700 people attended Rock the Flood - a concert of many musical genres that Jeff and Patti Moat, Christine Evans and Steve Gal and a host of other volunteers put together to benefit both the flood relief efforts of The Broome County Council of Churches and the Owego Revitalization and Betterment Corporation. In all we were able to raise $25,000 to help people recover. If you're interested you might want to check them out on facebook at Binghamton Rocks for Flood Relief. There you will get a sampling of the music on the compilation albums and find links to the t-shirt order forms. Of course you can get these things from me too, if you ask nicely.
But that's really not the point to this blog entry. On the Sunday before the day of concerts was to begin, I had to meet the crew at Country Pines to get some posters, so I could distribute them to a few places. The weather up until that Sunday had been terrible. So much rain had fallen that the rivers were again near flood stage in some areas and we were all getting rather nervous that more relief shelters would be needed.
As I was driving down the road, I found myself slipping into a funk. On the previous day I had spent most of the day helping a person gut out her house. Dry wall dust and I have never had a good relationship, but when you add black mold the cocktail can be quite a problem for me, so I had a sore throat, coughing, wheezing, and a bad sinus head ache to boot. So funk is probably the best word to describe how I felt.
But there I was on Rt 17 at the Endwell exit for 17c and what should I see, but a rainbow. A full rainbow appeared with it's end right in front of my 2002 Ford Focus Station Wagon and the other end stretching across the area where flood waters only two weeks before had washed away homes and businesses. All I could think was, "Well the end of the rainbow (where the pot of gold belongs) is either a stretch of Road or the hood of a Focus. Imagine that!
As I've reflected on that event, I've become a little more aware on how Broome County with all of its flaws and floods, is indeed a land of promise. Rainbows after all are a sign of a covenant between God and this world that God will never again destroy the entire earth with flooding. In a spiritual sense the rainbow is used as a symbol for our baptism - it is a sign of the covenant between God and us that God will be with us through all the course of our life: for better or worse. God is predisposed toward us and God says Yes, this one is mine.
Here a rainbow is set stretching across the land of valleys created by the confluence of the Chenango and Susquehanna Rivers. A land that is prone to flooding, and to hunger, and to disease, but this land is the land of promise. It is also home to a place that when the sun comes out in October can take your breath away and where trout raise up out of the river catching the morning sun, showing the onlooker a gift of grace that can best be described as symbol of God's love. Climb the Hill behind Binghamton University sometime and watch the sun rise in the morning and you will know exactly what I am talking about. This is a land of promise - and for those of us who have decided to dwell here, we know of this land as home.
And that Rainbow stands as a promise that in life, in death, in flooding, in famine, in good times and in bad times, God is with us. God marks us and nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. And it compels us to rise up out of the filth and the dust of this flood and to again create life and community in this place and to treat others with tenderness and care. It causes us to step out of the funk, to breath the fresh air and sense the Spirit move us to care for each other.
So what began as a simple Rock Concert, has become for me a symbol of what can be done when we try to do something that is larger than ourselves. Rainbows are raised, people's lives are touched, and God's promises are kept. God is with us. Thanks be to God.
Peace and towels,
Joe Sellepack
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Musings From the Flood
The red truck that I drive may not be new, but it has never been as dirty as it is now. Dust covers it’s exterior: dust from Conklin, dust from Westover, dust from our street in South Binghamton, dust from downtown, dust from Westover, dust from Castle Gardens, dust from Twin Orchards. While this dust is the result of water and silt escaping the confines of the banks and flood levies designed to keep the river at bay, there is nothing clean about it. Pathogens, chemicals, and other nasty stuff permeate this dust creating an environment that Betty Pomeroy, our Hospital Chaplain, says is rife for pneumonia and other diseases. However bad most of us have it, there are people who are far worse.
Traveling through areas of Conklin, Westover and Castle Gardens is like a war zone, watching the remnants of lives lived, piled by the side of the road like one great big moving sale. The old life is washed away and an uncertain and scary future emerges to replace it. Many of these people were severely affected by the flood in 2006 are at it again, the last five years erased by two days.
The tragedy is that many of the people who have been affected by this tragedy are living on fixed incomes or have seen savings and jobs erased during the recent recession. Some of these people received FEMA money in 2006 and may have exhausted FEMA’s support, and were forced, due to economic hardship, to forgo payments to their flood insurance. How often, after all, does a five hundred year flood come? And when the dice is rolled, do you pay for flood insurance or buy medication or food or make the mortgage payment? Sadly, much like the financial institutions that banked on the housing bubble to continue, these folks gambled on the wrong outcome, but there is no one who will come along to bail them out. It’s very sad and discouraging for those people as they look at the piles of dust gathering around them.
Then there is the dust that permeates our own parking lot. Yes, it has dispersed a little bit in the two weeks since the flood, but it’s still there. Instead of that dust bringing remembrances of the devastation that it does to other folks in our neighborhood, our dust is evidence of our narrow escape from the tragic undertow of the flood. Five feet is all that spared us from having water come into our warehouse. The flood water went all the way up our parking lot, leaving fine silt all over the surface.
If you were anything like me, when I got the news that we had been spared, I let out tears of joy and relief because my worst fears had not been confirmed. The CHOW trucks were safe; the Ramp it up trailers, dry; and our pickup truck that we park with its back to the flood levy was high and dry. Miraculously we were given a gift of mercy and grace and we remained safe when everyone else in our neighborhood was devastated.
On Saturday when the flood waters had finally receded to the point where we could get into the building, the first thing Ed and I did was get some volunteers and staff together so we could load some things into the CHOW trucks. We took paper products, milk and juice to the emergency shelters and tried to get into Owego. We were successful in getting to the local emergency shelters, but Owego was a far different story. After two unsuccessful hours, my son and I turned back, cut off from Tioga county by a mere fifteen miles. Collecting dust on the outside of the truck, splashing flood water as we drove, breathing diesel fumes all the way.
Then there were the meetings and the confusion and the old relationships being picked up that were developed in the flood only five years ago. When long term relief is taken into account, we did not close down our long term recovery effort until June, 2008 – two years after the initial flood. So here we are three years later at the same table, trying to make sense of what happened. Five hundred year floods are not what we think they are anymore. In my sick mind, I can construe this as what inflation means.
Meanwhile we have other problems. HPNP funding was cut off from us due to a technicality for how the form was filled out. Bureaucrats making decisions in a sterile board room that not only keeps hungry people from receiving much needed food, but will keep us receiving $35,000 in much needed funds this year, and $70,000 next. So not only do we have a flood, but we have less resources to draw on in order to do the work that our friends and neighbors require of us. It doesn’t seem fair. The dust is getting thicker.
So we cancelled the press conference for the HPNP issue in deference for the lives of folks that were devastated by this flood. All the while we have been trying to figure out what is next for us and our community. So next week, Tuesday at 5:00 at Sarah Jane Johnson UM Church, we have rescheduled the press conference. At that meeting we will be talking about the importance of Broome Bounty for our area and letting our stakeholders know how to contact elected officials and bureaucrats who make these decisions. Hopefully we will flood Albany with letters, letting them know that we will not allow some technicality keep hungry people from getting fed.
So here we are, the ash of the flood still clinging to foliage and the outside of buildings, covering relief workers and CHOW trucks and our volunteers. In many ways we have begun to respond to the emerging needs, keeping relief centers supplied with the materials that make recovery possible. We have begun to collect money in a flood relief fund, and have several fundraisers scheduled to help raise funds and food for the relief effort.
Last Saturday as I stood by the banks of the Susquehanna River which at that time was Thompkins Street, I thought long and hard about what we would do if we had four feet of water in our building. It became clear to me that we would draw from the strength of the faith and the love of people of faith in Broome County and we would move forward to help people, because that is what we do. It might have been a different building and there would have been difficult decisions to make, but we would have done it and moved forward.
But thankfully that did not happen, and today we are poised to play our part in helping our area recover. Yes our area is covered with the fine silt of the flood, and many today are dusty and tired, but we will play our part. We have been gifted by the grace, the faith, and the mercy of thousands of people in our area, and we will do our best to clean people off, help them dust off their dreams and memories, and help them put their lives back together: dust and all.
Traveling through areas of Conklin, Westover and Castle Gardens is like a war zone, watching the remnants of lives lived, piled by the side of the road like one great big moving sale. The old life is washed away and an uncertain and scary future emerges to replace it. Many of these people were severely affected by the flood in 2006 are at it again, the last five years erased by two days.
The tragedy is that many of the people who have been affected by this tragedy are living on fixed incomes or have seen savings and jobs erased during the recent recession. Some of these people received FEMA money in 2006 and may have exhausted FEMA’s support, and were forced, due to economic hardship, to forgo payments to their flood insurance. How often, after all, does a five hundred year flood come? And when the dice is rolled, do you pay for flood insurance or buy medication or food or make the mortgage payment? Sadly, much like the financial institutions that banked on the housing bubble to continue, these folks gambled on the wrong outcome, but there is no one who will come along to bail them out. It’s very sad and discouraging for those people as they look at the piles of dust gathering around them.
Then there is the dust that permeates our own parking lot. Yes, it has dispersed a little bit in the two weeks since the flood, but it’s still there. Instead of that dust bringing remembrances of the devastation that it does to other folks in our neighborhood, our dust is evidence of our narrow escape from the tragic undertow of the flood. Five feet is all that spared us from having water come into our warehouse. The flood water went all the way up our parking lot, leaving fine silt all over the surface.
If you were anything like me, when I got the news that we had been spared, I let out tears of joy and relief because my worst fears had not been confirmed. The CHOW trucks were safe; the Ramp it up trailers, dry; and our pickup truck that we park with its back to the flood levy was high and dry. Miraculously we were given a gift of mercy and grace and we remained safe when everyone else in our neighborhood was devastated.
On Saturday when the flood waters had finally receded to the point where we could get into the building, the first thing Ed and I did was get some volunteers and staff together so we could load some things into the CHOW trucks. We took paper products, milk and juice to the emergency shelters and tried to get into Owego. We were successful in getting to the local emergency shelters, but Owego was a far different story. After two unsuccessful hours, my son and I turned back, cut off from Tioga county by a mere fifteen miles. Collecting dust on the outside of the truck, splashing flood water as we drove, breathing diesel fumes all the way.
Then there were the meetings and the confusion and the old relationships being picked up that were developed in the flood only five years ago. When long term relief is taken into account, we did not close down our long term recovery effort until June, 2008 – two years after the initial flood. So here we are three years later at the same table, trying to make sense of what happened. Five hundred year floods are not what we think they are anymore. In my sick mind, I can construe this as what inflation means.
Meanwhile we have other problems. HPNP funding was cut off from us due to a technicality for how the form was filled out. Bureaucrats making decisions in a sterile board room that not only keeps hungry people from receiving much needed food, but will keep us receiving $35,000 in much needed funds this year, and $70,000 next. So not only do we have a flood, but we have less resources to draw on in order to do the work that our friends and neighbors require of us. It doesn’t seem fair. The dust is getting thicker.
So we cancelled the press conference for the HPNP issue in deference for the lives of folks that were devastated by this flood. All the while we have been trying to figure out what is next for us and our community. So next week, Tuesday at 5:00 at Sarah Jane Johnson UM Church, we have rescheduled the press conference. At that meeting we will be talking about the importance of Broome Bounty for our area and letting our stakeholders know how to contact elected officials and bureaucrats who make these decisions. Hopefully we will flood Albany with letters, letting them know that we will not allow some technicality keep hungry people from getting fed.
So here we are, the ash of the flood still clinging to foliage and the outside of buildings, covering relief workers and CHOW trucks and our volunteers. In many ways we have begun to respond to the emerging needs, keeping relief centers supplied with the materials that make recovery possible. We have begun to collect money in a flood relief fund, and have several fundraisers scheduled to help raise funds and food for the relief effort.
Last Saturday as I stood by the banks of the Susquehanna River which at that time was Thompkins Street, I thought long and hard about what we would do if we had four feet of water in our building. It became clear to me that we would draw from the strength of the faith and the love of people of faith in Broome County and we would move forward to help people, because that is what we do. It might have been a different building and there would have been difficult decisions to make, but we would have done it and moved forward.
But thankfully that did not happen, and today we are poised to play our part in helping our area recover. Yes our area is covered with the fine silt of the flood, and many today are dusty and tired, but we will play our part. We have been gifted by the grace, the faith, and the mercy of thousands of people in our area, and we will do our best to clean people off, help them dust off their dreams and memories, and help them put their lives back together: dust and all.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
The Religious Landscape of Broome County
One of the reasons I love my job is that I get to work with such a diverse group of people. While not all faiths are a part of the Broome County Council of Churches, because not all are obviously not Christian. We do try to cooperate in an interfaith manner with all faiths in our programs and try to include these folks in our program and advisory committees.
Below is something I have worked on for a publication that is expressly interested in promoting Broome County as a great place to live:
"Churches, Synagogues, and Mosques are all a part of the tapestry that is religion in the Broome County area. Currently we have most major denominations of Christianity represented including a large concentration of Eastern Orthodox and Eastern Rite Catholic, Roman Catholic, Baptist, Congregational, Methodist, Presbyterian, Lutheran, Evangelical, Charismatic, and Episcopalian congregations. We also have Orthodox, Conservative, and Reformed Jewish Temples and two Islamic Centers that have practitioners of both Sufi and Shia forms of the Moslem faith.
"As far as the beliefs and practices of these congregations are concerned, they range from very traditional in both language and customs to somewhat eclectic and open to more modern forms of worship like praise bands or jazz vespers. The range of religious beliefs mirrors somewhat the range of practice from highly orthodox to very liberal, with just about every derivative in between.
"Historically, many of these congregations are the result of immigration that has occurred in our area in the last one hundred years as evidenced in many ethnic and cultural celebrations that occur annually. The beautiful copulas of many Orthodox and Eastern European Churches tower over some of our neighborhoods, creating a sense of history and depth. While some of the more modern churches meet in converted storefronts, schools, or look like office buildings that make religion more accessible and comfortable.
"Many of these congregations participate in dialogue with each other and are open to discussing differences in belief and practice. Most cooperate with each other in helping meet basic human needs in our community like food, shelter, clothing, and other issues. In short, the congregations of Broome County are both richly diverse and many are open to working with each other to create a great place for the people of Broome County to call home."
I really do like working with people of various faiths to create ways to help even the poorest among us to love calling Broome County a great place to live.
Peace and Towels
Joe
Below is something I have worked on for a publication that is expressly interested in promoting Broome County as a great place to live:
"Churches, Synagogues, and Mosques are all a part of the tapestry that is religion in the Broome County area. Currently we have most major denominations of Christianity represented including a large concentration of Eastern Orthodox and Eastern Rite Catholic, Roman Catholic, Baptist, Congregational, Methodist, Presbyterian, Lutheran, Evangelical, Charismatic, and Episcopalian congregations. We also have Orthodox, Conservative, and Reformed Jewish Temples and two Islamic Centers that have practitioners of both Sufi and Shia forms of the Moslem faith.
"As far as the beliefs and practices of these congregations are concerned, they range from very traditional in both language and customs to somewhat eclectic and open to more modern forms of worship like praise bands or jazz vespers. The range of religious beliefs mirrors somewhat the range of practice from highly orthodox to very liberal, with just about every derivative in between.
"Historically, many of these congregations are the result of immigration that has occurred in our area in the last one hundred years as evidenced in many ethnic and cultural celebrations that occur annually. The beautiful copulas of many Orthodox and Eastern European Churches tower over some of our neighborhoods, creating a sense of history and depth. While some of the more modern churches meet in converted storefronts, schools, or look like office buildings that make religion more accessible and comfortable.
"Many of these congregations participate in dialogue with each other and are open to discussing differences in belief and practice. Most cooperate with each other in helping meet basic human needs in our community like food, shelter, clothing, and other issues. In short, the congregations of Broome County are both richly diverse and many are open to working with each other to create a great place for the people of Broome County to call home."
I really do like working with people of various faiths to create ways to help even the poorest among us to love calling Broome County a great place to live.
Peace and Towels
Joe
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Beyond Locked Rooms
In John's Gospel the resurrection wasn't welcomed as Good News. Incredulity and rational explanations seemed to be the angle that most took to explain what happened. One common feeling shared by this fledgling community was fear. Fear seems to reign supreme and it binds them together as a community behind a locked door.
Fear is an interesting emotion. For some it may protect them from doing careless things and hurting themselves or others. It's good to know for instance that if a person is on a mountain top that if she falls, death could be the likely result. So fear makes her slow down and pay respect to her surroundings and it can inspire care.
Once when my then seven year old son Daniel and I were in Yosemite National Park, we climbed to the top of a granite domed mountain. The expansive view in front of us was breathtaking. Clouds appeared at eye level and the valley below us created the illusion that we were looking down on ants instead of cars.
When we were standing on the edge of a cliff looking down at nearly a mile rapid descent, my son grips my hand and says to me, "Don't worry Dad. I won't do anything stupid!" That was his way of paying fear its due, letting me know that he would take care when approaching something dangerous.
But given too much place in a person's life, fear can control you and lock you up inside. Instead of inspiring care, it can cause you to frantically search for yourself in other people. People and their needs become so important to you that you lose yourself in their demands and obligations.
And so we find ourselves locked into the upper room, bound by fear. Fear of death, fear of the unknown, fear of fear... All this fear seems to amount to a black hole, a rut that is best described as a grave without ends. Locked inside this rut, a person will never see the light of day.
Into this improvised and dark room enters Jesus. Having just passed through death, it's apparent from this first appearance that the disciples' fear isn't his. Instead of cowering in fear, peace is the gift he gives them. Then he breathes the breath of life into this dead, soulless bunch. The tomb of a locked room instead becomes a birthing room from whence a resurrected community emerges. Spreading a new message of hope and compassion becomes their charter. Locked rooms of fear are transformed into an open message of love.
To be resurrection people requires us to risk being open to the possibility that death is not the final answer. We can't be so locked in by fear that we miss the breathtaking views of the mountain top or that facing our fears can create more life than we can possibly contain in any room. Instead, life overflows the challice of our lives and can become a table of plenty and abundance, even in the valley of death. If Christ is risen, all bets are off, and all graves, even the ones we create for ourselves, are not permanent.
Christ is Risen!
Joe
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Having Confidence
Isaiah 32: 16 & 17 says, "Then justice shall dwell in the wilderness, and righteousness remain in the fruitful field. And the work of righteousness shall be peace; and the effect of righteousness, quietness and assurance forever."
The staff of the Council know that this is kind of the verse of the year. We have been working quite intently on making sure the inner workings of the council match what we say. If we say that we feed hungry people through CHOW for instance, you know that we are trying to do that work as efficiently and quickly as possible. We don't want to inhibit the feeding of people by unneccessary rules or procedures, however, to ensure that we are meeting the expectations of donors and partners we need to do it in the most transparent and effective way possible.
According to Isaiah then, the effect of knowing this - that our words and actions meet - creates peace and assurance. The NRSV translates the Hebrew word for assurance instead as confidence - and I think I like that better since it says if you have your internal controls and procedures worked out that your external demeanor will be that of confidence. And you can inspire trust and confidence from the people you are serving whether that be the hungry person at your door, the donor who give food or funds to the organization, or the person you meet on the street who has questions about your business even when the preasure rises - as it always does.
More importantly, it tells us that we should not fear evaluation because in all essential things we have done our homework and come at the task as prepared as we can. Without that assurance we are left with a house of smoke and mirrors that really does not have the substance to meet the intended meaning of our words.
May it be that way for all of us as we approach our spiritual lives this Lenten season. May all of your words of belief, meet with positive action to help other people be better than they could possibly be by themselves.
Peace and towels,
Joe Sellepack
The staff of the Council know that this is kind of the verse of the year. We have been working quite intently on making sure the inner workings of the council match what we say. If we say that we feed hungry people through CHOW for instance, you know that we are trying to do that work as efficiently and quickly as possible. We don't want to inhibit the feeding of people by unneccessary rules or procedures, however, to ensure that we are meeting the expectations of donors and partners we need to do it in the most transparent and effective way possible.
According to Isaiah then, the effect of knowing this - that our words and actions meet - creates peace and assurance. The NRSV translates the Hebrew word for assurance instead as confidence - and I think I like that better since it says if you have your internal controls and procedures worked out that your external demeanor will be that of confidence. And you can inspire trust and confidence from the people you are serving whether that be the hungry person at your door, the donor who give food or funds to the organization, or the person you meet on the street who has questions about your business even when the preasure rises - as it always does.
More importantly, it tells us that we should not fear evaluation because in all essential things we have done our homework and come at the task as prepared as we can. Without that assurance we are left with a house of smoke and mirrors that really does not have the substance to meet the intended meaning of our words.
May it be that way for all of us as we approach our spiritual lives this Lenten season. May all of your words of belief, meet with positive action to help other people be better than they could possibly be by themselves.
Peace and towels,
Joe Sellepack
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Kingdom Economics
This Lent I have begun to work my way through the Gospel of Luke. Since I try to be broadly eccumenical, this year I started my reading on the first Sunday of Lent according to the Eastern Calendar (who do not celebrate Ash Wedesday) and will conclude it on Easter which, this year unlike other years is a date shared by both the Eastern and Western Calendar. Side note: before taking the position with the Council, I had no idea the amount of discord that a date for Easter might engender - but that is the subject for another day.
Recently my reading has been very slow, each section bringing thoughts that require time to develop - making it rather unlikely that I will make it through the Gospel during these fourty days. It may take all year.
My reading began fast enough. I read through the narratives leading up to the birth of Jesus fairly quickly since they get rather broad play around Advent and Christmas. Given the unrest in the Middle East and in our own country I was taken a bit back by Mary's Magnificat which really does deal with some strong political themes. It's tough to hear the words "He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty" without sensing that Luke is taking a side in the current issues confronting us both globally and domestically.
But where I am getting bogged down right now is the "Sermon on the Plain." I am so used to Matthew's "Sermon on the Mount" that Luke seems to be speaking a foreign language. For instance Matthew adds "in spirit" to Jesus' words "Blessed are the poor" which makes me feel better, but Luke won't let me off the hook. He looks me square in the eyes and says, "Blessed are the Poor" and then he gets nasty and says, "By the way, Woe to the Rich!" Luke won't have any of that comformist crap that my middle aged life craves, instead he lets me have it right between the eyes.
And then he goes on to say, "Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you... If you love those who love you what credit is that to you? If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return..." It confronts me right where I live and it confronts Americans particularly those of us who are so concerned with safety, security and economics right where we live.
We split hairs about who the deserving and underserving poor are and Luke says, "Your reward will be great and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the grateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful." And then we pick apart entitlement programs and place a lot of it on the chopping block while trying to raise, not lower, military spending.
So it's not the standard of U.S.A. political landscape of either the categories of the right or the left that is important at this juncture. For Luke the importance is how I am embodying the mercy and care that God shows this world. I should be merciful because that is what I experience in God's nature.
And I look into Luke's eyes and I listen. I don't do it because I expect him to be happy with me or the government that makes these decisions, because from the text it is aparent that he is definitely not happy with the way things are going. I do it because I need to hear him pleading with me: "Forgive, and you will be forgiven; give and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down shaken together, running over, will be put in your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back."
It is generosity and grace that matters. And I need to see how well I mirror back to God the generosity and grace that he lavishes on me by how well I treat the poor and the rich, the Liberal and the Tea Partier, those living upstate as well as those downstate, the union worker and the CEO. But it's more than that - Luke does take sides - and his side is on the side of the poor - firmly and poignantly. He won't merely let me off the hook by trying to be impartial because there is nothing impartial about where Luke stands. He looks us right in the eye and says, "Take me on, I dare you."
And as a stumbling, bleeding person, scuffed up and convicted by his words, I have to plead, "God have mercy on me, a sinner..." And work for justice and compassion and embody yet again the grace I experience from the God I profess to know.
Peace and towels,
Joe Sellepack
Recently my reading has been very slow, each section bringing thoughts that require time to develop - making it rather unlikely that I will make it through the Gospel during these fourty days. It may take all year.
My reading began fast enough. I read through the narratives leading up to the birth of Jesus fairly quickly since they get rather broad play around Advent and Christmas. Given the unrest in the Middle East and in our own country I was taken a bit back by Mary's Magnificat which really does deal with some strong political themes. It's tough to hear the words "He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty" without sensing that Luke is taking a side in the current issues confronting us both globally and domestically.
But where I am getting bogged down right now is the "Sermon on the Plain." I am so used to Matthew's "Sermon on the Mount" that Luke seems to be speaking a foreign language. For instance Matthew adds "in spirit" to Jesus' words "Blessed are the poor" which makes me feel better, but Luke won't let me off the hook. He looks me square in the eyes and says, "Blessed are the Poor" and then he gets nasty and says, "By the way, Woe to the Rich!" Luke won't have any of that comformist crap that my middle aged life craves, instead he lets me have it right between the eyes.
And then he goes on to say, "Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you... If you love those who love you what credit is that to you? If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return..." It confronts me right where I live and it confronts Americans particularly those of us who are so concerned with safety, security and economics right where we live.
We split hairs about who the deserving and underserving poor are and Luke says, "Your reward will be great and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the grateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful." And then we pick apart entitlement programs and place a lot of it on the chopping block while trying to raise, not lower, military spending.
So it's not the standard of U.S.A. political landscape of either the categories of the right or the left that is important at this juncture. For Luke the importance is how I am embodying the mercy and care that God shows this world. I should be merciful because that is what I experience in God's nature.
And I look into Luke's eyes and I listen. I don't do it because I expect him to be happy with me or the government that makes these decisions, because from the text it is aparent that he is definitely not happy with the way things are going. I do it because I need to hear him pleading with me: "Forgive, and you will be forgiven; give and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down shaken together, running over, will be put in your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back."
It is generosity and grace that matters. And I need to see how well I mirror back to God the generosity and grace that he lavishes on me by how well I treat the poor and the rich, the Liberal and the Tea Partier, those living upstate as well as those downstate, the union worker and the CEO. But it's more than that - Luke does take sides - and his side is on the side of the poor - firmly and poignantly. He won't merely let me off the hook by trying to be impartial because there is nothing impartial about where Luke stands. He looks us right in the eye and says, "Take me on, I dare you."
And as a stumbling, bleeding person, scuffed up and convicted by his words, I have to plead, "God have mercy on me, a sinner..." And work for justice and compassion and embody yet again the grace I experience from the God I profess to know.
Peace and towels,
Joe Sellepack
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Reflecting on Tragedies
A mentally ill gunman invades a peaceful gathering of people assembling to participate in their rights as citizens of our country. He shoots people at point blank range killing several and wounding many more.
Most who are following the news coming from Arizona and who listened to the president's speech last night would know that I am referring to the shooting of Representative Gabrielle Giffords and her constituents and collegues at a Safeway Grocery Store in Tuscon, AZ. All I did was remove the specific names of victims, dates, and venue.
Stripped down to its essence, this shooting looks eerily similar to another tragedy that struck us in Binghamton nearly two years ago when a mentally ill man armed with a pistol killed twelve people at the American Civic Association. The names and faces change, but the effects are the same. People die.
It shouldn't suprise you then that as I was watching the memorial service last night, memories from our own tragedy came crashing down on me. I remembered the sights and sounds as we tried to make sense of what happened and the utter chaos that we endured as we tried to put life back together. The press conferences, the debriefings, the endless meetings - all in addition to the normal work that confronts us here at the Broome County Council of Churches - creating long work days not leaving much time to reflect on what had transpired.
Then there was the intrigue of how many flowers that were planted and how many wreaths we included to memorialize the dead. For a year after the event, in almost every conversation about the memorial services, I was asked, "If you had it to do all over again, would you have included the wreath and flower for the shooter?" To which I responded it was my decision, I own it and I believe it was the right decision. You can fault me with a lot of things, but shirking responsibility is not one of them.
History is always seen in how a story is told and to not include the shooter does not honor the dead nor make our job of restoring sanity to this situation any easier. A mentally ill man was responsible for the ACA shooting and mentally ill men have done other terrible things in ensuing year at both Fort Hood and now in Tuscon, AZ. We need to remember that fact and move from remembering to concrete steps of kindness and care that address the needs of the mentally ill and those who strive to help them in our community.
It's easy for us to point fingers and diagnose the faults of others. It is difficult and risky for us to begin caring for each other and living in a community that values kindness and compassion. It's easy for us to demand justice and to condemn those who would react to others with violence. It's hard for us to take a deep introspective look into our own hearts and souls and see the violence and hatred that exists there. It's easy to live confined behind walls that would protect us from other people - including the walls of prejudice and bigotry - but it's hard to tear down the walls and learn to walk in mercy and empathy.
I don't think that there are any easy answers to these types of tragedies. I particularly liked these words that our President used during his eulogy at the memorial service last night: "The loss of these wonderful people should make every one of us strive to be better in our private lives – to be better friends and neighbors, co-workers and parents. And if, as has been discussed in recent days, their deaths help usher in more civility in our public discourse, let’s remember that it is not because a simple lack of civility caused this tragedy, but rather because only a more civil and honest public discourse can help us face up to our challenges as a nation, in a way that would make them proud."
May it be so for us as we strive to create a better Broome County.
Peace and Towels,
Joe Sellepack
Most who are following the news coming from Arizona and who listened to the president's speech last night would know that I am referring to the shooting of Representative Gabrielle Giffords and her constituents and collegues at a Safeway Grocery Store in Tuscon, AZ. All I did was remove the specific names of victims, dates, and venue.
Stripped down to its essence, this shooting looks eerily similar to another tragedy that struck us in Binghamton nearly two years ago when a mentally ill man armed with a pistol killed twelve people at the American Civic Association. The names and faces change, but the effects are the same. People die.
It shouldn't suprise you then that as I was watching the memorial service last night, memories from our own tragedy came crashing down on me. I remembered the sights and sounds as we tried to make sense of what happened and the utter chaos that we endured as we tried to put life back together. The press conferences, the debriefings, the endless meetings - all in addition to the normal work that confronts us here at the Broome County Council of Churches - creating long work days not leaving much time to reflect on what had transpired.
Then there was the intrigue of how many flowers that were planted and how many wreaths we included to memorialize the dead. For a year after the event, in almost every conversation about the memorial services, I was asked, "If you had it to do all over again, would you have included the wreath and flower for the shooter?" To which I responded it was my decision, I own it and I believe it was the right decision. You can fault me with a lot of things, but shirking responsibility is not one of them.
History is always seen in how a story is told and to not include the shooter does not honor the dead nor make our job of restoring sanity to this situation any easier. A mentally ill man was responsible for the ACA shooting and mentally ill men have done other terrible things in ensuing year at both Fort Hood and now in Tuscon, AZ. We need to remember that fact and move from remembering to concrete steps of kindness and care that address the needs of the mentally ill and those who strive to help them in our community.
It's easy for us to point fingers and diagnose the faults of others. It is difficult and risky for us to begin caring for each other and living in a community that values kindness and compassion. It's easy for us to demand justice and to condemn those who would react to others with violence. It's hard for us to take a deep introspective look into our own hearts and souls and see the violence and hatred that exists there. It's easy to live confined behind walls that would protect us from other people - including the walls of prejudice and bigotry - but it's hard to tear down the walls and learn to walk in mercy and empathy.
I don't think that there are any easy answers to these types of tragedies. I particularly liked these words that our President used during his eulogy at the memorial service last night: "The loss of these wonderful people should make every one of us strive to be better in our private lives – to be better friends and neighbors, co-workers and parents. And if, as has been discussed in recent days, their deaths help usher in more civility in our public discourse, let’s remember that it is not because a simple lack of civility caused this tragedy, but rather because only a more civil and honest public discourse can help us face up to our challenges as a nation, in a way that would make them proud."
May it be so for us as we strive to create a better Broome County.
Peace and Towels,
Joe Sellepack
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
We're on the move!
I spent the Holidays driving. More accurately, my wife, our two children (who really weren't excited about being in the car for days at a time), and I embarked on a cross country trip that began on the West Side of Binghamton went to Pensacola, FL and back again. The things you will do to visit family.
In order to make it easier on ourselves, we orchestrated the trip so that we wouldn't travel more than eight hours in a day, consequently making the nineteen hour trip into a two and a half day affair. This practice necessitated several stops along the way.
One of our stops was in Birmingham, AL. Martin Luther King Jr. has long been an inspiration to me and I have relished reading his books and speeches. One of my most favorite treatise of his was written while he was in jail in Birmingham after being detained for participating in a non-violent civil rights demonstration, so you can imagine that I really liked the idea of spending some time there. But what gave me the most shivers was when I learned that it might add an hour to our time, but on Christmas Day, on the half day trip that ended in Pensacola we would be able to drive the route between Selma and Montgomery. It was here that Dr. King had led a march to protest the literacy requirements and testing that kept black people and poor people from having the right to vote.
You can guess how my children took this news. Having been in the car for two days, even though they were shorter and we filled in the hours we weren’t traveling with good food and some fun things to do, they were not thrilled to learn that they would be in the car for an extra hour. But when they saw how excited I was to visit the historic Brown AME Church and to travel the fifty mile route the marchers took on their way to Montgomery, they agreed to go stating that they could use an extra hour of sleep. One might say that history and struggle is lost on the young.
Every ten miles along the route between Selma and Montgomery, visitors find historic markers commemorating where the marchers set up camp for the night. It’s funny how my kids took that news. Why didn’t they just drive? Why did they have to walk? How did they eat?
When we started to share the logistics and how people had to run support and how important it was not just to use words but to make a statement, I could sense that they were getting more involved in the journey. What took us one hour, took the marchers five days. And in those five days they made a statement to those who would refuse them the right to vote that they were not going away anytime soon and that sooner or later they would have to be dealt with fairly and equitably.
Actually, to set the historic picture straight, it was only the third attempt at this march that arrived in Montgomery. The first attempt was cut short just outside of Selma on the Edmund Pettus Bridge when state and local police attacked the 600 demonstrators with billy clubs and tear gas. That day, March 7, 1965, is a day that goes down in infamy as “Bloody Sunday.” The second attempt didn't go much better.
On the third attempt, as the local and state authorities were poised to suppress the demonstration, a federal judge ordered that the marchers had a right to protest a government that was not working for their interests and placed 2,000 US troops and 1,900 members of the Alabama National Guard under federal control to protect the protesters. And then, after making the fifty mile, five day march under their protection and surveilance, Dr. King and the marchers made it to the state capital. While on the steps of the capital building, Dr. King made a speech entitled "Our God is Moving On."
This speech was not filled with flowery rhetoric like his “I Have a Dream” which has been used and over used each MLK national holiday, leaving many wanting to sing “Kum Bah Yah” and joining hands pretending that we are all color blind. Instead this speech is filled with blood, struggle, and tears. Between the lines you read the pain of a people that faced centuries of violence and bloodshed. If you're quiet you can hear the history of a people who were attempting to gain the right to be counted as a full human being and not just three fifths, to have their children educated with the same diligence and decorum as white children, and to move to the front of the bus and not stand at the back while others mindlessly sit on the privilege their color awards them.
“We are on the move now,” He entreated, “The burning of our churches will not deter us. We are on the move now. The bombing of our homes will not dissuade us. We are on the move now. The beating and killing of our clergymen and young people will not divert us. We are on the move now. The arrest and release of known murderers will not discourage us. We are on the move now.
“Like an idea whose time has come, not even the marching of mighty armies can halt us. We are moving to the land of freedom…. Let us march on poverty, until no American parent has to skip a meal so that their children may march on poverty, until no starved man walks the streets of our cities and towns in search of jobs that do not exist. Let us march on ballot boxes, march on ballot boxes until race baiters disappear from the political arena. Let us march on ballot boxes until the Wallaces of our nation tremble away in silence.
“Let us march until we send to our city councils, state legislatures, and the Untied States Congress men who will not fear to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with their God. Let us march until all over Alabama, God’s children will be able to walk the earth in decency and honor. For all of us today the battle is in our hands. The road ahead is not altogether smooth. There are no broad highways to lead us easily and inevitably to quick solutions. We must keep going.”
As a parent, I pray that the passion, the tears, and the struggle of that route are not lost on my children. They need to know that there are truths worth living and dying for that surmount narrowly construed self-interest. They need to know that people should be treated with decency and respect and not cavalierly dismissed as beneath them. Sure I think they need to hear the echoes of Martin Luther King Jr. as he gives this impassioned appeal and know the history of the civil rights movement, but more importantly they need to be aware of the beating of their own heart and respond when the time calls to act courageously and passionately to overcome the powerful who would walk all over the weak.
I pray daily that I will impart this gift to them and that they will sense by how I give my life to them, that they can lay theirs down for others. And I pray that they will find in the years to come that that hour drive was time well spent.
Peace and towels,
Joe
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