The View from Bolton Street
The View from Bolton Street
“I’ve got peace like a river, peace like a river, I’ve got peace like a river in my soul”
Question for you: on a scale of slight dribble to roaring river, how is your peace?
I hope more than a few of you will say “like a river in my soul, alleluia” and for that I am cery grateful.
I suspect for others it might range from “babbling brook” to “downspout in a mild rain storm” and that too is something to celebrate and build upon.
And for a few it may be nary a trickle - and for you friends I offer many prayers. It is hard to be in. Place where you find little peace - in particular because peace is the kind of thing that once you have lost it can be hard to find again.
The lectionary this week is filled with people seeking peace - the people of Israel demanding a king. The Corinthians looking for guidance amidst their own strife, the people of Nazareth angry at Jesus for the disturbance he has wrought — are all communities in their own way looking for someone to bring peace back to their livev.
In our world today we see similar, and often competing, demands for peace. We have lost it. We can’t find it. We want, maybe demand, that it be brought to us.
Amidst all that chaos why does Jesus do?
He doesn’t leave. He doesn’t give in to the pressure of family and friends asking him to stop for the sake of peace. He doesn’t declare war. He simply looks to his left and his right and says:
Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”
For Jesus and for us reclaiming peace in our hearts, our minds, our souls begins by simply doing the will of God, together, as people of faith. It begins by restoring a sense of peace among the chosen family doing the work right here.
To borrow my favorite line from Bryan Stevenson, it starts by “getting proximate.” There is so much out in the world that is beyond our control. So much chaos and strife that is put in front of our faces to intentionally drive us crazy — and the answer is to simply focus closer to home.
How can we bring peace to our church? Our block? Our neighborhood? Our city?
How can we find common cause with our neighbors here?
You can drive yourself crazy hoping for peace out there - or you can get to work building peace right here.
The choice is yours - but Jesus has shown us the way, and I hope we can follow suit.
The View from Bolton Street
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I; send me!”
Isaiah 6:8
Be careful what you wish for! Always a good mantra and even more so when the Holy Spirit is involved! Whether Isaiah was just caught up in the moment, or felt fully enveloped by the spirit, or was just to dumb to say no — he heard God’s call in Isaiah and proceeded to spend the rest of his years condemning the people of Israel for their selfish, stubborn and reckless ways. I am sure it is not the life he had imagined, and yet it was exactly what he was called to.
Many of us who have been called one way or another to service to God and the Church have similar call stories, though hopefully not quite as dramatic as Isaiah’s. But there is nothing wrong with you if they are.
After all, when Martin Luther King, Jr heard the call he did not think it would end on a Memphis Motel balcony, The Rev. Dr Pauli Murray probably did not envision returning to Baltimore to pastor a church when she set out on her career, and many other sinners and saints could tell similar stories.
The one commonality of course - is that at some point you turn your life over to God and acknowledge the Holy Spirit is in charge. It sounds scary, but it can be quite liberating.
Just knowing that from now on the standard by which you will be judged is not of human origin, but heavenly, is extremely liberating. Your life, your worth, is not determined by how much money you make, or how many titles you obtain, how many friends you have, or any other earthly measure - but only and exclusively based on one thing — did you seek to follow the spirit, come what may, and cost what it will?
Friends as we prepare to gather this Trinity Sunday - I hope you might ask where God might be sending you? What kind of service the Holy Spirit might be laying on your heart? And how you might be able to obtain perfect freedom by letting go of the demands of this world and more fully embracing the promises of God’s Kingdom.
The View from Bolton Street
Happy Birthday, church!
Pentecost is usually described as the Church’s (Capital C ) birthday because it is the day we celebrate both the indwelling of the Holy Spirit In Jesus’ followers as well as the first mass conversion - growing the church from a group of around 50 to more than 5000 in mere hours.
There is plenty to discuss theologically and historically whether this is the right framework to use, but perhaps we put that aside for a moment and just let it be the Church’s Birthday.
What blessings would you celebrate in the life of the Church?
What things would you seek to improve on? What if any resolutions would you make for the future of the Church?
And most importantly - who would you invite to the party?
Birthdays are great times to remember all the good we have done and the good we are, and also a nice moment for introspection — mayne this is the year I finally take up tennis, or learn another language, or call that long lost friend.
But they are also great excuses to party! We don’t throw parties only for our perfect friends, our good looking friends, our smartest and most put together friends — but for all our friends! Even the slightly messy ones. Sometimes especially the messy ones.
This Pentecost consider inviting someone to celebrate the church’s birthday with you. Not because we are perfect, or even close. But because we are clear about who he desire to be, honest about the challenges of our past and present, and most importantly excited to celebrate our future together.
Even when it’s a little messy :)
The View from Bolton Street
May The Lord bless you
and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine on you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you
and give you peace.”’
Numbers 6:24-26
This short piece of text that YHWH teaches Moses to teach Aaron and the other priests in the Jewish tradition is a sacred and familiar piece of scripture across many faiths. Not only do we in the Christian tradition use it as a blessing during our own services, but the actions of light, peace and grace being offered by the Divine are found just as frequently in the Quran or various Hindu and Buddhist sacred texts as they are in the Old or New Testament.
If you did not know this was a Jewish blessing, or that it had resonances across other traditions, don’t be ashamed! We do not spend nearly enough time considering the overlapping connections between our faiths and we tend to think it is all about us.
I remember as a young priest visiting a synagogue in Miami as part of an interfaith exercise and one of the readings contained the line: “May the words of my mouth, and the meditations of my heart, be always acceptable in thy sight oh Lord our God.” Which frequently is used by preachers before they pray.
Embarrassment has blocked from my mind what I actually said, but I am sure it was something like, ‘huh, interesting we use the same prayer as well.’ To which the Rabbi replied, very graciously, ‘well where do you think you got it?’
There is no shame in not knowing something. There are many things that we don’t know, many things we don’t get right the first time. Humility is a gift of the spirit for a reason, and being able to say “well I didn’t get that right but I can try better” is one of the more Christian behaviors we can do.
Unfortunately, our current public debate does not allow for a lot of nuance, a lot of doubt, a lot of uncertainty. We put a high value on being right, and perhaps an even higher value on others being wrong. So it is good to remember that this blessing - of light, of grace, and of peace, is offered to all of God’s people. Not just the ones we like.
How can you be an offering of Light, of Grace, of Peace, this week?
The View from Bolton Street
On Locked Rooms, Fear, and Love
This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. John 15:12-13
Some of Jesus’ most beautiful words about love are spoken at a time of deep fear. It should not be lost on us that the Gospel readings for last week and this week are from Jesus’ farewell discourse, spoken to his disciples in the Upper Room where they were locked away before Jesus’ arrest, trial and crucifixion. In that moment of fear and division and love Jesus chose instead to preach to his followers about love and unity, compassion and understanding. Love. Sacrifice. Lifting up. Imploring his followers to go out and bear the fruits of love to the world.
Look around. We don’t have to look around much to see a world full of fear and mistrust. To see doors locked for fear of those on the other side. We protest occupation with occupation. We fight fire with fire. We blame, and shame, and mock, and ridicule those who disagree with us. We cast lots for their clothing.
But even in those moments Jesus asked his disciples to strike out in love. Jesus said to his disciples, “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. To abide is an important term here. Because when we are surrounded with hate and animosity it can be hard to love. More specifically, it can be lonely to love.
Whether we are talking about Israel-Palestine, Trump-Biden, or even Brandon-Sheila, our culture does not tolerate a lot of ‘Love your neighbor’ thinking. That is why this language of abiding is so important. Because to Abide means to be with, reside with, take up cause with. When we abide in Jesus’ love we abide in Jesus himself and suddenly we are not alone.
You are not alone.
You are part of a community of love. One that looks at the world through Jesus’ eyes. We are not required to hate our neighbors or our enemies. We know that it does not help to belittle or demean or mock their causes or their attitudes, but only serves to create more separation, more otherness in the world. You are part of a community of love that asks questions out of curiosity and compassion, that seeks understanding and relationship, that understands that peace obtained easily is no peace at all, that grace given cheaply is no grace at all.
Jesus did some of his best work in times not unlike those we are living in today. It is my fervent belief that Jesus is still engaged in that same work, and that we, if we so desire, can be his hands, his feet, his heart, his mind and in his strength.
The View from Bolton Street
An angel of the Lord said to Philip, “Get up and go toward the south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” (This is a wilderness road.)
Acts 8:26
A wilderness road indeed. Now I know a little bit about this wilderness road. In 2019 I and a few other hundred people biked from Jerusalem to the border with Gaza, and then down to the Red Sea. Much of this path is now impossible due to the terrorist attack on October 7th and the continuing war in Gaza. This road has been a wilderness road since Jesus time, and continues to be today.
But today I am not talking about the physical aspect of this ‘wilderness’ road. Let us consider the challenges of ‘journeying’ from Jerusalem to Gaza today.
You see ‘Jerusalem’ is easy. Jerusalem, that ‘City of Peace’, exists as a place of refuge, of interaction,of status quo, where we are taught to put aside our differences, our conflicts and our concerns and pretend like we all get along. We can hop on a plane, take a taxi or train from the airport and be in a Holy City for the three Abrahamic traditions, Islam, Christianity and Judaism. We travel there, even under terrible circumstances in the surrounding communities, and walk in the footsteps of Jesus, and then come home having our own religious epiphanies. Especially as Westerners we are often oblivious to the invisible lines and divisions of the city. We experience the historic beauty of the city and miss everything else.
But Gaza. Gaza is a different story.
Even before the current war, Gaza has been a proverbial wilderness. By that I don’t mean it was not developed, or was in any backwards, but rather that our connection to Gaza is so distant, our understanding of life there so limited, that it might as well be a Wilderness. Physical access is controlled by Israel on one side and Egypt on the other. As westerners our only access to information comes from media controlled by the ruling authority and independent first hand accounts if we are lucky enough to have such connections. Like any wilderness, the reality of Gaza is much more complex than we might think.
Imagine if Philip had been too scared to go down that road. How would our entire Christian faith be different if Philip had not met that Ethiopian Eunuch on the road to Gaza? Had not shared the story of Jesus? Had not made the first conversion outside of his own tradition?
We would not be here. That is how different it would be.
It is comfortable to sit in the status quo of Jerusalem. Neatly defined lines about where we can and can’t go, what we can and can’t say. Silent acceptance of segregation, division, and an unspoken understanding of who is ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. If you disagree, I ask you to consider how you view those on the other side of the political or social spectrum from you. Admit it, it is nice to assume that anyone who votes differently than you do, is somehow less intelligent, less connected to the world, less ‘good’.
But when it comes down to heading down that wilderness road? The fear sets in. We don’t know what we will find. We don’t understand the situation. We don’t speak the language. We don’t know the rules of the game. There may not be any rules at all.
And yet, that is exactly where Christ points us. To reach out our hands in love to those in the wilderness. But not so we can ‘save’ them, but rather so we can grow closer to God together. I encourage you to, wherever you sit today on the War in Gaza, take some steps on that Wilderness road. Acknowledge that you don’t have all the answers. Acknowledge the humanity of those who think and act differently than you do. Seek out voices of difference on the road with whom you might be able to grow closer to God together. This is of course just as true for our own political conflicts here in America, in Baltimore, or even the continuing Yankees-Orioles conflict.
Okay maybe we wait on that last one.
One last word on Wilderness and terrorism: One of the forgotten tragedies, at least in the West, of October 7th is that many of the Israelis killed were precisely the kind of people building peace, working across differences, and seeking to help their neighbors. They were Jewish and Muslim, Arab and other. Volunteers who would provide medical care, aid and assistance to Gazans stuck on the other side of the fence. These voices are in increasingly short supply everywhere. The political terrorism by extremists in our own country has made it scarier and scarier to talk to those who vote differently than we do. The local terrorism of crime and addiction in Baltimore has had a similar chilling effect on dialogue. Just consider how COVID has deepened division between yourself and the average stranger in your community. Terrorism of all stripes has raised our level of fear.
But Jesus offers us freedom from fear. Jesus offers us an antidote to terrorism and division, and that is love and compassion. As tensions rise all around us Friends, I encourage you to similarly rise up as examples of God’s never failing love. For neighbor and stranger, friend and relative, enemy and ally alike.
The View from Bolton Street
On Bishops (and everyone else) behaving badly
There has been a small earthquake this week in the Episcopal Church world, as one of our Bishops admitted to a significant error in judgment during an Easter Vigil service at the Cathedral in his Diocese. Today I would like to reflect a bit on this incident, but encourage all of us take a deep breath first and offer some space to listen humbly first.
This is a somewhat unique scandal in that most of us did not hear of it until after the Diocese had gone through their own process of reconciliation, atonement and begun the process of healing. The incident, removing a priest’s collar as a joke after they made a mistake on the altar, is a poor choice at best, and overlaid with tensions around gender, age, identity and power becomes pretty egregious. The Bishop messed up, the Bishop apologized, there is certainly still more work to be done however, at Trinity Cathedral Boston, in the Diocese of Massachusetts, and everywhere.
I am more interested in how the rest of the Church has responded to this instance, and in so many other instances of clear (and sometimes less clear) malfeasance and sinfulness. Why, when we see someone make a mistake, do we rush to point it out, call it out, make sure others know, call for their removal, boldly proclaim exactly what should happen, before we even know the full context?
Let me say that I do believe our desire to ‘make an example’ of bad actors usually comes from a place of good intentions. We see something bad, and we want it to stop as soon as possible, so we propose getting rid of the problem.
But what if the problem is not the Bishop of Massachusetts? What is the problem is not the music executive or the TV producer? What if the problem is not the radical islamist or the traumatized soldier?
What if the problem is deeper than that?
I would like to suggest that ‘the problem’ is rarely one individual, but rather a systemic reality that privileges one group, view, perspective over another. AND more crucially, that when we focus on ‘the one bad actor’ we allow the system to exist, persist and even get worse.
Whatever your thoughts on Bishop Gates’ action and his response, blaming everything on one individual, calling for his removal, and getting angry at one person does not change an ecclesiastical system that privileges straight white men over everyone else. In fact, by targeting one person, particularly a repentant one, you make it easier for the system to persist.
If anything, the last year in the Episcopal Church has shown us that even with an ever growing number of female bishops and clergy, if we do not seek out the systemic problems in our tradition, they will continue to exist and persist. People will continue to pine for a ‘real’ (meaning male) Bishop or priest. They will criticize the actions of Female, Minority, and Queer leaders, both lay and ordained, because they don’t ‘do it the same way’ as the majority. Those who have found a safe haven in this ecclesiastical system, no matter their own background, will criticize new voices, movements and actors who are asking for a different kind of Church. They will fall into old stereotypes to protect themselves and in order to weaponize them against others.
I fully recognize that as a straight white male priest in the Episcopal tradition my voice on this may be viewed with suspicion. Good. It should be. I only experience these stories from second and third hand experiences. Sometimes I get it wrong. When I do I have amazing friends and colleagues who will call it out, let me know, and help me get better.
I would not be the priest or human I am without these kind of people in my life. One of them was just nominated for Presiding Bishop. And for that I am very, very grateful.
I have many strengths and weaknesses in my own ministry, but one two qualities I am always seeking to improve on are listening and humility.
When I first sought out ordination and complained how long it was taking, The (now) Rt Rev Dede Duncan-Probe reminded me I was on God’s time.
When I demurred getting involved in Trans rights in Miami because it was not ‘my issue’, some members of the Cathedral reminded me that is why they needed my voice.
When we started our reparations program and did not include criminal justice as a core tenet, Donna Brown from the Citizen’s Policing Project called me out, and we corrected it.
When I wanted to run and tell everyone Deacon Natalie’s story, she pulled me back and reminded me it was her story to tell and we would be on God (and the Deacon’s) time.
Over and over again I have learned from my own mistakes because I was willing to hear the criticism and seek out a better solution. I fear that our current mob mentality towards those who disagree with us not only prevents us from enacting systemic change, but also makes us fearful to ever admit we could be wrong, ensuring that systemic evils stay in place even longer.
Friends, increasingly we inhabit a world of black and white, right and wrong. With us or against us. It is easier to see everyone we disagree with us as ‘wrong’ or ‘other.’ However, it becomes more and more difficult to hold that position when we begin to acknowledge we don’t have all the answers. And the argument falls apart entirely when we dig at the roots of the problem and realize it isn’t about any one individual or group. I hope you will consider this week how to be less judgmental and more curious, less sure and more humble, less certain and more faithful.
Faithful in God’s love. God’s hope. And God’s forgiveness.
The View from Bolton Street
See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are.
1 John 3:1
Sometimes it is hard to believe in resurrection. Sometimes, when segregation, division, violence and hate rule the day, it is hard to believe in resurrection. For this reason, I was really happy to welcome Sarah and John from the Rossing Center to Memorial this week. No matter how difficult and challenging we find the conflict in Gaza from here, they live it every day. Not only do they live it, but they have chosen to jump into the middle of this conflict and seek healing, hope, and reconciliation.
I do not know why it is our human nature to seek out conflict. but I do know that one way that we cope with our own difficulties is to focus elsewhere on problems and purported enemies that seem so much bigger and more terrible than what we see around us. So I am grateful for the reminder from John that we are all Children of God, and I am grateful for the witness of Sarah and John who showed us what it means to believe that the other is also a child of God.
It is true that no dialogue between community members, either here or in Jerusalem, is going to end the conflict in Gaza. We have limited influence over the powers and principalities that drive violence and conflict the world over.
But it is also true that when we open up and listen to those who disagree with us, even vigorously, and seek to see them first and foremost as Children of God, it is much harder to hate them. Whether they are Israeli or Palestinian, Black or White, Republican or Democrat, or even Yankees fans.
In this Easter Season we re-read the stories of Jesus returning to his disciples after the resurrection. The first thing he says to them is "Peace be upon you." especially when they were startled and terrified. So we too, perhaps, should seek peace in our hearts and in our lives.
One concrete way to practice peace building is to listen to those more closer to the conflict than we are. Below is a video series produced by the Diocese of Jerusalem featuring clergy from around the Diocese. I encourage you to listen to the first two episodes and continue coming back each week during the Easter season to here from our siblings in Christ in the region.
The View from Bolton Street
“Nothing attracts a crowd… like a crowd”
Black Gold, Soul Asylum
So much of the passion narrative centers around ‘the crowd’. Whether it is the Crowd outside of Lazarus’ house, the crowd on Palm Sunday or the crowds condemning Jesus to Pilate, they drive the narrative in a way that just doesn’t happen in the rest of the scriptures.
Yes, obviously there are crowds in Galilee and during the sermon on the mount and the feeding of the 5,000 - but those crowds follow Jesus, they seek him out.
By the time Jesus has arrived in Jerusalem, the crowd has become a mob. And mobs have minds of their own.
We have seen a little bit of that mob mentality here in Baltimore in the last week. A tragic accident on the Patapsco River resulted in the death of six construction workers toiling overnight, and the quick thinking and action of others saved the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands.
Locally we are mourning those who died, celebrating the work of those who came to the rescue, and figuring out how to move forward.
But the rest of the world wants to make this about something else. And when the mob decides on a narrative, it is hard to put it back in the bottle. Because, as 90’s icons Soul Asylum taught us, nothing attracts a crowd like a crowd.
They also taught us another important lesson - “I’m want for somebody to shove, I need somebody to shove, I want somebody to shove me.” Look, I loved to dive into a mosh pit as a kid to this song. I loved to get inside and push and shove and feel alive. But it took me a while to realize that that desire for conflict, for contact, had larger consequences than torn shirt at the HFStival.
The crowd that led Jesus into Jerusalem wanted someone to shove. And when Jesus made it clear he was not there to lead a violent revolution, they turned on Jesus and found someone else to shove.
In the aftermath of the Key Bridge collapse, the crowds again want someone to shove. The ship. The inspectors. The first responders. The immigration status of the repair team. Anyone who could be at fault because it is hard for us to accept that sometimes bad things happen.
But friends, sometimes bad things happen. And when they do people of faith step into the breach. To pray. To love. To Feed. To share. Amidst all the violence of Good Friday and the Stations of the Cross, we sometimes forget about the small moments of relief granted to Jesus. The woman who wiped his face. Simon of Cyrene carrying the load. The women of Jerusalem. The words of the criminal on the cross. The visitation of his mother and the disciple whom he loved.