Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Eucharist: The Body of the Cosmos


The sign reads: "the bread in your hand is the body of the cosmos."

This picture was taken at Plum Village, the home and retreat center of Buddhist monk and teacher Thich Nhat Hanh.  
I spent a week in this incredible space back in 2009.

As someone raised and rooted in Christian theology and spirituality, I find so many beautiful compliments in Buddhist teachings and practices that enhance my own connection to the Divine.  This particular sign which was in the dining hall at Plum Village really struck me as speaking truth not only about the interbeing of all nature (the bread contains the sun, the rain, the air, etc), but also the truth behind the Eucharist - the Body of Christ that is shared each week during the liturgy.  The bread in our hands is the body of the universe in that it is the body of the Cosmic Christ who through the incarnation is now present in all the universe. (see more about this idea in my homily from 5.7.16)

May we grow to see not only the bread of the Eucharist as holy communion, but also recognize the holy communion present in sharing together the many fruits and grains of the earth that nourish and sustain us each day.  Amen

Monday, July 25, 2016

Quote/1


I loved this quote from the moment I first saw it.  What a powerful reminder for all of us about how important we are!  
The photo is of me in the Cordillera Blanca near Huaraz, Peru taken in 2010.  

Show Me What Theology Looks Like

Show me what Theology looks like
This is what Theology looks like

Theology looks like
Out of the pews and into the streets

Theology looks like
Reclaiming Holy Week
Black Lives Matter
And the community gathered
In protest and lament
To say not one more
Not one more
Death
Not one more
Young man or woman
Locked up
Behind bars
Separated from their family

Theology looks like
Discomfort

Theology looks like
Witnessing black rage
And not backing away
Not trying to calm it down
But taking it all in
And naming it Holy

Theology looks like
Me and you
Arm in arm
Taking back the streets

Theology looks like
Whose streets?
Our streets!

Theology looks like
My Christ, my brother saying
I can’t breathe
Me saying
Now I’m in the struggle
And I can’t leave
My God saying
I’m not gonna stop
Until all people are free

Theology looks like
Clergy asking for forgiveness
For the silence of the Church
And the people granting them
That forgiveness
And challenging them
To do better
To show up

Theology looks like
Friends joining the crowd
Who didn’t plan
To march and chant
On their Holy Saturday

Theology looks like
Public lament
The cries and tears
Of mothers who have lost their children
Who know all too well
The pain of Mary
The pain of the women at the cross
Who lost their
Friend
Son
Brother

Theology looks like
Community coming together
And denouncing the violence
Denouncing the racism
Denouncing the divides
And lamenting our complicity
In it all

Theology looks like
Holding those in mourning
Creating space for that mourning
And never saying when it should be done
Allowing that mourning to spill over
Into day to day life

Theology looks like
Interrupting a lovely afternoon
On the patio
Because people are dying
People are dead
And you need to know about it

Theology looks like
Solidarity with those who struggle
Every day
Just to live

Theology looks like
Being criticized by good, white
Well-meaning Christians

Theology looks like
Faith in action

Theology looks like
A La Pieta march
On Good Friday
And
A mourning march
On Holy Saturday

Show me what Theology looks like?
This is what Theology looks like. 

© Jennifer Reyes Lay


This stream of consciousness poem was written on April 4,2015 after attending 2 events for #ReclaimHolyWeek (Good Friday and Holy Saturday).  One of the chants we shouted as we marched was "Show me what Theology looks like! - This is what Theology looks like!"

Litany of Lament


Help, YHWH! No one is loving any more. (Psalm 12:1)

My soul is in deep anguish.
    How long, YHWH, how long? (Psalm 6:3)

How long, YHWH? Will you forget me forever?
    How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my anguish,
    And wallow in despair all day long? (Psalm 13:1-2)

I am worn out from my groaning.
All night long I flood my bed with weeping
    and drench my couch with tears. (Psalm 6:6)

My heart is tortured inside me;
    Terrors of death assail me.
Fear and trembling invade me;
    Horror overwhelms me.  (Psalm 55:4-5)

Rouse yourself! Why do you sleep, O Lord?
     Awake, do not cast us off forever!
Why do you hide your face?
     Why do you forget our affliction and oppression? (Psalm 44:23-24)

Wake up, YHWH!
    Rise up in your anger
Against the fury of my enemies!
    Awake, my God, and give me justice!  (Psalm 7:6)

Put an end to the violence all around me!
    Make the just feel secure, O God of justice,
You who test mind and heart!  (Psalm 7:9)

YHWH, my God, I take refuge in you,
     Save me from those who hound me! (Psalm 7:1)

“Because they oppress the helpless,
     Because the poor sigh and moan,
Now I will rise up!” says YHWH.  (Psalm 12:5)

Away from me, all you who do evil,
    for YHWH has heard my weeping.
YHWH has heard my cry for mercy;
   and accepts my prayer. (Psalm 6:8-9)

If Only / Good Friday Poem/2

If Only...

Mary knows
the pain of a mother
who has lost her child
too soon. 

La Pieta
Holding her dead son
In her arms.
Killed -
Not by natural causes,
but at the hands
of men,
the hands
of an oppressive government,
and even at the hands
of fearful, corrupt religious leaders. 

Mary was there through it all. 
As the crowds chanted
to crucify
her baby boy. 
As they called him
a thug,
a criminal. 
As they said
he deserved what he was getting
for daring to challenge the system,
for daring to preach equality
for daring to assert his own humanity
and divinity. 

Perhaps they blamed her too? 

If only
she had raised him better. 
If only
she had taught him
how to obey authority.
If only
She had taught him
how to respond properly
to a question when asked. 
If only
she had taught him
to stay in line,
to obey the rules
to fulfill the role
he was born into
in his culture and society. 

Maybe then
He would still be alive.
Maybe then
he wouldn’t have been crucified.

Or maybe
they would have found a reason
anyway.  

© Jennifer Reyes Lay

Abiding Love / Good Friday Poem/1

The sun shines equally
On those who are mourning
And those who rejoice.
The birds sing their songs
For the passerby who walks
Heavy with burden
Or light in freedom.
The tree offers equal shade
To the one who is depressed
And the one who is full of life. 
Nature is indifferent
To our human emotions.
Nature is indifferent
To our joys and sorrows.
Is God indifferent too?

Or perhaps it is not indifference,
But abiding love and presence –
Always there
In equal share
Whether we want it
Or not,
Whether we seek it
Or not.
Just there.
Given freely
And equally
To all. 

Perhaps I don’t have to
Weep
Or rejoice
To let you know
I’m here.
Perhaps like the sun, birds, and trees
I can just be me
Here for you
As I am
As you are
Abiding in love
Together.  

© Jennifer Reyes Lay

Homily 7.2.16

Scripture Readings:
IS 66:10-14c
Gal 6:14-18
Luke 10:1-9

Discipleship as Bearers of Shalom

Shalom. Peace be with you. This is a familiar part of our liturgy and ritual as Catholics, giving and sharing peace with one another. We hear in the Gospel tonight that this is the first thing as disciples of Jesus that we should say when we encounter a new person or enter someone’s home. Peace to you, Peace to this household. This is also the same message that Jesus shares with his scared and grieving friends after his resurrection: Peace be with you. This is the message we are called to carry and live as Christians.

We could use some more peace in our world today. There were more mass shootings in the U.S. last year than there were days in a year. Just three weeks ago was the massacre at Pulse, an LGBTQ nightclub in Orlando, FL where 50 lives were lost. Two weeks ago was the one year anniversary of the Charleston shooting. And then just a few days ago terrorist attacks in Istanbul, Turkey took the lives of at least 42 with an additional 200 or so injured. Wars raging around the world, many backed by our own government, have led to a profound refugee crisis with millions either internally displaced or fleeing for safety in foreign countries where all too often they are not greeted with shalom, but rather denied or treated as less than human. We could use more peace in our world.

We are called as disciples of Jesus, like the 70 sent out in the Gospel tonight, to be bearers of his message of Peace, or in Hebrew: Shalom. I love the word Shalom because it is a rich and profound word that means so much more than just what we think of when we say ‘peace.’ It is not just the absence of war or violence. Shalom is harmony and wholeness within me and also between persons, groups, or countries. Shalom points to a state of safety, comfort and completeness as well as prosperity.

We have a beautiful and powerful image of the kind of Shalom that is promised to the people of Jerusalem in the first reading today. When we keep in mind that Shalom is harmony, safety, and connection what more beautiful image is there than that which Isaiah offers us of a mother breastfeeding her infant. The Peace of God is the peace that is felt between a mother wrapping her child up in her arms, protecting that child and comforting that child who she continues to give life to. Truly when we see and experience this our heart should rejoice!

Shalom reminds us that we need each other. To be messengers of shalom we can’t pretend like we know it all, or that we are self-sufficient and don’t need others. Packing lightly on the journey - no money, no change of clothes or shoes, no supplies - means we have to accept the hospitality of others. It is a vulnerable position. Like a young infant reliant on her mother, the 70 who were sent were sent in such a way that they couldn’t feed and house themselves, they had to rely on the community to offer safety, protection, and comfort. And in that exchange, that giving and receiving and breaking bread together, in sharing stories and healing, they made the peace they offered real. When we follow in these same footsteps, we make the peace of Christ real.

This is not easy work. Jesus tells his disciples in the Gospel tonight that he is sending them out like sheep among wolves. We are not guaranteed safety or protection. There is risk in truly living a life and message of peace and unity.

But there is also great reward in the healing power of shalom. When the disciples went out as Jesus instructed they were amazed at their own power to bring healing, to cast out demons and all that which brought suffering and division. Their faith and trust in the message and ministry was enough to heal those open to conversion where perhaps before it was thought impossible.

However not everyone will be open to this message of shalom. Jesus goes on to say that if our message of peace is not received, it will return to us, we dust off our feet and continue on our journey. This is a particularly challenging message for me, and perhaps some of you can relate, because sometimes I really want people to change, I really want to be able to change them. I want them to hear the message and take it to heart and change their ways, move from violence and division to peace and reconciliation. I know they can be better and I want them to do better, but ultimately I can’t control that. I am reminded in Scripture tonight that my call as a disciple is to be authentic in the path I walk and the message I share, to seek out and build inclusive communities and shalom relationships, and when that doesn’t happen to keep my own internal peace, stay true to myself, and move on to the next person whose path I cross and extend my greeting of shalom.

What does all of this mean for our own faith community? How can we make Sts. Clare & Francis a Shalom community - a community of peace, safety, wholeness, connection, and comfort? Based on the clues in our Gospel tonight, I think we are on the right path. We have to spend time with one another, we have to share meals together, we have to share our true selves - not the fancy clothes, titles, or positions we wear, but who we really are. We have to help one another heal, because we all have our own unique demons and shadows that torment us. We have a beautiful caring ministry who accompanies those who are hurting in different ways, but we are really all called to care for one another, to offer our presence and a compassionate ear. And we get to rejoice and celebrate with one another! Because day by day, week by week, we are participating in not only announcing but building the kingdom of God here on earth, here in St. Louis, here at Sts. Clare & Francis as we share the Peace of Christ with one another. 

Shalom


Homily 5.7.16

Scripture Readings:
Acts 7:55-60
Rev 22:12-14, 16-17,20
John 17:20-26

The Implications of our Oneness

They say if you want someone to remember something you have to repeat it at least 3 times. Advertisers use this all the time and you might hear a phone number or slogan 3 times during a 30 sec ad. That’s sort of what we get in the Gospel tonight: “I have given them the glory that you gave me, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me.” 3 times the author of John has Jesus repeating this idea of being one; he really wants us to remember and understand this concept. So what does it mean to be One? And what are the implications of this One-ness in how we live our lives?

Science tells us that on the most basic, molecular level we are one with the universe. The same particles and atoms present from the beginning of time, present in thousands of exploding stars are now present in our bodies. I even heard the other day that the proportion of elements in our body is the exact proportion found in the universe! We are so connected to the cosmos that we are each little individual incarnations of the cosmos contemplating itself when we look up at the stars in wonder. This is the intimate connection we have with all of creation and with God. This is what Jesus is asking us to remember and live in the Gospel tonight. That as we know God is in Christ and Christ is in the atoms of the universe through the incarnation, so we too are now not only made of star stuff, but are part of the story of divine incarnation into the world.

Theologian Elizabeth Johnson puts it like this, “Jesus carried with him the signature of the supernovas and the geology and life history of the Earth. The genetic structure of his cells made him part of the whole community of life that descended from common ancestors in the ancient seas. The flesh that the Word became thus reaches beyond Jesus and other human beings to encompass the whole biological world of living creatures and the cosmic dust of which we are composed.” She is saying that through the incarnation, all of the particles that make life possible are now connected to God in an even more intimate way than ever before, bringing unity between the creator and the creation. Theologians have started to use the phrase “deep incarnation” to express this radical divine reach into the very tissue of biological existence and the wider system of nature.

So all signs point to unity, to our oneness with God and the Cosmos. This is amazing and powerful to contemplate and meditate on. But what does it all mean for how we live our lives? What are the implications of being One?

I would like us to think about bodies: our own body, the bodies of other human beings, and the body of the universe. We start with our own bodies, where we have the most power and control. If I recognize and accept that my body is part of the larger web of life and is in fact part of the divine body at work in the world, then not only for my good but for the good of the whole I must take care of it, I must nourish it, I must let it rest, I must listen to it, I must protect it, I must love it. This first step can often be the hardest because there are a lot of voices out there telling us that our bodies aren’t good enough for one reason or another, that they don’t deserve to be loved and cared for. But it is holy work to counter those negative narratives and messages and practice self-love and self-care, and it is actually necessary for the good of all creation that we love and care for our bodies.

I get how hard and counter-cultural this is, because for a long time I tried to ignore my body as much as possible and focus more on the spiritual rather than the physical because I had internalized all of these negative messages about my body not being good enough, or pretty enough, or quite frankly able to embody the divine in the same way as a man’s. This shifted for me when I started doing liturgical dance, and my prayers and connection to God moved from words and thoughts, to physical movements. You can’t do liturgical dance and ignore your body. Praying with my whole body opened up a new, deeper, intimate connection to the Spirit moving through me than I had previously experienced, and I came to see my physical body not only as good, but as an equal part in the Divine body on earth, and knowing that changes the way I see and treat my body.

And being able to see and accept how my body is good and holy and embodies the Divine Spirit of the Cosmos, it becomes easier for me to see how your body is good and holy and embodies the Divine Spirit of the Cosmos. The Gospel tonight ends with what is behind this reality of living as one: Love. Jesus prays “that the love with which you loved me may be in them and I in them.” Living as one means loving all bodies as my body, as the One body of Christ, so that means when black bodies are attacked, my body is attacked, and when immigrant bodies are attacked, my body is attacked, when Muslim bodies are attacked, my body is attacked, and when transgender bodies are attacked, my body is attacked. And if I will stand up and defend my body with fierce love, then I MUST stand up and defend OUR collective body with fierce love. Because what happens to you does affect me, and what happens to me does affect you.

And being One does not mean we are all trying to be the same, in fact as Teilhard de Chardin talks about, it is imperative that we welcome and embrace our vast diversity because “the unity of the human family can only be brought about as all individual human beings cultivate within themselves their own uniqueness to the highest degree, hence increasing the complexity of the unity to be brought about in the human family.”

This vast diversity and complex unity is also seen throughout all of creation. During Lent our community read Pope Francis’ encyclical on the environment Laudato Si, which says repeatedly that “it cannot be emphasized enough how interconnected everything is.” He goes on to say, “Nature cannot be regarded as something separate from ourselves or as a mere setting in which we live. We are part of nature, included in it and thus in constant interaction with it.” Our physical bodies are dependent on our environment for survival. When we pollute the air we breathe, we are polluting our own lungs and the oxygen that pumps through our blood. When we spray or inject harmful chemicals into the food we eat or the soil that grows our food, we are poisoning ourselves. Our bodies are 60% water, so when we allow our oceans, lakes and rivers to be polluted and the wildlife they support to die, we are killing ourselves. We are one with the Earth.

And when we gather around the simple earthly elements of bread and wine each week, we bring together the body of the cosmos, the human bodies of our community, and our own body. When we gather around this Eucharistic table, it is to remind ourselves of Christ’s prayer, his mission to bring wholeness and unity, so that we may go out in the world and live our one-ness. We say the ancient words of the church that we though many are ONE BODY, for we all share in the one bread, and in the one cup, but do we live those words when we leave this table? When I receive Communion I have a simple prayer and meditation that I take back to the pew with me so that these words that we say do not remain simply words but incarnate and take flesh in my own body. My prayer, which you can adopt for yourself, is this: May your body be my body and may my body be your body.

I challenge and encourage us to live in such a way that honors the truth of Jesus’ prayer in the Gospel tonight, that as God is in Christ and Christ is now in us that we too are now in them. My body is your body and your body is my body and our body is ONE with the Divine who holds us all together with Love. 

Amen


Homily 2.13.16

Scripture Readings:
DT 26:4-10
Rom 10:8-13
Luke 4:1-13

Journeying into the Desert with the Desert Ammas

In our faith tradition, we have many rich symbols and wise ancestors who help to guide us on our spiritual journey. One such symbol is presented in our Gospel today: the desert. And the ancestors whose wisdom I draw on to help guide us as we explore this reality of the desert in our own lives are the 3rd and 4th century mystic women: the desert mothers or desert ammas. I invite you to journey with me and these wise women as we dig into the gospel today and explore what it looks like to create desert spaces in our own lives, and what comes up for us when we do. 

In our Gospel today, Jesus spends 40 days in the desert. In the lives and tradition of the 3rd/4th century desert mystics, they spent their whole lives in the deserts. Most likely, you aren’t going to pack your bags, hop on a plane, and go camp out in the deserts of Egypt for the next 40 days; so what does it mean for us today to journey into the desert? We can think about the desert as a place of space and time. It isn’t so much somewhere that we go to, but a reality that we create in order to go deep within to look and listen to what is going on inside of us. 

Mary Earle lays out in her book: The Desert Mothers, concrete ways that we too can create desert spaces in our own lives. The first step is to find a space in your home or daily routine where you can create a “cell.” In the desert tradition monastics were counseled, “go to your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.” For them a cell was a small hut or cave, for us it could be a corner of a room, a closet, or even a certain stair on the staircase. A cell is a space that you set aside for your practice that you can visit daily to engage the practice of silence and reflection. 

Once you have your spot, you create a routine, setting out a block of time, could be just 10 min to start, where you go to your cell with no other distractions and sit in silence, to notice what thoughts cross your mind, what is going on inside of you, reflect on your interactions with others and how God has been present in your life in the last 24 hours. During your times of silence, keep a record of what comes up to notice patterns and remind yourself of what you’re working on, what you need to watch out for. The desert ammas teach us that “the work of the desert is to collaborate with God to become the person you were always meant to be.” 

You can think about the desert, as a mini-retreat space. Now perhaps we think of retreat, and thus the idea of going into the desert, as an escape, as a leaving behind of the rest of the world and just being alone. But that’s not the reality of what Jesus experienced in the Gospel today and it’s not our own reality of journeying into the desert. I find a helpful explanation of what it really means as explained by Thich Nhat Hanh, who reminds us that when we go on retreat, or we practice meditation, or we enter into the desert, it is not to escape society, it is to enter more fully and engage society, because we carry the world with us. Amma Matrona has a similar saying, “We carry ourselves wherever we go and we cannot escape temptation by mere flight.” When we journey into the desert, we aren’t leaving anything behind, especially our temptations, we are creating space to really notice the world we carry inside of us, notice what distracts us from who God created us to be, in order to make the changes necessary to better love myself, love God, and love others. This is the heart of the desert ammas’ practice. Their practice, and our challenge in following them, is to perfect these three areas and restore these relationships: with our self, with others, and with God. And I would encourage us to expand “others” to mean all of creation, because there is much healing to be done not only within inter-personal human relationships, but in our relationship with all of God’s creation.

So we have this goal or vision: create desert space in our own lives in order to engage with what is going on inside of us in order to restore our relationship with our self, with God, and with all of creation. But there are things that get in the way, temptations that we are better able to notice and name when we enter into the desert, temptations that distort these relationships and make us commit what according to the desert ammas is the greatest sin: “the sin of forgetting - forgetting that God brings us into being and that each life is a treasure… Because when we forget that we are crafted by divine skill, we lose the sense of our own sacredness and the sacredness of our neighbor and all that has been created.” 

The three temptations Jesus experienced in the desert reflect this as well. Jesus is tempted in body, mind, and spirit to distort his relationship with himself, with others, and with God, his own Abba. We too are tempted in multiple ways every day to this sin of forgetting who we are and that all life is a treasure to be valued. What the opportunity to journey into the desert offers us, is a chance to create space to confront these temptations and choose love, just as Jesus did. I too am tempted to act out of my own self-interest, to consume for my own satisfaction without regard to the needs of others. I too am tempted to make choices that will lead to recognition, praise, and glory rather than choosing what is best for the collective liberation of us all. I too want to put God to the test as I cry out how can you let this suffering continue or why don’t you do something, forgetting that we are the living body of Christ in the world today. And I often make these choices unconsciously, because they have become habits, or patterns, part of the air I breathe. Going into the desert offers us a chance to step back and go deep, to become conscious of our unconscious behaviors and choices, to face with honesty, courage, and humility those parts of us that might not be so pretty, which opens up the space for real transformation to happen. 

We don’t often think of the desert as being a space where life thrives, but it is only by spending time in the desert that we can truly free ourselves to live the fullness of the life that God has created for us in harmony with all of creation. And while our desert practice is an individual practice in many ways, the wisdom of the desert ammas reminds us that this practice benefits the whole cosmos; we enter into the desert to restore our own beauty and grace for the life of the whole world. So I encourage you to join Jesus in the desert this Lent, create a cell, take time in silence to listen and reflect. Let us face our own demons and temptations, in order to choose love and restore our relationship with God, with ourselves, and with all of creation. 

Amen

Homily 11.28.15

Scripture Readings:
Jer 33:14-16
1 Thes 3:12-4:2
Luke 21:25-28, 34-36

Nurturing Hope in Troubling Times

There’s an old Cherokee tale about a grandfather teaching his grandson about life. “A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy. “It is a terrible fight between two wolves. One is evil – he is fear, anger, envy, regret, greed, arrogance, guilt, resentment, and ego.” “The other is good – he is joy, peace, love, hope, empathy, generosity, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you – and inside every other person, too.” The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?” The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”

What are we feeding inside ourselves this Advent? I love Advent because for me it is a time pregnant with imagery of the divine feminine, of Mary nurturing the life of God inside her and preparing to birth that life, that love, that light into the world. And this is an image and metaphor that all are invited to find themselves in, not just women, because we are all called to birth God’s life, light, and love to the world. The life we bring into the world depends on what we feed, what we nurture inside ourselves. Since the theme for the first Sunday of Advent is Hope, I would like us to reflect tonight on how we feed, how we nurture hope inside of us. And we don’t nurture this hope in a vacuum, we do it in our current context, in the midst of troubling times.

The audience of Jeremiah in our first reading today, knows all too well what it means to live in troubling times. Judah and Jerusalem are under siege. The north is occupied by the Assyrians, and they are living in constant fear of invasion and occupation by the Babylonians. Many have already been taken captive, imprisoned, tortured, and killed. They are being taken away from their home and their temple, the dwelling place of their God. And it’s no surprise given all of this chaos, turmoil, and suffering that they begin to despair. Their despair is characterized by the absence of theological hope; they can no longer imagine God’s promised alternative future. In steps Jeremiah, to remind them of God’s promise, that despite all the surrounding evidence to the contrary there will come a day when the House of Judah shall be safe and their holy city of Jerusalem secure. God’s justice and righteousness will reign supreme, and the kings and priests too will proclaim and live out the reign of God.

This is such an important scripture piece to begin the Advent season because it points to the importance of waiting, anticipating, and trusting in a promised future that seems very removed from our current circumstance. The hope of Advent isn’t a superficial, pie in the skype type of hope, but a profound, radical hope that knows that in the least likely of places, when it is most difficult to imagine, God makes a way for her love and life to break through. In the creative moment of near-despair, the prophet calls us to imagine a new social context in which we live together in safety, peace, and righteousness. We are called to not only name the suffering and injustice of the present, but to lean into God’s promised alternative future.

This isn’t so far removed from our own reality. We too are living in troubling times. I have to be honest that I don’t often watch the cable news channels, but I am pretty plugged into social media, and every day I see stories of war, violence, discrimination, another life lost, someone else who was targeted because of their race, or religion, or sex, or sexual orientation. I see stories about about the hundreds of thousands of people trapped in human trafficking, about the devastating effects of climate change, species on the brink of extinction, and increased pollution of the water and air that keeps life on this planet alive. It can get really overwhelming. And it’s tempting to fall into despair.

But through these same channels I also can see and hear the stories of hope, which often aren’t covered by mainstream media. And it is so important that I have that balance. Because suffering and injustice are not the whole story and are certainly not God’s final word. I look around me and see hope in the stories of communities coming together, resisting oppression, demanding justice, and getting it at great risk to their own lives. Stories of communities organizing to prevent mining, oil, and coal companies from coming in and destroying the land and the people who live there. Stories of an individual act of love and compassion inspiring others to similar acts of love and compassion.

Alice Walker says that “hope is a woman who has lost her fear” and I see that every day. I am inspired and filled with hope by strong women of color who refuse to feed their fear, and instead stand up and fight back. Ferguson, Black Lives Matter, and Mizzou would not have become the movements they are today without the leadership of black queer women. These women are hope. I nurture my own hope by knowing them, knowing about them, and placing myself in these spaces of radical hope and radical resistance, where the wolves of fear and despair don’t stand a chance.

Each of us has the opportunity every day to be our own hope, and to inspire and nurture hope in others. We do that here in this community. Sts. Clare & Francis and the ECC is hope for me. We are a people who were told “No you can’t” or “just wait” in so many different ways, and didn’t listen. We made real our own hope in God’s promise of a table where all are welcome, no exceptions. And I know we are a community of people active in our faith. We nurture our hope when we share our stories as we share our faith.

We can look around us, name the suffering and injustice of our world, and still choose to nurture the hope that, in the words of author and activist, Arundhati Roy, “another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.” This is the eschatological Hope of Advent, a hope that in the words of womanist theologian Karen Baker-Fletcher centers on the Kingdom of God which is already at hand. This womanist hope includes the transformation of society and all creation from what it is to what it ought to be according to God’s vision for the world, and it informs the daily moment by moment business of living.

And so we need to take time to quiet down, to listen for this breath of hope, to feel the movement of the Spirit growing new life inside of us to share with the world. Because there is plenty of noise and chaos that surrounds us and tempts us to despair. Caring for ourselves, taking quiet time to rest, recharge, and connect with our God, is itself an act of hope in a world filled with chaos, noise, violence, and despair.

The wars going on around us are the same as the wars going on inside of us. Remembering the tale of the Cherokee grandfather: which wolf will you feed, which wolf do you want to win? Let us be a people and a community where we feed and nurture the wolves of hope, Let us be a people and a community that prepares to birth the hope of God into the world this Advent season, by taking time with our God in prayer, and nurturing the hope that comes through relationships in communities working to transform systems of oppression into liberation, so that here and now we can begin to make real God’s reign of justice and righteousness while we wait for its ultimate fulfillment.

Amen