My last post here was about the importance of engaging with and having conversations with people who do not share the same views. Of course, it's easy while doing that to move to the place where we agree with everyone, become wishy-washy, and refuse to take a stand. What other people have to say is important--what YOU have to say is equally important, and the game of life in community is constantly striking balances. So this post is about what I believe, and experiences I had this summer that showed me the Kingdom of God.
Come we that love the Lord,
And let our joys be known!
Join in a song with sweet accord,
Join in a song with sweet accord,
And thus surround the throne,
And thus surround the throne.
It's often said that Sunday morning worship is only a part of what church is. That church, that is, the coming together of the community of believers, should happen everywhere. It should happen in schools and in workplaces. It should happen in times and areas of disaster, and it should happen on the streets.
On Sunday, June 30th, our church service at Middle Collegiate Church had two "sections" to it. There was the portion of the service that happened inside the church, where we gathered and sang and read scripture and prayed. And when that bit was done, we grabbed bagged lunches, got on the subway, heading up to 39th street, where we connected with members of the other Collegiate Churches, and continued our worship on the streets.
By marching in the NYC Pride March.
We're marching to Zion!
Beautiful, beautiful Zion!
We're marching upward to Zion,
The beautiful city of God!
For those of you unaware of the history of the LGBT Rights movement in America, there was one event that really kicked off the movement, that became a rallying point and help bring together the various activists and organizations throughout the country. That event was the Stonewall Riots on June 28th, 1969. There was a police raid on a gay bar in Greenwich Village, and the patrons essentially said, "We're not gonna take it," starting riots that lasted for three days and involved kicklines.
Each year since then, there has been a march on or around that day, commemorating the Stonewall Riots. Eventually that spread throughout the world, and that's why it's in late June that all these Pride parades and celebrations happen.
As for me, despite 6 years in NYC, this was my first Pride. I tend to leave the city during the summer, like any sane person, so I've just never been around for it. And honestly, large gatherings of people in NYC isn't really my thing (I've never been to the Macy's Parade, or watched the ball drop in Times Square)… but when the opportunity came to march in Pride with my church, that just seemed so right.
One of my friends marching in our group turned to me and, with a twinkle in her eye, challenged me to a contest of "who can spot the first protester?" Neither of us won. We didn't see a single protester as we walked in the parade. She was so surprised--in her many years of marching, there had always been protesters, some harmless, some scary. Instead, we saw people celebrating life--dare I say, celebrating the lives that God has given all of us.
Let those refuse to sing
who never knew our God;
but children of the heavenly King,
but children of the heavenly King
may speak their joys abroad,
may speak their joys abroad.
On Saturday, August 24th, very early in the morning, I arrived in Washington DC's Union Station, and slowly began to find my way the National Mall, to see what I could see of the monuments before the crowds joined as part of the March on Washington. (For those confused, there were TWO March on Washington 50th Anniversary events, one on the 24th and one on the 28th.) Later in the morning, I joined in the march.
The most miraculous thing about that day, in my experience, was that, for that day, in that place, it was assumed that we were all there because we believed in equal rights. For that day, in that place, we all knew we were fighting together. Having lived for two years in a place where race tensions run high, being white in a primarily black neighborhood that is slowly being overrun by white starving artists, daily having to confront my own role in gentrification but not being able to afford to live in other neighborhoods, I'm in an environment where I encounter racial tension on a daily basis. And at the march, there was no second-guessing of motives. We have not achieved King's dream yet--there is far too much social, economic, and political inequality out there for us to pretend we're living in a world where people of all skin colors are treated the same, but for that day, I saw that world come alive. On that lawn, on that day, we saw a glimpse of King's dream coming true.
I would say, a glimpse of the Kingdom of God.
The hill of Zion yields
a thousand sacred sweets
before we reach the heavenly fields,
before we reach the heavenly fields,
or walk the golden streets,
or walk the golden streets.
You know who else was there at the March on Washington? My church. Yep, Middle Collegiate, marching for justice, as we do.
When people ask me why I'm going to seminary, there's usually a different question they're actually asking. It might be "What are you going to do afterwards?" or "Are you leaving theater?" or "Are you going to become a crazy Christian who I'll hate?" And I'll give a different answer based on what question I think they're really asking. I might talk about the possibility of chaplaincy or nonprofit work, I might talk about merging the arts and religion in interesting ways or their shared backgrounds, I might talk about pushing the church towards inclusion.
But when it comes down to it, why am I going to seminary? Because I believe in the vision of the Kingdom of God that isn't about condemnation, or judgement, or getting to heaven. It's a vision of a world we celebrate and take care each other and the world. It's a vision of a world where our differences are valued, not feared. It's a vision of the world where we encounter each other in a spirit of collaboration rather than with walls of self-interest. And perhaps the most important thing my religion teaches me is that it is my responsibility to help this idea of what the world could be come to fruition. It is also my joy. In these marches, this moments where the Kingdom can almost be seen, I see God. Not a God that comes down out of heaven but a God that is created among us when we treat others with curiosity and compassion. Let those refuse to sing who never knew that God, but children of the heavenly king--Christian, atheist, gay, straight, black, white, all denominations in between and beyond--we will speak our joys abroad, as we cry out for freedom, as we sing for equality, as we shout for justice.
I am blessed and privileged to be a part of religious communities that take this seriously and are on the front lines for equality, which I believe to be God's work in the world. Before we reach the heavenly fields or walk the golden streets, before death and whatever comes after it, the thousand sacred sweets of Zion, the Kingdom, are here, on this earth. We march for them. We march to that Kingdom. It is a march through time, through laws that are just and unjust, through economic crises, through violence and blame. It is a long march, but it is worth it.
No comments:
Post a Comment