“Why Should the Mice Get All the Good Tunes?”

Why should the mice get all the good tunes? Well, one of them. Take the mice in Babe, the fantastic pig epic, and its sequel, Babe: Pig in the City. The tune? For some, the most nettlesome earworm of all time: the 70’s pop hit “If I Had Words,” itself a re-working of the so-called ‘Symphonic Hymn,’ from Saint-Saëns’ Symphony No. 3 in C Minor. For those in the back, that’s the one with the organ blast near the end.

Now, that portion of the symphony may be called a hymn, but, as majestic as it is, you’d be hard-pressed to come across it in mainline English language hymnals. I found a lone link online to “O Lord, I love you, my shield, my tower.” If you know the music, try singing that first line and already, there’s a problem. As we used to say, the emPHAsis is on the wrong syl-LA-ble. We’ll ignore the fact that the text is utter drivel.

Why, then, aren’t there more texts set to this tune? It’s the meter (9.9.9.9 or 9.10.9.10, depending on how you deal with two eighth notes in the second and fourth lines of each stanza). Go to the back of your average hymnal and check under Metrical List of Tunes. If your hymnal collection is like mine, you won’t find one single 9.9.9.9 or 9.10.9.10 tune. And that’s a shame. I mean, the tune is iconic in its hymniness.

So, I’ve given it a shot. To while away the longeurs of my occasionally aimless retired life, I’ve been contending with John Mason Neale (1818-1866) and some of his creakier metrical translations of medieval Office hymns and the like. While it merits an assist from F. Bland Tucker et al. for “O Lord, Most High, eternal King” (#221, 1982 Hymnal), Neale’s now-dated take on Aeterne Rex altissime has been on my mind. I believe the original deserves a new look to match the high tone of the ‘Symphonic Hymn.’ Linked here is my translation paired with my adaptation of Saint-Saëns for congregational singing. (I’ve created another version for choir and organ that more closely hews to the original symphonic finale.) While intended for Ascension, it might work well on Christ the King or Easter.

Be aware that an aspect of that new look is nonetheless retro. Read: I haven’t eliminated sovereignty language. A lot of my other translation and adaptation work does, so, please, call off the hounds. This time around, Aeterne Rex altissime (“Eternal King most high”) is what it is.

'Amazing Grace' revisited

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, so here goes: Absolutely sick to death of 'Amazing Grace' ... to the tune of New Britain, that is. Sick. To. Death. And if you're going to suggest, as an alternative, the tawdry crack-up of John Newton's text paired with 'The House of the Rising Sun' -- yes, hard to believe that was a thing back when I had shoulder-length hair and sported Nehru shirts -- save your breath. The Newton text is in Common Meter, so there are a gazillion options to choose from. Since my Boston Camerata days, I've been more than fond of Southern Harmony tunes. Here I've paired the text with Dove of Peace. You're welcome.

“It’s Now or Never”

Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Advent  22 December 2019

Trinity Episcopal Church, Topsfield, Massachusetts

The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Bridge Priest

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”

No need to Google it. Everyone knows that’s St. Nick’s parting shot from “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.”

Now, it’s not quite the “night before Christmas,” but with under three shopping days remaining, it’s now or never if we’re going to wade into this whole “Merry Christmas” vs. “Happy Holidays” mess everyone with an axe to grind has their knickers in a twist about.

So, as we lurch inexorably toward the Christmas meltdown, just how are you going to extend greetings of the season?

St. Nick’s all-points "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night"? Slim it down and you get “Merry Christmas!”

Or do we expand our best wishes for the season to be more inclusive? Something like “Happy Holidays”?

Well, if you choose the “Merry Christmas” option, it all depends on what you mean … how you mean it … and to whom you say it.

That requires getting into motives — maybe even agendas — when we express best wishes of the season in stores, at the mall, at the post office, here in the parish, among friends, among strangers ... total strangers.

Read: How likely are you to be the perpetrator in an incident like the one outside a Phoenix, Arizona Walmart a few seasons back?

Salvation Army volunteer Kristina Vindiola was doing what the Salvation Army folks do this time of year. She was ringing a bell and had a red kettle prepped to receive donations to fund the Salvation Army’s charitable work: feeding the poor … caring for the lonely … clothing people down on their luck. In other words, helping our neighbors who have fallen into the cracks.

Truth-in-advertising: This isn’t a plug for the Salvation Army. I’m not at all keen on their anti-LGBTQ stances. No, not at all. Your mileage may vary.

Nevertheless, clanging her bell and staffing her kettle, Kristina Vindiola wished a passerby “Happy Holidays!” The woman reeled around and snarled, “You’re supposed to say, ‘Merry Christmas!’” And no-sooner-than-you-can-say, “Blessed are the peacemakers,” she hauls off and slugs Vindiola, knocking her to the ground.

Triggering the question: On a scale of 1 to 10, how likely are you to be charged with assault-and-battery if someone wishes you “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas”?

Because this incident has me just gobsmacked. I’m wondering why “Merry Christmas” is such a sacred cow — you might even say, idol — to some people.

So, I’ve done a quick survey of news stories, blogs, and what passes for critical thinking by the pundits on Fox yelling the loudest this season of peace, love, and joy.

And my admittedly unscientific survey suggests three possible meanings behind the greeting “Merry Christmas”: political … commercial … and Christ-centered.

First, “Merry Christmas” as politics.

What does that sound like? It begins with the president boasting, “Thanks to me, you can now say ‘Merry Christmas’ again.” I can’t tell you what that even means, but I do know it plays funny with the Constitution.

Reality: This is nothing less than a skirmish in the so-called “War on Christmas” or, “War on Christianity.” It’s an utter fabrication. It has absolutely nothing at all to do with religion. And everything to do with politics and ginning up the base.

Proof? No one — least of all the government — has parked a tank on the parish lawn. Trust me. It’s the sort of thing you notice.

And those stories you hear about Nativity crèches being banned from public buildings? For the life of me, I can’t think what they’re doing there in the first place.

Do we erect crucifixes on Statehouse property on Good Friday? Statues of Buddha on Buddha’s birthday? Or Krishna’s. Or the Mormons’ Joseph Smith?

More to the point: Would you want your heard-earned tax dollars used to clutter up public property with symbols of sects you don’t believe in … or religions you consider downright heretical, even satanic?

Meaning: What’s under attack isn’t Christianity. What’s under attack is privilege — privilege bestowed by the accidents of history.

That’s because some of these folks who’ve had it pretty good since 1776 are feeling a loss of privilege: the perceived right of some to clobber all with their brand of Christianity.

It seems, however, Jesus has a few things to say about privilege, like, “The last shall be first, and the first shall be last.”

And what Jesus has to say on this score has everything to do with how we say “Merry Christmas” and to whom.

For example, to those who communicate an in-your-face “Merry Christmas” — bullying total strangers, I ask, “Where ― in that ― is Jesus … Jesus, who suffered and died at the hands of bullies?”

What, then, about the commercial meaning of “Merry Christmas”?

Factoid: Except for the crèche ― courtesy of mild-mannered St. Francis of Assisi ― and St. Nicholas ― now a bleached bloviation of the olive-complected fourth-century Bishop of Myra (in present-day Turkey) … and except for a smattering of carols and chorales, just about all the trappings we have of Christmas today are the products of 19^th and 20^th century merchandising.

In other words, “Merry Christmas” means good business.

So, I have a problem when sales personnel are ordered to wish customers, “Merry Christmas.” Because all I’m hearing is “Fa-la-la-la-la! Ka-ching, ka-ching!”

But all is not lost. Plotting a course through the minefield of “Merry-Christmas” as bad politics and good business, a lot of people — and I mean a lot — have been circulating on social media the “Happy Holidays Meme.” It’s gone viral because the optics are good and the sentiment appears to make so much sense.

The optics: It’s a JPEG of a sheet of paper torn from a legal pad. The text is handwritten in block letters, a different rainbow color for each statement:

I don’t understand what the big deal is.

If you’re Jewish, wish me “Happy Hanukkah.”

If you’re Christian, wish me “Merry Christmas.”

If you’re African-American, wish me “Joyous Kwanzaa.”

If you don’t prefer those, wish me “Happy Holidays.” I will not be offended. I will be thankful you took the time to say something nice to me.

Look, great sentiments. But there’s a problem: They don’t reflect Jesus’ idea of hospitality to strangers. And Jesus is where we’re coming from, at least.

That is, the meme puts the focus on the disposition of the greeter (let’s say, a salesperson). “If you, salesperson, are Jewish … if you are Christian … if you are African-American and so on … wish me, the customer ….”

So, I’d like to flip it to shift the focus from the greeter to the person being greeted. That is, from the customer's point of view:

If you can tell I’m an observant Jew, wish me “Happy Hanukkah.”

If you can tell I’m a follower of Jesus, wish me “Merry Christmas.”

If you know I celebrate Kwanzaa, wish me “Joyous Kwanzaa.”

In the absence of any other data? Wish me “Happy Holidays.”

And if you don’t wish me anything … who … cares?!! Life is too short to shorten it further by carrying around a chip on your shoulder!

Because the point isn’t politics. It isn’t sales revenues. For us — as followers of Jesus — it’s funneling all our energy into Jesus’ take on Christmas … Jesus’ take on any holiday, any day:

If you can tell I’m hungry, give me food.
If you can tell I’m thirsty, give me something to drink.
If you can tell I’m a stranger, welcome me.
If you can tell I’m shy a warm coat in the shivering cold, give me clothing.
If you can tell I’m sick, help me get well.
If I’m in prison, visit me.

Bottom line: Nothing. Else. Matters … when we mean what we believe: “God bless us … everyone!”

Amen.

"Crazy for Castanets"

Homily for the Feast of Christ the King  24 November 2019

St John’s Episcopal Church, Gloucester, Massachusetts

The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Guest Celebrant and Preacher

And the people stood by, watching.  Luke 23:35a

Sometimes, you’ve got no choice. Ask Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse in “Singin’ in the Rain.” Sometimes you “g-o-o-o-o-tta dance.”

Proof? I’m not sure Teresa of Ávila could hold a candle to Cyd Charisse, but one gray day in the bone-chilling cold of her unheated convent — during the one hour she allowed the sisters to gather for recreation — Teresa shocked the life out of every last one of them.

Without introduction, without warning, without so much as a “5-6-7-8,” Teresa leaps to her feet, grabs her castanets from the far reaches of her habit, and launches into a “Dancing with the Stars”-worthy flamenco.

The look on the other nuns’ faces? “Well, that was unexpected!” Teresa’s defense? “Some days, you’ve got to do something to make life bearable!”

“You’ve got to do something. Someone has got to do something … to make life bearable!” Certainly, that was on the minds of those who eye-witnessed Jesus — victimized Jesus — being led to Jerusalem’s “killing field,” nailed to the cross, and hoisted high for maximum and prolonged murderous effect.

Given the injustice of the whole affair, who among us, looking on, wouldn’t be thinking, “Someone has got to do something”? That someone being God. Surely God would intervene. God would have to do something.

But that “something” did not materialize that day. And — that day — hard reality prevailed. The power of the State was just too strong for ordinary people — paralyzed by grief, shock, and despair — to mount organized resistance.

Result? Luke tells us: “The people stood by, watching.”

And we’re now caught in a similar, standing-by, watching moment. What are we standing-by, watching?

Newly-released data: A record number of migrant children held in US government custody over the past 12 months: 69,550. Enough infants, toddlers, kids, and teens to overflow the typical NFL stadium, putting each of those children at risk of long-term physical and emotional damage. A hate crime by any measure.

Other hate crimes: According to a report released by the FBI two weeks ago, an alarming 12 percent uptick in hate crimes involving violence for 2018. Driving the surge? Domestic terrorism linked to white supremacist activity.

Digging deeper:

A nearly 14 percent increase in hate crimes against Latinos in 2018.

An 18 percent increase in anti-LGBTQ hate crimes.

27 percent of all hate crimes in 2018 — the largest share among all categories — motivated by anti-black bias.

And, given base-baiting, extremist rhetoric from the highest office in the land, it’s not surprising that reported hate crimes motivated by religious bias accounted for 20 percent. Of those incidents, the lion’s share — 57.8 percent — were anti-Jewish, with anti-Islamic (anti-Muslim) a distant — but no less troubling — 14.5 percent.

Looking at these numbers — and the upward trajectory of these numbers — is it unreasonable for our Jewish and Muslim neighbors, for immigrants, women, and LGBTQ persons to suspect that in the next 12 months conditions — for them — for many of us — may become unbearable?

Leading us to side with Teresa of Ávila: “Some days, you’ve got to do something to make life bearable.”

Or, as Elie Wiesel said (and he knew a thing or two about standing up for a victimized neighbor): “We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”

Supporting factoid: Neutrality was never Jesus’ strong suit. Jesus took sides. Jesus’ project was a study in dissent. Nonviolent dissent … with the exception of his attack against exploitation by the religious-political apparatus, when he targeted the moneychangers in the Temple. Yes, three words come to mind: Out. Of. Control. But, it could be argued that was more street theater than a cruisin’-for-a-bruisin’ riot.

Pushing us to conclude: As followers of Jesus — Jesus, who relentlessly advocated for the rights of our neighbors — we have no other option than to resist. We have no other option than to resist nonviolently when our neighbors’ well-being, freedom, and rights are threatened. Standing by and watching is not an option now because when we sing “Lift every voice and sing till earth and heaven ring, ring with the harmonies of liberty,” we ain’t just whistlin’ “Dixie”!

Read: Against those who are turning bigotry into action, for followers of Jesus, activism is the answer.

Now, we don’t have castanets (or my hunch is most of us don’t). But we do have awareness, frustration, anger … and opportunity. What then, will we do? What will you do?

Well, where can you push back — in real time — in the moment — to overcome bigotry, racism, misogyny, and homophobia?

This Thursday is Thanksgiving, but it always applies: When a bloviating uncle (or whoever) — in the throes of alcoholic euphoria — makes degrading comments about a minority or women (like profiles-in-courage Marie Yovanovitch and Fiona Hill), push back … with respect, but firmly. Don’t let the swipe slide. Call it what it is: racism, sexism, homophobia, anti-Semitism, anti-Muslim bigotry … whatever fits. Name it. Name where you stand — and this is key — as a follower of Jesus. Do something!

But if that sounds like a bridge too far — maybe you’re afraid of curdling the gravy, I dunno —  here’s another way to frame it … from the lips of Jesus, who said famously: “Just as you did it — gave me food when I was hungry … something to drink when I was thirsty … gave me clothing when I was naked … took care of me when I was sick … visited me when I was incarcerated — just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”

Consider, then, a member of Jesus’ family — a neighbor — who might say:

I’m an illegal immigrant. ICE agents tell me they’re going to tear me away from my children, who were born here. They’re Dreamers. Is this what it means to “Make America Great Again”? I’m Jesus. Do something. Make my life bearable.

Or: I’m a Muslim-American woman in Walmart. Someone is shouting, “Go back to where you came from.” I’m Jesus. Do something. Make my life bearable.

I’m a transgender person. My neighbors throw rocks at my house as they drive by at night: “Freak, we don’t want your kind here.” I’m Jesus. Do something. Make my life bearable.

I’m a parent worried that each day I send my child off to school, she’ll become another statistic in this country’s fevered obsession with guns-guns-guns. I’m Jesus. Do something. Make my life bearable.

Each and every one a neighbor pleading with us not to stand by and watch … but to do something … neither hedging nor passing the buck … but in very real, generous and daring and brave ways … in real time … making things good-better-best for real people.

… because Captain Jean-Luc Picard and the crew of the Starship Enterprise got it right and proved the Borg wrong: Resistance isn’t futile.

Bottomline: Lobby. Cajole. Blog. Tweet. Stand up. Speak out. Push back. Donate. Vote. Resist. Resist. Resist. Do something to make life bearable!

Amen.

“To boldly go.”

Homily for the Feast of St Peter & St Paul                            24 June 2018
The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Rector

Eternal light, shine in our hearts. Eternal hope, lift up our eyes. Eternal power, be our support. Eternal wisdom, make us wise. Amen.

Derrick Johnson. Not a household name, but he aims to be one in the next decade or so, right up there with Christopher Columbus, Lewis and Clark, Neil Armstrong, and Buzz Aldrin.How? Johnson ─ along with about 200,000 others ─ has applied to be among the first cohort of humans not only to land on Mars, but to build a permanent, self-sustaining colony on the dusty hulk.

The name of the mission? Mars One. “One,” as in one-way. Yes, the privately-funded mission aims to launch the successful applicants into space, land them on Mars, and attempt to keep them alive for the length of their natural lives.

One-way. Exponentially cheaper than a round-trip.

That means Mars One has lots of critics. For example: Can it really be done on the shoe-string budget planned, they ask? Is it ethical? Is it a scam?

Let’s say it’s all on the up-and-up. Would you do it? Would you sign up for a one-way trip into the history books via Mars?

I suppose it would depend on a lot of factors: What you want to do with the rest of your life. The ties that bind (spouse, family, friends). The lure of fame or the gravitational pull of going boldly where no one has gone before.

A one-way, no-exit enterprise raises questions like that.

That’s why Derrick Johnson is beginning to get cold feet. That’s because ─ what else? ─ love. Johnson, now 32, wasn’t in love when he first applied for Mars One. Back then, he thought he would never fall in love, never find the “one.” But love ─ earth-bound Jonathan ─ has found Mars-bound Derrick Johnson. Aw-w-w-w-k-ward.

And now, in light of a love he never saw coming … in light of a law he never saw coming ─ equal marriage in all 50 states, thanks to five fair and forward-thinking justices on the Supreme Court almost three years ago to the day ─ in the event he makes the final Mars One cut, Derrick Johnson has to decide what he really, really wants to do with the rest of his life … what he really, really has to do.

In other words, while Johnson hasn’t yet resolved his dilemma, he’s discovered that bumping into the future ─ in his case, two competing futures ─ has a way of changing your life … changing your mind … changing the course of just about everything.

That’s Jesus’ point when he asks Peter once ─ twice ─ three times, “Peter, do you love me?” hitched once ─ twice ─ three times to Jesus’ invitation, “Follow me.” Why the repetition? It’s Jesus’ way of saying, “Follow me: It’s a one-way mission. What, then, do you want? What do you have to do?”

Peter doesn’t quite know what to think of the question. From where he stands, the future looks pretty good. The trauma of Good Friday is far, far behind him. He has just realized the perfect day: caught a mother lode of fish … on a glassy sea … dug into a steaming breakfast … on a pebbled shore … with each and every one of his best friends in the world. And with Jesus … alive once more!

Now, not all our tomorrows end in gloom-and-doom. I mean, sure, we don’t get out alive. But getting there isn’t necessarily a steady drumbeat of gloom-and-doom. Just the same, where will a one-way future lead Peter? Because, according to Jesus, all this, too, shall pass. “When you grow old,” Jesus suggests, “you will stretch out your hands, Peter ─ searching and unsteady ─ and someone else (a captor) will restrain you with a leather strap and drag you into a future not on your bucket list.” Destination, as it turned out? Death on a cross, like Jesus. Only, for Peter, hung upside down.

Of course, at this point, Peter doesn’t know the specifics of his less-than-rosy future, pushing him to determine, “What do I really, really want to do with the rest of my life? What do I have to do?”

It’s a question no less urgent for Paul, whose witness, ministry, and martyrdom we also commemorate today.

When we first meet Paul, the world is his oyster: Inquisitor-in-Chief commissioned to stamp out the early Christian sect. Stamp out any vestige of Christians. Period. And he’s very good at it ─ killing them, that is, without pity, without regret. With fanatical efficiency. Zero tolerance.

But if his victims are anything like the deacon Stephen — whose stoning Paul supervised … Stephen, who knew what he had to do and, even as life escaped him, prayed, “Lord do not hold this sin against them” ─ this prelude-to-holocaust must have taken its toll on Paul, eroded his confidence, challenged him to look at his victims as neighbor. Because he, too, soon comes to a point in his life ─ that point being the road to Damascus ─ Damascus, where he hoped to launch even more mayhem on the Christians there ─ Paul comes to the point where he must determine what he really, really wants to do with the rest of his life. What does he really, really has to do.

And being confronted by Jesus in a vision on that Damascus Road, as Paul describes it, that thoroughfare becomes a one-way wormhole into the future, because Paul knows that others will rise up to take his place to persecute ─ annihilate ─ him (the fresh-minted follower of Christ), as he has done to Christians. Hoisted on his own petard.

And so, like Peter, Paul chooses the costly one-way mission Jesus offers him.

The urgency of a one-way future, then, pushes each of us to ask: What do we really, really want to do with the rest of our life? What do we really, really have to do?

For example, it’s been a whiplash week for the victims of the Administration’s determination to halt the flow of immigrants across our southern border, engineering what one advisor has called a “final solution” … by scapegoating … by whipping up the base with a fiction: that the immigrants are murderers and rapists. If you can’t build a wall, erect a lie.

The whole situation is a bloody mess, with no one quite sure what the President’s executive order — reversing his earlier policy to separate children from parents criminally-charged for crossing the border — means.

Good news: Newly-charged immigrants won’t get their kids ripped out of their arms.

Bad news: They (the entire family) will be held indefinitely — and illegally — likely in our burgeoning internment-camp system.

Worse news: There’s no plan in place to reunite with their parents the roughly 2300 kids and infants already detained, triggering a crisis of soul-searching: What do we really want to do with the rest of their lives … lives condemned, at this point, to a future irreparably-scarred by the trauma of separation and no-end-in-sight incarceration? What do we have to do?

As followers of Jesus, then, we’ve got a problem. We believe that God dreams of a one-way future for each and all that’s designed to expand: Expand justice. Expand human dignity. Expand equality.

Factoid: This isn’t “fake news.” The prophet Micah himself describes that future: “Do justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly" — one step in front of the other into the future — "with God.”

Bonus factoid: That expansive future isn’t in God’s hands, despite what you were taught in Sunday School. That future is in our hands.

In other words, God’s justice didn’t come to a dead stop with the signing of that executive order banning future separation of kids from their parents. God’s justice will expand when we decide that we want what God wants: just and humane treatment for all families, especially families with their backs up against a wall of unimaginable violence in their home villages and neighborhoods.

God’s justice didn’t come to a dead stop with taking down Confederate flags and monuments to racism, relegating them to museums. God’s justice expands when we decide that we want what God wants:  the elimination of racism altogether, once and for all.

God’s justice didn’t come to a dead stop when equal marriage became the Law of the Land.  God’s justice will expand when, in the spirit of all Jesus stands for, we decide to march and fight, resist and vote to end altogether — in each of the 50 states — discrimination against LGBTs in housing and hiring and bathroom use and the purchase of wedding cakes and the death-by-a-thousand cuts of everyday bias so many of us experience.

Taken altogether, that’s an agenda that includes checking in first with Jesus when we espy the one-way destiny of days ahead. Consulting with Jesus, then ... Jesus — just up ahead — who asks each of us, “What do you really, really, want to do with the rest of your life? What do you have to do? Read: Follow me.”

That’s a one-way adventure Jesus guarantees that we and each and every one of our neighbors — not one person left out — can all live with.

Amen.

“Caged.”

Homily for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost       17 June 2018
The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Rector

Keep, O Lord, your household the Church in your steadfast faith and love that we may minister your justice with compassion.                                                                                               Pentecost 4, Proper 6 Collect (excerpt)

Does the Bible justify separating children from their parents … ever?

More specifically, does the Bible justify separating children from their parents at our border with Mexico?

Drilling deeper, does the Bible justify caging 1,995 children in the past six weeks — torn, in our name — by agents of our government implementing the barbaric policies of this Administration?

To recap: Close to 2,000 children (roughly 45 per day) ripped from their parents’ arms, caged in warehouses — some destined for a tent city on an El Paso TX military base, in 100-degree daytime temperatures — with no plan in place for their reunification with their parents.

No end in sight to this abomination, this degradation of all we stand for as a people … and all that Jesus stands for. Jesus, who unequivocally said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.”

Two questions, then, for people of faith: Can this atrocity be reconciled with our prayer this morning, that we minister God’s “justice with compassion”?

And, is it justified by the Bible, as unscrupulous and biblically-illiterate political operatives assert that it can be?

Short answers: No. And “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

In reverse order: The claim that the Bible justifies caging kids ripped from their parents’ arms. That’s the whopper Attorney General Jeff Sessions hawked on Thursday. He argued that the government just has to separate the kids from their undocumented, border-crossing parents so the adults can be criminally prosecuted and incarcerated.

But when pressed to address this policy’s lack of humanity, Sessions beamed, “I would cite you to [sic] the Apostle Paul and his clear and wise command in Romans Chapter 13 to obey the laws of the government because God has ordained them for the purpose of order.”

Keep talking like that, and before you know it, we’re in Handmaid’s Tale territory.

Later, White House spokesperson Sarah Huckabee Sanders parroted, “It is very Biblical to enforce the law.” In fact, she parroted it over and over.

This is rank dishonesty. Sessions and Huckabee Sanders are pulling a bait and switch. The question on compassionate peoples’ minds deals primarily with the treatment of the children — what health professionals across the board are calling “government-sanctioned torture.”

The Attorney General and the White House spokesperson are switching that most self-evident and Christian of concerns — the well-being of the kids — to the apparent law-breaking of the parents. Obviously, Sessions and Huckabee Sanders don’t want to talk about the children. Jesus roundly condemns people like them who harm children. Think, as Jesus says, of a millstone wrapped around the perpetrators’ necks, the offenders “drowned in the depths of the sea.”

That actually is a very appealing picture at the moment. But I digress.

Now, you might be wondering what St Paul, in Romans Chapter 13, says. Yes, he says, “Obey the law.” He even argues that agents of the government enforce the law with God’s blessing. So, yes, that is problematic for libtards like me.

What’s up? Why would Paul say, “Obey the law”? Answer: Context. He wrote that as a survival strategy just as the imperial government was cracking down on minorities (like the followers of Jesus) fomenting civil unrest. Paul is basically telling Christians in Rome, “Avoid arrest. Don’t get beat up. Stay out of trouble.”

He also might be inoculating himself against charges that, as a leader of folks who see Jesus as a higher authority than the emperor (who just happens to be Nero!), Paul might spearhead a bit of rabble-rousing himself and be hauled in. To protect himself, he’s leaving a paper trail.

On top of that — and this is a point lost on anyone who crows, “Obey the law. It’s in the Bible! It’s in the Bible!” — forget that Jesus ran afoul of the authorities all the time. Forget that, leading up to the Civil War, this passage was used to justify the institution of slavery. You don’t even have to get trapped in the weeds of how a fully-formed conscience is bound to over-ride civil law when they conflict.

Think, instead: Church and State. Separate. Not even separate but equal. Separate.

Read: It’s a dubious enterprise — no, make that contrary to the spirit of the Constitution — to use the Bible to interpret and determine the Constitution, laws, and statutes of our secular-by-design republic.

Third: Resorting to “Obey the law! It’s biblical.” Factoid: Not everything in the capital-B Bible is lower-case-b biblical.

Take a footnote in our reading today. Samuel’s coup d’état deposing Saul as king and anointing David in his place. Why? Saul runs afoul of God.

But why does God — albeit reluctantly — sign off on the people’s choice of Saul in the first place? Saul is from Central Casting. He’s perfect. Until he’s not.

Because far into Saul’s reign, God commands him to wipe out the pagan Amalekites. “Put every man and woman and all the Amalekites’ livestock to the sword.” Oh, did I forget to mention “wipe out all the Amalekites' children, too”?

News flash: This isn’t God at God’s best. But the story isn’t about theology. It’s not even history. It’s myth, the tall tales people tell about their unique place on the world stage. In this instance, Israelites good. Pagan Amalekites — who not-so-coincidentally reside in territory the Israelites want to annex — bad. They have to go.

So, Saul carries through on the blood-binge, sort of. Yes, even kills all the kids. (And we’re worried about Trump putting them in cages!) But he saves the livestock … for himself. Ships them off to Mar-a-Lago … or maybe that’s Marrakesh. Well, somewhere.

Why show Saul the exit? For making off with the animals, for disobeying God. But okay with kiddie cadavers. It’s right there … in the Bible. à

But — to repeat — not everything in the capital-B Bible is lower-case b biblical. Biblical, in our Anglican tradition: having the moral force of the commandment Jesus places just about above all other commandments, opinions, suggestions, glosses, and advice. Paul even reiterates it after all his “obey the law” talk: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

He even adds, “Love does no wrong to a neighbor. Therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.”

Raising the question: Can Attorney General Sessions, Sarah Huckabee Sanders, or any of their accomplices in the federally-funded child abuse business claim that what they are doing does no wrong to their neighbor? Do they consider the immigrant their neighbor? Immigrant children, immigrant parents their neighbor?

Leading us back to our first question: Is it possible to “minister justice” in this case without compassion?

What is justice? What is compassion?

As to justice, looks like the homewreckers are saying ‘tomato’ and those charging them with the injustice of child endangerment are saying ‘tomahto.’ Tomato, tomahto. Concepts of justice poles apart.

That’s because defenders of the Administration’s break-up-families policy think justice — whether it’s in the Bible or the Constitution — is all about punishment. “Disobey the law and, goshdarnit, we’ve got to, we’ve just got to punish you.”

Problem is: They haven’t really studied the Bible beyond all the “thou shalt nots” or opened their eyes to the arc of justice that soars above its pages. Justice, as it appears in the Bible and as it has been understood by all advancing cultures since recorded time, is giving to each and all what they are owed: fairness, equal treatment, dignity, respect.

And, yes, that might mean jailing or penalizing guilty perps, because the perps’ victims (or their survivors) are owed some sense of redress.

In the case of the immigrant families, the balance of justice tilts toward victims as well: the most vulnerable, the children. What are they owed? They are. Not. Owed. Cages. But what all children — in all places — in all conditions (immigrant or citizen) — in all fairness — are owed: family, security, compassion.

That’s compassion, as practiced by Jesus. Immersing ourselves fully in the pain, confusion, and helplessness of the children to alleviate it and correct it.

Bottomline: Can we in all honesty say that this policy — and those who have invented it, are thumping their Bibles for it, executing it, and profiting from it — can we say agents of our government — caging children — are ministering “justice with compassion”?

And then, are we — if we are being completely honest with ourselves — ministering justice with compassion if we conspire with them by remaining silent and allowing this injustice — this petty, mean-spirited, politically-motivated, this anti-Christian injustice — to continue?

Amen.

"Will She or Won't She?"

Homily for the Third Sunday after Pentecost       10 June 2018
The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Rector

“Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”                                                                                                               Mark 3:35

The Case of Mrs. Bergmeier. An as-yet-to-be-released episode of ‘Sherlock’? Not quite. The Case of Mrs. Bergmeier. A classic in the annals of decision-making … moral decision-making.

Beware: The Case of Mrs. Bergmeier just might keep you up at night.

Picture this. Nazi Germany. Mrs. Bergmeier, as you might gather from her name, is married. She has two young children. Her husband’s health is patchy, at best. She’s behind bars, serving out a six-year sentence without parole. Her crime? Helping her Jewish neighbors avoid detection, arrest by the Nazis, and, ultimately, deportation to a death camp.

After months of imprisonment, Mrs. Bergmeier learns that her husband’s health is deteriorating — fast — aggravated by his having to care solo for the children. She hears that the children are malnourished and unkempt.

But Mrs. Bergmeier learns something else. Due to overcrowding, the prison has been releasing pregnant inmates held for lesser crimes, like hers.

And then, there’s the guard — the leering guard — who hits on Mrs. Bergmeier relentlessly. It’s prison. It happens. It shouldn’t.

For Mrs. Bergmeier — a deeply religious woman, deeply devoted to her husband — it’s a quandary: Stay faithful to her husband, honor her marriage vows, and stand by, helpless to prevent the destruction of her family.

Or — to secure early release — submit to the guard, get pregnant by him, and save her family.

If you were Mrs. Bergmeier, what would you do?

What did Mrs. Bergmeier do? She chose to give in to the guard’s advances.

Outcome? Three months later, Mrs. Bergmeier — pregnant — gains her freedom. She returns to her home to care once more for her husband and children.

Before all that, however, what do you suppose the will of God is in the Case of Mrs. Bergmeier?

Because that is what Jesus is asking us to consider — using the language of family — when he tells everyone within earshot, “Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

So, what is the will of God? Or, in a fraught situation like Mrs. Bergmeier’s — or perhaps the not-quite-as-weighty dilemmas we face — we might be tempted to ask, “WWJD”?  Yes, it was overly trendy for a time and probably passé now. What would Jesus do?

Problem: That’s the wrong question. At least, it’s not the best question.

Meaning: Sure, we could all stand to be more like Jesus. But when you look at Jesus’ interactions with people, they’re about choices emanating from his character … about the sort of person he is and consequently the impact he has on others, his neighbor … what he’s open to seeing, what he cares about, how he responds. And how he clones that seeing, caring, and responding. How he wills it.

And in so doing, extending that “will” to each of us and how we negotiate our challenges and opportunities to grow, strive, and move into God’s future of loving more and loving better.

Truth-in-advertising: It’s not easy. Hard work reorienting all of our life in God not into “What would Jesus Do?” Not even “What should I do?” But rather, because Jesus is in the character-building business, answering in all honesty three questions posed by the practice of Virtue Ethics:

First, “Who am I?” For example, how just am I? To what extent do I ensure that I give my neighbors what they are owed as members of the human race? And what are they owed? The assurance and the experience that their lives matter.

Then, because life in God as Jesus crafts it is about striving and geared to the shape of things to come: “Who ought I to become?” That is, am I becoming a better person? What would it look like if I got better at ensuring that my neighbors’ lives matter? Going from merely caring to boldly intervening, marching, lobbying, and resisting.

And third, “How ought I to get there?” If the future is the engine, how do I get more aware of my neighbors’ needs now? What skills and habits do I need to acquire and practice to get better and better at impacting their lives for the good … and for good?

Now, there was an added layer of complexity for Mrs. Bergmeier. Remember, she was caught in a dilemma. In answer to “Who am I?” she concluded she was a wife, committed — in all fidelity — to her husband.

And yet, she also understood herself to be a caring person. Proof: Look at how she tried to protect her Jewish neighbors (making her a just person as well). Moreover, she saw herself as a caring woman charged with the welfare of her family.

What, then, in terms of striving and becoming, would it look like for Mrs. Bergmeier to be a more faithful wife? I suppose that would mean: continue fending off — more adamantly — the guard’s advances, survive somehow six years of incarceration … but, in the end, likely lose her family.

And to be a more caring person? Do the unthinkable and live free once more to care for husband and children, including — let’s not forget — the child fathered by the repugnant prison guard. That alone — even absent increasingly difficult circumstances brought on by the war — will be a stretch. That will require character: courage, forgiveness, patience all around in order to flourish, to grow.

To flourish and to grow. This, then — for Mrs. Bergmeier and each of us — is doing the will of God.

Sidebar: Framing the will of God in terms of flourishing and growing — or character formation — may mean a re-calibration for those, like myself, brought up in an evangelical culture. In that tradition, the “will of God” is often cast as “God’s will for your life,” phrased more ominously as “God’s plan for your life.”

According to this off-kilter understanding of God’s will, God has mapped out your life in minute detail. Your job is to read God’s mind. For example, this scheme proposes that, before the foundation of the world, God picked out for you the perfect mate. You just have to find that person, obviously — because we’re talking evangelical culture here — that special person of the opposite sex. That’s where it kind of all came to a screeching halt in my case.

But that mind-reading task also extends to other choices, both momentous and mundane: college, career, house, car, supper, Netflix. And, believe me, you get all tied up in knots, with God micromanaging like that. Think job security for therapists.

And if you don’t pick God’s choice? Is God going to punish you with a bad marriage … or a messy divorce … until the next round of mind-reading begins?

God is just not like that. Why would anyone of sound mind choose to follow a god like that?

That’s because the will of God, as Jesus frames it, is “to learn more, to understand the needs of ourselves and our neighbor better, and to search for ways to make the lives of all people (including ourselves) better.” That’s how my seminary professor James F. Keenan puts it.

The decision-making process starts when we choose to be open to God and neighbor.

For example, Jesus — miraculously, the evangelist Matthew tells us — feeds 5,000 people in one sitting. Starting point? Jesus is the sort of person who tosses and turns at night, troubled by the fact that people go to bed hungry. Hence the “miracle” from five loaves and two fishes.

In turn, Jesus organizes his disciples to share the bounty. And to collect the leftovers for people to take home and share, in turn, with their underfed neighbors.

The point: Just ask Jesus. It is God’s will that all — absolutely everybody, no one left out — be fed. It can be done. We’ve got the data.

Another example: Jesus heals people. A lot. From lepers to paralytics to people with severe psychological problems. Jesus is the sort of person who is aware of people who need healing. And he heals them so they can flourish and grow, earn a living, engage in the world.

Read: It is God’s will that all have access to affordable healthcare. It can be done. We have the data. Do we have the political will? That’s the question.

And Jesus teaches. He’s the sort of person who cares enough that people not settle for what they’ve got trapped in their brains. Jesus thinks. And he shows us how to be thinking people. Take his interaction with critics in this morning’s Gospel. They lambaste him for casting out satanic demons. How? Through the power of Satan, they charge.

Jesus’ counter? He goes all-Spock. “Illogical. Why would Satan want to abolish all things satanic? Think!” Jesus says in exasperation. “Use the brain God gave you!” That’s Jesus: the sort of person who values and pursues and shows how to do wisdom, logic, facts, critical thinking so that others might value and engage in the rut-crushing enterprise of brain expansion.

Pushing us to ask, “Would Jesus make a wedding cake for a same-sex couple?” We know Ruth Bader Ginsburg would. But Jesus? I think initially — culturally — that would be a stretch for him. But, as Jesus shows time and time again, it’s the will of God that we stretch in ways that are more just, more loving, more caring.

So, yes — riffing on a Facebook feed this past week — I think Jesus would bake the damn cake. And throw in a blender. And dance at the reception. Dance up a storm. With Mrs. Bergmeier!

To prove once more — in full, rainbow-sequined fabulosity — “whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

Amen.