Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Documentary Helps Community After City Hall Shooting (EthisDaily.com)
By: Scott Stearman
On Feb. 7, 2008, a man walked into Kirkwood City Hall in Missouri and killed six people. It was a large enough, shocking enough crime to make national news. It even ranked a paragraph in the Saturday New York Times. Undoubtedly it made so much press because of the sheer quantity of those shot and because it happened in city hall. But the ugliness of that night is only part of the story. What needs to be told is what has happened since.
Or, in a sense, before. In August 2007 my wife, Cecelia, began a community gospel choir as a way to bring blacks and whites “together in song.” Since moving here in 2003, we have been disappointed in the segregated nature of St. Louis, and we both felt a call to do our small part to help. In January 2008 we went together, with staff and members from Kirkwood Baptist Church, to the New Baptist Covenant gathering in Atlanta. It was a beautiful experience, and we sensed a continued call to work on the racial divide. A few days after getting home from Atlanta, I attended a neighborhood meeting in our “African-American section” of town. The mayor, who I knew fairly well, and one of the local council members were both present.
A couple of weeks later, the mayor would be in the hospital from a gun shot to the head and the council member would be dead. The mayor would live a few months. Five victims (two of whom were policemen) would die that night. The shooter, a local man known quite well by several church members, was a black man. All of the victims were white.
It isn’t just the villain/victim skin color that made the massacre a racially charged event. Charles Thornton came from a section of Kirkwood that was historically African American. In 1990 it was annexed by the city. In the process of annexation, promises were made, or implied. Some of those were not kept. In the already segregated reality of St. Louis, tensions were heightened. Like many such stories it’s complicated. But suffice it to say that Thornton’s act cannot be divorced from, nor explained by, the history of race relations in St. Louis. This kind of act has no rational explanation, but on the other hand, to remove it from our American historical context makes no sense.
But again, from ashes, beauty. On Feb. 23, 2008, Kirkwood Baptist Church hosted a city dialogue, inviting African Americans from this section of town to talk with their neighbors. Out of that meeting we created an organization called “The Community for Understanding and Healing,” which has subsequently enlisted hundreds in multi-racial dialogue. We’ve taken a serious look at issues like white privilege and the white/black achievement gap. It has been a rich, sometimes fraught, but beautiful journey. The new mayor, elected not long after the shooting, and all city council members have been at the majority of meetings. Recently the organization sponsored an essay contest for local children. There were well over 300 entries. Nine winners were chosen, and the top three (one each from grade school, middle school and high school) read their essays in front of a diverse crowd of 200, including the mayor and a majority of the city council. Again, Kirkwood Baptist Church was honored to serve as host.
Out of this effort, a good many relationships were formed. I now have a friendship with Rev. Jeff Croft, pastor of the Harrison Avenue Missionary Baptist Church. In October we joined together for a one-day missional effort called “Hands on Kirkwood” (our version of “Operation Inasmuch”). And in January we met on four successive Wednesday nights to watch and discuss “Beneath the Skin: Baptists and Racism,” produced by EthicsDaily.com. This was an exceptionally moving time. This is why I’m writing. The rest is necessary background.
The community-wide dialogues were instructive and helpful. Many good relationships were formed. I believe the organization we began will continue its good work in the community. But I must admit that for me as a pastor, the most powerful moments of this last year occurred when two congregations came together—one very white, one quite black. We met trying to grapple with the ideals of the gospel we preach and the reality of the past we’ve experienced. Having the commonality of a vibrant Baptist faith led us to a level of discussion that was substantial, moving and potentially life-altering. There was an honesty and openness I’d never seen in a setting like this.
After watching the section of “Beneath the Skin” where issues of institutional racism are explored, some of the older black participants talked about our local Spencer’s Grill, where not so long ago they were forced to stand at the back door to get a hamburger. Skin color determined that they had to stand at the back door. Not many white people knew how recently this was the case. An older white member told about growing up in a “sundown town,” where only whites were allowed after the sun set.
But on our dialogue evenings, we all felt as if we were eating at the same table, knowing that the sun was setting on our divided journey.
The night of Feb. 7, 2008, will be forever etched on my brain. Every time I hear a helicopter, my mind goes to that night of circling helicopters and a futile, rushed trip to the hospital. I’ll not soon forget. Neither will many in our town. We mourn those who were lost. But we also celebrate that out of this tragedy our complacency has been shaken, and our sense of common cause has found new life.
On Feb. 7, 2008, a man walked into Kirkwood City Hall in Missouri and killed six people. It was a large enough, shocking enough crime to make national news. It even ranked a paragraph in the Saturday New York Times. Undoubtedly it made so much press because of the sheer quantity of those shot and because it happened in city hall. But the ugliness of that night is only part of the story. What needs to be told is what has happened since.
Or, in a sense, before. In August 2007 my wife, Cecelia, began a community gospel choir as a way to bring blacks and whites “together in song.” Since moving here in 2003, we have been disappointed in the segregated nature of St. Louis, and we both felt a call to do our small part to help. In January 2008 we went together, with staff and members from Kirkwood Baptist Church, to the New Baptist Covenant gathering in Atlanta. It was a beautiful experience, and we sensed a continued call to work on the racial divide. A few days after getting home from Atlanta, I attended a neighborhood meeting in our “African-American section” of town. The mayor, who I knew fairly well, and one of the local council members were both present.
A couple of weeks later, the mayor would be in the hospital from a gun shot to the head and the council member would be dead. The mayor would live a few months. Five victims (two of whom were policemen) would die that night. The shooter, a local man known quite well by several church members, was a black man. All of the victims were white.
It isn’t just the villain/victim skin color that made the massacre a racially charged event. Charles Thornton came from a section of Kirkwood that was historically African American. In 1990 it was annexed by the city. In the process of annexation, promises were made, or implied. Some of those were not kept. In the already segregated reality of St. Louis, tensions were heightened. Like many such stories it’s complicated. But suffice it to say that Thornton’s act cannot be divorced from, nor explained by, the history of race relations in St. Louis. This kind of act has no rational explanation, but on the other hand, to remove it from our American historical context makes no sense.
But again, from ashes, beauty. On Feb. 23, 2008, Kirkwood Baptist Church hosted a city dialogue, inviting African Americans from this section of town to talk with their neighbors. Out of that meeting we created an organization called “The Community for Understanding and Healing,” which has subsequently enlisted hundreds in multi-racial dialogue. We’ve taken a serious look at issues like white privilege and the white/black achievement gap. It has been a rich, sometimes fraught, but beautiful journey. The new mayor, elected not long after the shooting, and all city council members have been at the majority of meetings. Recently the organization sponsored an essay contest for local children. There were well over 300 entries. Nine winners were chosen, and the top three (one each from grade school, middle school and high school) read their essays in front of a diverse crowd of 200, including the mayor and a majority of the city council. Again, Kirkwood Baptist Church was honored to serve as host.
Out of this effort, a good many relationships were formed. I now have a friendship with Rev. Jeff Croft, pastor of the Harrison Avenue Missionary Baptist Church. In October we joined together for a one-day missional effort called “Hands on Kirkwood” (our version of “Operation Inasmuch”). And in January we met on four successive Wednesday nights to watch and discuss “Beneath the Skin: Baptists and Racism,” produced by EthicsDaily.com. This was an exceptionally moving time. This is why I’m writing. The rest is necessary background.
The community-wide dialogues were instructive and helpful. Many good relationships were formed. I believe the organization we began will continue its good work in the community. But I must admit that for me as a pastor, the most powerful moments of this last year occurred when two congregations came together—one very white, one quite black. We met trying to grapple with the ideals of the gospel we preach and the reality of the past we’ve experienced. Having the commonality of a vibrant Baptist faith led us to a level of discussion that was substantial, moving and potentially life-altering. There was an honesty and openness I’d never seen in a setting like this.
After watching the section of “Beneath the Skin” where issues of institutional racism are explored, some of the older black participants talked about our local Spencer’s Grill, where not so long ago they were forced to stand at the back door to get a hamburger. Skin color determined that they had to stand at the back door. Not many white people knew how recently this was the case. An older white member told about growing up in a “sundown town,” where only whites were allowed after the sun set.
But on our dialogue evenings, we all felt as if we were eating at the same table, knowing that the sun was setting on our divided journey.
The night of Feb. 7, 2008, will be forever etched on my brain. Every time I hear a helicopter, my mind goes to that night of circling helicopters and a futile, rushed trip to the hospital. I’ll not soon forget. Neither will many in our town. We mourn those who were lost. But we also celebrate that out of this tragedy our complacency has been shaken, and our sense of common cause has found new life.
A political ploy or a personal, religious choice? (Op Ed - Post-Dispatch, Dec. 25, 08)
By Scott L. Stearman
12/25/2008
If President-elect Barack Obama's choice to lead the invocation at his inauguration — the Rev. Rick Warren of Saddleback Church in Southern California — was a personal one, I find it refreshing and appropriate. If the choice was political, I think it is unfortunate.
I have followed Rick Warren's church and ministry for many years. Our religious heritage is similar. I've met him (once) and heard him speak (on numerous occasions). His vision of the world has grown over the years. In the beginning, it seemed as though his only ambition was that of the mega-church pastor: putting butts in pews or, in his case, rears in seats. But in recent years he has come to understand that to whom much is given, much is required.His concern and compassion toward the needs of people in Africa, his appreciation of his role in alleviating extreme poverty in this country and even his awareness of our environmental responsibilities have grown.
He may be Southern Baptist, as Jerry Falwell was, but Rick Warren is no Jerry Falwell.Still, Warren is very conservative on social issues and differs from the president-elect in this regard. That is why I find this choice refreshing — assuming Barack Obama truly has a friendship with and an appreciation for Rick Warren as a person and pastor. For a political leader to choose someone with whom he differs is the kind of change for which many of us have hoped. In this sense, it is good that Obama's "walk" about reaching across lines and boundaries matches his talk.
I, too, have many friends with whom I disagree. I am a progressive Baptist pastor from Oklahoma, and one of my dearest friends is a conservative Jewish lawyer from New York. Surely this is part of what it means to be an American.
If, however, Obama's choice of Warren was simply political, I find it unfortunate. Of course, in terms of crass political power, it would be wise to reach out to a major constituency that will appreciate seeing one of its own on the national stage. But that is not what the nation needs.Rather than a choice determined by political considerations, America would be better served by the choice of someone from Obama's former denomination; that is, someone who embodies a stream of Christianity that has been on the progressive edge of every positive change this nation has made.From the abolition of slavery to public education to women's suffrage to civil rights and even to anti-discrimination measures against homosexuals, followers of Christ have been the heart and soul of real change. Progressive Christians — those who have exemplified the call of Christ to love as we love ourselves and to treat others as we would be treated — are an underappreciated part of America's history.They have been supplanted in the public consciousness over the last three decades by the Religious Right. But the Religious Right's anti-science activism has done much harm.
In such a climate, it has been easy to forget that Christians from Isaac Newton to the contemporary geneticist Francis Collins have helped advance our understanding of the world.Moreover, their motivation has been driven by their faith. Much of what we western liberals think as "good" — human rights, gender equality, and so on — is rooted in the Christian ideal of the person having worth and dignity.
It would have been helpful and in keeping with Obama's own heritage to have had a progressive Christian deliver the inaugural invocation. In fact, I would have liked the president-elect to choose a layperson to lead the prayer. Ideally, it would have been a scientist who could have embodied the reality that faith and reason don't need to be compartmentalized, that one advances the other, as one foot progressively supports the other.However, it wasn't anyone's choice but Obama's to make, and he chose Warren. I just hope that it was a deeply personal choice, as all things religious should be.
12/25/2008
If President-elect Barack Obama's choice to lead the invocation at his inauguration — the Rev. Rick Warren of Saddleback Church in Southern California — was a personal one, I find it refreshing and appropriate. If the choice was political, I think it is unfortunate.
I have followed Rick Warren's church and ministry for many years. Our religious heritage is similar. I've met him (once) and heard him speak (on numerous occasions). His vision of the world has grown over the years. In the beginning, it seemed as though his only ambition was that of the mega-church pastor: putting butts in pews or, in his case, rears in seats. But in recent years he has come to understand that to whom much is given, much is required.His concern and compassion toward the needs of people in Africa, his appreciation of his role in alleviating extreme poverty in this country and even his awareness of our environmental responsibilities have grown.
He may be Southern Baptist, as Jerry Falwell was, but Rick Warren is no Jerry Falwell.Still, Warren is very conservative on social issues and differs from the president-elect in this regard. That is why I find this choice refreshing — assuming Barack Obama truly has a friendship with and an appreciation for Rick Warren as a person and pastor. For a political leader to choose someone with whom he differs is the kind of change for which many of us have hoped. In this sense, it is good that Obama's "walk" about reaching across lines and boundaries matches his talk.
I, too, have many friends with whom I disagree. I am a progressive Baptist pastor from Oklahoma, and one of my dearest friends is a conservative Jewish lawyer from New York. Surely this is part of what it means to be an American.
If, however, Obama's choice of Warren was simply political, I find it unfortunate. Of course, in terms of crass political power, it would be wise to reach out to a major constituency that will appreciate seeing one of its own on the national stage. But that is not what the nation needs.Rather than a choice determined by political considerations, America would be better served by the choice of someone from Obama's former denomination; that is, someone who embodies a stream of Christianity that has been on the progressive edge of every positive change this nation has made.From the abolition of slavery to public education to women's suffrage to civil rights and even to anti-discrimination measures against homosexuals, followers of Christ have been the heart and soul of real change. Progressive Christians — those who have exemplified the call of Christ to love as we love ourselves and to treat others as we would be treated — are an underappreciated part of America's history.They have been supplanted in the public consciousness over the last three decades by the Religious Right. But the Religious Right's anti-science activism has done much harm.
In such a climate, it has been easy to forget that Christians from Isaac Newton to the contemporary geneticist Francis Collins have helped advance our understanding of the world.Moreover, their motivation has been driven by their faith. Much of what we western liberals think as "good" — human rights, gender equality, and so on — is rooted in the Christian ideal of the person having worth and dignity.
It would have been helpful and in keeping with Obama's own heritage to have had a progressive Christian deliver the inaugural invocation. In fact, I would have liked the president-elect to choose a layperson to lead the prayer. Ideally, it would have been a scientist who could have embodied the reality that faith and reason don't need to be compartmentalized, that one advances the other, as one foot progressively supports the other.However, it wasn't anyone's choice but Obama's to make, and he chose Warren. I just hope that it was a deeply personal choice, as all things religious should be.
A broken community, and hope for healing (Post-D, Op Ed, 2-14-08)
By Scott L. Stearman
02/14/2008
A little less than five years ago, my wife and I moved to an idyllic community called Kirkwood. Our first real visit, the one when we first seriously contemplated moving here after several years in France, occurred in October.
Wow, what a beautiful place Kirkwood is in the fall. It reminded us of that pseudo American town we'd seen at Euro Disney outside Paris: clean streets, music coming from the storefronts, everyone smiling and car horns used only to say hello. We kept expecting to see Opie walking down the street with his fishing pole over his shoulder. A few years later, I still haven't met Aunt Bee, and Opie apparently grew up and moved on.
Long ago, I digested a basic lesson from ancient philosophy: Things are not always what they seem. It takes a lot of money to keep Euro Disney looking perfect and pristine. Andy Griffith isn't a folksy sheriff; he's an actor. And Kirkwood is a lovely place filled with real human beings and a history that never would be confused with the plot of a small-town sitcom.Three policemen killed in 2 years. Two boys held captive by a man who lived just blocks from my house. A beloved son and a well-liked local boy who grew into an embittered man who killed five people last Thursday and then was shot and killed by police. These are the horrid realities of our community.
We can hide behind "we'll get past it," which is true enough, but the question is how we will do so. I suggest that we must begin by recognizing our brokenness and also feeling the hope of our healing. I suggest that we must consider two things simultaneously. The first point is simple and provides us with some needed clarity. The second is complex and forces us to levels of empathy that, frankly, are uncomfortable.
Holding these two thoughts simultaneously is not easy. But I believe it is essential. The first is this: Cookie Thornton did an unspeakably evil act that never can be excused or justified. The second is that his act cannot be divorced completely from the realities and perceptions of our broken city.
Violence is never OK. Period. No one explained this more eloquently than Martin Luther King Jr. did in his Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech:". . . Violence never brings permanent peace. It solves no social problem; it merely creates new and more complicated ones. Violence is impractical because it is a descending spiral ending in destruction for all. It is immoral because it seeks to humiliate the opponent rather than win his understanding. It seeks to annihilate, rather than convert. . . . It leaves society in monologue rather than dialogue. Violence ends up defeating itself. It creates bitterness in the survivors and brutality in the destroyers."
In the best tradition of the Bible and prophets, violence is an unacceptable means to any end. But too often we confuse the absence of violence with the presence of peace. Violence is never an option, but — and here's the harder part — neither is complacency. Neither is acting as if years of slavery, racism, Jim Crow laws and economic depravity make no difference in a people's perception of reality.
On Friday, I attended a meeting called by Harriet Patton of the Meacham Park Improvement Association. The meeting confirmed one clear and undeniable truth about Kirkwood specifically and about Saint Louis generally: We've got some work to do in healing the racial divide. The perception gap is wide. The ugly history of our past has reached into our present, and if we are not vigilant, it will destroy our future.Joe Cole, who is 89 and who has worked to improve race relations in the community for decades, said this of Mr. Thornton: "Everybody said he lost his brain. No, hate got into him. He couldn't stop the hate."This man let hate eat him alive, but let us not demonize him. We must all beware of hate, and remember that most atrocities have been carried out by otherwise normal folks.
Mr. Thornton's actions aren't explained by racism or discrimination; it's not that simple. But if any good can come of this tragedy, it would be if it forced us in Kirkwood to look even more intently at the needs and perceptions of all the people in our community and start forging relationships, building ties. We must seek to listen, to know and to hear.
This is exactly what Kirkwood Mayor Mike Swoboda encouraged at a meeting I attended with him about a year ago. He said, to put it very politely, that we white ministers needed to do more to establish and improve communications with people who live in Meacham Park. Partly because of his encouragement, I began to meet more of my Meacham neighbors. The Kirkwood Ministerial Alliance now has a renewed commitment to ensure that we do just that. At the meeting at which we planned last Friday night's vigil, we also set a meeting time to begin doing our part.
And where is the long-term hope for our community? The Apostle Paul said in his great letter to the Romans: "Hope that is seen is no hope at all."We hope for what is yet to be. We envision what we cannot see. We imagine what we can't image. We witness what we can't observe. This capacity is our only hope. It is at once the source and cause of our hope. If we see only what is, if we are able to perceive only the community of today, if we see only what now is the case, we never will work towards what can be.
Four beloved community members went to a meeting last Thursday night. Another just went to work. All assumed it would be a routine evening, that they would perform their respective duties and then go home.Most of us proceed through much of life this way until something wakes us up and reminds us that we don't have the control we think we do. We can despair of this fate, or we can live each moment, each day, understanding its significance and with the knowledge that it could be our last.Five public servants died serving their community. I hope the same can be said of me someday. And, perhaps, if more of us become similarly faithful, someday the reality of our commuunity will be more like what it seems to be.
02/14/2008
A little less than five years ago, my wife and I moved to an idyllic community called Kirkwood. Our first real visit, the one when we first seriously contemplated moving here after several years in France, occurred in October.
Wow, what a beautiful place Kirkwood is in the fall. It reminded us of that pseudo American town we'd seen at Euro Disney outside Paris: clean streets, music coming from the storefronts, everyone smiling and car horns used only to say hello. We kept expecting to see Opie walking down the street with his fishing pole over his shoulder. A few years later, I still haven't met Aunt Bee, and Opie apparently grew up and moved on.
Long ago, I digested a basic lesson from ancient philosophy: Things are not always what they seem. It takes a lot of money to keep Euro Disney looking perfect and pristine. Andy Griffith isn't a folksy sheriff; he's an actor. And Kirkwood is a lovely place filled with real human beings and a history that never would be confused with the plot of a small-town sitcom.Three policemen killed in 2 years. Two boys held captive by a man who lived just blocks from my house. A beloved son and a well-liked local boy who grew into an embittered man who killed five people last Thursday and then was shot and killed by police. These are the horrid realities of our community.
We can hide behind "we'll get past it," which is true enough, but the question is how we will do so. I suggest that we must begin by recognizing our brokenness and also feeling the hope of our healing. I suggest that we must consider two things simultaneously. The first point is simple and provides us with some needed clarity. The second is complex and forces us to levels of empathy that, frankly, are uncomfortable.
Holding these two thoughts simultaneously is not easy. But I believe it is essential. The first is this: Cookie Thornton did an unspeakably evil act that never can be excused or justified. The second is that his act cannot be divorced completely from the realities and perceptions of our broken city.
Violence is never OK. Period. No one explained this more eloquently than Martin Luther King Jr. did in his Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech:". . . Violence never brings permanent peace. It solves no social problem; it merely creates new and more complicated ones. Violence is impractical because it is a descending spiral ending in destruction for all. It is immoral because it seeks to humiliate the opponent rather than win his understanding. It seeks to annihilate, rather than convert. . . . It leaves society in monologue rather than dialogue. Violence ends up defeating itself. It creates bitterness in the survivors and brutality in the destroyers."
In the best tradition of the Bible and prophets, violence is an unacceptable means to any end. But too often we confuse the absence of violence with the presence of peace. Violence is never an option, but — and here's the harder part — neither is complacency. Neither is acting as if years of slavery, racism, Jim Crow laws and economic depravity make no difference in a people's perception of reality.
On Friday, I attended a meeting called by Harriet Patton of the Meacham Park Improvement Association. The meeting confirmed one clear and undeniable truth about Kirkwood specifically and about Saint Louis generally: We've got some work to do in healing the racial divide. The perception gap is wide. The ugly history of our past has reached into our present, and if we are not vigilant, it will destroy our future.Joe Cole, who is 89 and who has worked to improve race relations in the community for decades, said this of Mr. Thornton: "Everybody said he lost his brain. No, hate got into him. He couldn't stop the hate."This man let hate eat him alive, but let us not demonize him. We must all beware of hate, and remember that most atrocities have been carried out by otherwise normal folks.
Mr. Thornton's actions aren't explained by racism or discrimination; it's not that simple. But if any good can come of this tragedy, it would be if it forced us in Kirkwood to look even more intently at the needs and perceptions of all the people in our community and start forging relationships, building ties. We must seek to listen, to know and to hear.
This is exactly what Kirkwood Mayor Mike Swoboda encouraged at a meeting I attended with him about a year ago. He said, to put it very politely, that we white ministers needed to do more to establish and improve communications with people who live in Meacham Park. Partly because of his encouragement, I began to meet more of my Meacham neighbors. The Kirkwood Ministerial Alliance now has a renewed commitment to ensure that we do just that. At the meeting at which we planned last Friday night's vigil, we also set a meeting time to begin doing our part.
And where is the long-term hope for our community? The Apostle Paul said in his great letter to the Romans: "Hope that is seen is no hope at all."We hope for what is yet to be. We envision what we cannot see. We imagine what we can't image. We witness what we can't observe. This capacity is our only hope. It is at once the source and cause of our hope. If we see only what is, if we are able to perceive only the community of today, if we see only what now is the case, we never will work towards what can be.
Four beloved community members went to a meeting last Thursday night. Another just went to work. All assumed it would be a routine evening, that they would perform their respective duties and then go home.Most of us proceed through much of life this way until something wakes us up and reminds us that we don't have the control we think we do. We can despair of this fate, or we can live each moment, each day, understanding its significance and with the knowledge that it could be our last.Five public servants died serving their community. I hope the same can be said of me someday. And, perhaps, if more of us become similarly faithful, someday the reality of our commuunity will be more like what it seems to be.
Friday, December 22, 2006
An Age Old Question
Mom called the other day, asking that question she's been asking me and my sister for decades: what do you want for Christmas? As I thought about an answer, I realized, again, the answer is nothing. I couldn’t think of a thing I need, and not much that I want.
Sure there are things I’d love to have (a million dollars, a two car garage – the latter so I can fill it with the stuff I got in Christmases past), but I don’t NEED anything. And the stuff I want, most people who aren’t Donald Trump, aren’t in a position to give.
Sermons or sermonettes on the commercialization of Christmas are almost as common as Macy’s daily “one time event” catalogues. I remember hearing these sermons growing up, and I recently watched the very old “Miracle on Thirty-Fourth Street” which is also a sermon against crass commercialism. It’s easy to rail against our capitalistic commercialism. But who doesn’t go to the mall and enjoy looking at those shiny and soft things?
When I heard these sermons, I used to think the problem was out there – at the Mall, in the shopping center, or in our system that encourages material acquisition. But at best, that is only a fraction of the picture. Sure there are crass business people, Enron types, who ought to be fired, or in some cases put in jail. But most corporations are just doing business. How Macy’s makes any money after they pay their printing bill, I don’t understand, but I’m sure they’ve got that figured out. I agree with Ben Franklin who wrote that a rightly balanced desire for things helps build a strong economy – and you aid your neighbor when you rightly want right things. Desiring to live in a hovel helps no one. Including you.
I don’t think the problem is at the mall. I think the problem is in our heart. The problem is disordered love. When we love a flat screen television more than a person, there is a problem. When we focus solely on toys and tools and not baby Jesus and ultimate love, there is a problem.
How do we know if you heart is well ordered? God has given us giving. That is the true test. Are we willing to give, to convey our love by generous sacrificial gifts? This is where the sleigh sleds hit the snow. Dickens’ Scrooge figured it out, but it took three ghosts for him to see that it is only what we give that we keep.
For me, the reminder came in the faces and laughter of the African children we kept on Sunday night. 10 years old, orphaned, with a questionable future and no physical assets, they were amazingly happy. What they really missed was no “thing.” The question came during the evening: “are your parents still living?” Cecelia and I both, with a twinge of survivors guilt, were able to answer yes.
What do I want for Christmas? A whole lot more than a million dollars. I want a grateful and giving heart.
Sure there are things I’d love to have (a million dollars, a two car garage – the latter so I can fill it with the stuff I got in Christmases past), but I don’t NEED anything. And the stuff I want, most people who aren’t Donald Trump, aren’t in a position to give.
Sermons or sermonettes on the commercialization of Christmas are almost as common as Macy’s daily “one time event” catalogues. I remember hearing these sermons growing up, and I recently watched the very old “Miracle on Thirty-Fourth Street” which is also a sermon against crass commercialism. It’s easy to rail against our capitalistic commercialism. But who doesn’t go to the mall and enjoy looking at those shiny and soft things?
When I heard these sermons, I used to think the problem was out there – at the Mall, in the shopping center, or in our system that encourages material acquisition. But at best, that is only a fraction of the picture. Sure there are crass business people, Enron types, who ought to be fired, or in some cases put in jail. But most corporations are just doing business. How Macy’s makes any money after they pay their printing bill, I don’t understand, but I’m sure they’ve got that figured out. I agree with Ben Franklin who wrote that a rightly balanced desire for things helps build a strong economy – and you aid your neighbor when you rightly want right things. Desiring to live in a hovel helps no one. Including you.
I don’t think the problem is at the mall. I think the problem is in our heart. The problem is disordered love. When we love a flat screen television more than a person, there is a problem. When we focus solely on toys and tools and not baby Jesus and ultimate love, there is a problem.
How do we know if you heart is well ordered? God has given us giving. That is the true test. Are we willing to give, to convey our love by generous sacrificial gifts? This is where the sleigh sleds hit the snow. Dickens’ Scrooge figured it out, but it took three ghosts for him to see that it is only what we give that we keep.
For me, the reminder came in the faces and laughter of the African children we kept on Sunday night. 10 years old, orphaned, with a questionable future and no physical assets, they were amazingly happy. What they really missed was no “thing.” The question came during the evening: “are your parents still living?” Cecelia and I both, with a twinge of survivors guilt, were able to answer yes.
What do I want for Christmas? A whole lot more than a million dollars. I want a grateful and giving heart.
Op Ed Sunday November 5, 06 STL Post Dispatch
Moderates should conspire to take over America
By Scott Stearman
11/05/2006
I'd like to direct this to American Muslims: Dear Friends of Faith,
One of my Baptist brethren says you are busy plotting the takeover of America, but I hope you'll pause in your preparations for a moment to read these words from a fellow faith child of Abraham. There are vast and significant differences between our faith traditions. But let me point to one area where we should get together and commiserate: Both of our traditions have been hijacked by extreme fundamentalism.
David Clippard is the current executive director of the Missouri Baptist Convention. In a public sermon on Monday, he declared that Islam has a strategy to conquer America, that Muslim student groups get support for this cause and that, eventually, anyone who does not convert of their own accord will be forced to adopt Islamic law. His words are ridiculous, but painful. Obviously, they are painful to you, but it is important for you to know that they also are painful to Baptists around the world. We hate this sort of hate speech. I shared Clippard's words with my congregation on Wednesday night. They were aghast, angry, sad and sorry.
We want to apologize, but we recognize the limitations of such expressions. After all, are we responsible for the extreme fundamentalists who have taken our beloved Bible and turned it into a sword of hatred? Are we responsible for those who would take our central symbol, the cross meant to express self-sacrificial love, and use it as an offensive statement? (Referring to Muslims, Clippard's sermon said that we must "crucify you in Christ!") As an Oklahoman who had a friend die in the Oklahoma City bombing, I ask: Are Christians somehow responsible for Timothy McVeigh — just as the extreme fundamentalists blame Islam for Osama?
Muslims often are criticized for not actively fighting fundamentalism. I have voiced this criticism myself. Indeed, part of our commiseration can revolve around discussions of how we walk the narrow road of moderation.It is not always obvious how to fight fundamentalism and secularism. The values that we believe God gave to us are undermined by both.
At the same time, we often find ourselves in the unenviable position of being called unfaithful by fundamentalists and irrational by secularists. We share the view that fundamentalists and secularists have misplaced the foundation of ethical behavior and that both literalism and rationalism are idols. And so we follow our shared faith-Father Abraham who, according to the story in your tradition, crushed the idols in his own father's "idol shop."
Neither Clippard's words nor the seemingly positive reception of those words represent the teachings of Christ. I have a feeling that you already know this, but I think you need to hear it from one of "us." And although comparisons can be overwrought, I can imagine your feelings of frustrations as your own faith tradition is used to fan the flames of hate and promote violence.
Let us take a moment, then, to cry together, and then begin plotting together how to "take over" America with the values of mutual respect and active dialogue.
By Scott Stearman
11/05/2006
I'd like to direct this to American Muslims: Dear Friends of Faith,
One of my Baptist brethren says you are busy plotting the takeover of America, but I hope you'll pause in your preparations for a moment to read these words from a fellow faith child of Abraham. There are vast and significant differences between our faith traditions. But let me point to one area where we should get together and commiserate: Both of our traditions have been hijacked by extreme fundamentalism.
David Clippard is the current executive director of the Missouri Baptist Convention. In a public sermon on Monday, he declared that Islam has a strategy to conquer America, that Muslim student groups get support for this cause and that, eventually, anyone who does not convert of their own accord will be forced to adopt Islamic law. His words are ridiculous, but painful. Obviously, they are painful to you, but it is important for you to know that they also are painful to Baptists around the world. We hate this sort of hate speech. I shared Clippard's words with my congregation on Wednesday night. They were aghast, angry, sad and sorry.
We want to apologize, but we recognize the limitations of such expressions. After all, are we responsible for the extreme fundamentalists who have taken our beloved Bible and turned it into a sword of hatred? Are we responsible for those who would take our central symbol, the cross meant to express self-sacrificial love, and use it as an offensive statement? (Referring to Muslims, Clippard's sermon said that we must "crucify you in Christ!") As an Oklahoman who had a friend die in the Oklahoma City bombing, I ask: Are Christians somehow responsible for Timothy McVeigh — just as the extreme fundamentalists blame Islam for Osama?
Muslims often are criticized for not actively fighting fundamentalism. I have voiced this criticism myself. Indeed, part of our commiseration can revolve around discussions of how we walk the narrow road of moderation.It is not always obvious how to fight fundamentalism and secularism. The values that we believe God gave to us are undermined by both.
At the same time, we often find ourselves in the unenviable position of being called unfaithful by fundamentalists and irrational by secularists. We share the view that fundamentalists and secularists have misplaced the foundation of ethical behavior and that both literalism and rationalism are idols. And so we follow our shared faith-Father Abraham who, according to the story in your tradition, crushed the idols in his own father's "idol shop."
Neither Clippard's words nor the seemingly positive reception of those words represent the teachings of Christ. I have a feeling that you already know this, but I think you need to hear it from one of "us." And although comparisons can be overwrought, I can imagine your feelings of frustrations as your own faith tradition is used to fan the flames of hate and promote violence.
Let us take a moment, then, to cry together, and then begin plotting together how to "take over" America with the values of mutual respect and active dialogue.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
trial
"It is difficult to get the news from poems, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there." William Carlos Williams
Abraham Heschel quotes
Just came across these yesterday:
God is of no importance unless He is of utmost importance."
"When I was young, I used to admire intelligent people; as I grow older, I admire kind people."
God is of no importance unless He is of utmost importance."
"When I was young, I used to admire intelligent people; as I grow older, I admire kind people."
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