Recently, I was up in Traverse City, a city open and welcoming guests back to town. How strange it was to sit in a restaurant and eat near other people, to put our masks on to walk to the restroom, to watch people walking down city streets with no masks. The world has changed. There were protests going on that day for George Floyd’s death, which both inspired and unsettled me. People — some with masks, some without — were yelling, shouting, raging for justice, waving signs calling for change. I applaud them. And I pray for them. Despite a deadly virus so easily spread, people are willing to die to fight for an end to this scourge of systemic racism, injustice and oppression. Exhausted, they have had enough. Fighting for truth and justice and equality is more important to the protesters than their own safety. They are willing to lay down their lives for their friends, their brothers, their fellow human beings, all children of God, equally cherished, equally loved. This a reckoning long overdue.
At a little gift shop in the hotel in which I stayed, a table of small trinkets was just outside the store in the lobby. There were small troll-like dolls, sweatshirts from Latin America, dangly earrings, and fur-lined eye-glass holders. A plate of small teddy bears sat in the center of the table. Most of the items appeared hand-made, and perhaps produced by the woman who owns the shop. By each small item, the shop’s owner, and the creator of these pieces, had hand-written a tag. One said, “Cute little dolls. $2” Another said, “Precious teddy bears, $7.” Another said, “Beautiful eye-glass holders, $12.” Another said “Sweet little hair sticks, $8.” Every tag was hand-written in a type of cursive that reminded me of my grandmother. I was mesmerized! For every item, the owner had chosen an adjective. I was fascinated, but also judged. Frankly, those eye-glass holders were not beautiful to me, they were kind of unique, and old-fashioned. The dolls weren’t cute, they were odd. The teddy bears were overpriced. What adjectives would I have used if I were selling those things? What words would I choose? These were her words, and those were her feelings about what she’d created. Those were her descriptors, her adjectives. I picked up these little tags. I pondered these little tags and these particular words. Through our recent Climate Change series, our diverse congregants made comments. I listened closely. Many of you were encouraged and uplifted. Others were put off by the tenacity by which we stuck to the topic week after week. A few were offended when our guest preacher used specific and pointed examples of what we must do in the world today if we care about saving the planet. I can’t tell you how you should feel, nor would any of us try. Our goal is to get you listening to your own self with the ears of the Holy Spirit, to look at the globe with the Holy Spirit’s eyes and compassion, to hear what the Spirit might be saying to you — through our series — about how to tend and cherish all of God’s creation, and to diminish our own needs for convenience, to reframe how we use the world, and how we give back to this bright globe upon which all God’s creatures live (and many are being made extinct). Our goal is for you to think of your adjectives, pick them up, and ponder them. Maybe, even change them. As I watch the unfolding protests, I think of the adjectives I used to name the ongoing protests. Inspiring protestors! Brave souls! Committed Activists! Fierce Warriors for Justice! Those are the words I use. Those are the feelings I choose. I think of some of my racist family members who happen to live in the deep south, and I imagine some of my relatives would use different words for those who protest, not kind words, and not positive words. I’m not alone. Many of us know places not only where ignorance and racism have a deep hold, but where it is acceptable to be spoken aloud, uttered at dinner tables where children gather, spewed into the atmosphere as viral particulates that keep the disease of racism spreading. No matter what words my relatives use, it’s not the language only that needs to change. It’s not even a momentary opinion of what is going on. A present assessment of our climate issues or racial injustice isn’t worth much — but a deep, courageous dive into the murky waters of our own part in the problem as individuals and a culture that bravely considers doing what God always does best — a new and different thing. Words and opinions do reveal much to us. They point to what is in our hearts. And what is there should spur us into action, with no rest for the weary until we arrive at the Promised Land. What is in my heart was birthed in a home that was nurturing and nourishing, but was often visited by people with vile and hateful opinions, some whom I’m ashamed to know. What remains in me? What adjectives are more than words, but are feelings, that have wrapped around my desire to become aware, wise, compassionate, righteous, and just — and keep me from moving in the direction God calls me? What’s in my heart and soul that’s holding me back? There’s nothing adorable, cute, or precious about our prejudices and biases. If I could see my own laid out on a table, I would carefully choose adjectives to describe them. I would name those deep biases and prejudices. Unacceptable. Intolerable. Disgusting. And I would do the work to end them, and walk away from the table hand in hand with the one who loves me enough to give me a new way — the Word, the best Word, the Holy Word. Peace be with you, Rev. Melissa Anne Rogers
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