Monday, December 12, 2016

Sermon 12/4/16 Nacimiento de Justicia

(English translation followed by Spanish translation of sermon)

So here we are in the season of Advent where we await the birth of our Savior, the King of all Kings, the Prince of Peace. Week by week the story builds up from the Angel Gabriel sharing the blessing of children all the way to Shepherds at the manger to greet the newborn Jesus. Yet somehow in our lectionary we stumble upon this story. It’s like the story was put on pause, fast forward twenty eight years, and the story continues with John the Baptist prophesying the coming of Jesus. When you think of it, it does seem a bit strange that we include this story in Advent. Where are the angels and the wisemen? However I kind of like this idea of Advent being a season where we are not only waiting for the physical birth of Jesus, but the political birth of Jesus as well. There is a balance being created around the significance of Jesus. We dress up the birth as God placing peace on earth. There is this moment of clarity and unity that comes as Jesus enters our world. This story with John the Baptist is quite different. In fact, John is proclaiming the coming of Justice through our Savior. Without justice, there can never be true peace. 
    We need a clear understanding of what is happening here. John is in the wilderness of Judea, the land where some of the most famous of Jewish Kings like David. He is reciting words from the prophet Isaiah foreshadowing the coming of Jesus. He is not writing letters or asking people to pay attention. Instead his voice is echoing in the wilderness for all to hear as he demands to be heard. He is dressed in camel hair, a garment most associated with the peasantry of the time. The camel, a symbol of both patience and silent endurance, known to be referred to as “The Father of Job.” Can you envision this? John the Baptist is the mentor of Jesus. He is the one who taught Jesus what he knew. And his mentor is in their homeland, wearing garments of the lower class, of the animal who is known to be resilient. The camel, like the people of the land are patient, and resilient. When they are starved and thirsty, they maintain their composure and endure. John presents himself as a man of those suffering and aligns himself with their needs. And in the same waters that were parted by prophets before him, John baptizes them in the Jordan. The people are receiving blessings in a water that was once divided. But in Christ, we are united. 
    It reminds me of a Campaign In the U.S. called “Walk A Mile In Her Shoes.” Volunteers of men and women and their families join together to walk a mile in Women's high heels. Though it seems fun and light hearted, it is a reminder of the difficult things we fail to discuss in society like gender relations and violence against women. For one day men and others dress in solidarity, in the camel hair of women, in high heels and walk for a mile in the streets of their beloved city as a proclamation of injustice. The injustice is that we are silent about violence, and the promise is that we can repent today in hopes for a better tomorrow. It is a powerful experience and a reaffirming feeling for many women across the nation to know that there are people here who believe in their right to peace. That is what John is assuring us of, right? As he stands clothed in the cloth of the disinherited like the volunteers clothed in the heels of the abused.I am with you. The Lord is with you. Repent for the Kingdom of Heaven is near.
    In the meantime we are modern day camels, both patient and self enduring. As in 1993 the United Nations created the Declaration of the Elimination of Violence Against Women, explaining the pandemic. However over twenty years later one in three women still experience sexual or physical violence, mostly by an intimate partner. We have been patient and self enduring as we demanded our girls back from Boko Haram in Nigeria, or when we became the 70% of people involved in human trafficking. We continue to be patient in countries where over 200 million women and girls have gone through female genital mutilation. We have said stop, no, no more! This must end, please! Yet still, we remain victims in a vicious cycle of violence. It is like when the Sadducees and Pharisees come to be cleansed in the waters of the Jordan expecting to be greeted with love and support. When in reality it is more like the man who assaulted you as a child, the village medics that held you down to be cut, and the wealthy man who paid your kidnapper to violate you some more, all come to the same baptismal fountain with no remorse towards the crimes they committed. What I mean is the power dynamic between the poor people of Judea and the Sadducees and Pharisees. One group is trying to survive while the others are living off of the luxuries and wealth of empire. Which is why John speaks the way he does to them. He condemns their actions and their high and mighty behavior. In the most direct and commanding way he addresses their wrong doings as they have been abusing their status that is directly attributed to their relationship with God and the temple. Christ is Lord but we cannot wait for Christ to condemn the evils of the hierarchy.
Then John does something we almost would not expect after dismissing the Sadducees and Pharisees. He still offers purity in the Jordan. He says “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” And here we are back at the beginning. Receive this baptism as we await the coming of the one who is greater than all. Here we are waiting for the King of Kings to arrive. We wait for that moment of silence and clarity. Because it is the Prince of Peace who will bring Justice to the world. It is justice that we wait for during this Advent season. Amen.

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Así que aquí estamos en la estación del Adviento donde esperamos el nacimiento de nuestro Salvador, el Rey de todos los Reyes, el Príncipe de la Paz. Semana tras semana la historia se desarrolla desde el ángel Gabriel compartiendo la bendición de los niños hasta llegar a los pastores en el pesebre para saludar al recién nacido Jesús. Sin embargo, de alguna manera en nuestro leccionario nos topamos con esta historia. Es como si la historia fuera puesta en pausa, avanzando veintiocho años, y la historia continúa con Juan el Bautista profetizando la venida de Jesús. Cuando piensas en ello, parece extraño que incluyamos esta historia en Adviento. ¿Dónde están los ángeles y los sabios? Sin embargo, soy de esta idea de Adviento que es una estación en la que no sólo estamos esperando el nacimiento físico de Jesús, sino también el nacimiento político de Jesús. Hay un equilibrio que se crea alrededor de la importancia de Jesús. Nosotros vestimos el nacimiento como Dios colocando la paz en la tierra. Hay un momento de claridad y unidad que viene cuando Jesús entra en nuestro mundo. Esta historia con Juan el Bautista es muy diferente. De hecho, Juan está proclamando la venida de la Justicia a través de nuestro Salvador. Sin justicia, nunca puede haber paz verdadera.
Necesitamos una comprensión clara de lo que está sucediendo aquí. Juan está en el desierto de Judea, la tierra donde algunos de los más famosos de los reyes judíos como David. Él está recitando palabras del profeta Isaías prefigurando la venida de Jesús. No está escribiendo cartas ni pidiendo a la gente que preste atención. En su lugar, su voz está resonando en el desierto para que todos oigan como él exige ser escuchado. Está vestido con pelo de camello, una prenda más asociada con el campesinado de la época. El camello, un símbolo de paciencia y resistencia silenciosa, conocido como el "Padre de Job". ¿Puedes imaginar esto? Juan el Bautista es el mentor de Jesús. Él es quien enseñó a Jesús lo que sabía. Y su mentor está en su patria, vistiendo prendas de la clase baja, del animal que se sabe que es resistente. El camello, como el pueblo de la tierra, es paciente y resiliente. Aún cuando están hambrientos y sedientos, mantienen su compostura y aguantan. Juan se presenta a sí mismo como un hombre de los que sufren y se alinea con sus necesidades. Y en las mismas aguas que fueron separadas por los profetas delante de él, Juan los bautiza en el Jordán. La gente está recibiendo bendiciones en un agua que fue dividida una vez. Pero en Cristo, estamos unidos.
Me recuerda a una Campaña en los Estados Unidos llamada "Camina una milla en sus zapatos". Voluntarios de hombres y mujeres y sus familias se unen para caminar una milla en tacones altos de la Mujer. Aunque parezca divertido y alegre, es un recordatorio de las cosas difíciles que no discutimos en la sociedad como las relaciones de género y la violencia contra las mujeres. Durante un día los hombres y otros se visten con solidaridad, con el pelo de camello de las mujeres, en tacones altos y caminan por una milla en las calles de su amada ciudad como una denuncia de la injusticia. La injusticia es que permanecemos silenciosos ante la violencia, y la promesa es que podemos arrepentirnos hoy en la esperanza de un mañana mejor. Es una experiencia poderosa y un sentimiento reafirmante para muchas mujeres en todo el país el saber que hay personas aquí que creen en su derecho a la paz. Eso es lo que Juan nos está asegurando, ¿verdad? Mientras que él se coloca vestido en el paño de desheredado como los voluntarios vestidos en los tacones del abusado. Estoy con vos. El Señor está con ustedes. Arrepentirse por el Reino de los Cielos está cerca.
Mientras tanto somos los camellos de hoy en día, tanto paciente como auto duradera. Como en 1993 las Naciones Unidas crearon la Declaración de la Eliminación de la Violencia contra la Mujer, explicando la pandemia. Sin embargo, más de veinte años después una de cada tres mujeres todavía experimentan violencia sexual o física, en su mayoría por una pareja íntima. Hemos sido pacientes y perdurables al exigir a nuestras chicas de regreso de Boko Haram en Nigeria, o cuando nos convertimos en el 70% de las personas involucradas en la trata de personas. Seguimos siendo pacientes en países donde más de 200 millones de mujeres y niñas han pasado por la mutilación genital femenina. Hemos dicho: ¡Alto, no, no más! Esto debe terminar, por favor! Sin embargo, seguimos siendo víctimas en un círculo vicioso de violencia. Es como cuando los saduceos y fariseos vienen a ser limpiados en las aguas del Jordán esperando ser recibidos con amor y apoyo. Cuando en realidad se parecen más al hombre que te atacó de niño, a los médicos del pueblo que te sujetaron para que te corten, y al hombre rico que pagó a tu secuestrador para violarte un poco más, todos vienen a la misma fuente bautismal sin Remordimiento por los crímenes cometidos. Lo que quiero decir es la dinámica de poder entre los pobres de Judea y los saduceos y fariseos. Un grupo está tratando de sobrevivir mientras que los demás están viviendo de los lujos y la riqueza del imperio. Es por eso que Juan habla de la manera que él lo hace. Él condena sus acciones y su soberbio comportamiento. De la manera más directa y contundente señala sus malas acciones, ya que han estado abusando de su estatus que se atribuye directamente a su relación con Dios y al templo. Cristo es Señor pero no podemos esperar a que Cristo condene los males de la jerarquía.
Entonces Juan hace algo que casi no esperaríamos después de despedir a los saduceos y fariseos. Todavía ofrece pureza en el Jordán. Él dice: "Yo te bautizo con agua para que se arrepientan, pero el que es más poderoso que yo viene detrás de mí; No soy digno de llevar sus sandalias. Él los bautizará con el Espíritu Santo y fuego. "Y aquí estamos de vuelta al principio. Reciban este bautismo mientras esperamos la venida de aquel que es más grande que todos. Aquí estamos esperando que llegue el Rey de Reyes. Esperamos ese momento de silencio y claridad. Porque es el Príncipe de la Paz quien traerá justicia al mundo. Es la justicia que esperamos durante esta estación de Adviento. Amén.
#ReclaimMissionary

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

Black Girl Magic Diaspora Edition

"You are a Goddess."

She said staring at my Dulce de Leche sprinkled in midnight ink. My hair intricately tied into a bun placed above my crown. Nude painted lips of mine smiled in gratitude, flattered at another believer seeing the God in me.

"Igualmente hermana, igualmente."

Streamed out of my mouth and into her fluffy mocha ears. Floral patterns wrapped around her curves and violet tints illuminated her Afro like a halo. Smoke levitated from her nose towards the heavens. God was looking down upon us and She was pleased.

"You are a Goddess."

She repeated in astonishment because we grew up with broken mirrors unable to see the beauty in ourselves. We come from two different worlds and share the same reality. We were Scary Spice in environments full of Baby, Sporty, Posh and Ginger. We were Chorus Girl #6 in Broadway productions. We were taught to want to be Disney princesses but we looked like Disney mammies. Our societies told us that we were ugly, useless, and unwanted. However if we were made in the image of God what does that say about our culture? We were mirrors to each other and when we sat face to face we finally saw ourselves.

"Igualmente hermana, igualmente."

Spoken from my heart because we had to give ourselves permission to be beautiful- smart- important- valued. She and I were subversive by existence. A biracial black woman birthed in the nation of segregation and a dark skinned black woman given life in a country where mixing the races was the solution to blackness. But you can't bleach blood and you can't bleach love so we represent all that they have tried to erase. Yet here we stand. We are the stars of our own films and our two worlds intersect in a foreign bar. She and I transcended dreams made for Cinderellas. You have my permission to be great.

"You are a Goddess."

You are everything I needed as a child. You are black-feminist-spiritual-educated-adventurous-vulnerable. You are powerful and without remorse. You are thought provoking and complex. You are what they don't want us to be. Free. You are who I see in the mirror and I needed your existence for the validation of my own. You are a reminder that I too matter. You are a Goddess.

"Igualmente hermana, igualmente."

#ReclaimMissionary



Thursday, December 1, 2016

Murally Speaking

                November was the start of the high school mural project. There was not a great amount of organization around it aside from I create the sketch, the school will supply the paints, and the students will help. Prior to the project I was really hesitant about mingling with the high school as my insecurities around the language barrier grew. The directors wanted me more involved in the two schools but I just was not sure how to achieve building the bridge. Do I just hang out in the patio and wait for someone to approach me? I hated high school. Why would I purposely place myself back there? Aside from my own love of art, the mural project was exactly that bridge I needed to interact with students with a bit of a buffer. Leading a mural project requires knowledge of colors, actions, and small talk lines. Easy.

                At first it was just me painting. Students in groups would watch me and scurry back and forth to class. I kept saying “You can help! Come on!” They would assure me of their assistance tomorrow. Eventually they came through. They came in packs of different grade levels asking to paint. Some paired up and shared the responsibilities. We shared smiles and “gracias”, terms of endearment and compliments, greetings and kisses good bye. Day by day my Instagram followers grew rapidly as I would continue to post videos and photos of our work. We broke barriers when they asked to do the #MannequinChallenge. Dozens of us posed with our paint brushes and cans and cheered afterwards.
That same week one of the seniors handed me a ticket to prom.  Progress was being made. Unfortunately their school year differs from ours in the states so while my siblings back at home were preparing for Winter break, students here were preparing for finals and summer vacation. Even though the year was coming to a close, students started offering their summer time to help finish the mural. I am thankful.

                Then yesterday happened. To be clear, this is not about the mural but more so what the mural enabled in our space. Some of my regulars came by to paint. There was not much left to do until we get a ladder so we wrapped up early. However one of my students stayed a bit later. She wanted to finish up a corner. I didn’t mind the company. One of my communion mothers approached me about Christmas and my student must have overheard me mention worship.  I still don’t know what triggered it but then she asked me about God. Since I’ve been in Argentina nobody has asked me anything incredibly theological.  No students have shared anything exceptionally compelling about their faith life or recent conflicts of faith. Maybe that’s why her question had caught me so off guard. For this reason I want to recap a bit in a verbatim format of the conversation I had with Student 1 (S1).


S1: “Nic, ¿qué piensas de Dios?/ Nic, what do you think of God?” (She kept painting. This feels like a loaded question.)

NF: “¿Nuestros Dios, de arriba?/ Our God of above/up ?” (I should have said cielos. I hope she understands me.)
S1: “Si, que piensas?/ Yes, what do you think?” (I am curious as to where this is coming from.)
NF: “Eh...me gusta. Dios es mi fuerte. Dios es mi vida. Yo tengo mucha fe en Dios. / Ehh. .I like God. God is my strength. God is my life. I have a lot of faith in God.” (That was the corniest answer I could give. But how do you explain what you think of God? Should I have said God is real?)
S1: “¿Entonces vos crees?/ So you believe?” (She seems very curious for my answer although she has not made much eye contact with me. I think I look a little uncomfortable.)
NF: “Claro, estoy una vicaria. Dios es el razón que estoy acá./ Clearly, I am a vicar. God is the reason I am here.” (I wonder how many of my students actually know I wear a collar? I also wonder how many of her teachers she has asked this same question since this is a Lutheran school.)
S1: “Igualmente.  Creo en Dios y el camino es difícil./ I feel the same. I believe in God and the journey is difficult.” (I am relieved that this was not going to be a conversation about her not having faith or a crisis in her life. I don’t think I would have been ready for that. She continues to paint. Maybe this made the conversation easier for her to have. Maybe she was just killing silence like I would. Maybe I should have more one on ones with the students.)
NF: “Claro, el camino es siempre difícil. ¿Cuánto anos tienes amor?/ Clearly, the journey is always difficult. How old are you love?” (My posture changed. I began searching to make eye contact as I felt this was going to be a bit deeper. What does this private school teen know about a difficult journey? I want to ask what happened for her to say that. I won’t because this is our first real conversation.)
S1: “Quince años/ 15 years old.” (She looked me in the eye when she answered. Yet her body was still directed at the wall. I begin to think of who I was at fifteen. About a decade ago and a year after my brother died.)
NF: “¿Oh si? A su edad, es cuando yo realizo que yo quise ser una pastora./ Oh yea? At your age is when I realized that I wanted to be a pastor.” (She finally stopped painting and turned all the way towards me. This seems to have caught her attention.  I can tell she is religious at the way her face lit up. I feel a little more relaxed. I wonder if she is Catholic or Pentecostal.)
S1: “¿En serio? Hay mucho responsabilidad./ Seriously? That is a lot of responsibility.” (She had practically stopped painting for a moment. She was very taken by that last statement.)
NF: “Si, claro hay mucho responsabilidades pero. . ./ Yes, clearly there are a lot of responsibilities but. . . “(She had cut me off as I struggled to find the word.)
S1: “Es mejor./ It’s better.”

NF: “Exactamente. En realidad, a mí, hay mucho pastores o gente que dice ellos son personas de Dios que tiene muy conservador teología que discrimina contra otras. Necesitamos.  . . / Exactly. Really, to me, there are a lot of pastors or people that say they are people of God that have very a very conservative theology that discriminates against other. We need. . . .” (The conversation was cut short as another student interrupted us. I was disappointed in myself that I did not have the words to answer her at first. I could have led with something stronger than “God is my strength.” She placed her brush in the water and walked off to her friends after we said our good byes.)

                Why was this encounter significant enough to write a blog post? For me it was the first time that I felt like I was a Vicar in the community. I was not just this American girl with big hair painting during school hours. I was challenged to articulate my beliefs in another language to a youth who I know nothing about. Back in the States there were so many books that concentrated on the God of our understanding based on race, ethnicity, and cultural context. Articulating what I believe to others who are in the same context is easy. However I am oblivious to who is the God of Argentines. Though my supervisor speaks of the God of justice and daily bread, there is the fortunate group here as well. Those who are fortunate enough to receive imported iPhones from family vacations and have money to spare for annual class trips across the country. I do not doubt that the God of the Oppressed speaks a universal language but what language is spoken by the God of the already comforted? This encounter was significant because I realized how much more I should be doing out here in order to better accompany my community. Word of advice to myself and others in unfamiliar territory: Build more bridges. Ask more questions.



#ReclaimMissionary