Laboring for Justice

Text: Exodus 12: 1-14

Cedar Hills UCC Sept 4^th 2011

The story of Moses, Aaron, Pharaoh, the Early Israelites and the Egyptians is certainly a complex one.  It is the story of economic and labor justice, of the freedom to worship, of the journey of faith, of the support we gain from friends and family when faced with thought times, of God’s presence in the hardest of times, and the vindication that God will reign down on those who do not act appropriately.  The story is a well known one.  It is a Passover meal we celebrate at communion.  Every year we see the story of Exodus played out on TV with Charlton Hesston in the lead role. The story of freedom in that comes to fruition in Passover was a source of inspiration for African slaves escaping Southern slavery.  And it is easy to parallel the situation of the Israelites and the Egyptians to many unjust circumstances in the present day.  I am even tempted on occasion to imagine the divine hand of God dealing harsh punishment to those who oppress our neighbors, wishing for a divine intervention that would even the scales of injustice.

This week, our text focuses on the ritual requirements of Passover, a tradition that we as Christians do not consistently observe, but which is an integral part of our tradition.  So let’s set the scene.  Moses returns from his career as a shepherd, to lead the labor negotiations with the Pharaoh, freeing the Israelite slaves from bondage.  He demands merely the allowance to leave a life of unjust overseers, deplorable working conditions and inhumane treatment to worship in community.   Pharaoh, however does not negotiate, but instead makes the work harder for the people of Israel, taking away their straw from their building material, yet requiring the same quota.  After several failed attempts, Moses and Aaron give notice of a last plague that will befall the Egyptians if he does not let the people go, death.  Greedy Pharaoh – – who makes and breaks promises, knowing that it might be inconvenient to him, but assured that his privilege will protect him – – cannot protect himself from the effects of this plague.  After leaving Pharaoh, the sentence given, Moses and Aaron converse with God on how to properly prepare the community to memorialize this day.  In effect, they are given a Divine instruction manual on how to appropriately ritualize the massive death sentence God has just imposed upon the Egpytians in the last plague.  We can hear the urgency for action in this passage as they are told to Eat in a hurry, sandals on your feet and walking stick in hand.  It wouldn’t have been a small thing however to mobilize the entire Israelite community to leave their homes and run toward freedom.

What I love about that commandment, this instruction manual is that we are told to celebrate in the same breath that we are told of the disaster that is coming holding onto nothing firm but faith that conditions will improve.  Celebrate the uncertainty in your life! Celebrate even though the work you do today is backbreaking!  Celebrate the possibility of release from this way of life. I say possibility since so far, 9 times these plagues have buried the Egyptian people, and the Pharaoh in God’s judgment. Each time without release.  We know, of course, that THIS will be the one that clinches it.  The loss of Pharaoh’s son is too much for him, and he does in fact let the people go.  So the memorial-ization doesn’t seem quite as odd to us, but think about being in that situation.  It’s like a planning a party without knowing who it is being held for.

Today’s Passover meal is a far cry from the one outlined in the text we are given today.  The elements are there, bitter herbs, unleavened bread, roasted lamb.  But in the meal I described with the children today, we see the attention to memory that has been added to this commandment to remember.  In the Seder plate, we remember the hard work of laying bricks, the bitterness of the times, the sweat and tears poured out through their labor.  And we remember the speed that was so important, in the use of unleavened bread.

And yet… we cannot live in the past.  It does you no good to live in history, to live in your memories.  They will not clothe you, or feed you, right?  If the study of the Christian history can tell us one thing, it is that there is no golden age in our lives, in the lives of the Israelites, in the lives of Christians anywhere in the world.  The truth is that we are part of the constant flow of time.  Our actions are created from our past and our actions will create our future.  By creating ritual, the ancient Isrealite community’s memories have become an integral, but not consuming part of future generations.  In the Passover rituals, we remember the history, we are renewed for the work that it requires to learn to our history, and we are revived on the path that leads us from injustice to freedom.  We remember it as a PIECE of who we are today.  There is ritual, and there is ceremony, but there is also constant work toward change.

The injustice the Israelites suffered under Pharaoh, is a common take away from this story.  The injustice suffered here, and the strength it required to stand up to that oppression has filled oppressed people throughout the world with hope that change CAN come, that deliverance from slavery is a value we can attribute to our Divine source.  That hope for change can be reasoned as a constant in our tradition.

This weekend as we celebrate Labor day, we also celebrate the release of our fellow worker from unjust overseers, deplorable working conditions and inhumane treatment in our own history.  We celebrate today the freedoms struggled for, pleaded for, died for, in the 1800s when labor relations might be seen at their worst, and in more recent years, the constant battle that engulfs our world as power and justice so often stand at odds from one another.

We remember the history of unjust labor practices, unsafe working conditions and impossible employer expectations that is the industrial revolution.  We celebrate the privileges that most of us take for granted: reasonable hours, safer working conditions and the ability to gather a community of fellow workers to negotiate.  But, we also memorialize the sacrifices made by those who gave life, and limb to the cause.  It is a celebration in process, however, as economics and corporate policies continue to make harsh demands on many workers lives here, and around the globe.

In 1894, Jacob Coxey led a march on Washington to demand justice and employment relief for unemployed men.  In a statement for the press, he said, “We stand here today on behalf of millions of toilers whose petitions have been buried in committee rooms, whose prayers have been un-responded to, and whose opportunities for honest, remunerative labor have been taken away from them by unjust legislation, which protects idlers, speculators and gamblers.”

In 1963, Martin Luther King Junior led a march on Washington to demand civil rights laws, a massive federal works program, full and fair employment, the right to vote, and adequate education for all.  In his famous “I Have a Dream” speech, King said “This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.”

And in 2009, President Obama wrote in the introduction to his first US budget “The time has come to usher in a new era – a new era of responsibility in which we act not only to save and create jobs, but also to lay a new foundation of growth upon which we can renew the promise of America. … Our problems are rooted in past mistakes, not our capacity for future greatness. … It will take time, but we can bring change to America.  We can rebuild lost trust and confidence.  We can restore opportunity and prosperity.  And we can bring about a new sense of responsibility among Americans from every walk of live and from every corner of the country.”

I would add to President Obama’s statement that we must learn from our past mistakes, but we must also learn from our past greatness.  Our past is also filled with beautiful moments of great responsibility, of great compassion, and many who have stood up to seek fairness and justice.  From prayer and petition, to hope and faith, to responsible action, at the center of each of these flashes of history, is a concern for justice in every age and for all people.  It takes work to hew a mountain of despair into a stone of hope.  It takes commitment to our neighbors to listen to the petitions for justice.  And it takes diligence to remember our past and rebuild trust and confidence.  We must learn from the moments of history we ritualize, and the moments we seem to forget about.  We must learn from each other and the lives of all those who stand with us for justice.  We must continue to provide meals to the hungry, proclaim release to the captives, give socks to those without dry homes in which to warm their toes, and listen to the stories from our faith tradition that give us sustenance for the journey.

This weekend, we memorialize the significant work toward justice that CONTINUES to be needed in today’s growing global economy.  Much as the Israelites were instructed in how to memorialize the Passover before salvation had come, we today must celebrate in the same tone.  We remember how the past was significantly different, and we cannot just pat ourselves on the back and call it a day.  No, we must be diligent in continuing to stand with those who need the opportunity to speak.  We must celebrate with our sandals on and our staff in hand because it's the Passover to God’s march toward justice!  We will walk alongside those who are continuing to suffer under unsafe practices as they find voices to speak to the Pharaohs of today. We must seek out the unheard story and try our best to build a future that is more fair, more just and more equitable than the one we currently live in.

In the middle of King’s speech, he quotes the book of Amos, "We are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream." My hope today is that we too will not be satisfied until justice is as plentiful as the waters that fill not just our streams, but our rivers, lakes and oceans.

This is the Day

Text References: Psalm 118, Phillipans 4:4

Chapel Sermon March 3, 2011

Good morning friends!  This morning we have entered the retreat space of chapel to be catapulted OUTSIDE into our memories and our hopes for CAMP.  So we have entered that special moment where individuals gather around a fire, or in our case, the imagined flame, to tell stories, learn each other’s history and develop relationships.  And what would campfire be without a good story around the fire? 

Mary sighs as she stares out the car window waiting for the traffic to move.  She isn’t THAT far from her destination, but at 15 years old, the anticipation makes the few miles she and her mother have left to travel feel like a complete round trip to Bolivia.  Mary closes her eyes, leans her head against the cold clear glass of the car window.  Her mind begins to wander out into the summer heat.  “It’s the same every year,” she thinks.  “I’ve only got a bit longer than I will be there, but it feels SO far.  Soon I’ll be able to breathe again.  I’ll be with the people who really get me.  I’ll be at camp.”  Dreaming of the plans she and her friends will make this week and all the activities she knows are staples of camp, Mary drifts off to sleep. 

Janet, Mary’s mother catches a glimpse of Mary slumped against the window through the rear view mirror.  Mary legs drape casually over the new duffel bag they purchased this past week.  Even though it is new, the seams are stretched to the limit with bug spray, sunscreen and everything else Mary will need for the week.   At her side, Mary clutches the old, well loved, teddy bear she has always taken everywhere.  “That bear has been with her more than I have.” Janet thinks.  The stuffing has been refilled at least four times.  He’s been sewn, and patched over and over again.  Beginning to look a little like Frankenstein, Mary is now proud of the one toy she has kept throughout her years.  Last year the bear was shoved in her suitcase like a bad memory she was trying to hide.  Not this year, no longer ashamed to take it with her to camp, the bear rides in the car sitting next to Mary.  Looking back on the many years and many trips she and Mary have taken out to camp, Janet is filled with vivid memories of the past.  Humming along to herself, Janet loses herself in her own memories of camp; late night conversations in the cabin, the smell of the campfire, the taste of the first night chicken dinner.  She smiles and begins to sing to herself,

“This is the day that the Lord has made

I will rejoice and be glad in it
This is the day
This is the day
That the Lord has made.”

Within a few minutes, the car pulls off the highway onto the dusty dirt and gravel road toward camp.  As the car bounces down the road, Mary wakes up.  “Mom, do you mind? I know it’s a church camp, but I don’t need your bible thumping down my throat before we even get there!”  Janet smiles and stops singing.  “That’s one of the songs I sang as a camper Mary.  Maybe they still sing it.” She responds.  Once the car stops, Mary leaps out and rushes over to the check in tables.  Already a group of campers have formed to swap stories and catch up on what happened this past year.  As Janet walks over to the check in table, it is clear Mary has re-joined her tribe.

            After registering, Janet walks over to the group of parents and families gathering on the other side of the parking lot.  Sharing a laugh and a story with the parents, Janet knows she too has rejoined her extended family. The first day of camp has always been a coming home of sorts for Janet and Mary.  Too soon it seems, it is time to go and leave the teens to their sacred week at camp.  In the goodbye circle for families, the camp director Jessi starts to teach the call and response song that will build the camp’s central theme.  “This is the day!” Jessi calls out.  As the circle of parents and teens respond, Janet looks across at her daughter and smiles, Mary smiles back.  Mary’s expectations of her future and Janet’s memories of past are both welcome if they can only live in the present. This truly is the day to rejoice.        

As we travel back to THIS space, bouncing back down the dirt road of camp memories in our minds, we return to our space here on the hill, where the openness of camp is present, but where we are also engaged in all the realities of community.  How many of you have been to camp? Worked at camp, or taken your children there?  How many of you resonated with Mary? How many of you have felt like Janet?  As I’m sure you’ve guessed, that sacred place holds a lot of memories for me. Just as in the previous story, camp was my extended family.  Camp, and in particular, church camp was where my theology came alive and I met some of the best friends, and my wife.  Just like Mary in the story, I too have spent many days at camp avoiding God, theology and the divinity in process around me at the CHURCH camp I loved to call home. Content instead to marvel at the spaciousness and beauty of my surroundings, I tried really hard not to go deeper than that.  But when I did, I must say, I was a Holy Spirit girl.  I could take or leave the male God in the clouds and the suffering servant on the cross, but the creative unpredictable still speaking Holy Spirit and I, we were buds.  Church camp was where I connected to that unpredictable spirit.  It seemed like the rest of the year we heard about Jesus and God, but at camp, in the wilderness, that is where we celebrated the formless part of the trininty, the Spirit.  Camp also provided me with a social group that would challenge and support me through the rough years of High School.  Back in those days, the days that existed before Facebook and unlimited texting plans, that one week at camp was your chance.  Your only chance to be with these friends who were as close as family.  You might write letters, but the rest of the year, we were strangers, returned to our school lives, our separate homes, and individual concerns.  But there, we were in a place outside of time where we could meet as equals when the world might put us at odds.

With no news from outside, and no contact from my family, we had the TIME to see things differently.  In our Phillipians text we are told to Rejoice in the Lord always.  On the first day of camp, that’s easy.  Rejoicing here is easy, stress has been lessened, the world’s concerns were far away.  So rejoice we truly did.  Rejoice in the God of tears and triumphs.  Rejoice in the love of God we felt in our community.  Rejoice in the God who felt so present in the green trees and swift running water.  Rejoicing in answered prayers for relationship and love. 

Our reading says, “I will give you thanks, for you answered me.” Answered prayers are certainly times for rejoiceing.  What would it be like to live that way all the time?  Freeing sure, but also potentially painful to be that open and vulnerable.  So what happens when we leave that safe space of openness and freedom, when we have left the spiritual retreat transformed with rejoicing on our lips? When you walk out the doors of your retreat space wherever that might be, to re-engage with the world, the news, the injustice we temporarily put out of our minds?  How do we rejoice in a broken world? With protest and revolution in the air of North Africa, rejoice is tempered by reality.  How we rejoice matters.  It can take more work to find the means to rejoice in these days, when worry comes so easily to our minds. When prayers are not answered, in what do we rejoice?

In the passage from Phillipians, we are told not to be anxious, but to present with prayer, petition and thanksgiving our requests to God.  It is significant to me that the call to rejoice comes in the benediction to Paul’s letter from jail.  In a time of fear, the community at Philipi needed to hear a word of comfort, and oddly enough that word is it gets better, rejoice in the Lord Always!.

Does that phrase ring a bell for you? Several months ago, in those emotional days after the publicized string of gay teen suicides, the campaign for It gets Better sprung up as a response to all those LGBT teens who feel alienated by communities, friends, and families, and who continue to feel alienated.  While I respected the desire to respond, this campaign bothered me.  Ethically and theologically.  What was it that we, the adults, those who know better, are telling these young fearful lonely teens?  That the life and death situation they are facing isn’t as big a problem like they seem to think?  Are we telling them that their justice must be delayed?  That’s a pretty clear eschatological statement truthfully.  It GETS better just isn’t enough for me.  The truth is that nothing just GETS better.  We must make it better.  For anything to GET better, requires that we work. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said that the Arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.   In a sermon this past Advent, Rev. John MacIver Gage, a UCC minister from New Haven, Connecticut added his own interpretation.  If it does it is because men and women just like us for centuries before us have hammered at it daily and continue to BEND the world toward justice, and peace, and compassion. No, things just don’t happen to get better, but require the work of people dedicated to promote justice, and people who can trust in the community to BEND that arc.  This is where rejoicing comes into these hard times. 

We are told in the psalm text that The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; To create a community of rejoicing in this hard world, requires that we meet God’s call to create justice peace, and community with a definititive YES.  We must be willing to be the unlikely stone that holds up that building even when we cannot see that potential in ourselves.  And yet, there are times when our work to BEND that arc just isn’t enough.  When all we do to make things better hasn’t helped, we must trust in the HOPE of that arc, the HOPE of times getting better.  Quite possibly, the arc is so long, that even with the daily hammering and BENDING of the arc, we might still not see the bend, and so we must trust that God’s will is on our side, bending and hammering alongside our every action.  And so it might be with the It gets better campaign.  While on its surface, the sentiment expressed troubled me, many of the messages available highlight the need to find the support needed right now.  Not delayed until adulthood.  Support Right now, AND with the hope for a future that is brighter.

As future ministry leaders, as people of faith, as people in this interdependent world, we too need support.  We need the support of community and support of a strong prayer life constantly in discernment to do justice. My yearly communion with the Holy Spirit at camp was part of my prayer life and part of what kept me ready to rejoice.  In our discernment we must reach out to the divine, and more than that, we must reach out to the God reflected in those around US.  In our reading today did you hear the subtle shift from me to we?  Half way through the reading, it shifts from “I will give God thanks,” to “Lord save US! Lord grant US success.” Our individual thanksgivings are always related to the thanksgiving of others.  For all to succeed, interdependently, we each must do our own rejoicing so that all the earth can rejoice with US in success.  We have to be the camper on the first day of camp, and camper on the last day of camp, filled and ready to engage. 

To build a community that is ready to rejoice always, we must do God’s work in the world, we must rejoice in good times, and bring others to rejoicing in times of injustice.  To rejoice, we must promote interdependence and hope.  In HIS Letter from jail to a community struggling, Dr. King gives the encouragement his community needed.  He writes, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.”  That garment of destiny is sewn and decorated from the work we do when we are on spiritual retreat and when we are engaged in community.  It is up to us to embroider that garment with informed rejoicing made out of stitches of justice, hope and compassion now. Not at some future date, but today.  It’s all we’ve got.  Rejoice, rejoice and again I say rejoice.  This is the day that the Lord has made.  Lord grant us success.

Amen.