|
Greetings!
As we near the end of the time after Epiphany, I find myself heartened by more daylight in both morning and evening. Epiphany means “revelation” or “insight,” and each longer day brings visible hope: warmth returning, flowers dreaming of spring, newness after a long winter. Some revelations this season, however, are disheartening. The news about Holden’s ongoing road closure we received last week (and what it may mean for our Village) landed hard. And in recent weeks, the unrest rising in Minneapolis and elsewhere reveals deeper disconnection in our society, our tendency to “other” those unlike us, and the violence just beneath the surface. The fear and injustice that have long been daily realities for people of color, immigrants, and other beloved on the margins are now more visible and impacting more people each day, and with no sign of slowing. Lord, have mercy.
In some ways, I remind myself, we’ve been here before. We’ve seen Holden Village closed by fire and mine remediation, and then emerge renewed. We’ve lived through Kent State, marched against state-sanctioned violence, and responded to the murder of George Floyd (and so many others) and witnessed history bend, however slightly, toward justice. Yet this moment feels different: perhaps more uncertain and dangerous. I trust our Village will reopen and our country will find its way back to its values, though some days that trust is hard to hold. Especially now.
The Hebrew and Christian scriptures tell us story after story of God’s people struggling under oppression and longing for a savior—a king, or righteous judge, or political leader who will lead us back to a time when God was really in charge—some anointed messiah who will put things right and end the suffering. We cry: “How long, O Lord?” and yearn for quick and powerful solutions. But those same scriptures point to the danger implicit in that longing and the harm that so often comes to those on the margins—and in fact the whole society—when we outsource our call to “do justice” to those who neither “love kindness” nor “walk humbly.” So what, dear Village, are we to do?
Leaning into our tradition, I remember the Lutheran “Theology of the Cross,” the Catholic “Preferential Option for the Poor” and the Presbyterian (well, Rev. Mr. Rogers anyhow) “Look for the Helpers,” all of which are deep theological and practical reminders that the God of the Universe is most clearly seen not in acts of glory and power (and especially not violence) but among the suffering, the immigrant, the oppressed, the hungry. If we want to find epiphanies of Hope, and Peace, and Love that’s where we should put ourselves too—with rolled up sleeves. I’m reminded that even without access to our mountain retreat and the community that so easily abides there, that we still have a Village: a dispersed community of deep practices of prayer, worship, justice, and solidarity—along with hospitality, art, music, and hilarity—for such a time as this. Not another savior, but a people—an incarnate Body of Christ sent for the sake of the world.
For generations we have prayed and practiced gathering, eating together, being renewed, and sent forth into a hurting and hungry world, equipped with everything we need for the journey ahead. Even though we cannot see the ending, we go together as Beloved Community into the perils both known and unknown, trusting in God to be right there beside us. This is more than just a lovely sending for a bus and boat trip home—it’s a call to action. If ever we needed Good Courage, now is the time. I’m so grateful to be in this Village with you.
| 
