You are loved. You are loved. You are loved!”Read More
Frank Leber was a shy and humble man. He and his wife Rosemarie were UCH members and regular attendees to worship services in the 1990’s and early 2000’s. Frank had an unforgettable deep imposing baritone voice that I can still hear in my mind although he has been gone more than 10 yearsRead More
We all have work to do when it comes to believing that God is in us and in all that we do. Letting go of hurt, being lost, anger, the dark part of us, and choosing to allow ourselves to see the Light, to find joy, love, compassion, life, and God (No matter what name you may use for the Divine), is an ongoing work. What we need to learn is that all of these are choices.Read More
Have you noticed how it’s not the big things that trip us up, but the little things such as waiting in line or encountering other unwelcomed time-consuming events? The other day I hurriedly starting transferring a load of sweats and dark socks from the washer to the dryer only to discover – you guessed it – the clothes were speckled with remnants of tissues I had forgotten to remove from my pocket.Read More
As the Visioning Team met in Laurie’s dining room yesterday morning, I started thinking about how important tables are in our lives. I found myself really enjoying sitting around the table with Laurie, Jackie, Chris, and Roz, sipping coffee, and talking about worship and vision.Read More
Did you know that in the late 19th century for a few coins you could ride a trolley all the way from Oakland down East 14th Street (now Mission Blvd.) to rural Hayward? Or take a horse drawn railcar from the Patterson Ranch (now Ardenwood) to Centerville? Or take a train ride to Niles Canyon for a pleasant picnic along Alameda Creek and listen to the sounds of John Philip Souza’s band?Read More
I had known for a few weeks that I was going to speak on stewardship last Sunday. I prayed about it, I pondered what stewardship meant to me and what it might mean to others in the congregation.Read More
The harvest has passed the summer is ended. And we are not saved. -Jeremiah's Lament.
Like you, I awakened to the shocking news that the largest mass shooting in American history occurred last night at a concert in Las Vegas. As the chaos unfolds around this attack on social media, in the news, and as the numbers of injured and deceased climb- I want to invite you in my role as Spiritual Navigator of our journey to remember what we have been reflecting on as we journey together.
1) In invite you to pay attention to what is going on inside you as this horrible situation unfolds (Interior Movement). Identify, feel, and hold with those difficult emotions. (Sadness, Shock, Numbness, Anger, Grief- whatever is coming up for you.). Notice these feelings and invite God into them.
2) I invite you to pay attention to what kind of Exterior Movement/Action is your first impulse. (Trying to assign blame, Raging on Social Media, Watching the News Feeds impulsively, Cutting off from others-- whatever is coming up in you.) Pay attention to what is going on. But don't act on it. Just watch it and invite God into it (Or do it if you need to and invite God into it).
3) I invite you to pay attention to the deeper Exterior Movement/Action God might be calling you/us to. (Opening to Silence, Praying, Writing, Reading Scripture/Poetry, Doing something that is comforting to you, checking-in with Neighbors, Hearing and Telling Stories, Strategizing about working for assault weapons bans, calling our representatives, watching for indications of racism, anti Muslim bias, and white privilege in media reporting so you are educating yourself- whatever is coming up for you.) These are God filled actions/exterior movements of power, self-care, and justice seeking.
Know that I am praying for all of us this morning- as we also pray for the families of the deceased, the traumatized concert goers, the residents of Las Vegas, for the first responders, for the shooter's family, and for our nation's leaders that they might respond to lessons unlearned about banning the kinds of weapons used in Las Vegas, and in other mass shootings such as Pulse/Orlando, Aurora, Virginia Tech, San Bernardino, Ft. Hood, Charleston, and Sandy Hook. We must rip away our denial and complicity in this terrorism and violence so our nation can be safer for everyone.
I love you. And I invite you to reach out to each other and feel the energy moving through our hands and around our circle as we grieve together. It is from this place we will confront this tragedy- and it is from this place we are called move out our doors and into our community with the guidance of the Holy Spirit, with love, and with power.
With Warmest Regards and Blessings, Rev. Jeanne
"It is here, in that darkness, that the apocalypse washes over us. It is here that we are decentered. It is here that the (sometimes barely) hidden will be revealed and we will become aware of what others have long experienced and known. It is here that the loving voice of our Still-Speaking God unveils our Shadow and invites us to a deepening spiritual journey of life, death, and resurrection."
“The monastic life is like digging into a well: over the years you dig deeper and deeper in your understanding of things, until the day arrives that you reach the waters that connect us all.” Brother DavidRead More
“By their fruit you will recognize them.” -Jesus in Matthew 7:16
Last Sunday, I participated in the interfaith counter-protest of the planned white supremacy rally in Berkeley. After what had unfolded in Charlottesville, VA a few days before there was a lot of nervousness about this counter-protest. And yet the need for our presence as clergy, as peaceful marchers, and as people of faith was very clear. As our Conference Minister, Diane Weible wrote to us recently, “Silence is not an option” in the face of this evil. As I shared with you last week in my sermon, I deeply agree.
According to media coverage the counter protest became violent. Multiple news stories on the internet, and national television showed the air filled with pepper spray, and tear gas. There was one video of punches being thrown played repeatedly. There were menacing camera shots of black clad, antifa marchers. Antifa was the focus of these negative stories. According to reporters antifa caused the violence. “They” started the melee and “they” are the problem. The reporters almost seemed to portray antifa as bullies of the peacefully gathered white supremacists.
I am always, as a United Church of Christ clergywoman, an advocate of peaceful protest. I believe that non-violent protest is the best way to resist injustice and the deathbringing that (as Jeremiah puts it) “is coming up into our doors and windows.” But let’s be clear. We can argue about the means of resistance forever and all that does is take attention away from the struggles of people of color. White supremacy and white privilege are the things we must resist. And it is important that we resist going down these rabbit holes of resistance.
When I arrived in the FCCB sanctuary at the pre-march event it was packed to capacity. I joined the clergy who were standing in the back and was happy to see many friends. Organizers were giving instructions and reviewing what many of us had learned in training. UCC Clergy gave us an encouraging word. We prayed and sang. We hugged and greeted each other as we could hear the helicopters roaring overhead. The joy and resolve was infectious in the midst of our anxiety.
We wore red bracelets so we could find each other if it got chaotic. Organizers handed out water, protein bars, and signs. And we moved outside together in groups (with a buddy system for safety) and kept singing “This Little Light of Mine” and “I Shall Not Be Moved” as we marched toward Martin Luther King Jr. Park and Berkeley City Hall. It was a diverse group and there were many marchers of different faiths. Signs read “LGBTQ and Dismantling White Supremacy,” “Love Wins!” “My Grandmother Did Not Survive Auschwitz for This!” and “White Supremacy is Not a Christian Value.” Organizers asked us (a small group of UCC Clergy who had among us a prominent organizer for immigrant rights) to go to the back of the group and keep people moving forward and clustered close together- and to watch for trouble behind us. We did so. And we also kept the singing going.
The helicopters droned on loudly above us, and the rally was taking place when our group arrived at MLK Park. There were television vans everywhere. Police in riot gear were casually deployed on the lawn of City Hall. And we heard rumors that that there had been some “skirmishing,” and that a group of white supremacists were on the other side of a police line “a little over a block” away from us. We also heard it had been a “great” and “successful” counter protest so far. MLK Park was packed with people, including black-clad antifa marchers waving a huge “anarchy” flag. I noticed many of them had their masks and hoodies pulled off (It was hot) and were laughing and talking. There was a joyous atmosphere in the midst of the anxiety. One young black-clad woman in a hoodie with ski goggles around her neck removed a box of strawberries from her backpack and was passing them around. She walked over and offered one to me. We ate strawberries and talked for a few minutes about my church and about her family and mine, and we talked about her studies. She was full of fire. I saw my younger self in her eyes. A younger self that was a seeker of lgbtq justice and had less patience for holding complexities. I was also remembering, as we talked, that Clergy protesting white supremacy in Charlottesville had attributed antifa protesters with saving their lives.
We started marching again and suddenly she was gone. The masks and hoodies went back on. Chants were raised. Anxiety went up. Our Interfaith group sang loudly to shift the energy. And we all marched together in that tension to Ohlone Park. After we arrived, the march began to disband, and we- the Interfaith marchers- walked in groups, for safety, back to FCCB. A carload of white supremacists came by once while we stood on the corner and yelled epithets at us. They didn’t give us a chance to look into their eyes.
I was shocked when I got home and turned on the television. The coverage looked like Berkeley was a war zone. There was talk of how antifa “stormed” right wing protestors who were “protesting peacefully.” (There is no peace in white supremacy my friends.) The media covered 5% of the march like it was the whole march. 95% of the march was peaceful, and beautiful, and life-giving. And our Still-Speaking God knows we need to know about that right now. But that is not the story the media told our nation. Pundits ranted. And Politicians issued disconnected statements that denounced antifa and cast blame on them for the violence.
“If it bleeds. It leads” someone said to me with a shrug when I voiced concern about this wildly skewed telling of events. Maybe so. But as I write to you today, I am going to lead with the singing, and the praying, and the joy in the anxiety and tensions. I am going to lead by lifting up our peaceful diverse group of marchers. I am going to lift up and amplify our brothers and sisters of color who have patiently welcomed us white folks- even though many of us are pretty damn late to this work. And I am going to lead with the truth that as we stood in front of Berkeley City Hall in the tension, resisting the sin of white supremacy, and as I held the complexities of being a white, lesbian, American, progressive clergywoman, who believes in non-violent tactics of resistance- I can still see the fire in her eyes and hear her voice. And I can taste those strawberries. The flavors were complex. Some were sweet, and some were a little bitter and didn't taste quite right to me. But I am really glad we shared them. Because it is in the tension and complexity of that kind of sharing that we might be able, as a nation, to find our way home.
It is Sunday afternoon and I am sitting here listening to some beautiful music and I have a cat in my lap that is happy as long as I let her rest her head on one of my hands. Of course, this makes typing somewhat difficult, but it’s a dance we do often if she wants a soft place to nap.Read More
Buttes of Utah’s Zion National Park appeared as I turned the calendar to August. Such majesty in the rugged cliffs, vibrancy in the blue sky, and hushed quietness in the stream wending its way down the page. How old are those cliffs? In contrast, how new are the leafy trees dotting the slopes near the stream? How frequently is this particular spot observed by human eyes? Who knows exactly? And yet, there they are in all their grandeur and quiet beauty beckoning, “Come, rest a while here.”Read More
“Maps help us to get where we need to be; they help us from getting lost; they keep us moving forward and in the right direction; and they often take us to far-off places we can’t otherwise get to on our own. Some maps are even filled with mystery and intrigue, like a pirates map leading one to buried treasure”Read More
We have recently returned from a three-day vacation to Lassen Volcanic National Park in northern California. The first day we stopped at the Sundial Bridge in Redding and saw the mighty Sacramento River. It was still carrying a lot of water and flowing rapidly, and we tried to imagine what it was like before it got dammed up at Lake Shasta. How much more power it must have had! How it must have periodically overflowed onto its floodplain, creating the fertile soil in the valley.Read More
. . . there has been a lot of challenging behavior and conversation recently. “Mommy” he said to me as we processed the consequences of some of that behavior this week. “I am afraid it is going to be different.”Read More
I recently began swimming, actually treading water, on a daily basis. I did this to try to increase my mobility and, frankly, to make Jackie happy. Honestly, I did it more to make Jackie happy than anything else.
How often do we make decisions because we think they will make someone else happy, meet someone else’s expectations, or so that somebody doesn’t get upset? If you are like me, human, it is more often than we like to admit to.Read More