward action.  Or so I thought.  I stood in line, and he asked me if I knew what I wanted.  I told him I was still figuring it out, all the while trying to figure out how to separate myself from him, for the hair on the back of my neck grew straighter by the second.

That's when I didn't recognize his fist coming at me.  Like so often said, it was in slow motion.  Rather than reacting, I stood confused, trying to figure out what he was doing.  That was sorted out pretty quickly when he hit me, but I was still confused: why would someone want to hit me, much less someone I don't know?

I backed away with my hands in front of me, ready to try to ward of the next blow that never came.  At first the ladies at the counter implored us to take it outside, not wanting violence in their fine eatery.  I agreed vociferously, quickly winning them over with my consistent backing and asking for them to call the police.  The man was still saying things to me, but I wasn't paying too much attention to that so much as his location and my places of safe harbor.  After the ladies at the counter confirmed they were calling the police, the man left and walked down the street in a pretty normal manner.

One punch.  That was it. It's hard for me to call one punch an assault, but that's where the police were, so I wasn't going to argue.  Since they had him in custody due to some fast and fantastic police work, I was asked if I wanted to press charges.  It took me a while to decide.  All I could think about was compassion and love, and how it's so hard to love those who hate you, but that doesn't get you off the hook.  So I was leaning towards no, but I then I thought some more.

I'd had some time to reflect on what happened as I waited for the police to show up, and I ran everything over in my head.  I can't remember the specifics of what he was saying, but the general gist I was picking up was he didn't like me for some reason, and thought what I was doing was wrong.  I don't know what that's a reference to, since I had never seen this man before in my life, and we knew nothing of each other.  He didn't want my money, and he never said anything about how I might have wronged him.  I was clearly targeted by him, so a quick inventory of myself told me he thought I was gay.  Either that, or he didn't like my orange shirt?  I still wear my rainbow bracelet every day to show my support for the LGBTQ population, and that was the only thing I could think of that might have caught his attention.

Maybe I'm wrong, but it felt to me like a hate crime.  In the end, that's why I decided to press charges.  If he was disturbed, or high, or I had unknowingly wronged him, I might have let it pass and let go, but there was that nagging feeling in the back of my head that there was something else to it.  If he had hit me because I was gay, even if it was only a slim possibility, I couldn't let it pass.  How could I look my friends or family in the eye after fighting against things like that for so long, and then when the opportunity came upon me, just letting it slide?  How is that justice?

But maybe I'm just projecting an idea to understand these strange events.  It's easier to think that someone won't decide today that you're the one to be violent towards.  It's easier to think that everyone acts in a rational way, and that one need only show a person the "right" way to change a course of action.  It's easier to think that everything has a simple reason behind it, and that if we understand that reason, if in some way it all makes sense to us, then it just gets better.  But it's not easy.  Even if I can fully convince myself of his possible ugly intentions, I still don't see a way to clearing up the confusion I can't shake.  My mind works so hard to try to understand everything I can encounter, and it sure is working overdrive on this one, but I'm no closer to understanding now than I was as it was happening.

I never was angry at the man, and I'm still not.  Whatever his reasons were, in the end he needed some kind of help, and perhaps his arrest will point him towards that help.  Really, I felt sad for him.  I felt sad for all the points in his life that led him to the one of violence with me.  I felt sad for how his life may be so different now that he hit me.  I felt sad that he didn't even see the wrong in what he had done, with they way in which he casually walked away revealing so much.

The police officer told me I would most likely never see him again, and I suppose I'm fine with that.  But part of me wishes I could see him again, perhaps just in passing, just to say that I pray peace finds his life to free him from whatever led him to hit me, and that I forgive him.

Mid-Summer

It's nearing the end of July, and I've had a busy three weeks of Introduction to Christian History class.  Four hours a day in class, five days a week, plus reading homework and then papers to write.  Tomorrow is the final day, and the class had been great.  So tomorrow will be a great day of ending as we talk about the last 50 years of Christian history, and then I'll be (mostly) free for the month of August to do a lot of something and a lot of nothing.

Also, the Giants are having a good month.  Really, they are having a good year.  How do I know this?  Well, aside from checking out the Giants games, box scores, and stories, I find myself already checking the standings every day.  In mid-July.  With well over two months to go on the season.  Yowza.

What have I learned?  Well, as of tonight, the Giants are a fine four games in first place, tied for the largest division lead at this point.  For those counting at home, they have the same number of wins as the Evil Empire (aka the Yankees) while scoring 125 fewer runs.  Who needs high-priced free agents?  Or the ability to score runs?  Only the Phillies have allowed fewer runs than the Giants, which should make for an interesting series come October, should both get that far.

It's the same Giants as last year, but worse.  Somehow, they find a way to win those one run games (at 26-13), and that's all it takes.  A win by one run counts the same as a win by twenty.

If the Giants make it to the playoffs again, I'll be happy.  If they make it to the World Series again, I'll got nuts.  And if they win again?  Well, I wasn't sure how I'd react to the first one last year, so I have no idea how I'd take two in a row.  Of course, if they fall flat and miss the playoffs, I'll be sad, but then I can remember the glory of last October, for I'm sure I'll be feeling that one for a while.

But, seriously, it's too early for watching the standings every day.  So much can happen in two and a half months.  Just look where the Giants were last year at this time.  You never know who will come from behind to make a run at it.  You never know what Cinderella will fall apart (Pirates?  Indians?  Diamondbacks?).  So what's the use with all this scoreboard watching with so much time left.

Now, do as I say, not as I do.

Who casts the first stone?

Checking out links on Facebook today led me to this story about the "The Marriage Vow" and the willingness of Republican Presidential candidates to sign it.  Michele Bachmann and Rick Santorum have already signed on, and others may be on the way shortly.  If you'd like to take a look, read below.

The Marriage Vow

My quick summery after a read-through: the candidate pledges to "protect" marriage through various actions and legislation if elected to office.  As I am generally a liberal fellow, you are probably not surprised in my lack of support for this document.

In wandering though the experience of reading this, I was struck by two things.  First, the liberal reaction is mostly vitriol.  Is the left really surprised by this?  Here we see on paper exactly what a number of candidates have been talking about throughout their campaigns.  The reaction to this on the right, I presume, is one of affirmation.  These are, after all, Republican candidates looking for ways to distinguish themselves in a race full of a lot of look-a-likes.  Telling their base in no uncertain terms exactly what they want to hear when it comes to social issues, so, no, I am not surprised by the news of the Vow, or that candidates are signing it, because that's what the Republican base wants.

And that leads me to my second thought, which I find much more important.  If we describe ourselves as progressive, how are we to have a conversation with those that oppose us by starting the conversation with insults and belittling.  I see progressives so quick to claim the high ground on so many issues with a reinvention of moral superiority the marginalized have sought so long to eliminate.  Doesn't it seem the least bit hypocritical and pretentious to tell other people they need to stop bullying and name calling and finish by calling them stupid for not getting it?

Oh, I'm could talk about the problems I have with this vow and those candidates that support it, and I could for quite some time, but that's beyond the point.  We can disagree with each other on how we view the world and how we implement policy.  But if we truly believe that our vision for the country is better than some other vision, we cannot start down that road by stepping backwards into pettiness and thuggery.  After all, that's what it is to call someone stupid.

I was reminded in class this week that, despite a many and varied differences, we are all human.  It is important to remember that we all deserve compassion.  We come from different social locations, political systems, and spiritual beliefs, but we must remember that we must be compassionate for every human, not matter how badly we disagree with them.  Everyone had their bias on how they view the world, but if we add compassion to that bias, we can start a conversation about moving forward without moving backward.

Thoughts on New York

This beginning of this story is written elsewhere on this blog, but here's the quick summary: just over eleven years ago, I sat in my government class as a senior in high school fighting back tears as I explained why I was so upset a ban of gay marriage had passed in California.  It was such a moment of despair for me, and I felt so alone in that classroom, as if every one of my classmates were against me.

I have to remind myself constantly these days that laws like this were passed even though same-sex marriage was already unavailable.  Maryland passed the first law banning same-sex marriage in 1973, but by 1990, 40 of the 50 states had a law against it.  And, of course, in 1996, President Clinton signed the Defense of Marriage Act outlawing federal recognition of same-sex marriage.  Then Hawaii courts declared a law prohibiting same-sex marriage to be unconstitutional according to the state constitution.  The reaction came quickly in Hawaii and then spread around the country: amend the state constitution to get around the possible unconstitutionality of these laws.  Amendments like these have spread like wildfire, a wave sweeping the nation.  Every time a measure like this had come for a vote in front of the people, it has passed.

In 2000, there was no state in which same-sex marriage was legal.  In only Vermont was there even a place in which the same rights as marriage were given same-sex couples through the invention of civil unions.

And yet, there was hope.  Well, at least to me, there was hope.  While other nations were starting to make headway towards legalized same-sex marriage, Vermont was really that clue for me, that kernel of hope that something could come along.  To borrow from my friend, Howie, that was the whisper that started the wave.

In 2004, the city of San Francisco started issuing marriage licenses to same-sex couples.  Other cities followed suit, and though those marriages were all eventually nullified, the voices were growing.  Just a few months later, Massachusetts became the first state to legalize same-sex marriage.

With last weeks amazing effort by the government of New York, there are now six states in which same-sex marriage is legal.  Another eight states allow rights equal to marriage to same-sex couples.  Do the math, that's  thirty six states in which same-sex marriage is not legal.  With the passing of Proposition 8 in 2008, California is one of those states in which marriage is not legal (though it was for a time) even though civil unions with equal rights exist.  I had friends that day that found the despair I had felt in my classroom so many years ago, and couldn't see how the future contained a place in which same-sex marriage existed.

Some might look at 36 states in which there are no equal rights, or question why eight states can't bring themselves to call a horse a horse and jump to legalized same-sex marriage.  But I realized so many years ago, after my experience in high school and again in college as a freshman in Nebraska, that there are outcomes that come against you.  There are people who want to keep you in your place and keep that status quo.  There are events that conspire to to convince you to give up.  It's so hard, but you have to ignore it all and keep focused on that shining light of victory.

Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on.

That is, in sum, what I told my friends then, and what I still say today.  Thirty-six states outlawing same-sex marriage got you down?  Need I remind you ten years ago, there were no states in which this was legal?  Need I remind you of the advance of anti-discrimination laws in the last ten years, or the parents that have adopted because of the changes in laws?  No, I'm not in despair of the states that still outlaw same-sex marriage.  I am overjoyed that New York has joined the other five states, and I'm ready to celebrate number seven, whenever that comes.  Because it will come.

Same-sex marriage may not be the be-all, end-all of equal rights for the LGBT community, but it's another step.  Things like this take time, no matter what it is.  So rejoice in this step, and then take another.  And then another.  And when that fight is done, move to the next one, until we are all equal in the eyes of the government, and, more importantly, in the eyes of each other.

Have you been following this story?

A college football player, returning to campus following the death of a friend, was pulled off a US Airways flight last week for not complying with the orders of flight attendants and the captain of the plane to pull up his pants that were sagging low enough to expose his underwear.  When I first read it, I thought it was a little bit of a strange story.  Are we really making big deals about what people are wearing on airplanes, in San Francisco no less?  I understand folks get nervous about security on flights these days, but doesn't it seem a little over the top?

Almost immediately there was a question on the motive of his removal from the flight.  Were they attempting to remove him from the flight because they thought he was dressed inappropriately?  Were they attempting to remove him from the flight because they thought he was a security risk based on his reaction?  Or were they attempting to remove him from the flight because they stereotyped him in the first place, letting his appearance tell a story that didn't match to what was going on.

But then the story deepens with a video posting of the interaction on the plane.  From the video, it's pretty clear that he is not doing anything that warrants concern beyond wanting to just get home.  According to the witnesses he had already complied with the request of the airline employees, albeit delayed from the timing desired by the airline.  So the police arrested him for, among other things, refusing to comply with the orders of the captain and resisting arrest.  Given the video, it seems a little odd.  I'm having trouble understanding why it had to get taken to the level it was.  Unless, of course, you consider that racial stereotypes played a role in the matter.

And then we arrive at today, where there is a report that a man exposing more of his body (in only women's undergarments, as the picture shows) travelling on a plane, where the airline employees ignored the complaints of the customers.  From the story: "A white man is allowed to fly in underwear without question, but my client was asked to pull up his pajama pants because they hung below his waist."

The airline can hide behind the company line of "he should have followed the directions of the flight crew."  I think there's a certain amount of that in this, but that's not the whole truth.  Not by any stretch of the imagination.  While the racial motive question was brought up quickly, the evidence is building more and more and more.

This is how trust is broken.  This is how peace falls apart.  This is how everything that has been gain disappears in just an instance.  We can say this is an isolated incident, or that we wouldn't do the same in a similar situation, or that we shouldn't let one (or a few) bad apples ruin it for the rest of us.  But none of that does justice to Deshon Marman, or his family, or his friend that passed so tragically a month ago.  How easily could this have turned into another situation like the tragedy in the loss of Oscar Grant, a story once again rehashed in the news even as this incident on the plane was happening?

It is incumbent upon all of us to ensure these things don't happen.  It is incumbent upon all of us to stand up and say when we see injustice.  It is incumbent upon all of us to recognize that this situation could happen in front of us any day, at any time, and speak the truth in those situations.  Without everyone recognizing as an individual the role we each play in creating justice in the world, there is still work to do.

In Your Eyes

Peter Gabriel is in town tonight.  I don't have the $50 for the cheapest ticket for myself.  Clearly, we do not have $100 so both Kelse and I could both go.  And then she's working tonight anyway.

It's an outdoor concert over on Cal campus, less than a mile from here.  In fact, a few hours ago I heard them warming up.  Yes, we can here it all the way over here.  I thought about walking over to campus and finding a place to sit and just listen.

But then, I thought, how could I enjoy hearing this without Kelse?

"In Your Eyes" is, of course, our song.  This version was the one we danced our first dance to at our wedding.  It was magical to spend over ten minutes dancing, and inviting others to dance with us, until the entire crowd was sharing the joy of the experience.  This song never fails to make me smile whenever I hear it. Ultimate mood lifter.

But I don't think hearing it live tonight while she is working would make me smile.  It'd be incomplete.  So I'm staying home tonight.  We'll get to see him someday, for sure.  And we'll dance, again, with everyone else.