The Day After

When I turned my calendar page to this week, on Sunday after church, I saw that today I would be writing to you.

And I thought it would be some kind of reflection on patriotism and criticism, on the complicated feelings I have right now about being an American; someone who deeply loves the place where she lives and also holds that love in tension with deep grief, sadness and anger about some parts of America’s past and present.

That would have been hard to say in 500 words (it’s hard even to summarize here), but I never thought it would be replaced by another reflection altogether.

Another crisis.

Another shooting.

I never thought I would have to grapple with what to say today specifically because of a mass shooting in our neighborhood.

But here we are. The day after. And I am still largely without words.

I have feelings – boy, do I have feelings. Feelings for days, as one of my friends would say.

I am devastated that six people lost their lives in Highland Park yesterday, and that countless more had their lives changed forever.

I am grieved that people from little babies all the way up to grandparents had to run for cover, and some of them didn’t make it.

I am sad for everyone who is feeling the ripple effects of this trauma today.

I am exhausted. Tired of this grief, which never seems to end; it just changes course as new days bring new headlines and new reasons for sorrow.

But I am also furious.

I am enraged that this keeps happening.

I am livid, that after two years of not being able to celebrate this day together, the year when parades and fireworks were set to resume again got disrupted because of this horrific episode.

And I am angry down to my toes, that it is an episode that keeps repeating itself. Keeps wrecking more lives. Keeps undermining our sense of safety and peace, everywhere from church to school to the hospital to the grocery store to the parade route.

A few weeks ago, I preached about something called the Ecosystem of Sin. I first heard about this concept from Dr. Max Lee of North Park University, at this spring’s Central Conference Annual Meeting.

To summarize what was a very detailed and compelling presentation into a few sentences, ecosystems of sin look like this:

First, individuals make the choice to sin.

Second, their choices combine and contribute to a system where sin is justified and perhaps accelerated.

Third, a “hive mind” takes over those individuals and the system, leading to a cosmic or collective sinfulness, which leads to more sin.

And so on and so forth.

The point being: individual choices matter. But so does the system. Because when someone sins, the system either absorbs it and tolerates it, or comes down hard so that it doesn’t happen again.

I think you can gather which kind of system we live in.

But also, you can see where we have to go, to stop the cycle from repeating itself.

What we have to do differently.

Dr. Lee’s incredible presentation focused on how Jesus defeated sin at the highest level of the ecosystem – the cosmic or collective. But it still left me grappling with what we do on the lower levels; the levels that haven’t perhaps felt their ultimate defeat, but keep getting on just fine for the time being.

These are the levels that we have to work with. The ones we can make a difference at.

Levels of individual choice, and of response.

I trust that many of us do not choose violence as a way to make our point and settle an argument. But what do we do when someone else does? Do we shake our heads, say “that’s one bad apple,” and move on? Or do we lean in, try to learn, and make a difference? Do we advocate for policies that are proven to help prevent gun violence? Do we donate to organizations that are helping? Do we try to connect with others who we don’t agree with, and create connections instead of animosity?

What do we do, in the places where we can act?

I don’t have answers, but I have these questions, and I hope they are some of the right ones to ask.

At any rate, it’s something to think about today.

And tomorrow. And the day after.

yours,

Pastor Jen

P.S. If you need someone to talk with (or take a walk and not talk with!), especially as you process the events of yesterday, please be in touch.

The Day After

When I turned my calendar page to this week, on Sunday after church, I saw that today I would be writing to you.

And I thought it would be some kind of reflection on patriotism and criticism, on the complicated feelings I have right now about being an American; someone who deeply loves the place where she lives and also holds that love in tension with deep grief, sadness and anger about some parts of America’s past and present.

That would have been hard to say in 500 words (it’s hard even to summarize here), but I never thought it would be replaced by another reflection altogether.

Another crisis.

Another shooting.

I never thought I would have to grapple with what to say today specifically because of a mass shooting in our neighborhood.

But here we are. The day after. And I am still largely without words.

I have feelings – boy, do I have feelings. Feelings for days, as one of my friends would say.

I am devastated that six people lost their lives in Highland Park yesterday, and that countless more had their lives changed forever.

I am grieved that people from little babies all the way up to grandparents had to run for cover, and some of them didn’t make it.

I am sad for everyone who is feeling the ripple effects of this trauma today.

I am exhausted. Tired of this grief, which never seems to end; it just changes course as new days bring new headlines and new reasons for sorrow.

But I am also furious.

I am enraged that this keeps happening.

I am livid, that after two years of not being able to celebrate this day together, the year when parades and fireworks were set to resume again got disrupted because of this horrific episode.

And I am angry down to my toes, that it is an episode that keeps repeating itself. Keeps wrecking more lives. Keeps undermining our sense of safety and peace, everywhere from church to school to the hospital to the grocery store to the parade route.

A few weeks ago, I preached about something called the Ecosystem of Sin. I first heard about this concept from Dr. Max Lee of North Park University, at this spring’s Central Conference Annual Meeting.

To summarize what was a very detailed and compelling presentation into a few sentences, ecosystems of sin look like this:

First, individuals make the choice to sin.

Second, their choices combine and contribute to a system where sin is justified and perhaps accelerated.

Third, a “hive mind” takes over those individuals and the system, leading to a cosmic or collective sinfulness, which leads to more sin.

And so on and so forth.

The point being: individual choices matter. But so does the system. Because when someone sins, the system either absorbs it and tolerates it, or comes down hard so that it doesn’t happen again.

I think you can gather which kind of system we live in.

But also, you can see where we have to go, to stop the cycle from repeating itself.

What we have to do differently.

Dr. Lee’s incredible presentation focused on how Jesus defeated sin at the highest level of the ecosystem – the cosmic or collective. But it still left me grappling with what we do on the lower levels; the levels that haven’t perhaps felt their ultimate defeat, but keep getting on just fine for the time being.

These are the levels that we have to work with. The ones we can make a difference at.

Levels of individual choice, and of response.

I trust that many of us do not choose violence as a way to make our point and settle an argument. But what do we do when someone else does? Do we shake our heads, say “that’s one bad apple,” and move on? Or do we lean in, try to learn, and make a difference? Do we advocate for policies that are proven to help prevent gun violence? Do we donate to organizations that are helping? Do we try to connect with others who we don’t agree with, and create connections instead of animosity?

What do we do, in the places where we can act?

I don’t have answers, but I have these questions, and I hope they are some of the right ones to ask.

At any rate, it’s something to think about today.

And tomorrow. And the day after.

yours,

Pastor Jen

P.S. If you need someone to talk with (or take a walk and not talk with!), especially as you process the events of yesterday, please be in touch.

Summer Flowers

A dear friend came to find me with flowers from her garden yesterday. I am touched by her thoughtfulness, and taking time now to look at them in front of me. What amazing and intricate creations of God’s they are! Bursting with color and fragrance, I could find in the vase hundreds of different textures and shapes. This is, of course, the wonder of creation, always pointing us to the benevolent Creator.

The beauty of creation is everywhere and in every moment of time. For me, though, in summer I am constantly bombarded by the wonder of it all. Today as I sit and contemplate this small vase and all it contains I become aware of how deficient I am in stopping and staying still long enough to really see what is before me.

In this case, and in this vase as in the vast creation all around me, it comes as a gift of love which is equally beautiful.

I’m taken back to the ancient Swedish folk tune “Blomstertid”, “Flower-time”, which dates back to 1697, and through time was sung by children on the last day of school when summer, after a long, cold and dark winter, had come. The words in our hymnal and translated by by late uncle, Zenos Hawkinson:

Now comes the time for flowers, for joy, for beauty great. Come near, you summer hours, earth’s grasses recreate. Sun’s kind and lovely charming of dead things winter slew, comes intimately warming and all is born anew.

Our lovely flowered meadows, the tilled fields’ noble seed, rich herbs laid out in windows, green groves sedately treed: these wonderful reminders of God’s good Kingdom strong; that we his grace remember, it spans the whole year long.

The word today is a pithy one…. “stop and smell the roses!”. Take time in this time of life, even today, to look around you, and focus in on the wonder of what you see, and so rejoice, give thanks, and sing!

Peter Hawkinson