over and around the rainbow

This Sunday at Rainbow we will observe and maybe even celebrate what is called Mennonite World Fellowship Sunday. Why? Each year Anabaptist-related churches around the world are encouraged by Mennonite World Conference to worship around a common theme on a Sunday close to January 21. On that date in 1525 the first Anabaptist baptism took place in Switzerland. (I really wish MWC would be renamed the Menno globetrotters.)

Last year when we observed World Fellowship Sunday, you may recall I shared this story from Barbara Chappell via Ben Chappell:

“A social work professor who travels to Darfur, Sudan, shared stories at a recent church gathering. In the midst of recounting the horrors of the genocide there, he related this amusing story.  Mennonite Central Committee has been sending blankets and comforters to Darfur where they are greatly appreciated.  There is no Arabic word for “comforter,” so the people just called them “Mennonites.” Until he figured this out, the traveler was totally perplexed to hear these very appreciative people talking about how they always like to have a Mennonite on top of them to keep them warm at night, and how they hang the Mennonite on the wall in the morning because, in the morning Mennonites look so nice hanging from a hook!”

I’m not sure what I will share this year, but I did spend some time getting my head around Team Mennonite, and what this looks like locally and globally. Consider this your chance to see Mennonites on top of Mennonites 🙂 Just click on each image to make them larger.

On January 11 Rachel Hostetler and I attended the Martin Luther King, Jr. Interfaith Service sponsored by The Southern Christian Leadership Conference of Greater Kansas City and Jewish Community Relations Bureau/American Jewish Committee.

We heard an impassioned speech by Rev. Dr. Charles G. Adams of Detroit, MI. We heard King’s words recited by a Muslim, a Jew, a Catholic priest, a Protestant pastor, someone from the Bahá’í faith and a Sikh. To close the service we joined hands in singing “We shall overcome.” Earlier that same morning Kansas City’s very own civil rights leader Nelson “Fuzzy” Thompson died after a long struggle with illness. It was an emotional gathering, with shouts of praise mixed in with cries of lament.

The promised land of greater justice, freedom, peace and equality still seems so elusive. So much still divides us. Many are overcome with despair with the words, “We shall overcome,” barely ringing, if at all. Hatred marches on.

So does Love I hope. So does Love.

This Sunday at Rainbow we will focus on the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King Junior, someone who refused to be overcome with despair and instead, reminded the world that racism and hatred of all kinds can be overcome by non-violent Love, and that generations after us do not have to miss out on the promised land.

As a way to prepare for worship, I invite everyone to view this video created by Kristin Neufeld Epp, director of New Creation Preschool in Newton, KS. Kristin is one of many people I know who is nurturing a new generation of “promised land” seekers and builders.

You can read more about Kristin and how she celebrates Martin Luther King Junior with children, by reading her entire blog post here:M is for Martin Luther King Junior-New Creation preschool blog

Warning: You might spend hours pouring through her other wonderful, colorful and inspiring blog posts.

2014 has been quite a year at Rainbow! I decided to put together an annual report of pictures and images in order to show the variety of things happening and soon to be happening.

Enjoy!

2014 in review (optimized)

If you are like me you have a stash of candles that have seen better days.

Take this one for example. This has been my prayer candle for the past few months. I light it in the mornings when I get to church as I imagine God’s radiant light shining in places of need and hurt.

I remember the moment the light/wick from this candle disappeared into a pool of wax. That so often happens in times of pain; the light seems to disappear. One might say ‘Tis the season for disappearing light.

I mean this in several ways. First, the longest night of the year/shortest day happens this week for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere. It will occur on December 21.

And then there is the fact that many people I know and many of the news stories in our world attest to the fact that pain, fear, uncertainty, violence, so often accompany us and can make us feel all snuffed out. Life can often leave us/people feeling burned, battered and bruised.

I’ve been tempted this week to rush out and buy more artificial light. Instead, I’ve decided to stick with the candles I have and let them burn until they can’t burn any longer. And as I watch the light fade during my own longest night vigil on December 21, I will contemplate these words from #551 in our blue Mennonite hymnal (stanzas 1, 2 and 5):

In the stillness of the evening inner restlessness befalls me which I cannot over power. In the midst of joy and gladness at the day’s abundant blessings, silent pain is ever near me.

My defeats loom large before me, and I know the day now passing has been crushed to many pieces. But as day draws to its closing I surrender all my unrest to the One who is beside me.

If new days to me are given, ever hour with grace abounding will give hope of new beginnings. Peace of mind protects my slumber. Courage is restored for living. I can meet the new tomorrow.

Finally, an invitation/announcement:

Come bask in and spread some light! For those in the Northern Hemisphere, the longest night of the year/winter solstice occurs this coming Sunday December 21. Many churches will host a Longest Night or Blue Christmas service of lament and longing. Here at Rainbow we will not have a formal service. Rather, we will have the sanctuary open from 5-7 pm on the 21st. Come and leave anytime during that block of time. Come to pray, light candles or sit in silence as we hold our personal pains and the pain of others in the presence of God.

Last night over 100 people gathered for the annual Rainbow Christmas program. It was a feast of color, light, sound and song.

I don’t have a video clip or photos to share yet from last night. I do have this clip from the service last year. It features Elaine Bartel who gave so much to Rainbow, especially the young. As Marsha Rhoads (also featured in this video) highlighted, this is vintage Elaine: knelt down, at eye level with the children, agile, friendly and focused.

Elaine’s memorial service will be held at Rainbow on January 3 at 2 pm. I trust that too will be a feast of sorts: Tears, hugs, the sound of love expressed.

Rainbow, meet my aunt Carolyn from Chicago. Carolyn and her husband Bob have been cheering me/us on from day one, hoping that we will thrive as a community of faith.

One way I feel Carolyn’s good cheer is through her Cope with Hope postcard series that is currently on display in the church office.

Carolyn, a skilled photographer, started this Cope with Hope postcard series soon after her husband was diagnosed with leukemia, a diagnosis that shook them/us to the core. Jesse and I were living in Chicago at that time and so I spent some nights with her while Bob was in the hospital. Thankfully Bob was the recipient of a stem cell transplant and is now running half marathons. And thankfully Carolyn continues to cope with core-shaking life realities by creating these fun, whimsical, sometimes strange hope-filled cards. She takes her camera everywhere looking for ways hope is being manifested, expressed or yearned for. Yes, that’s Carolyn in a red jumpsuit! (I remember receiving a similar postcard from her when I was a little girl. It was a picture of her sun-bathing on top of her Chicago apartment roof in the middle of a snow storm. Yeah, she’s cool like that.)

These photos and the quotes that often accompany them remind me that beauty and hope can spring forth in surprising places and ways. The question is will we be ready to notice and receive these gifts or will they pass by without our awareness? Skilled photographers like my aunt Carolyn inspire me to keep on the look out for expressions of hope, whether they be whimsical, absurd, strange and/or beautiful!. She reminds me to look for the contours of Divine Presence even in the midst of ever-present sadness, disappointment, violence and trauma.

And so these images will remain in the church office for a time. Feel free to come and take a look! Better yet, please share the images and words that help you cope with hope.

If you would like to order some cards or postcards from Carolyn, let me know and I’ll put you in touch with her.

While I was in Jerusalem less than three weeks ago, a rainbow arched across the sky and spilled onto the land irregardless of international law, race, history, or religion.

I thought of Genesis 9 and the fact that the rainbow has long been a sign of God’s promise for every living creature, all humankind and the animal world. Never again shall such destruction ravage the earth. I thought of the fact that the bow is a traditional weapon of war, but here it is transformed as a symbol of peace, God’s unconditional commitment with all living creatures, that massive destruction will not have the last word…ever again.

It’s a beautiful promise and yet…

Massive destruction still occurs. The weapons of war have not been transformed. Sometimes it makes one wonder if God has forgotten the promise.

Or is it we who have forgotten the promise? Is it we who fail to transform weapons of war into instruments of peace? Perhaps God is always at work creating a human rainbow, a people empowered by God’s Spirit who work for the greater good, who know something about unconditional love and who cast their glow on the hurting places in the world, insisting that massive destruction does not have the last word.

Today I find myself wishing for a Rainbow to shine on the city of Ferguson and beyond. One can’t simply pray a rainbow into existence, but one can pray for the human rainbow that stretches from city to city, land to land. One can pray and act in solidarity with those who rise up and challenge acts of destruction and brutality, and who refuse to let these things have the last word.

In August, soon after the killing of Michael Brown, I shared the following prayer in worship. I invited us to raise our hands, which I know is out of many people’s comfort zones. This was simply an invitation to join the millions across the country who are raising their hands, calling for reforms in our justice and criminal systems and calling for an end to systematic police brutality. Many of you asked for a copy of the prayer. Here is part of that prayer. (You can find the entire prayer here.)

I Raise My Hands: A Prayerful Response to Ferguson
By Osheta Moore

When asked why I raise my hands, I say a number of things:
“I raise my hands in surrender.”  When life’s too much and fear crouches before me, claws at the ready to shred my confidence… I raise my hands to God.

Today, I raise my hands not to worship but to pray for the community of Ferguson and the families of Mike Brown,  Eric Gardner, and John Crawford.

Today, I raise my hands. These holy hands made holy to do the holy work of reconciliation in this sin-stained world.  I raise my hands and ask God to redeem the violence, redeem the suffering, redeem the heartbreak in Ferguson.  I raise my hands to thank him that he has overcome but to ask him to come, be present, and bring peace. With my hands in the air I pray, “By your wounds we are healed, Lord.  Usher in healing for grieving families and the community of Ferguson.”

Today, I raise my hands, because perfect love casts out all fear and because Abba Father sees the suffering of his children.  I raise my hands to bear witness to my  brothers and sisters who were tear gassed and shot with rubber bullets. I raise my hands because my love for them is restless. I can’t do anything tangible with these hands, but raise them high.  Lord, we are restless for change and anxious for hope.  We are witnesses of injustice. We are the women at the foot of the cross, empower us to stay through the torment so that we can be present to bind up wounds and then—see resurrection.

I raise my hands to God who out of his great love for his children heard their cries and carved a path towards justice when there seemed to be no way.  Make a way in Ferguson, MO, Lord. Make a way and drown the Enemy of your peace in your waves of Justice.
Today, I raise my hands because the truth is Black Lives Matter and black kids don’t have to be college-bound for their deaths to be tragic.

I raise my hands for the truth that Jesus identified with the poor, broken, marginalized, and ignored. I raise my hands because Jesus is our Truth and he will make us free.  I raise my hands because it is so true that He will empower us to beat our swords into plowshares and our spears into pruning hooks— we need only identify ourselves as willing truth-tellers.  So, I lift my hands to receive the necessary tools of this Heavenly alchemy:  a humble heart, listening ears, love-spun courage and most of all, open palms that refuse to cling to bitterness, hate, or fear.

Today I raise my hands in surrender.  I can’t do this work on my own.  I can’t even pray for reconciliation on my own—I need to the Holy Spirit to come and take my jumbled, incoherent words and turn them into something powerful. Lord,  place a terrible fear in the heart of the Enemy, and advance your Kingdom of Peace where Violence has made it’s camp.

I am but one women with a heart for the many who are sweltering in the racially charged climate of our country— nevertheless, I raise my hands.

I raise my hands in surrender.
I raise my hands in protest.
I raise my hands in holy anger.
I raise my hands in solidarity with the people of Ferguson, MO.
Will you raise your hands, too?

Today I write as a weary traveler waiting for my final connection home. During the flights today I had hoped to review my notes from these past 10 days, read the books I bought, and put together some reflections, but MCC (Mennonite Central Committee) staff advised us to pack these subversive materials in our checked luggage, wrapped in underwear. Sorry, no pictures of that.

What I share here are a few general reflections. More will be shared on Sunday and in the days, weeks and years following.

MCC staff made it clear from the beginning that this learning tour was first and foremost about lifting up the voices and experiences of their partner organizations. This meant visiting people who are working toward conflict transformation in creative, sometimes radical and subversive ways.

And so, we met engineers working to give people and their animals greater access to water. We met people who are challenging the militarization of Israeli society, we met people who work with traumatized children and youth in Palestinian refugee camps, and we met many Palestinian Christians who are seeking to live out Jesus’ teachings of justice, compassion and non-violence. This also meant we found ourselves off the well-traveled paths most days: in Palestinian and Israeli homes, walking through checkpoints, walking through farms, standing next to the separation wall singing hymns and praying, standing on rooftops and waving (or trying not to wave) to the hundreds of security personnel stationed nearby, walking through deserted alleyways, markets and restaurants, visiting detention centers, prisons, refugee camps, as well as a Bedouin village situated in the Jordan Valley on what is known as a “military firing zone.” Our various tour guides would often point to the large charter buses of tourists and say things like, “most tourists stick to the main roads and only hear part of the story of this land and people.” And most tourists probably don’t get questioned and detained in the middle of the Jordan Valley for over an hour!

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This tour was also about following in the footsteps of Jesus. So we started in Bethlehem, his birthplace, then north to Nazareth and the Galilee and then in the final three days we turned our face toward Jerusalem, the place of his death and resurrection.

During many of the long and windy bus rides and during the Sea of Galilee boat ride I thought of the following things:

1. This region of the world that we call the Holy Lands is so small and intimate-feeling and yet so segregated and hard to get around. There are so many children and adults who live in the West Bank and Gaza who have never seen the Sea.
2. Nations continue to stream to these lands. People of all ages and nationalities continue to be riveted by the events and prophets 2,000 years ago.
3. There are so many histories and experiences in this place and people render their histories so differently. There are radically different interpretations of facts and histories. For example, Israel would celebrate the events of 1948 as its independence whereas Palestinians call those same events the great catastrophe, nakba. This, according to the Palestinians we visited,created a refugee crisis not a wave of immigration as Israelis often describe it.
4. Events that happened 100-200 years ago are considered contemporary. The events of 1948 would be considered a current event, at least by many. There is layer upon layer upon layer of history which you can see in the very architecture. Mosques used to be synagogues and/or churches and vice versa. Wow.
5. People (Israelis and Palestinians) have such complex, multi layered identities, and such a profound connection to this land.
6. To what degree is this a religious or political conflict? And what role, if any, will religion serve in helping to usher in a more just and peaceful Middle East? And to what degree has religion been co-opted by extremists on all sides?
7. Finally, we were reminded several times that it is not our job as US citizens to come up with a solution. What we can do is ask ourselves and our government these tough questions: what role has the United States had in perpetuating these conflicts and what would a conditional support of Israel look like?

Bethlehem. Jesus’ birth place. The town where everything is still, calm and bright, where our hopes and dreams are bathed in everlasting Light. At least that is how I have always imagined Bethlehem, thanks to Phillips Brooks (1835-1903) who wrote the words to O Little Town of Bethlehem in 1868, following a pilgrimage to what many now call the Holy Land. Tonight I look out from the Star Hotel and this is what I see. No stars; only light from towers. The tower on the far right is the Church of the Nativity and the tower to its left is a surveillance tower staffed by guards of the Israeli army. And of course you can see parts of the wall dividing the land and the peoples.

I’m usually a deep sleeper, but I find it is hard to sleep in Bethlehem. Maybe it’s all that wonderfully strong coffee (with a hint of cardamom!). Or maybe it’s because tonight, just like last night and the night before, I lament. I lament the formidable wall that winds and towers around this city. I lament the number of lives injured, traumatized, and lost today, yesterday, this week, this year, dating all the way back to the wars in 1967 and 1948. I lament the Holocaust. I lament violence, oppression, greed, unchecked power, and injustice in every place, in all times, including in my home land, the United States (a divided country that is lining up to vote as I type this.) I bought this crèche as a reminder to me that all is not calm and bright in the walled city of Bethlehem. There are many walls to lament in many of our cities and towns.

At 4 am, when prayers are broadcasted for all in the city to hear, I imagine it to be the voice of Rachel crying for her children who are no more. (Jeremiah 3:18 and Matthew 2:18) The irony of course is that we are less than a quarter of a mile from Rachel’s tomb, a tomb that is blocked off by the wall. I want to believe Rachel and all the Matriarchs would or are shedding tears for all loss of life in this region. Perhaps the angels who keep “watch with wondrous love” are weeping as well.

Now as I get ready to lie down, I hear the bells ringing. And I hum with the strength and hope I have tonight:

“O holy Child of Bethlehem
Descend to us, we pray
Cast out our sin and enter in
Be born to us today
We hear the Christmas angels
The great glad tidings tell
O come to us, abide with us
Our Lord Emmanuel”