"Why Have You Hidden Your Face from Us?"

Hey everyone!

What follows is a rough manuscript of the sermon I preached yesterday at Messiah Lutheran Church in Rotterdam, New York, a Spirit-filled church where I'm incredibly blessed to serve as pastor. It's primarily on the appointed Hebrew Bible passage for this past Sunday, Isaiah 64: 1 - 9. Furthermore, its the first of a four part sermons series I'll be preaching throughout Advent called "God with Us." Here's what I'll be covering in the coming weeks:

- Advent 1: God with Us in the Face of the Stranger

- Advent 2: God with Us in Rotterdam

- Advent 3: God with Us at Work

- Advent 4: God with Us in Family

Thanks so much, stay tuned for future installments, and I hope you find this helpful!

God's peace,

Pastor Dustin

So a couple years back in the very late hours of Christmas Eve or early hours of Christmas Day I found myself sitting on a couch three stories up above Midtown Manhattan, staring out at these stark and lonesome, but also beautifully and atypically still city streets, just sort of taking stock of my life and wrestling with God. You see, I was in the middle of my internship year Saint Peter’s Church, where the final Christmas Eve service gets out quite late and a hot breakfast is served to homeless members of the community early every Tuesday morning, even if that particular Tuesday is Christmas Day. With this in mind, instead of taking the subway back to my tiny apartment in Queens after helping out with the Christmas Eve services, I headed up to the third floor of the church where there was an amazing conference space with massive panel windows on two sides and also an amazingly comfortable couch that I always took naps on Sunday afternoons between services. My plan was to spend the night at Saint Peter’s, wake up early, help with preparing and serving breakfast, assist in a short Christmas morning liturgy and then take off for a few l expected to be melancholy days with folks up in New England. I reasoned that especially on Christmas morning, there wouldn’t be many volunteers to help serve breakfast, or perhaps that our guests would be in need of pastoral care, so staying all night at church seemed like the both logical and upright, Christian thing to do.

The truth I didn’t want to admit to myself or to God however that night was that the reason I was trying to sleep on that couch perched high over Lexington Avenue wasn’t because I was a super good intern or fulfilling my Christian duties at all… Rather, I was burdened with the constantly dull but overpowering ache of depression, sadly anticipating the anniversary of my mother’s death, drowning amidst the chaos of a failed relationship, experiencing incredibly loneliness I what I viewed as a way too big city and feeling like I really had nowhere else to go. I could have easily gotten the holiday itself off, but going back home to Connecticut would only bring up more hard feelings about my mom and doing what I considered to at least be burdening a friend’s family with my presence didn’t seem like a good option either. And worst of all, much like the speaker in today’s first lesson from Isaiah, I felt like God had entirely hidden from me. Trying to sort out where God still was in the middle of all the garbage going on in my life, especially at Christmastime, was completely proving impossible, and as you might imagine, I didn’t sleep a wink that night.

That morning, our God of surprises definitely showed up. A former member of Saint Peter’s and pastor at another nearby congregation that didn’t have an early service on Christmas Day, showed up to lead what turned out to be a huge group a volunteers, one giant extended family with no previous connection to Saint Peter’s who had simply decided to spend Christmas morning helping folks out. I honestly wasn’t need at all… there were more than enough volunteers, and frankly just by hanging out with me, our homeless guests probably did more to provide me with pastoral care than the other way around. We engaged in a bunch of great conversations, especially about our guests’ service in our armed forces. Although this number has improved in recent years, as of 2013 still around 53% of America’s homeless population are veterans (according to HUD's "Annual Homeless Assessment Report" ). I got to hang out and laugh with the family who was volunteering too, and community was fostered on Christmas morning… our God of surprises definitely showed up.

Now don’t get me wrong, God definitely showed up in the face of the stranger that Christmas morning, but it wasn’t necessarily in this big, beautiful, idyllic sort of way… it’s not like Scrooge running around giving folks money and ham dinner in a Christmas Carol! Although this isn’t typical, we had to serve an unused catered fish dinner from a giant law firm a couple stories up that morning for breakfast, which thus made for a really stinky breakfast! We often romanticize poverty in our society, especially around this time of the year, but there were definitely a few guests, although not a lot, who showed up drunk or high on who knows what. I even remember banging my elbow like really, really hard and cursing pretty loud for being in a church building. My depression wasn’t cured overnight, the messy parts of my life weren’t immediately fixed, the rest of my year in New York while incredibly rewarding still turned out pretty darn lonely, sure, but our God of surprises definitely showed up. That sense of not joy, but stubborn, resolute peacefulness, community and most importantly hope that God freely gives us when Christ shows up, especially in the face of the stranger, was definitely present.

So two closing thoughts as we enter into a new liturgical year, into the season of hopefully longing that is Advent here at our Spirit-filled church following Jesus Christ. First, especially in the midst of the holiday season when we’re constantly told again and again in holiday movies, in commercials and even by family and friends that we should be especially joyful, know that in Christ it is absolutely okay to feel whatever it is you’re feeling. Check out verse five of our reading from Isaiah, where the prophet cries out to God, “because you hid yourself we transgressed.” I mean, Isaiah is at least partially blaming God for his people’s sinful behavior!! The prophet’s really discouraged by God seemingly not showing up as in days of old! And I mean, if the guy or woman who wrote that part of Isaiah, one of the most central books of the Christian Scriptures, can take anger and disappointment to God, I think God in Christ certainly gives us permission to do the same. If you are indeed feeling joyful and jolly this holiday season, that is awesome, rock on, but if you’re not, you have absolutely no reason at all to feel guilty about it.

Second, and relatedly, as Jesus cries out to us RIGHT NOW in twenty-first century Schenectady through today’s gospel, KEEP AWAKE! Yes, while God is present in our church, in our families, in all the places we normally experience Jesus, God in Christ is especially present in the face of the stranger! Last night I had a chance to rewatch Jill’s awesome sermon from last week, and the way she proclaimed the good news about serving our neighbors was amazing. Perhaps the best part of serving our neighbors, whether they be people who are homeless, or hungry, or a family where there isn’t enough money to buy the kids Christmas presents, isn’t about what we’re doing, but rather what God is doing to us in Christ. We know in faith that Jesus especially comes to us in the face of the stranger. I took a break from the news while I was on vacation last week, with the exception of course of watching the aftermath on the grand jury ruling in Ferguson, which outside of that city were not entirely but largely peaceful. Whether or not justice was specifically done in Ferguson isn't my specialty, but I couldn’t help but think when looking at the faces of all those peaceful protestors that from one perspective they were simply proclaiming God is present in the face of our African-American sisters and brothers. Yes, Christ is present in their lives and the lives of all who are crying out against a wider societal system where the sin of racial injustice is still certainly weighing down our country.

After everything the prophet Isaiah cries out to God in today’s lesson, there’s a turn near the end, did you catch it? Check out verse eight: “Yet, O LORD, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” I’ll read it one more time, “Yet, O LORD, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” Wow, despite things certainly being far from perfect in the prophet’s situation, that stubborn, resolute peacefulness, sense of community and most importantly hope that God freely gives us when Christ shows up is definitely present in Isaiah’s words. It may not always be joyful, it might not even always feel good, but God in Christ is certainly at work in your life and life, your life and your life and indeed all our lives, carefully crafting us, forming us, shaping us, showing up in all sorts of places, especially in the face of the stranger. Indeed, God has promised us in Christ that this is the sort of God who God is, and yes, as always my sisters and brothers our God is a God who keeps promises. Amen.

Dustin serves as pastor at Messiah Lutheran Church, a Spirit-filled church following Jesus Christ in Rotterdam, New York. An evangelist, urban gardener, mountain climber, community organizer, saint and sinner, he spends most of his professional time wrestling with God and proclaiming liberation in Christ. Otherwise, Dustin likes hiking, playing frisbee, hanging out with his fiancée Jessie, his amazing pup Willy Bear and pretending to know how to sing.

Looking Back to Move Forward in the Aftermath of Ferguson

Hey friends,

What follows is a manuscript of the sermon I preached this Sunday at Messiah Lutheran Church in Schenectady, NY. I focused mostly on the first appointed lesson for the day, Isaiah 51: 1 - 6 and related its teachings to race relations in the aftermath of the shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri. Although it does have a lot of things specifically about our own congregation here in Schenectady, I pray that there's some good news in there for everyone. As there were a lot of folks' stories mentioned in today's sermon, I've deleted last names to ensure a level of privacy. Let me express my sincere gratitude to Rev. Andrena Ingram's public witness last night, which I cited about halfway through. Thanks for reading, and I'd love to hear your thoughts.

God's peace,
Pastor Dustin

So as many of you know, I was engaged in a little bit of a research project this past week… in home visits and committee meetings, in phone conversations and on Facebook, I spent a bunch of time asking folks about their favorite memories at here Messiah. Now, my purposes in doing this were multi-fold. First of all, after my first few weeks here, with everything that comes with moving and ordination now behind me, I figured it was about time to start figuring out who this community is on a bit of a deeper level… to get some deeper answers about what you value, how you identify yourselves, why you all bother putting in all the effort to be a faith community at all. Second, in having conversations about your most cherished memories from the past of course, I was hoping to discern a bit more about where we could go, what we could do, how we could serve God together in the extremely uncertain times we find ourselves in. And finally, in asking you about your favorite memories at Messiah, I also wanted you consider the similarities between those extremely uncertain times we’re living through here in modern day Schenectady and the situation the author of Isaiah faced over two-thousand five hundred years ago.

Now to be fair, there are differences between our time and Isaiah’s, to be sure… we have the internet and supersonic jet planes, they had wheels, chariots maybe? The people of Isaiah’s time seemed to dig regular types of sacrifices to various gods, and folks nowadays generally only like going to church on Christmas and maybe Easter. So there are differences, but there’s also incredible similarities… The book of Isaiah is one of the largest and for many most important books of the Hebrew Bible… about two-thirds of the time Saint Paul’s quoting the Hebrew Bible in the New Testament, he’s quoting Isaiah. Despite its length and importance, many of us don’t know a whole lot about it, probably because unlike passages like Noah’s Ark, the Exodus, King David and that sort of thing, there’s not a whole lot of stories in this part of the Bible, at least at on the surface, and hence, its not the type of scripture that lends itself to memorable Sunday School lessons. When you put all the hard to understand prophecies of Isaiah next to the cute little animals going up on Noah’s Ark two by two, well, ya know what wins every time.

But Isaiah is incredibly important, it tells us so much about our Christian understanding that Wikipedia tells me many have called it the “fifth gospel.” Isaiah’s incredible important, and one key to understanding it and digging out the stories that are happening beneath the text is knowing there’s no one “Isaiah” writing the thing… understandings about this have changed a bit in recent years, but pretty much all Biblical scholars will says there’s a bunch of “Isaiahs,” writing at drastically different points in Israel’s history. Today’s passage comes to us from a prophet writing at quite a critical juncture, either right before or right as the people of Israel are returning from exile in Babylon. The Persians conquered Babylon a bit over 2500 years ago, and King Cyrus said whoever wanted to go home could… it’s a time of hope, yes, like wow, after over sixty years of captivity in Babylon, we finally get to go home and rebuild the Temple, but its mostly a time of incredible uncertainty… folks barely remember who they are anymore, with so many traditions lost during captivity, how could we possibly again be the people our God wants us to be?

Isaiah’s time was a time of promise overshadowed by immense uncertainty, just like ours. I mean wow, although I don’t usually bring my phone to worship, on a day to day basis I have the ability in the palm of my hand to with a little bit of effort get in contact with almost two thirds of the over 7 billion people in the world today. Now that’s absolutely amazing, and the possibilities of increased understanding and learning in our time are thus immense. Yet not since at least I was child, a young sophomore in high school probably, have we lived in even somewhat optimistic times… 9/11 happened, most notably, and right as it felt like we were maybe starting to get out of all the subsequent messes we found ourselves after that horrific day, the Great Recession happened. And right as maybe it felt like things were starting to improve in the last year, we hear of new things to be feared in Iraq and Syria, Russia and the Ukraine, Palestine and Israel, the Ebola virus… the list goes on. Despite all our advances, all our promise, we live in a more distrustful, uncertain time than ever, a whole lot like the times Isaiah found himself living through in today’s passage.

So what does Isaiah say, what instruction and good news does Isaiah have to proclaim to his fellow Israelites, as well to us in this time and place, here in modern day Schenectady? He tells us to look back, to remember the past, but in doing so don’t stay there… let the best of the past help you figure out how to move forward.  Look back, remember the past, but don’t stay there… let the best of the past help you figure out how to move forward. Look back, to move forward. “Look to the rock from which you were hewn, to the quarry from which you were dug,” proclaims Isaiah. “Look to Abraham your father, and to Sarah who bore you!” Isaiah keeps pointing us to look back, but only to stay there long enough in order to move forward… “Listen to me, my people… lift up your eyes to the heavens…” And the reason Isaiah keeps pointing us to look back, in order to help us figure out how to move forward? Because even though God is constantly creating and doing new and amazing things, in one sense, God is doing the same old thing God always has… “the earth will wear out like a garment, and those who live on it will die like gnats, but my salvation will be forever, and my deliverance will never be ended.” Things may change, but our salvation will be forever, our deliverance will never be ended.

So, now outside of actually mentioning some of the amazing stories I heard from you all this past week about your favorite memories at Messiah, I probably could have just ended my sermon there and called it a day… gave you all a shorter one for once. Honestly until last night that was the plan, but in an odd sort of way, events over the past couple weeks have granted us an opportunity to in a practical sense talk about how this might work, to look back at what God has done in our past in order to figure out how to move forward. Those of you who saw what I was posting up on Facebook last night probably know what I’m about to get at, the killing of an young, unarmed black man in Ferguson, Missouri and subsequent days of rage, protest, both peaceful and otherwise, police and government officials trying resolve the situation… what a mess, but also what an important reminder that race is still such a major issue in contemporary America.

I was really debating whether to bring this up, talking about controversial topics from the pulpit in your first few weeks in a congregation is usually not advised. But last night as I was reading various articles about everything that happened over the past two weeks, I came upon a letter signed by leaders of nearly all the major African-American church bodies in America, urging all clergy of goodwill, no matter the color of their skin, to talk to their parishioners about what happened in Ferguson. I got to thinking that many of you as you watched all those heartbreaking images going across your TV screens may have wondered, how does this sort of thing relate to my faith, how should I relate to these sort of heartbreaking events as a Christian. I still wasn’t sure if I’d bring up Ferguson and issues of race though until a read a post from a good friend of mine, an African American and ELCA pastor from Philadelphia, Rev. Andrena Ingram. She had by far better words than I could ever come up with on the subject, so I’ll just read some excerpts of them to you now:

I woke up with a headache, and it has "racism" written all over it. Here's the thing: racism exists. I have personally experienced it. My son has personally experienced it. Of course, not to the degree that my parents, grandparents and great-great-great- grandparents - beginning with my ancestor, Tarleton "Slave" Fleming. But -- we have experienced it personally as it continues to reach its icy-hot tentacles out from the abyss of yesterday, into today… what gives me this headache is those who refuse to hear, those who continue to deny, those who try and flip the script and make excuses. Those who continually try to tell us, that what we are experiencing is not what we know it to be. We have lived it. We are living it. It seems to be part of OUR DNA. What gives me this headache is that some folks don't even want to be still and just listen and learn. Just hush! You don't have to have a response every time we try and explain to you how it feels. When I am telling you I have a pain...I am not expecting you to be able to make it go away, pronto. What I do want you to know is that if you just be quiet and LISTEN, maybe you can begin to understand just how deep this issue runs and how afraid people are to even acknowledge it. Serenity Now! Divinity Now! Namaste, Shalom, Peace.

Now, my sisters and brothers, no matter your interpretation of what’s happened over the past couple weeks in Ferguson, we should recognize that Pastor Ingram is right in asking us as Christians to perhaps not entirely agree, but at least to listen. When hundreds of thousands of our black sisters and brothers in Christ are saying that race is still an issue in America, whenever that many people are saying something is a big problem for that matter, we at least need to listen, even if don’t entirely agree.

And the good news, my sisters and brothers, is that listening to each other, that creating space to be together despite sometimes difficult circumstances, is from what I can tell central to who we are as followers of Christ here at Messiah when we’re at our best. So with this particular example, with what’s gone on in Ferguson and the issue of race in America, let’s do exactly what the prophet Isaiah tells us to do in today’s passage: let’s briefly look back in order to figure out how to move forward… All week I was trying to figure out a common thread from the stories I was hearing from all of you, but it wasn’t until Jill sent me a post last night that I figured it out… she sent me this image that said “You might be Lutheran if you carry silverware in your pocket to church, just in case there’s a potluck.” You might be Lutheran if you carry silverware in your pocket to church, just in case there’s a potluck. I’m not sure if this was her intention, but it helped me realize what’s central to our identity here at Messiah… we create space for people, we create space to listen to each other, to share. I kept hearing all these things about sharing food all week from you all, and Bill has kept telling me from day one, we loved to eat. But why do we love to eat? It's not just because we like the taste of the food or whatever, although we certainly do like how food tastes around here. It’s because having a meal together creates space, for listening, for common understanding to take place.

And I heard similar things from other folks… Betty told me about being accepted here years ago despite her Catholic upbringing. Cheryl discussed her fond memories of confirmation class overnights at the church, and it wasn’t just because one of her classmates through a football through the window… she said she felt accepted and listened to her at Messiah, even if she didn’t always in school. Cheryl’s daughter Hannah told me about how she loved building a fort out back behind the church and spending time with her friends during community movie night last weekend. Ed mentioned enjoying some Property Committee work, like installing the second floor in the parsonage, and how good of time that was to share with other folks at Messiah. Lore and Dave told me about sharing time together with family and friends as they celebrated their wedding, the very first one to happen in the old sanctuary building decades ago… Judy mentioned sharing stories and celebrating her mother Dorothy’s life at the memorial held here… so that seems to be what we do as followers of Christ here at Messiah, at least when we’re at our best… we create space for folks, space where folks can share their stories and be listened to. Creating space, listening, that’s who and why we are. Creating space, listening… it lines up perfectly with what Pastor Ingram was asking for in her post last night, and its what we should do in the aftermath of Ferguson. So whether its in relation to what’s happened in Ferguson or to any of the many other difficulties and uncertainties we might face, I encourage you to do just as Isaiah has urged us to this day… look back to the best of the past, but just long enough to figure out how to move forward. Because we know that even though God is always is doing new things, in a way, God has and always will be doing the same old but amazing thing as well… “Things may change, but our salvation will be forever, our deliverance will never be ended.” In Christ, my sisters and brothers, God promises us our salvation will be forever, our deliverance will never be ended. And as always, our God is a God who keeps promises. Amen.

Dustin serves as pastor at Messiah Lutheran Church, a vibrant congregation ministering with the local community in Schenectady, New York. An evangelist, urban gardener, mountain climber, community organizer, saint and sinner, Dustin spends most of his profession time wrestling with God and proclaiming liberation in Christ. Otherwise, Dustin likes hiking, playing frisbee, hanging out with an amazing woman named Jessie and pretending to know how to sing.

The Cross and the Star: A Resource for Unpacking Lutheran Anti-Semitism

What follows is a film review of "The Cross and the Star - Jews, Christians and the Holocaust" that I wrote this past week for my Church and the Holocaust course at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. The review is meant to assist educators in congregations discuss Lutheran (and general Christian) anti-Semitism, especially with young people. I hope you find this helpful and I'd love to hear what you think!

Some time ago, during my first year of seminary, a member of a youth group I was working with told me a story I will never forget. A couple years ago in history class he learned about Lutheran anti-Semitism and even outright support for Nazi policies during the 1930s and 1940s. Embarking on further research, he discovered the virulent anti-Semitism of Martin Luther, particularly in the reformer’s later writings. Being in confirmation class at the time, he brought the issue up with his teacher, who in turn simply responded by saying it was no longer a problem. From that point on, the young adult told me, he did not think he could ever again consider himself a Lutheran.

We live in a time when the Church is increasingly called to carefully and responsibly work for an end to apartheid-like conditions in the Occupied Palestinian Territories and in a time when young people are better educated with easier access to global conversations than ever before. In such a context Lutherans in particular must continually work to name, confess and move forward from the anti-Semitic elements of our collective history. Although the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America officially confessed these sins in a statement to our Jewish sisters and brothers as early as 1994, congregational resources for discussing Lutheran anti-Semitism remain somewhat limited. After reviewing a number of films, I believe The Cross and the Star - Jews, Christians and the Holocaust, a documentary released in 1994 and available on Netflix, is the best resource currently available due to its concise history of Christian anti-Semitism and its use of engaging interviews with Holocaust survivors. What follows is a synopsis of the film, an evaluation of its strengths and weaknesses and a list of suggested discussion questions for use in the congregation.

Produced by John Michalczyk, a former Jesuit priest and current Chair of the Fine Arts Department at Boston College, The Cross and the Star begins by confronting the viewer with a number of provocative statements. For example, Rabbi Harold Kushner argues Christianity has regularly throughout history improved its standing in the public by denigrating Jewish communities. Rabbi Joseph Polak, a Holocaust survivor, moves even further by suggesting the New Testament’s many anti-Judaic passages should simply be de-sanctified and removed from the Bible. He does however soften this statement with recognition that such an action would leave Christian theology “in shambles.” The film then explores anti-Judaic theology of the early Church Fathers, including John Chrysystom’s characterization of Jews as “a plague” and Augustine’s belief that there is “no salvation outside the Church.” The Lateran Council, which foreshadowed future Nazi policy by requiring Jews to wear yellow stars, is also mentioned.

Moving forward in history, The Cross and Star briefly refers to the indiscriminate murder of Jerusalem’s Jews during the Crusades before discussing the anti-Semitism of Martin Luther.* After alluding to his earlier hope that Jews could be converted, Luther’s more later, more hateful words are read as “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” plays in the background: “… next to the devil himself, a Christian has no enemy more cruel, more venomous, more violent than a true Jew.” The film then forms a link between Kristallnacht and Luther’s encouragement to burn and destroy Jewish homes and synagogues. The general theological tenets of anti-Judaic Christianity are also summarized, including the beliefs that Jews deserve to suffer because they bear “the mark of Cain” and that all Jews are guilty of deicide.

Following its summary of historic Christian anti-Judaism, the film next discusses religion under Nazi Germany in detail. Although the 1933 Concordat and the weakness of the Barmen Declaration are aptly criticized, there is a glaring overemphasis on the persecution of Christians under Nazi Germany. Most notably, the Nazis are described as “at war with the Catholic Church” and clergy are listed as a major group of victims along with Jews, Roma and differently abled persons. However, there is helpful exploration of how the faith lives of both Jews and Christians were affected by the Holocaust. Dr. Vera Laska, a Jewish resistor, gives a heart wrenching interview about how she lost her faith entirely, while the poet Sonia Wetz argues we should ask “Where was man?” rather explaining how in no way did the Jews “simply go as lambs to the slaughter.”

The final portion of The Cross and the Star begins with the stories of various Christian rescuers and resistors. For instance, Kaj Munk, a Danish Lutheran pastor and playwright, was martyred for opposing the Nazi occupation in Denmark. In France, Pastor Andre Trocme led the Huguenot villagers of Le Chambon in assisting between 3000 - 5000 Jewish refugees. Pope Pius XII, while heavily criticized for not doing more to stop the Holocaust, instructed Vatican Radio to tell Catholics in Vichy France not to make distinctions between Christians and Jews. Additionally, during the Nazi occupation of Rome, many Jews were hidden directly in the Vatican. Contemporary efforts to atone for Christian complicity with the Holocaust are also discussed, including the liturgical reforms of Vatican II and Pope John Paul II’s visit to Auschwitz. Finally, the films concludes by stating the policies of “the Final Solution” did not form in a vacuum, but rather grew out of centuries of Christian anti-Judaic and anti-Semitic sentiment.

The Cross and the Star has many strengths, particularly for use with young adults. With a short fifty-two minute runtime, the film could easily be watched and discussed over two confirmation classes or youth group sessions. In packing a great deal of history and first-hand accounts into a short timespan, it serves as a strong introduction to Christian anti-Semitism without requiring additional background knowledge. Although the focus on Luther is especially useful in a denominational context, the film could provide a basis for rich ecumenical and interfaith dialogue as well. The stories of rescuers and resistors are inspiring, as are the stories of Jewish survivors struggling with their faith. The rabbis’ statements and the film’s uncompromising conclusion will jar most Christian viewers in a useful way. In a time when so few first-generation Holocaust survivors remain, the film’s many personal accounts make it an invaluable resource.

The Cross and the Star suffers from a number of weaknesses however. There is a clear Roman Catholic bent, particularly in its neglect to mention Protestant efforts to make amends and its casting of the papacy in a decidedly over-positive light. The assertion that a stronger stand by Pius XII could not have helped prevent the Holocaust seems overly pessimistic. As mentioned above, there is an over-emphasis on Nazi persecution of the Church, and particularly its clergy. Now nearly two decades old, the film is also beginning to show its age. Since the early 1990s, the myth that Hitler “brainwashed” the German population has largely been disproven by recent historical research… most bystanders did indeed know something was wrong. Furthermore, the notion that low-level conspirators were “forced” to take part in the Holocaust is simply generally untrue.

In a time when the Church is called to carefully work for justice in the Holy Land and when our global community (and especially are young adults) are more connected than ever before, it is particularly important that we as Lutherans confess and address the anti-Semitism of our collective story. Whether viewed in confirmation class, an adult forum or in an interfaith setting, The Cross and the Star can provide the necessary basis for such confession and dialogue through its concise overview of Jewish/ Christian history and its stories from first-generation Holocaust survivors. This review concludes with related discussion questions for use in the congregation:

1. What aspects of Christian anti-Semitic history were you surprised about? What did you know before watching the film?
2. How do you affirm your Christian faith and follow Jesus’ call to share the Good News without implicitly putting down Jews and Judaism?
3. Do you think God was present amidst the Holocaust? If so, how? Is that even the right question to ask?
4. Why do you think so many Christians and Lutherans in particular, both in Germany and elsewhere, showed such complicity with Nazi policies towards the Jewish people?
5. How can we continue to make amends and strengthen our bonds with our Jewish sisters and brothers, both locally and around the world?
6. Could something like the Holocaust ever happen again? Has it or is it already? What does Christ say to us amidst such horrible events?

* Throughout this review I carefully minded the difference between anti-Judaism, the religious opposition or hatred of the Jewish faith one finds in some New Testament passages, for example, and anti-Semitism, the racial opposition or hatred for the Jewish people.  While “race” did not exist as a category for human beings until at least the 17th century, and 

the concept of “anti-Semitism” did not exist until the 19th century, many of Luther’s diatribes are squarely leveled at the Jewish people themselves (including the quote above) and thus could be described as anti-Semitic.

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Bread for the World Sunday at Saint Michael's Lutheran Church

Two Sundays back I had the honor of preaching at Saint Michael's Lutheran Church in Germantown, Philadelphia, PA as part of an ongoing advocacy series related to Bread for the World Sunday. The following sermon was given after two weeks of temple talks on the subject of food insecurity and hunger (thanks so much to John Luttenberger for the audio):



Following the service members of the congregation were invited to either sign petitions for President Obama to create a plan for ending hunger or invited to record their own advocacy videos. We got a huge number of petitions signed and one great video from Tamara Anderson, speaking below:



Thanks so much to everyone who was a part of this important advocacy ministry, the people of Saint Michael's Lutheran Church and the folks at Bread for the World for providing such great resources!

God's peace,
Dustin

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Bread for the World Sunday Sermon: The Power of Liberating Love

Hi everyone,

What follows is the draft of a sermon I'll be preaching tomorrow at Saint Michael's Lutheran Church in Germantown on the Gospel according to Saint Luke 18: 1 - 8. The sermon is a part of an ongoing advocacy effort to celebrate Bread for the World Sunday. I'd love to hear what you think!

God's peace,
Dustin

Ya know, today’s message from the Gospel of Saint Luke is one of my absolutely favorite parables. There’s a bunch of good messages here for sure about prayer, persistence, and even gender equality, but the reason I particularly love this parable is because of what it says about justice. A widow, a person frequently near the bottom of the social ladder during the time the gospels were being written, keeps coming back to a cruel judge, begging him for justice over her opponent. And lets just stress here... this is not a Judge Judy sort of situation... the widow does not have any ordinary opponent... the word we translate as “opponent” in the original Greek means someone who keeps coming back to accuse you, to persecute you, again and again. In other words, this widow was in a state of constant oppression, but through her own persistence in prayer and action, she eventually convinces a judge to rule in her favor simply because she wears him down... he doesn’t want to be embarrassed by her any longer. My brothers and sisters, this parable proclaims to us across the millennia that despite human sin, that despite the very real evil that persists in ourselves and our society no matter how we try to change or deny it, that at least some of the time, justice can prevail. Yes, at least in some situations, with God’s help, justice can prevail... problems can be solved.

This parable teaches us something deeper about justice too, especially as it relates to our topic of advocating against hunger, if we take a closer look at the character of the judge. Although our hearts initially go out to the widow (with good reason), the judge is actually in just as bad of shape. He actually says to himself, “I do not care about God and I have no respect for people.” I do not care about God and I have no respect for people... wow. Can you even imagine being in that bad of a situation, where you openly admit to yourself that you don’t care about God AND the folks around you? That’s got to be a deep, dark, lonely place... the sort of place that’s pretty hard to get out of. Perhaps some of us here today can in fact recall such a situation, where either crushed under the weight of addiction, or broken relationships, or disease or loneliness or any other sort of evil that might oppress us, we had to recognize that we had become so entirely disconnected from our God and our fellow human beings that we simply didn’t care.

I myself haven’t been in quite that difficult of a spot, but I’ve been close, and that was especially the case while living in Washington, DC. I moved there right after high school to study political science at the George Washington University because I wanted to change things. I was a pretty progressive teenager, and I wanted to change things... I wanted to make the world a better place, and I thought Washington was just where I could do it! I eventually realized though that change wasn’t so easy. By no means do I think this happens to everyone, there’s still a lot of great folks there, but I eventually realized that I was stuck in a pattern that’s fairly common in Washington. Much like me, a lot of folks move there thinking they want to change the world. Soon though they see that in order to change the world, they have to attain a certain level of power. Whether by climbing social ladders or compromising their values or greatly overworking or building their resume in a cut-throat sort of way, folks in Washington can often lose sight of their original goals. Life for them, as it was for me, no longer is about changing the world... it simply becomes about attaining more power. And on that brutal quest for power, relationships with other people are inevitably lost and one’s connection with God feels broken. In other words, life in Washington easily begins to lack the liberating power of love. I believe God worked pretty darn hard to free me from that sort of life... I recognized I needed to leave Washington, at least for a while, and I’m much happier today for it, but unfortunately, many of our leaders there are still stuck in lives that seem to lack the liberating power of love.

And that my sisters and brothers is what we’ve seen recently in Washington, and what we see in the character of the unjust judge. We see the work of lives lacking love. We see the work of folks whose lives lack the liberating power of love, who have become so disconnected that they can’t see the suffering and injustice all around them. They can’t see the true problems in our nation and our world, nor can they ever dream how it can be better. As we discussed a couple weeks ago, we know that one in six Americans currently face hunger in some form, and that in the city of Philadelphia, the number goes up to one in four. One in six Americans face some form of hunger and one in four folks in this city of brotherly love face some form of hunger. Yet we also know that it doesn’t need to be this way, and that it hasn’t always been this way. Under Richard Nixon, not someone exactly known for being a liberal softy, hunger as an systematic problem was pretty much eliminated for a time in America through the increased use of food stamps, now referred to as the SNAP program. Just listen to what President Nixon said to Congress back in 1969:

More is at stake here than the health and well-being of 16 million American citizens who will be aided by these programs and the current Child Food Assistance programs. Something very like the honor of American democracy is at issue. It was half a century ago that the "fruitful plains" of this bounteous land were first called on to a great work of humanity, that of feeding a Europe exhausted and bleeding from the First World War. Since then on one occasion after another, in a succession of acts of true generosity--let those who doubt that find their counterpart in history--America has come to the aid of one starving people after another. But the moment is at hand to put an end to hunger in America itself. For all time. I ask this of a Congress that has already splendidly demonstrated its own disposition to act. It is a moment to act with vigor; it is a moment to be recalled with pride.

According to President Nixon, the very honor of American democracy was at issue... there could no longer be excuses for allowing hunger to exist in our great nation, and thus, for a time, the systematic problem of chronic hunger was eliminated. Unfortunately, under presidents of both major political parties, under President Reagan and President Clinton, food stamps and other programs were scaled back. And thus we’ve ended up in the dire situation we find ourselves in today.

My sisters and brothers, hunger does not exist in America because of one political party or the other... both parties have worked to eliminate hunger, and both parties have set us back at times. The case is similar on the international level. The Millennium Development Goals were originally signed onto by the Clinton administration, and due to increased foreign aid under the Bush administration, we’ve nearly cut to global hunger rate in half over the last two decades to what is now around 14 percent. Hunger does not exist because of one political party or the other and hunger does not exist because we lack the resources to alleviate it. The main reason the scourge of hunger still exists in our time is because, much like the situation of the judge in today’s parable, the lives of many of our political leaders lack the liberating power of love. Thus, today’s parable teaches us that in order to move towards justice, in order to solve problems that are indeed solvable, much like the widow, we should persistently pray, preach and proclaim the power of liberating love that we know through Christ to those leaders who most desperately need to hear it. So following the close of today’s worship service, I invite you to do just that. As we celebrate Bread for the World Sunday, we got all the materials you need to tell President Obama and the folks in Congress that we can and need to end hunger and to remind them about the liberating power of love that we know through Christ. You can either write a letter, record a short YouTube video, or sign a petition.

Amidst the hardest days of the civil rights movement, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once preached,

To our most bitter opponents we say: ...One day we shall win freedom, but not only for ourselves. We shall so appeal to your heart and conscience that we shall win you in the process, and our victory will be a double victory. Love is the most durable power in the world. This creative force, so beautifully exemplified in the life of our Christ, is the most potent instrument available in [human]kind’s quest for peace...

Love, my sisters and brothers, is the most potent instrument available in our quest for peace, love is the most potent instrument available in our quest for justice, love is the most potent instrument available in our collective quest for freedom. When our Christ rose from that most gruesome of deaths two millennia ago, He proclaimed to the whole world, including us in this time, in this place, in this city that even the worst of human evil, the actual killing of God, is absolutely nothing next to the power of love. God’s act of love in our Christ empowers us. God’s act of love in our Christ frees us. God’s act of love in our Christ liberates us from whatever or whoever may oppress us. And when we are wrapped up in the arms of God’s liberating love in Christ, we can’t help but share the good news of that love with others. Amen.

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

At an Unexpected Hour (preaching video)

What follows is video of the final sermon preached at Saint Peter's Church where I spent the past year serving as Vicar. Primarily on the appointed lectionary Gospel message for the day, Saint Luke 12: 32 - 40, the sermon also reflects thinking I've been doing after reading an article from the The Atlantic entitled "The Rise of the Christian Left in America." The camera's stayed on following the end of the sermon, so you can watch the Intercessory Prayers we do at the weekly Healing Vespers as well.

God's peace,
Dustin


Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

At an Unexpected Hour

What follows is the final sermon preached at Saint Peter's Church where I spent the past year serving as Vicar. Primarily on the appointed lectionary Gospel message for the day, Saint Luke 12: 32 - 40, the sermon also reflects some thinking I've been doing after reading an article from the The Atlantic entitled "The Rise of the Christian Left in America." I'd love to hear what you think.

So I’ve been struggling greatly this week folks... I’ve been struggling for one because this is my last day with you all at Saint Peter’s. It’s certainly been a heck of year and we’ve gone through a lot together... we’ve gone through tragedies like Superstorm Sandy, a horrific school shooting in Connecticut and the Boston marathon bombing. On a parish level, we’ve gone through difficult financial decisions, the hard work of creating a new mission statement and the beginnings of a new covenant relationship with Sion Luterana Iglesia. We’ve also experienced great joys together... the Supreme Court affirming marriage equality, a historic presidential election where women and minorities rocked the vote like never before, the election of Pope Francis and subsequent new hopes for reform... wow, what a year. We’ve been through a lot together, and I’ve really been struggling with having to say goodbye.

I’ve also been struggling with what to say to y’all tonight. I mean, at the end of such an amazing year living and working amongst the faithful community of folks at Saint Peter’s, you’ve all sort of left me speechless, in the best possible way. What could I say to a vibrant, Spirit filled community that could possibly inspire such an already truly inspirational group of people? What I finally realized at around three this morning is that all I could really do is provide you with a simple observation about the situation find ourselves in, in this time, in this place, in this city. All I can do is briefly lay out what in my humble opinion is really going on.

Simply put, we live in the most unexpected of hours my sisters and brothers, and you as the people of Saint Peter’s have your lamps lit strong and bright. We live in the most unexpected of hours, and you as the people of Saint Peter’s have your lamps lit strong and bright. So, you might wonder what I mean by living in the most unexpected of hours? Well, as one of the more social justice oriented “mainline” Christian traditions, us Lutherans along with Methodists, Presbyterians, Episcopals and the like have presided over a near half-century of declining membership in America. And actually, after decades of strong growth, our more conservative “Evangelical” sisters and brothers in Christ are beginning to experience decline as well. While it may not be a major conversation in day to day life, it does seem as a sort of given in our contemporary Western culture that the Church, and organized faith communities in general, are decreasing.  Many Christians fear that we’ve entered and will continue to live in a secular, even atheistic age.

Yet, as Jesus promises to us in today’s Gospel message, the Son of Man comes at an unexpected hour... and in the face of such adversity, in face of such fearful decline, I humbly observe that we are just now beginning see the first glimmerings of such an unexpected coming. Ya know, only a year and a half ago, a sitting President of the United States specifically cited his Christian faith as a reason for supporting marriage equality, something that would have been unthinkable even a decade earlier. In recent months, churches throughout the United States, including many Evangelical groups, have boldly supported comprehensive immigration reform that is in the best tradition of Christian welcome. We now have a pope who has washed the feet of a Muslim girl, who has thrown off the shackles of opulence by declining to live in the Apostolic Palace and most recently exclaimed that he had no authority to judge folks of different sexual orientations. My sisters and brothers, the glimmerings of Christ coming, as He always has, at the most unexpected of hours and reforming His Church into a more compassionate body that stands up for the full humanity of all God’s children are clearly visible, and that is profoundly good news.

And, in the face of such glimmerings, in the face of the Son of Man coming at the most unexpected of hours, you as the people of Saint Peter’s have your lamps lit strong and bright. Just look at all the exciting things that have happened here in the last year... despite continued decline across the synod, stewardship and membership here has grown. More importantly, at a time when most Lutheran churches still can’t figure out how to live as multi-cultural communities, Saint Peter’s is doing it, both through its new covenant relationship with Sion and its longstanding diverse membership.  Saint Peter’s has also strengthened how its acts as a resource for the local community, greatly supporting the arts, a senior center, AA groups and the Momentum project as it has for years. And just this year, Saint Peter’s embarked on a new ministry of boldly standing up against oppression and accompanying our immigrant community as it advocates for comprehensive immigration reform. There are of course challenges ahead, and new opportunities, especially for evangelism and outreach should be explored, but wow... As Christ comes to revive His Church at the most unexpected of hours, the people of Saint Peter’s have their lamps lit strong and bright, ready to respond.

And folks, despite the amazing place we find ourselves in as a community of faith, responding to the work of Christ at the most unexpected of hours, that’s not even the best part! The truly Good News is that the heart of the matter isn’t even how our lamps our lit, bright and strong as they be... the truly Good News is that not only is Christ coming at the most unexpected of hours, but that He promises to continue joining us again, and again, and again no matter what sort of long, oppressive night we find ourselves in. If you look at today’s Gospel message again my sisters and brothers, we’re not encourage to light our lamps and get dressed in order to prepare for battle... no! It’s not about what we’re doing at all... we’re supposed to prepare for a party, for a most bountiful of banquets, where God turns the expected order of the universe on its head and serves all Her children... feeding us and in fact freeing us from whatever may seek to oppress us, through the work of Her liberating love in Christ. Amen.

God's peace,

Dustin

Dustin currently is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Female Genital Mutilation/ Cutting and the Text This Week

Sometimes the two aspects of my internship at Saint Peter's Church and the Lutheran Office for World Community (LOWC) connect in interesting ways. On the church side of things, throughout the week I've been struggling with how to preach this Sunday's lectionary text from the Hebrew Bible, Hosea 11: 1 - 11. While the selected text itself puts forward a compassionate, even motherly image of God, its written in the context of a wider book that uses a patriarchal metaphor of God as a pious husband and Israel as an adulterous wife. Although I haven't yet come to any conclusions, I do think such strong patriarchy does need to be confronted.

From the UN side of things, I recently wrote the following post concerning the practice of female genital mutilation/ cutting (FGM/C) for Ecumenical Women, and briefly touched on what some faith communities are doing to confront the idea as a social norm. Additionally, the Lutheran World Federation program in Mauritania is working to combat the practice, which you can read about here. While FGM/C is primarily confined to Africa and the Middle East to a lesser extent, the issue serves as a helpful reminder about what social norms need to be confronted while preaching in an American society that still allows and even condones violence against girls and women in a variety of forms.

Earlier this month the United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) released a follow-up publication to its first statistical report on female genital mutilation/ cutting (FGM/C) in 2005. The report in its entirety can be found here: Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting: A statistical overview and exploration of the dynamics of change. While concentrated across a wide swath of African and (to a lesser extent) Middle Eastern countries, FGM/C takes place in a variety of forms for a variety of reasons around the world.  In some countries such as Guinea, Mali and Somalia, well over 90% of girls and women of reproductive age have undergone the practice, according to the report.

In many countries, especially in rural areas, FGM/C is performed by traditional practitioners (primarily older women), but in some countries like Egypt it is frequently performed by trained health professionals.  In nineteen out of twenty-nine countries where FGM/C is concentrated, the majority of girls and women think it should end. While often viewed as a manifestation of patriarchal oppression, rates of support for the practice among boys and men in many countries are roughly equal to that of girls and women according to the report. FGM/C is linked to variety of both short and long-term medical complications such as severe pain, prolonged bleeding, infection, infertility and even death.

Ethnic grouping greatly determines why girls and women undergo FGM/C, with some reasons including social acceptance, beauty, preservation of virginity and a perceived association with religious beliefs (although no religious Scripture requires it). While prevalence of FGM/C amongst younger generations of girls and women is decreasing and many countries have outlawed the practice, faith communities have a major role to play in combating this form of violence against girls and women, especially in areas where it is a deeply entrenched social norm. For instance, some faith communities have removed the cutting aspect from associated rites of passage for young women while retaining the positive aspects of the ceremony overall.

To learn more about female genital mutilation/ cutting and what UNICEF is doing to end the harmful practice, you visit UNICEF's page on the subject here.

God's peace,
Dustin

Dustin currently serves as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Immigration Reform Liturgy and Sermon

While I'll spend some more time later reflecting on the Immigration Advocacy Workshop we just held at Saint Peter's Church where I currently serve as Vicar, I figured I could at least post the homily and liturgy we used for the text immediately.  Click the link below for a .pdf of the liturgy, which borrows from Lutheran, Catholic and evangelical resources.  

Immigration Reform Liturgy at Saint Peter's Church

Additionally, the a rough manuscript of the homily I preached on Saint Matthew 25: 34 - 40 follows:

Born in the wilderness, a young Israelite sojourner with tears in her eyes steps foot into the Promised Land for the first time. A poor Gentile woman is welcomed into God’s covenant with Israel through Christ. Fast-forward a couple thousand years… Dutch Anabaptists arrive in New Amsterdam, later to be renamed New York, having braved sea and storm in order to be safe from religious persecution. A recently freed African-American family, whose ancestors were brought to America in chains, make the long journey north to New York from the Carolinas seeking safety and economic opportunity. An Irish widower, with two young daughters in tow arrives on Ellis Island. Pro-democratic activists flee from a newly Communist China. Persecuted Hmong families arrive from Vietnam. A Nicaraguan family in a similar situation flees from the US-backed Contras. A migrant worker hopes for a legal status that will allow him to receive just wages. Today, a young Mauritanian girl escapes from forced prostitution and seeks asylum here in our city.

I’m a vicar, studying to be a pastor in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, and I way too often hear from folks both at my seminary and in other churches that the Church, that the Gospel no longer seems relevant in our society, that it’s hard to find Christ in our contemporary situation. When I hear that sort of talk, I find it quite odd… to be fair, there’s oftentimes when Jesus can be quite cryptic in what he says in the gospels, but when you listen to the stories I just mentioned and then listen to Christ’s words in today’s gospel reading, I have no worry at all that the gospel, that Christ, is still relevant in our world today, as he’s always been. Christ is with us, and it’s amazingly good new that Christ shows up where we least expect him to… in simple water, in Words, in bread and wine and in the faces of those oppressed, those seeking refuge those made to feel not welcome in our society. It’s also amazing good news that churches from across the political spectrum agree on this… today’s liturgy uses prayers from Catholic, Lutheran but also evangelical sources. Christians can’t help but see Christ in those refugees and migrants who most need immigration reform, and across the country we’re starting the conversation about how to respond. Thanks for being here, and thanks for joining us.

God's peace,
Dustin 


Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Moments of Clarity at the United Nations

What follows is a cross-post I recently wrote for Voices for Change, the advocacy ministries blog of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.  I highly encourage you to check out Voices for Change frequently, as its one of the best places to find out about the amazing advocacy work Lutherans are doing across the country.

Having interned here at the United Nations with the Lutheran Office for World Community for almost six months, my friends frequently ask what an average day is like. I usually respond that I am engaged in exciting advocacy work: planning for the upcoming Commission on the Status of Women with ecumenical partners, meeting with amazing people from faraway countries (including speaking with two Nobel Peace Prize winners) and covering the planning process for a new set of global development goals, among other things. Upon hearing about this work, my friends sometimes say it all sounds romantic in a certain way, if not glamorous, to be around global leaders at the United Nations, or that it must feel great to have a job helping people.

What does not always find its way into these conversations is that although I do occasionally meet important leaders and I sometimes feel like I am helping people, that is certainly not always the case. Sure, I get to sit in on all sorts of meetings, but they often involve lower-level diplomats reading a technical report verbatim. I might get to help plan some really powerful events, but that usually looks like waiting for email, updating a website or stuffing folders. Even when it does feel like I am actively working toward creating positive change at the United Nations, that change often seems many years and many obstacles away. In the midst of all these everyday tasks and difficulties, it’s easy to get frustrated and the people we are trying to accompany and empower can seem quite remote.

Luckily, in this advocacy work I have been blessed by moments of clarity, moments where it felt like I knew exactly why I was at the United Nations and exactly what I could do to make a positive impact, even if small. One such moment took place a few weeks ago while taking part in a grassroots advocacy event around recent event. For months I had been learning about the situation in Mali, a landlocked country in West Africa, much of which is covered by the Sahara Desert. In Jan. 2012 an armed conflict broke out in the north, only to be complicated by a military coup the following March. Once the rebels, backed by a number of armed groups, took over a large portion of the country including the ancient city of Timbuktu, French forces, along with troops from elsewhere in Africa, intervened to support the Malian army in recapturing the lost territory. Currently, the international community is dealing with allegations of human rights violations, promoting inclusion of the politically marginalized, humanitarian concerns such as food security and how to keep the peace once the territorial integrity of the country is fully restored.

Given the devastation around this conflict, you can imagine my apprehension when I was asked to accompany a young man to his deportation hearing after the event. This hearing would decide whether he would immediately be sent back to his home country, Mali. After speaking with the man about his persecution and later escape to the United States as teenager, I sat behind him throughout the hearing, an action I was told would encourage his better treatment by the court. I doubt it had much to do with me, but his ruling ended up being postponed a number of months, we formed a relationship, and he will work with my congregation on additional advocacy actions in the future.

I have spent numerous meetings taking notes on violence in Mali, feeling like there was little I could to help. Educating ourselves and working to influence decision makers at the United Nations can help build a more peaceful world; This experience with the young man from Mali reminded me to connect all of the dots between this work in public policy and accompaniment of our struggling neighbor. In this moment of clarity, I realized that simply accompanying a person through a very difficult circumstance could at least provide temporary support and hopefully make a very big difference.
Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Praying for Marriage Equality in NYC

Friends, as most of you have long known, the Supreme Court will soon be taking up two marriage equality cases, one concerning the so-called Defense of Marriage Act and the other on California's Proposition 8, the constitution amendment that stripped same-sex couples of their freedom to marry back in 2008.  The court has scheduled oral arguments to begin on March 26th and March 27th, with a final ruling expected in June.  Although the court could make a wide variety of rulings on the two cases, there's great hope that we could win the struggle for marriage equality this spring.

In such hope, people of faith in New York City are gathering every Saturday evening at Saint John's Lutheran Church at 81 Christopher Street in Greenwich Village.  While the weekly vigil will be held from 7-9pm, its designed to be a free flowing style of worship where folks can come and go as they please.  Various stations will be placed throughout the Saint John's sanctuary, where folks can pray for the Supreme Court Justices, pray for those who wish to deny same-sex individuals their civil rights, celebrate those who are married, and remember those who have died before they could enjoy the right to marry, etc.  An additional station will offer the opportunity to brainstorm additional ways we can take action to forward the cause of nationwide marriage equality.  For more info, you can find contact information for Pastor Mark Erson on the Saint John's website, or simply comment on this post.

Additionally, if you're someone in or outside the New York area planning a similar pray vigil, I'd love to hear about it. 

God's peace,
Dustin 

Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Freed Into God's Song, Advent 4C

What follows is a draft of the sermon I plan on preaching this Sunday at Saint Peter's Jazz Vespers Service. It's on the week's gospel text, Luke 1: 39 - 56. Would love to hear some input from folks... I'm especially concerned that the whole freed to live into God's justice part isn't in the right place.  Should I strength the last couple sentences?

To put it quite frankly, it’s been one heck of a year. In addition to whatever’s been going on in our own lives and the lives of our families and friends, we’ve collectively been hit by crisis after crisis… the threat of Eurozone debt spiraling out of control and our own “fiscal cliff” turning us back from a fragile economic recovery toward another deep recession… ongoing unrest, violence and civil war in the wake of the Arab Spring, as well as in countries like Mali and the Congo… the uncertainty and stress of a critical and seemingly close presidential election season… firm red lines with Iran and fighting in the Gaza Strip… destruction, death and ongoing suffering following Hurricane Sandy. A few weeks ago after Thanksgiving I remember talking with folks, some right here at Saint Peter’s, about how it finally felt like things were starting to get back to normal… and then of course, in the midst of the holiday season, a time we’re told is supposed to be filled with peace and light, we heard the horrific news of twenty first graders and six of their teachers killed by a young man with a high-powered rifle in Newtown, CT. President Obama put it best, I think, when trying to hold back the tears, he said that our hearts are broken. Indeed, our hearts are broken, and burned out from exhaustion, beaten down by the storms gathered round us, we claw for shelter, wondering what we can do in the face of such adversity… we wonder what we can do.


My sisters and brothers, tonight, and in fact at every Jazz Vespers, we are provided with a very powerful model of what can be done in such a situation through the story of two remarkable women, one young and one old. Mary, upon hearing the news of her pregnancy with Jesus, goes with haste to visit Elizabeth, her cousin who is miraculously six months pregnant with John the Baptizer. Mary, in stark contrast to the judgment and distain that was likely to greet her in the coming months as she began to show as an unwed woman, is greeted with joy by Elizabeth, who filled with the Holy Spirit, amazingly exclaims “blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!” Even more amazingly, Mary, Mother of God responds with one of the most beloved and powerful songs of the Christian canon: the Magnificat, or Mary’s Song… the song we sing during healing at every Jazz Vespers… “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, and my Spirit rejoices in God my Savior.”

From what I’ve heard, through many other changes, singing the Magnificat has always been a part of Jazz Vespers at Saint Peter’s… and furthermore, it’s been a part of liturgical tradition throughout most of the Church’s history. Since at least the second century, it was sung daily at Evening Prayer, and still is to this day in many of the Western churches. In the Eastern, or what many of us might know as “Orthodox” churches, it’s appointed as part of Morning Prayer. Why though, you might ask, is it sung so frequently… why do we sing it every Sunday… how can it serve as such a powerful model for us, in this place, in this city, in these most troubled of times? The reason, my sisters and brothers, that Mary’s song is so powerful is simply because it’s not really about what she, or any of us, are really doing at all… it’s about what God is doing.

You see, Mary begins her song with a two-line parallelism, a common element of Hebrew prose that provides an important clarification… “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, and my Spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” The Magnificat is not just a song of Mary’s own soul, her own inner self, but also the song of the pneuma, the Holy Spirit, the very Breath of God upon her that gives voice to the amazing things that God has done, is doing, and will continue doing till the end of the age. And listen to what some of those amazing things are… casting the powerful down from their thrones… lifting up the lowly… filling the hungry with wondrous things… and most importantly, fulfilling promises. In preparing for tonight’s sermon I stumbled upon the amazing story of poor peasants in Nicaragua, campesinos, writing out Mary’s song and wearing it as a sort of amulet during the by the US backed violence of the Contras during the 1980s. Interviewed about the meaning of Mary’s words in 1987, one peasant woman states “Mary calls God 'Savior' because she knows that the Son that he has given her is going to bring liberation… She's full of joy. We women are also that way, because in our community the Messiah is born too, the liberator."

What a powerful message… “We are full of joy, because in our community, the Messiah is born too, the liberator.” You see my sisters and brothers, much like Mary, much like the campesinos in Nicaragua, we too are invited into God’s song. Not just at Christmas, and not just when singing the Magnificat, but each time we gather to worship and sing, and to play and dance to the song of God, through bread and wine, through water, through God’s Word and through community with others, Christ, the Messiah, the Liberator, comes into our midst. Christ comes into our midst; liberating us from the powers sin, death and darkness. Yes, Christ liberates us, freeing us to sing God’s song, freeing us to live into the promise of God’s justice whether it is by sheltering to the needy, standing up for marriage equality, or welcoming in all peoples into our community and country, whether or not they have the right piece of paper. Especially after the recent catastrophe in Connecticut, we’re freed to enter into a conversation where we collectively confess as a country that we have to do more to prevent gun violence, especially against our children and freed to bravely confess that such action does not include bringing more guns in our schools, even if they’re in the hands of the “good guys.” But most importantly my sisters and brothers, we’re freed to sing the song of a God that has promised to forgive us, care for us and nurture us and love us no matter what… a God that we know keeps Her promises.

God's peace,
Dustin

  Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.