“It really boils down to this: that all life is interrelated. We are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied into a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one destiny, affects all indirectly.”- Martin Luther King Jr.

“Be excellent to each other.”
-Ted “Theodore” Logan. Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure

“Can you sense that struggle and contemplation have one and the same source? If you pray, it is out of love. If you struggle, taking on responsibilities to make the world more fit to live in, that too is for love.” – Brother Roger.

When I need a spiritual re-boot, I head into the woods. I love to be surrounded by trees and water and wildlife; and no people. The woods are where I go when I need to wrestle things through in my mind, and reacquaint myself with myself. When times get tough for me, that’s where I go. The Wendell Berry poem, “The Peace of Wild Things” hangs on my wall as a constant reminder of that. St. Wendell says it best, when he said,
When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound
In fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
Rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
Who do not tax their lives with forethought
Of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
Waiting with their lights. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Lord knows there is enough despair in the world right now that I kind of want to go and lie down with the wood drakes for the next 6 or 7 years or so, and wait for it all to just blow over. Ferguson- go away. Syria- pass me by. Texas, Charleston, Kentucky- leave me be. Let me lie.
Ahh, but beaten up and battered as I may feel, lying in a ditch by the side of the road and gazing up at the beautiful trees and the stars and the herons that fly by is no way to live. Suddenly, a hand reaches out to pull me back to the reality of the road of this life; back to this earthly existence that asks me to put one foot in front of the other and keep marching.

As much as I would like to pull away and be a contemplative for the rest of my life, that is simply not practical. Nor is it desirable. You know me…I like to roll my sleeves up too much, get my hands dirty and do what I can to make some change for good every now and again.
This week the hand that pulled me back is the hand of Bryan Stevenson. I’ll tell you about him in a little bit. And last week’s reflections by Shelly and Katherine Henderson gave me some great inspiration, too. And as much as I’d like go on sabbatical and be by myself for 500 miles or so…oh wait…

It really boils down to this (said Dr. King): all life is interrelated. We are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied into a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one destiny, affects all indirectly.

The silk and the wool are woven together. And when we touch, we make each other whole. So as much as I’d like to hide from the troubles of the world, I know that I can’t—and I shouldn’t—so I won’t. But that doesn’t make it easier.

The contemplative monk from Taize, Brother Roger offers a a gentle reminder to those of us who might prefer to lie in the ditch.
“Can you sense that struggle and contemplation have one and the same source? If you pray, it is out of love. If you struggle, taking on responsibilities to make the world more fit to live in, that too is for love.” – Brother Roger, founder of the Taize Community in France.

So we are invested in the struggles of life, whether we like it or not. And if we hope to have any sense of a greater or deeper love in this life, then we have to step into the fray, however the fray might be made known to you. But how do we determine that?

The Alban Institute- a church consulting group, make some good suggestions. They insist that the most important questions a church should ask itself are: Who are we? Who is our neighbor and who or what is God calling us to be? I think these questions can be applied to us individually, too, as a helpful place to begin to discern where and how we might be called to put our faith into action. But in the context of this church, let’s take a look.

That first question is one I think most of us could answer pretty easily. Who are we? We are a progressive spiritual community. We are a church that is engaged in our community. We a church of radical acceptance by society’s standards, yet to us there is nothing radical about being accepting. It is, quite simply, the only way to be. Not sure if they meant it as a compliment, but I took it as one. We are a thinking church; not afraid to confront the ugly issues of our day and not afraid to proclaim that God’s will is for a better world for all. And we are more likely to agree on the importance of working for a better world for all than we are on calling it “God’s will.” Dig a little deeper and you will find a well-organized spiritual community that provides loving and thoughtful programs for children, families and adults, extensive community outreach and support and a fun place to be. Does all that sound about right?

That third question, who or what is God calling us to be is a question that is constantly unfolding for us, in real time. In just a few weeks you’ll be asked to participate in our church-wide survey, asking you everything from how many people are in your household to where you think we should be spending our outreach dollars. And we do that every four years, and then work together as a church to set goals for ourselves, then work together to achieve those goals, moving us forward as an engaged and engaging spiritual community. I can’t wait to hear what you all will come up with for our next Three-Year Plan.

But that second question, “Who is our neighbor?” is one that deserves a little more digging. That question comes to us directly from Matthew’s gospel, and it is posed by an attentive audience member in response to Jesus declaration of the Greatest Commandment: that we should “love God with everything we have, and that we should love our neighbor as ourselves.” (paraphrased). Who is my neighbor?
The Biblical concept of neighborliness is nothing original to the gospels. In fact, the importance of being a good neighbor by demonstrating care for the wayward and the lost goes all the way back to the original stories in Genesis, when Abraham entertains the angels of God and learns the valuable blessing that come when we open our hearts and homes to others. The stories of the people of God in the first testament flow through times of trial and trouble to times of abundance and grace, and almost every time when the people are in need, rescue comes to them from those least likely to be saviors, and when the people are in plenty God tests their capacity for love by judging their interactions with those most likely to be ignored, or worse, persecuted for being set-apart from the people in power. Put another way, the way that the people interact with their neighbors dictates where they stand in the favor of God.

So who is our neighbor?

The parable of the Good Samaritan is a good indication of how we are supposed to define our neighborliness (which is the parable that Jesus tells in response to the question, “And who IS my neighbor?”) You probably know the story… A man en route to Jericho is mugged and left in a ditch to die. And no one stops to help- not the politician, not the priest, not the lawyer- nobody. Nobody but a nobody- a Samaritan. Who picks him up, takes care of him and moves along.

In his book, “Sources of Strength,” Jimmy Carter describes the Samaritans of the second testament in this way. “The Samaritans of Jesus times were a half-Jewish group, related to yet separate from the mainstream Jewish community…they came to be regarded as half-breeds. At the time of Jesus, the Samaritans were generally despised and considered unclean. They were forbidden to worship at the Temple in Jerusalem, and to even set foot in Samaria was thought improper.”

If you’re like me, then these words make you uncomfortable. Hearing this description, and the words like, related to but separate, regarded as half-breeds or “even to set foot there was thought improper.” Chill me to the bone, and make my blood boil with anger at the same time; because I’ve heard these words before- and it was just last week. I’ve heard these sentiments in reference to Syrian refugees, and gay couples in Kentucky, and black boys and girls Ferguson, and Sheriff’s deputies in Texas.

And yet that is my neighbor. That is the hand reaches out and pulls me back and puts me on the road of life. It’s the Samaritan. That half-breed. That outcast. That person who dare not even set foot at the threshold of the temple, for fear of what repercussions may come as a result of the color of their skin. That is my neighbor. And that is my savior, to whom I am forever indebted for showing me true grace.

I’m reading a powerful book right now called, “Just Mercy.” It’s by Bryan Stevenson, a courageous attorney who established the Equal Justice Initiative in Alabama; whose purpose as stated on their website is to provide legal representation to indigent defendants and prisoners who have been denied fair and just treatment in the legal system. It’s an incredible book, recounting his work trying to help exonerate one man in particular on Alabama’s death row. It also illuminates the harsh realities of our modern day prison industry, and helps educate the reader about the continued racial profiling and racist practices committed in our country since the end of the civil rights movement. Starbucks is selling copies of the book, and if you buy it from them then 100% of the proceeds goes directly to the EJI.

In the book, Mr. Stevenson recounts his journey of personal transformation, beginning with his first interactions with a man on death row. Before he arrived for his scheduled visit at the prison his mind swirled with misinformation, fear and distrust of the man he was set to visit- before he even walked through the door. But when he met the man; spent time with him, made a connection with him, he was changed. He was inspired by his resilient courage and hope for justice, and shocked by the mistreatment of this man. One interaction with one man altered Bryan Stevenson’s life forever. In that one meeting, the walls of misinformation and demonization that are often associated with today’s prison population were torn down, and he became a fierce fighter for justice in a system that is rigged against the poor, the uneducated, the powerless.

The words and wisdom of his grandmother echoed in his ears. “Bryan” she said to him, “You can’t understand most of the important things from a distance. You have to get close.”

Connections matter most.

So let’s get close.

So let’s make some connections. Let’s become emotionally involved in the issues we feel are overwhelming, and let’s whittle away at the injustices that wake us in the night. You can sign-up today to bring food to the homeless, and introduce yourself to your neighbor. You can sign-up today to join the walk to stomp out the stigma of mental illness, and meet some good people there, too. You can give a kid a backpack full of food, and feed hungry children in our community- today. You can swing a hammer and together, rebuild a home, right here in our community; and expand your neighborhood of knowledge and love and make some good friends along the way. And, yes, you can sign-up for that today as well.

It is the connections that we make that matter most; maybe that is what heaven is. When despair for the world grows in you, and you wake in the night in fear of what your life, or what your children’s lives, or what Trayvon’s life, or Eric’s life, or Aylan’s life may be; let them be for love. And let our lives meaning come from that.
Amen.