From the River to the Sea

I’ve had conversations recently with people both inside and beyond our congregation about the phrase “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” which has been invoked in the activism happening for Gaza in the last few months, and which has been used in Palestine for decades. The upcoming 25 Mile March for Peace and Liberation in Gaza is using the phrase as a part of its title. Because I had not heard it except in the context of a rallying cry for the civil rights and just treatment of Palestinians in the place where they live, it seemed - and seems - to me a poetic and evocative expression of that longing.

I have, however come to nuance my understanding. What many of you probably already know is that at least some Jews experience “from the river to the sea” as deeply harmful and antisemitic. Because it has been used by Hamas - even included in its charter - with a meaning that includes the complete annihilation of the state of Israel and its citizens, it is associated only with violence, terrorism and destruction. In other words: destroy all Jews living between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean.

Contemporary activists and politicians like Rashida Tlaib, who continue to employ the phrase assure detractors that, “From the river to the sea is an aspirational call for freedom, human rights, and peaceful coexistence, not death, destruction, or hate.” This is certainly the way I have been understanding the call of the phrase.

I have become more circumspect about how I understand “from the river to the sea,” because of how evocative it is in both Jewish communities and those advocating for Palestine. I may not use that language in my own advocacy, but I am part of Mennonite Action. And because Mennonite Action is endorsing the 25 Mile Walk and because they continue to use “From the River to the Sea” in their title and publicity, I thought I would share their language about how they understand that call and cry for freedom from the river to the sea.

The following is in the intro to the sign up, written by organizers who include Jews and Palestinians as well as many other diverse identities:

When we say "Freedom from the River to the Sea," we call for universal freedom and safety for everyone from the Mediterranean Sea to the Jordan River. We call for universal access to food, water, shelter, education, and medical care. We call for freedom of movement and freedom of expression regardless of religion or ethnicity.

When we say "Freedom from the River to the Sea," we long for true liberation for all peoples beyond false borders. Our conscience calls us to forcefully and unceasingly demand an end to the continuing Israeli expulsion of Palestinians. We know that there is no military solution. True safety and freedom must be collective. We unequivocally call for Palestinian self-determination from the river to the sea. We call for an end to Israeli apartheid, Zionism, nationalism, and settler colonialism.

We are walking toward the world we yearn for: Indigenous sovereignty restored, land held as sacred, not as property, and an end to all systems that exploit, extract, and kill. We are walking for peace, life, and liberation, from every river to every sea.

Come walk with us!

Don’t Carry it All

I don’t know how all of y’all are feeling about this present moment in geo-politics and life in the world. It feels heavy to me. Really heavy. So when I was looking for something to open our worship committee meeting this past Monday and stumbled on the opening line of a meditation by Howard Thurman I knew it was the one I needed.

“In these turbulent times,” Thurman begins in the essay “Life Goes On.” And though writing over 70 years ago, he could as soon have been writing about this year. Or almost any year at all.

Indeed, he says about Meditations of the Heart, the collection of essays of which this one is a part

 “they are addressed to some of the deep and insistent needs of the human spirit, which needs know no age, clime, culture or group…Their purpose is to focus the mind and heart upon God as the Eternal Source and Goal of Life.”

In this essay Thurman holds in balance the reminder to focus on gratitude for the little gifts of bird song and the gleam of stars, and yet to not shrink from “the evilness of evil.” I found this reminder of the importance of returning my gaze to God’s gifts around me in balance with the overwhelm of war and injustice in the world to be a helpful and hopeful boost.

One of the reasons I really appreciate Thurman’s work is that I know he was writing for a community, writing for beloved people who carried the weight of the world’s evils and their own struggles and joys together. He wasn’t theorizing but encouraging a particular people to share the burden. And again that knowledge gives me hope.

The Portland band (and one of my favorites) The Decemberists have a song that has been buoying me up this week with that same reminder. While their lyrics can be a little obtuse, there is clarity in the lines:

Here we come to a turning of the season
Witness to the arc towards the sun
The neighbor's blessed burden within reason
Becomes a burden borne of all in one…

Let the yoke fall from our shoulders
Don't carry it all, don't carry it all
We are all our hands in holders
Beneath this bold and brilliant sun

Don’t carry it all! Together we share the joy and the burden of responding to the great weight of the world. Together we share the joys and responsibilities and sorrows the small spheres of our lives.

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Here’s a youtube link to the song but the whole album is worth listening to. They recruited Gillian Welch on the harmonies, which makes it extra awesome.

Lent Through Your Senses

I’m all about small steps and short accessible faith practices to give meaning to time and bring reminders throughout our days of God’s presence in our lives. I discovered the following practice in the “Lent at Home” guide for 2024 from Mennonite Education Agency. It’s intended for Lent, but could absolutely be used any time of year and any time you have a moment (or more than just a moment) to spend outside.

When I get all wound up or anxious or I’m trying to do too many things at once, I will occasionally turn to a simple centering practice of the senses: still my body and name 5 things I see, 4 things I feel, 3 things I hear, 2 things I smell, and 1 thing I taste. Author Talashia Keim Yoder’s suggestions below remind me of that practice. I appreciate both the simplicity and how kid-friendly this way of engaging in Spirituality is.

During the days of Covid lock-down, my kids and I would go on walks - so many walks! - and try different things to make it more engaging. One of the practices we had, in addition to scavenger hunts and chalk obstacle courses (two other faves) was to test what we could notice with all our senses. Encountering God through the sound of birds rustling in the tall grass, the smell of apple blossoms, or the damp air on our cheeks. May you continue to find connections to Creator and the created world in this season!

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Jesus began his ministry with forty days in the desert, and this practice is an invitation to step into the desert with him throughout Lent. Many of us see this time in the desert as a time of starvation, hardship, and temptation, but that’s a quite narrow view! In an interview on “The Bible for Normal People Podcast,” a member of the Chickasaw Nation Chris Hoklotubbe reframes the desert time from a Native perspective. Jesus was on a 40-day spiritual quest! It was Jesus’ extended Sabbath that prepared him for his ministry. Hoklotubbe thinks that perhaps it was on his quest that Jesus came up with some of his musings like, “Consider the lilies of the field…”

So, here’s your quest. Find a moment every day during Lent to be outside in a spirit of openness. It’s okay if somedays it’s only for two minutes! When you’re outside, take in what you discover through your senses. If you want more guidance, try this:

1. Start with your breath. Breathe in and out, counting to 3 on your breath in and 6 on your breath out. Do this until you feel centered.

2. Touch: What do you feel on your skin? Is it warm or cold? Breezy or still? Damp or dry? Notice the ground holding you up, the gravity that keeps you rooted.

3. Smell: What does it smell like today? Can you identify particular scents?

4. Taste: Stick your tongue out. Can you taste the air today?

5. Listen: What do you hear? Can you isolate and identify particular sounds?

6. Look: Where do you see life around you? Where do you see dormancy? What colors do you see? Other creatures? Pay some attention to the margins - what do you see where what is cultivated meets the area that is not?

Maybe once a week you want to carve out time for a longer desert quest. If you have young children, this can be a helpful part of the daily rhythm with an extended family quest each week.

A Painted Advent

Sometimes when I get my kids a chocolate Advent calendar (Divine Chocolate: fair trade, delicious, dark and milk options and a little bit of the Christmas story under each door) I get a calendar for myself - dark chocolate, of course. This year I didn’t, but I am giving myself a little Advent treat each day.

I understand that not everyone would feel like an art project is a treat, but it certainly is for me. Every day I choose a shade of blue or purple, add water to the pallet and fill one of the panes on my doodled stained glass window. I’ve been surprised at how, over the course of the last two weeks, I’ve had to balance the delight with seeing my window fill with color and the impatience of wanting to just paint all the panes at once.

I had expected this little project to be just a neat way to mark the days of Advent, but it’s turned into an unanticipated exercise in patience and waiting, which is what Advent is all about, after all. With every new color, I’m tempted to just go ahead and finished the picture. With every color I need to remind myself that by the time Christmas comes the image will have become clear and whole.

As we anticipate the arrival of Christ, it is with feelings of longing and impatience. We wonder why we have to experience the discomfort and pain and injustice of the world. We don’t like the mess the world is in and want everything to fixed and whole right now. Why isn’t God doing something?? We can also be assured that little by little, through the work of our own creative hands, God is building up a beautiful creation. That God’s creation is becoming complete. God is both coming and God is here with us now, in every colorful, heartbreaking moment.

I pray that you are all finding meaning and beauty in this Advent, even in the messy middle of life. My practice was inspired by the artist Sybil MacBeth and her work on “Praying in Color.” If you follow that link you’ll find many templates and resources for Advent and well beyond. As a creative person and visual thinker I find her way of understanding prayer to be very meaningful. Maybe you will too. After Christmas I’ll share a picture of the completed window!

Happy Birthday Church - a zine

A couple of years ago, during COVID, I made a little zine that I shared in care packages with church kids. I think it still stands up. And I think it's a helpful way of telling the story of Pentecost. Happy birthday, Church!

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Book Review: The Birchbark House series

The Birchbark House series

by Barbara Erdrich

It has long been my practice to center people of color and women in my own fiction reading. When I'm picking out books to read with my kids I've been less discriminating. I wouldn't read something overtly racist or sexist, but if reading Captain Underpants is what's going to get my kid interested in books, then I'll put up with a certain level of literal potty humor. But I do try a little, and ooh baby, do I have a recommendation for you. And by the way, even if you don't have elementary aged kiddos at the moment, I would have enjoyed these books simply for my own pleasure, so take a look!

I'd known and loved Louise Erdrich's work for a long time, two of my particular favorites being The Sentence and Future Home of the Living God. And I'd known that she had a series for kids but until I had a kid the right age, I wasn't motivated to take a look. I now really, really wish I'd read these much earlier. And I especially wish I'd had these books when I was a child and very into Little House on the Prairie.

Like the Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder, these books are set in the mid 1800s - though slightly earlier) and they take a journey through the Midwest - though more northerly. Unlike the Little House series, which depict indigenous people as savages to be feared and white settlers as pioneers and adventurers, the stories are rooted with Anishinaabe children and their families. They start at the western tip of Lake Superior and by the second generation have migrated west to the northern Dakota territory.

There are many of things I loved about these books. First, the window into what family life in indigenous communities looked like almost two centuries ago. The way life was tied to the seasons: rooted in one camp for spring and summer where they were close to maple sugaring trees and the garden and in another place in the winter and fall, where there was wild rice to be harvested and a place to cache food for the cold months. The way siblings across time and in all places tease and squabble and love each other. The work and play that buoyed life together, first in the woods among the birches, and then on the sweeping prairie, where camps follow the buffalo.

I loved the integration of Ojibway words and phrases - sometimes with meanings made explicit and sometimes you needed to figure out from context clues. The main character Omakayas told her annoying little brother, "Gego, Pinch!" (stop it, Pinch!) so often that I heard Orie repeating it to himself in the days following those chapters. Erdrich provides a glossary at the end of each book, but I found that we didn't need to consult it.

I also loved and was heartbroken by the unflinching approach to illness, death and conflict. These families experience starvation, small pox and forced migration. They endure tragedies and you mourn with them when loved ones are lost, experience their fear and despair during a kidnaping, rage when they are cheated and their belongings are stolen. But we also experience the deep love of family connection, the joy of sneaking a taste of maple sugar or learning to ride a horse for the first time, the triumph of stealing an eagle's feathers and the exhilaration of canoeing churning rapids.

There were times while Orie and I were reading these books when I did need to stop and check if he understood what was going on. Sometimes the storyline and situations are complicated. And they are often told from a child's perspective, when the child him or herself doesn't necessarily understand what's happening. These times were often when the families in the story encountered white people whose habits, language and ways were unfamiliar. For example, when Chickadee, one of Omakayas' twin sons is 'rescued' by a wagon full of women wearing long grey gowns with funny cloths on their heads and a man with a black robe they call 'Father.' They take Chickadee to a building where they try to cut off his braids and take his warm rabbit fur clothing before he escapes.

It was clear to me in that scenario that a priest and some nuns took Chickadee and that they wanted to 'civilize' him. But that wasn't clear to Chickadee and it wasn't clear to Orie, though it did start a conversation about they way the church treated indigenous children. Erdrich's depiction of white folks doesn't make them all into villains. In her stories both white and Anishnaabe people are good and kind, sneaky and terrible. But she does make clear that the incursion of settlement on indigenous territory is changing their way of life in a way that is difficult and sorrowful.

These books are just so nuanced and beautiful. The characters have so much life and personality. You can find them at the public library in every format. And of course, I support buying from local bookstores (Each book is only seven or eight dollars at Third Place). I read one in hard copy, listened to at least one audio book and read several on my e-reader. They are excellent in all the ways, but if you do read instead of listen, you'll also have access to Erdrich's soft pencil-drawn maps and illustrations. I love a book with a map!

If you or your kids do read them, I hope you'll tell me what you think because I could talk about them all day!

Pokemon and Jesus

There are somethings I know way more about after becoming a parent than I ever would have guessed I would know about. And I'm not talking about how to change diapers or help with math homework. I'm taking about things like names of dinosaurs for every letter of the alphabet, the backstories of obscure Marvel superheroes or why the My Little Ponies each have a 'cutie mark' on their butt.

I also know a little something about Pokémon. Now, of all the kid pop-culture things that I know about, Pokémon is actually sort of low on the list. But I didn't know anything about it before kids. And as I was reflecting on the relationship between God and God's people this past week, my mind made a Pokémon connection.

When Mary receives the news that she is going to be the partner to God in bringing Jesus into the world, she proclaims God's favor. When Jesus announces the beginning of his ministry, he too proclaims God's favor. Quoting from the prophet Isaiah her says, "God has sent me to proclaim liberty to those held captive, recovery of sight to those who are blind, and release to those in prison - to proclaim the year of our God's favor."

The thing about being favored is, you might think that it's about getting lucky. And for sure, the people who are being release from captivity probably do feel pretty lucky. But really, the thing or person that's the favorite, is the thing that you keep going back to again and again. Your favorite shirt is the one that you're always happy to pull out of the clean laundry. Your favorite ice cream is your default because you know for sure you won't be disappointed. The teacher's pet (ie. favorite) is the one who always gets called on.

Here's the Pokémon connection. Pikachu is Ash's favorite. (Isn't he everyone's?) For those who aren't familiar, Ash is Pikachu's trainer. Each trainer works together with their Pokémon to battle with other trainers and their Pokémon. Even though Ash has others, Pikachu is the one he always calls on: "Pikachu," he famously declares, "I choose you!"

It's not just Mary and not just Jesus who are God's favored ones. They are part of a favored people and we too are each God's favorites. "I choose you!" God is saying to us even now. What is our response? Obviously not battling our beings with our phenomenal lightening powers. The clue is in Mary's song and Jesus' proclamation. Being God's favored ones means entering the training to bring release to the captive, food to the hungry, lifting up the lowly. Being God's favorite doesn't mean the easy life, but it does mean that God will continue to call on and choose us to be God's own.

All of this might just go to show that a pastor can bring anything back around to Jesus. But may you never see Pikachu the same way again.