Sermon: Missing God (Mark 10:46-52), Oct 28, 2018

Sermon: Missing God 

Text: Mark 10:46-52

Changes in our lives – there’s always lots to say about them and share about them. 

The changing of the seasons is a good metaphor. Colours are the first sign that tells us that a new season is coming. Each season arrives with its own colour palette, then, gives way to the next by losing it. In Nature, there is beauty in loss; there is also hope. Nature establishes, over and over, that the act of losing, letting go, is, in its true aspect, the thing that sustains what is needed here and now. 

Changes often evoke anxiety, especially when we don’t understand them: what are the changes really about? What for? When we don’t clearly grasp and pinpoint what things are changing around us and what they mean to us, we get anxious. If you are anxious, you are not alone. This week, I was very fond of a quote from Simone Weil, an activist, a pacifist, a militant, a mystic and an exile who lived a short but intense life from 1909-1943. She’s one of the contemporary “saints” who lived a life of boundless inquiry and advocacy (“crazy freedom”), rather than choosing a middle, safe, road. Weil says, “Why should I be anxious? It is not up to me to think of myself. It is up to me to think of God. And it is up to God to think of me.” I hope this gives us a fresh perspective.

Throughout our lives, we experience many changes: dramatic or quiet, steady or unexpected. Some changes evolve around the health issues of our own or of our family members or friends. Or death. We grieve when we don’t see some long-familiar names when we open the new church phone directory. We grieve, yet move on. Our neighbours change, too. Those we have known for a long time, whose children grew up with ours, leave, and new neighbours move in. Years ago, it seemed that we had more similarities with our next-door neighbours; nowadays we note the differences. It was easier to feel close or connected to them when we worked at the same jobs, had the same cooking smells at dinnertime. Increasing diversity invites us to experiment with being more open and welcoming, more than just saying hello and being friendly. 

Regardless of what kind of changes we have been dealing with lately and what has been affecting us, adjusting our lives to the changing environment, changing relationships is not easy. I would say, this is a journey… “going” out of ourselves to open our hearts and minds to the changing Universe. This journey, this new journey, is absolutely with God.

In your life journey, if you feel that you are stuck at some point, that you can’t find the right vocabulary to explain exactly what you are going through, when your ability to understand the world around you begins to crumble and you are feeling overwhelmed and overburdened, I say without hesitation that the only strong rope (or hope) we can rely on is spirituality. The only thing that can get us away from our own predicaments is the act of re-packing our backpack with the right knowledge, vocabulary, concepts and language that offer us a deeper spiritual awareness about ourselves, our lives and God. True spirituality can confidently guide us towards hope. Spirituality is the full package of what we need. 

Last week, I went to Best Buy to buy a PC for my 12-year-old son. We don’t keep a TV at home. What we have are two laptop computers (Min-Goo’s and mine) and two iPhones (Min-Goo’s and mine). My older son said, “My friends all have an iPhone and an iPad. (He’s not wrong) They have X-boxes and play Fortnite (a video game) with it on TV. I have nothing. I want a PC. I can play video games and do school homework and emails and online searches if I have a PC.”

After months of agony, (He’s just twelve!) we decided to buy a PC for him. The important computer prerequisites I had to learn as a parent: For him to play his video games, smoothly, without experiencing any inconvenient “lagging” “freeze” slowing down, etc, his PC should have a strong Processor, Graphic Cards, and adequate RAM (data storage). If the computer hardware is below the minimum of what is required to play a game properly, the player would experience lots of lagging, slowing down, and thus would be prone to complaining, “a lot.” 

While looking for the right PC for my son, I had an epiphany: repacking our spirituality is comparable to looking for a stronger hardware processor power for our mind and spirituality, to enable us to be faithful and to be joyful in our changing world. We need to acknowledge our needs, our neighbours’ and God's; we should be able to avoid unnecessary lagging and slowing down by clearly seeing and deeply feeling how we function emotionally and spiritually; we should be in good shape to perform God’s commandment of love. Each individual’s experience of God is unique. Really, everyone needs to do their own personal study to find the spirituality and theology that work the best for them – just like we were looking for a computer that my son can work with, well into the future. 

In today’s reading, Jesus meets Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, who is sitting by the road-side. Bartimaeus cries out, breaking his silence, as soon as he hears Jesus approaching. Jesus asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?” 

Bartimaeus answers, “Let me see again,” which means there was a time in his life when he could see. 

The first word Jesus says is a command - “Go”. 

In spirituality, “Go” as an action and a word has always had a special place. “Letting go,” “Going out of your self”, “Departure from ourselves,” … departure from dependency on our ego, security or fear. Faith has a similar element to what we experience when we fall in love. Ponder with me: Falling in love is really a departure from ourselves, our ego, in order to know the Other and love deeply. Love involves some essential changes. When we are in love, we risk and let ourselves be vulnerable, be tender, to accept, to “finally touch” something, the most inward essential part of our being that is open to both joy and pain.

Another important spiritual time of deep change is when we go through what mystics call a “time without consolation.” Misfortune. Suffering. Joylessness. Good spirituality helps us to see pain, suffering, and a time without consolation as a reality of the mystical experience. Does suffering have a place in Christian spirituality? Yes. Jesus suffered on the earth and became bread to eat, a friend to weep with, for those who suffer. Jesus proclaimed on the Mount, “Those who mourn are blessed, for they will be comforted.”

Dorothee Sölle tells us in her book, The Silent Cry, that being mystical means being one with God, and there are three steps in the mystical way.

The first step is Being Amazed. It is a state of radical amazement, or bliss. It is something similar to the exclamation, “Being here is magnificent!” This stage is similar to the state of falling in love. It is the state of freedom from fears. You are willing to leave yourself. It is the state of beginning a great journey… for adventure. This state is symbolized in the image of the rose that blooms in God. You find great joy in being-in-relation. You praise God. 

Then, we enter the second stage… which is Letting Go. In this stage, we miss God. It is symbolized as the dark night. We experience the utter absence of Christ. The utter absence of joy. Joylessness becomes deep pain. It is different from simply experiencing loss. Your life condition doesn’t have to change to experience this stage in our lives. Your soul has changed. What used to be interesting to us, what energized us and shaped our identity no longer has the same effect on us. Consequently, we begin to search for the deeper meaning of things, … in other words, we miss God. We suffer, feeling removed “from God.” (We may also put it as “We suffer from God.”) It is a state of spiritual dryness, drought.  

Then, Healing comes like the dawn. We become resilient. We grow resistant to what is silently, subtly, invisibly oppressive, and name those negative agents. Rather than being changed by the exterior forces of the world, we commit to changing the world with compassion and justice, with “affectionate tenderness” that excludes no-one; it remains faithful to all. This state is like a rainbow. 

In today’s story, Jesus tells Bartimaeus, and us, “Go; your faith has made you well”.  The good spirituality package, good spirituality backpack, that fits us perfectly, carries the mystical way and the benefit of being crafted in the dark night — the spiritually deep time of radical change… In every such dark night, we are not totally alone. The stars are our crown. We become dignified in this true human quest. Even when we are not sure of whether we would ever be able to find comfort, consolation, in the time of change, losses, terror, fear, God whispers, “Love is not consolation. It is light.” That light allows us to see again that what we’ve been missing is God. 

So, GC 43 Friday night, what happened? (Speech to Presbytery) Oct 9, 2018

So – General Council 43 - Friday night, what happened? How did it happen? Why did it happen?

Paul Wal-fall, one of the Intercultural Observers, gave a speech about interculturalism. It was a powerful demonstration about where we are and how we are doing as an intercultural church, poignantly addressing the persistence of racism within the United Church. He suggested concrete examples and used the metaphor of the Table. He asked us to ponder the four questions: “Who is missing from the table?” “Who are you at the table?” “What is my place at the table?” “What am I doing at this table?” Paul said, 

Our Conference President, Dr Kathy Yamashita, a woman of Japanese descent, reminded us that we should take note of who is missing from the table. Someone then reminded us that we are an Intercultural church and therefore that may not be as pressing now as it once was. But you know, I have been reflecting on the question, “Who is missing from the table?” For in many ways, I now wonder if that is the real question to be asking. I am now very conscious that simply being at the table may be good, but it is not all that we may want to crack it up to be. The real issue seems to be “Who are you at the table?” If I am at the table as your guest, then I am there to take whatever you put before me. I would hope that you will consider my needs but really you do not have to. I am at this table simply as a guest. If I am at the table because you are taking pity on me, then even more so, I take whatever I get.  

But if you put me at the children’s table then while I am a member of the family you would have taken away from me any right to speak about what I need. I have no way of influencing the menu.  

But if you have me there as an adult and responsible member of the family, then I have a right to participate not only in the eating of the meal. I would then have the right to participate in the creation of the menu and in the preparation of the meal itself.  

The issue for me is no longer about who is missing from the table, but it is also about what is my place at the table. If you have accepted me there simply to tell me that I must accept what I get, then simply being at the table is not all that we have made it out to be. So, what am I doing at this table?” (The end of the quote) 

Later, Paul told the others that he made this speech after his time was pushed back and delayed, delayed and delayed on the agenda because we were running late. He said to Allan Buckingham, in the Business Team, “The later you put me, the more no one will hear what I will say.” 

I ask…, What was I doing at the table at GC 43 on that Friday night? Truly, the more proper question would be how and what I was doing at the table at GC 43, all day on that Friday, because for me the process of thinking and feeling in intercultural terms already started on that Friday morning. I began to feel deep pain, anger and agony welling up in my eyes – my heart had been pounding since that morning. On Friday, because we were running late, the Business Team decided to change how the commissioners would decide on each motion to have things move on more effectively. Due to this change being made, I was affected by the situation. I was not able to address the concern that caused deep pain in me and shook me and upset me because conversation was not encouraged. We were running late, we had to make so many decisions all within just one day (the last day) — which were originally supposed to be done over the full three days. Time being short, the Facilitation team was not able to provide us with a summary of what people talked about in their discussion sessions before the plenary decision-making session took place. Therefore, I was not prepared for what was coming - a word that would be so triggering to me emotionally and spiritually. On the motion: Racism, Racial Discrimination, Racial Justice and White Privilege (Origin: Alberta and Northwest Conference.) I heard some people mention that having the word ‘Racism’ in the name of the motion would make others defensive, therefore, we need to take it out. 

I was struck by this comment, deeply affected, but didn’t know what to do – we had been pushed to move on. Later I had a quick chance to check in with another racialized member, and that conversation helped me to be connected to my truth. I began to talk to others about my concern that we didn’t get enough time to talk about the things that could affect the racialized members. I talked to the General Secretary about my concern, who responded, saying that this is a way better process than GC had ever had recently. I talked to Paul during the break. He said, “I heard you.” I got curious when I heard his name called, and saw him walk up to the stage to make his intercultural speech. Of course, he didn’t mention my story, but I appreciated his powerful speech. What was very interesting to me was that people applauded after his speech, loved it, found it powerful, and then we moved on with the agenda. Because we had to finish our meeting in time, because dinner was waiting. Then, God’s amazing spirit struck us. Two people, Penny Nelson and her friend, walked to the plenary center, deeply emotionally filled, used the point of personal privilege, and submitted a new motion to ask forgiveness to the racialized members for how we do our work at the table. I was so shaken in that moment, my body shook so hard, physically, that others in distance could see me in pain. Another racialized clergy male member who was sitting at the next table came to me and asked, “Are you ok?” with a warm, pained, concerned face. He seemed to be also deeply affected, sad and concerned. Other commissioners began to gather close to me and laid their hands on my shoulder. When I was settled a little bit, I went directly to the one of the mikes, ready to share. Many racialized and indigenous members, and members with disabilities lined up to share their stories, abandoning the rush of the day’s schedule, for the following two hours. Our dinner was late at 9 pm, but it was more than worth it. 

Here’s one story: Paul Wal-fall did mention in his speech about one black female minister’s experience. She was told by a search committee that they did not hire her because the congregation was not ready for a female minister but, less than a month afterwards, had recommended a White female minister to the congregation. That night, she came up to the mike and informed the plenary that that’s her story, and I was surprised, because  she is one of the most alive, intelligent, excellent, creative clergy that I know. Later I sent her an email expressing my personal thanks, and shared that I had a similar experience. In 2014, I finished my Student Supply Internship, as a solo minister that had served a congregation in rural BC for two years. I was extravagantly loved by that congregation. Of course, there were challenges and tension that I went through, which may have partly stemmed from the fact that I lacked white privilege in a very white community. When they began the search process for a new minister, I got a phone call from someone on the search team to tell me that many were shaken and upset during a meeting, when one of the young leaders said, “We don’t want another.” What happened was that they had received an application from a Korean female minister. 

Well, I know. It is a safe story to tell, because it happened in BC. But I have many unsafe stories that happened here, in our Presbytery. Someone in the leadership told me, (I understand and appreciate their intention: to help me realize the situation through a sort of shock effect, I think), I was called because I was cheap. 

Last October, I sent a letter to the Executive, which I named, “Proposing Inter-racial Ministry” and commented, “The purpose of sharing this letter is not actually to propose anything, but I hope that the Executive might have a conversation and theological reflection around this.” I didn’t know well enough at that time to initiate a conversation more effectively, so I am aware of my flaws. But the response I got was …that the Executive members felt “unsafe, threatened and attacked” by my letter. 

I really wondered how that piece of writing could have the power to make others feel that way, but if it did, I am sorry. I learned that everyone needs to know that they are loved, and that’s the ground you need to lay for every conversation. Yet, there are risks people need to make and also learn to accept the unintended consequences of those risks. I ended up initiating a few conversations with the leadership, and as a result, I had some good, honest, candid conversations. I thank my colleagues for that. But what I learned not only confirmed my worries, but also shocked me. I learned that in this presbytery, some of us, racialized members, were perceived to be Others who are not capable of doing the job, not familiar with the task. Therefore, they are not called and included at the table. In the spring, I submitted three proposals to the Executive, addressing concerns that the Executive does not practically manifest diversity (especially racial diversity). I wanted to advocate for increased diversity not just to ensure visible, fair representation; I do it because I am concerned about the “menu”: Who chooses the menu, and the outcomes for those choices? I also sent a proposal on organizing a half-hour Intercultural Workshop during a Presbytery meeting, because I really believed how we would end would influence how we would begin anew (in the new region.) Neither of my proposals made it through. The reason the Executive gave me was because the presbytery was “winding down.” 

Paul Wal-Fall said, “In many ways I now wonder if “Who is missing from the table?” is the real question to be asking.” I am glad that I will meet Paul again in person as we are both on the General Council Executive and will have our meeting this weekend. To Paul, I would say, yes.  That is the real question to be asking. Sadly, there are many places yet where this first Table question still needs to be asked and answered — especially in regards to female foreign-born clergy or others who have intersectional identities. These questions, Who is missing from the table, What am I doing at this table demand a proper process for better intercultural engagements and truer hospitality.

Sermon: Listen well. (Oct 21, 2018)

Sermon: Listen Well. 

This week, our home, Winnipeg, was very windy, with leaves blowing all over. My favourite image of the wind is when it’s blowing around a newspaper or someone’s hat. 

What’s yours? When I was in high school, the novel Wuthering Heights was a true inspiration – I liked the idea of living in a house where the wind ‘wuthers’ around. (show the picture). I like wind. This week, I posted on Facebook a beautiful “Wind” quote from The Silent Cry, written by Dorothee Soelle: “Become able once again of not hearing the wind as a noise and, instead, of listening to its voice.” I’ve been thinking about this lately, of hearing the voice of all creation, not just “noise.” Soon, I got my friend’s message with the picture (on the screen): “I need to remember this today, it is really windy here in PEI! This is a picture of the ocean from where I do my Bible Study.”

This morning, I would like to ponder with you what it means to listen well and how listening really becomes a spiritual part of our lives.

One thing I would like to note is that if we consider listening as a spiritual activity, it is really evidence that we are “in a deep relation”. For example, if we really want to listen to the wind, not just as noise but as a voice, we have to go out. I mean, to be more precise, we really need to “get out of ourselves” and seek out joy. Think about it. Going out to hear the wind, or even listen to it as a voice? That’s either a creative experiment or full-on whimsy. Or, if we fill in the spiritual element of that quest — it is for seeking out joy. Here’s the full quote from which the wind quote comes: ““As if humans had two souls”. The one soul said to the other, “You, my melancholic soul, unacquainted with praise, don’t hang around in yourself, look outside yourself, let go of yourself. Become able once again of not hearing the wind as a noise and, instead, of listening to its voice.”” Listening, if practiced as a spiritual activity in our lives, is evidence that we are in a deep relation with the Other: God, ourselves, our neighbours and all of God’s creation. Listening reminds us that we have the responsibility, at all times, for seeking out the joy of life. We have this responsibility for perceiving beauty. The beauty in all things. The beauty in ourselves. The beauty of the world. There’s a deep relation between the joy of God and beauty. To listen well and differently begins with finding joy and beauty. 

What does it mean to listen well, and how can listening become a spiritual act within our lives? I wish to share two stories. The first one comes from a Korean poem I read recently. I assume that this poem was written in the 70’s or 80’s, when the student-led Social Democratic movement was burning in Korea. The poem is about a poet professor who, one day, invented a new theory, “Even sound has a bone” or “Every sound has a bone,” then, created a new class centred on that theory. The school’s Dean firmly opposed the creation of that class, because the teaching would be based on the professor’s nonsensical theory (The professor’s colleagues broke into laughter when they first heard it, because they thought it was a joke. They thanked the professor for his sense of humour and for giving them the chance to laugh.) Regardless, this class got approved. Some students took the poetry class out of a sense of mischievous curiosity, only to find their professor didn’t teach anything; he simply persisted with silence for the whole duration of every class that year. (The students got increasingly impatient; they began to argue among themselves. Mr. Park said, “The bone of the sound means silence.” Mr. Lee said, “It means the hidden meaning in words.” Another student said, “What it means doesn’t matter. It is a methodological metaphor to think outside the box.”) If you read this poem in Korean, it is both deep and funny. The poem concludes, as the result of the class, “In the following year, our ears could listen to all kinds of sounds much better than before.” 

The second story I am going to share is mine. Two weekends ago, I went to Toronto to participate as a member in the General Council Executive meeting. I am happy to report that the Executive is a good group. During the two-day meeting, we gave ourselves more time than we did on other subjects to discuss, “What practical actions do we need to take to decolonize our work as an executive?” Then, this question was reframed to help us to think more concretely: “What are some of the ways in which our work is colonizing?” We broke into small groups. In my small group conversation, one member of the group asked me if I had been feeling included. She wondered about it, because I didn’t join the first Executive meeting held in September and this October one was my first in-person experience. I wanted to offer something deeper than simply saying yes, even though a yes would have been fine – I was feeling included. I answered, “I observed that in the larger group talk on decolonizing our own meeting, I offered many thoughts but didn’t feel that they were “echoed back” to me through the other members’ verbal responses, except for one person personally coming to meet me and strongly affirming what I had said.” I added, “And that’s ok. That’s what I normally experience in most United Church meetings, with my current congregation being the exception. They love me so much, they are ready and willing to listen to me." (Note: The congregation laughed. I said, "I know. Too much confidence! LOL)  

Hearing my words, the member who asked me the question about my inclusion responded, (I’m paraphrasing here) “The reason why I might not have recorded your thoughts properly in my notes is because when someone who has an accent speaks, it occasionally happens when I don’t understand them. I also have hearing challenges.” What her feedback seemed to suggest to me was that the reason why I didn’t get the responses I might look for is because people were not able to understand what I was saying, and the reason may be (or most likely is) my accented English is a barrier to comprehension. That feedback painfully conflicted with my perception of myself and others. My belief is that if we are truly interested in one another, we communicate with each other and understand each other, even though we have different accents and speak in our own unique styles. 

If you find yourself in this scenario or in similar ones, here is some helpful advice you can use to help yourself or others to “listen well”.

First, we need to examine the situation critically. Why did people suggest my accent to be the barrier or the problem, and is that critique or feedback necessary or helpful to others with whom we communicate and build community together? 

I sent some quick S.O.S. text messages to Kim Uyede-Kai, who had been deeply involved in intercultural work in The United Church and had a ton of experience like this one. Kim kindly offered three model responses I/we could use in the future: “The more you get to know me and hear me speak, the easier it will be to understand me.” And, “I know what you mean. It takes time to tune your ear to a different accent and way of speaking. I have to do that all the time because English is spoken with different accents and grammar all over Canada.” The third one is, in my opinion, theologically beautiful and is so relevant to the process of decolonizing ourselves. “I experience different accents and ways of speaking in the Church as an opportunity to be the whole body of Christ, don’t you?” 

What does it mean to listen well, and how can listening become a spiritual part and act within our lives? Listening is the evidence that we are in a deep relation with another, and we are bearing responsibility, at all times, for finding joy in life, in the recognition of beauty. Diversity is beauty. Strength. Joy. Listening, truly listening, humbles us, and therefore humanizes each of us through shared stories. 

Another important lesson I learned: Listening well is a spiritual and transformative act, because it begins with amazement. Like in Job, “Hear this, O Job, stop and consider the wondrous works of God.” Diversity, as a phenomenon of God's being in relation, is the wondrous work of God, and it calls us to stop, get out of our heads… to listen to God’s wondrous work, well. Not just hearing the sound as noise but listening to it as a voice and wonder. It calls us to embrace a form of “stopping", then intentionally "setting aside" times and places for ourselves to relate, to engage, to listen to the difference. “Listening, being still, at rest, contemplating, and praying are all there to make room for amazement.” (Dorothee Soelle) In this sense, listening well is a form of farewell, in other words, "being apart” from the ordinary customs and norms of our culture, in order to be “amazed,” To be amazed by the original blessing of being in relation. Let us listen well. 

So, GC 43 Friday night, what happened? (Speech at Winnipeg Presbytery) Oct 9, 2018

So – General Council 43 - Friday night, what happened? How did it happen? Why did it happen?

Paul Wal-fall, one of the Intercultural Observers, gave a speech about interculturalism. It was a powerful demonstration about where we are and how we are doing as an intercultural church, poignantly addressing the persistence of racism within the United Church. He suggested concrete examples and used the metaphor of the Table. He asked us to ponder the four questions: “Who is missing from the table?” “Who are you at the table?” “What is my place at the table?” “What am I doing at this table?” Paul said, 

Our Conference President, Dr Kathy Yamashita, a woman of Japanese descent, reminded us that we should take note of who is missing from the table. Someone then reminded us that we are an Intercultural church and therefore that may not be as pressing now as it once was. But you know, I have been reflecting on the question, “Who is missing from the table?” For in many ways, I now wonder if that is the real question to be asking. I am now very conscious that simply being at the table may be good, but it is not all that we may want to crack it up to be. The real issue seems to be “Who are you at the table?” If I am at the table as your guest, then I am there to take whatever you put before me. I would hope that you will consider my needs but really you do not have to. I am at this table simply as a guest. If I am at the table because you are taking pity on me, then even more so, I take whatever I get.  

But if you put me at the children’s table then while I am a member of the family you would have taken away from me any right to speak about what I need. I have no way of influencing the menu.  

But if you have me there as an adult and responsible member of the family, then I have a right to participate not only in the eating of the meal. I would then have the right to participate in the creation of the menu and in the preparation of the meal itself.  

The issue for me is no longer about who is missing from the table, but it is also about what is my place at the table. If you have accepted me there simply to tell me that I must accept what I get, then simply being at the table is not all that we have made it out to be. So, what am I doing at this table?” (The end of the quote) 

Later, Paul told the others that he made this speech after his time was pushed back and delayed, delayed and delayed on the agenda because we were running late. He said to Allan Buckingham, in the Business Team, “The later you put me, the more no one will hear what I will say.” 

I ask…, What was I doing at the table at GC 43 on that Friday night? Truly, the more proper question would be how and what I was doing at the table at GC 43, all day on that Friday, because for me the process of thinking and feeling in intercultural terms already started on that Friday morning. I began to feel deep pain, anger and agony welling up in my eyes – my heart had been pounding since that morning. On Friday, because we were running late, the Business Team decided to change how the commissioners would decide on each motion to have things move on more effectively. Due to this change being made, I was affected by the situation. I was not able to address the concern that caused deep pain in me and shook me and upset me because conversation was not encouraged. We were running late, we had to make so many decisions all within just one day (the last day) — which were originally supposed to be done over the full three days. Time being short, the Facilitation team was not able to provide us with a summary of what people talked about in their discussion sessions before the plenary decision-making session took place. Therefore, I was not prepared for what was coming - a word that would be so triggering to me emotionally and spiritually. On the motion: Racism, Racial Discrimination, Racial Justice and White Privilege (Origin: Alberta and Northwest Conference.) I heard some people mention that having the word ‘Racism’ in the name of the motion would make others defensive, therefore, we need to take it out. 

I was struck by this comment, deeply affected, but didn’t know what to do – we had been pushed to move on. Later I had a quick chance to check in with another racialized member, and that conversation helped me to be connected to my truth. I began to talk to others about my concern that we didn’t get enough time to talk about the things that could affect the racialized members. I talked to the General Secretary about my concern, who responded, saying that this is a way better process than GC had ever had recently. I talked to Paul during the break. He said, “I heard you.” I got curious when I heard his name called, and saw him walk up to the stage to make his intercultural speech. Of course, he didn’t mention my story, but I appreciated his powerful speech. What was very interesting to me was that people applauded after his speech, loved it, found it powerful, and then we moved on with the agenda. Because we had to finish our meeting in time, because dinner was waiting. Then, God’s amazing spirit struck us. Two people, Penny Nelson and her friend, walked to the plenary center, deeply emotionally filled, used the point of personal privilege, and submitted a new motion to ask forgiveness to the racialized members for how we do our work at the table. I was so shaken in that moment, my body shook so hard, physically, that others in distance could see me in pain. Another racialized clergy male member who was sitting at the next table came to me and asked, “Are you ok?” with a warm, pained, concerned face. He seemed to be also deeply affected, sad and concerned. Other commissioners began to gather close to me and laid their hands on my shoulder. When I was settled a little bit, I went directly to the one of the mikes, ready to share. Many racialized and indigenous members, and members with disabilities lined up to share their stories, abandoning the rush of the day’s schedule, for the following two hours. Our dinner was late at 9 pm, but it was more than worth it. 

Here’s one story: Paul Wal-fall did mention in his speech about one black female minister’s experience. She was told by a search committee that they did not hire her because the congregation was not ready for a female minister but, less than a month afterwards, had recommended a White female minister to the congregation. That night, she came up to the mike and informed the plenary that that’s her story, and I was surprised, because  she is one of the most alive, intelligent, excellent, creative clergy that I know. Later I sent her an email expressing my personal thanks, and shared that I had a similar experience. In 2014, I finished my Student Supply Internship, as a solo minister that had served a congregation in rural BC for two years. I was extravagantly loved by that congregation. Of course, there were challenges and tension that I went through, which may have partly stemmed from the fact that I lacked white privilege in a very white community. When they began the search process for a new minister, I got a phone call from someone on the search team to tell me that many were shaken and upset during a meeting, when one of the young leaders said, “We don’t want another.” What happened was that they had received an application from a Korean female minister. 

Well, I know. It is a safe story to tell, because it happened in BC. But I have many unsafe stories that happened here, in Winnipeg Presbytery. Someone in the leadership told me, (I understand and appreciate their intention: to help me realize the situation through a sort of shock effect, I think), I was called because I was cheap. 

Last October, I sent a letter to the Executive, which I named, “Proposing Inter-racial Ministry” and commented, “The purpose of sharing this letter is not actually to propose anything, but I hope that the Executive might have a conversation and theological reflection around this.” I didn’t know well enough at that time to initiate a conversation more effectively, so I am aware of my flaws. But the response I got was …that the Executive members felt “unsafe, threatened and attacked” by my letter. 

I really wondered how that piece of writing could have the power to make others feel that way, but if it did, I am sorry. I learned that everyone needs to know that they are loved, and that’s the ground you need to lay for every conversation. Yet, there are risks people need to make and also learn to accept the unintended consequences of those risks. I ended up initiating a few conversations with the leadership, and as a result, I had some good, honest, candid conversations. I thank my colleagues for that. But what I learned not only confirmed my worries, but also shocked me. I learned that in this presbytery, some of us, racialized members, were perceived to be Others who are not capable of doing the job, not familiar with the task. Therefore, they are not called and included at the table. In the spring, I submitted three proposals to the Executive, addressing concerns that the Executive does not practically manifest diversity (especially racial diversity). I wanted to advocate for increased diversity not just to ensure visible, fair representation; I do it because I am concerned about the “menu”: Who chooses the menu, and the outcomes for those choices? I also sent a proposal on organizing a half-hour Intercultural Workshop during a Presbytery meeting, because I really believed how we would end would influence how we would begin anew (in the new region.) Neither of my proposals made it through. The reason the Executive gave me was because the presbytery was “winding down.” 

Paul Wal-Fall said, “In many ways I now wonder if “Who is missing from the table?” is the real question to be asking.” I am glad that I will meet Paul again in person as we are both on the General Council Executive and will have our meeting this weekend. To Paul, I would say, yes.  That is the real question to be asking. Sadly, there are many places yet where this first Table question still needs to be asked and answered — especially in regards to female foreign-born clergy or others who have intersectional identities. These questions, Who is missing from the table, What am I doing at this table demand a proper process for better intercultural engagements and truer hospitality.

On being "needy" (Thanksgiving Sunday sermon), Oct 7, 2018

Matthew 6:25-33

Sermon: On being “needy" (Thanksgiving Sunday sermon)

Recently, I heard about an influential sermon. I was not able to find out exactly when it was written (probably in the 60's), but it was written by Arthur McGill, a Canadian-born American theologian and philosopher. Sallie McFague, a highly-respected American feminist theologian, best known for her writing on caring for the earth as if it were God’s body, quoted McGill’s message at length in her book. My husband Min-Goo read McFague’s book, told me about this sermon, and passed me its full text to read, when I expressed my curiosity. 

To pick one highlight to share with you, this sermon has great insight about being “needy.” Since I came to Canada, my acquisition of English and how I use certain words and phrases has come from observing how you speak and use these words to describe people and situations. I learn English most effectively through the interactions I have with people here. One thing I’ve noticed is how you say “needy” and what you mean by that. For example, “She’s a needy person.” “We are not a needy congregation.” The impression I get from that sort of usage is that being needy is not a positive thing. Being needy means the person or the community are unstable, lacking what they are supposed to have or must have, needing attention, needing care, needing constant supervision, needing money, property, or inner security. Sometimes when we perceive someone or a group to be needy a red flag is raised, because from past experience or from fear or prejudice, depending on the context, we sense that the inclusion of the needy individual or the needy group can threaten the harmony, peace and order we try to maintain in our own lives, home, society, church – things that take effort to keep and enjoy, even in the company of good friends and family. We have reason to worry that needy people might take away our time and our money, and our joy. 

But if we look at ourselves, it is hard for many of us, including myself, to admit and recognize and humbly acknowledge that we are needy, too. I am needy. I was needy yesterday. I was needy last week. I have been needy. I have those needs deep inside which I am hesitant to show to others. I am reluctant to open up and tell other people in my life that I need affection, love, care, intimacy, comfort, touch. In addition to the fact that these needs are considered private in our culture, we grew up with the message that being needy is not good, something shameful, something wrong, something to bury, something to hide, something to judge. People have various kinds of needs, at different levels, in different contexts. But often we are afraid to tell others that we have them. Is being needy necessarily bad? Is it always negative?  In some cases it is. We have to be aware of the possible consequences of having someone negatively needy who can endanger the well-being of the community and we must protect those individuals who are vulnerable in those situations. 

However, McGill’s sermon, the sermon that had such a profound impact on me, invited me to look at need and being needy in a new, revealing light – to see need as a positive attribute, a pure expression of our function as followers of Christ. I take comfort from that viewpoint. I wonder how a new insight about being needy and admitting our needs might move us to give our thanks to God, to the community, to our neighbours, to our family members, to each other, in a different language — in the language of the Kingdom of God. What do you give thanks for? Can “need” and our being needy be something we give thanks for?

In the sermon, McGill juxtaposes the kingdom of God and the kingdom of Evil. We see how the conflict between Jesus and our world arises. 

In this world, who we are, our identity, often consists in being able to draw a circle around some bit of reality, and possess that bit of reality as our own (and no one else’s). In other words, our identity depends on what we have. Our identity is only as secure as our having, our possessing something. In this world, to be is to have. To let go is to die. Even love. Our life journey is a teacher that teaches us with “revolutionary patience” that true love is not about possessing. Loving is not the same as possessing those whom we love: our family, our children, our group, our community, our church. 

We can see the absolute opposition between the kingdom of God and the kingdom of Evil. In the kingdom of God, love is defined by letting go. Letting go of one another, giving of what we have, giving away what is essentially our own is how we become real. However, in the kingdom of Evil, love is an expression of our “having”, our possessing, not letting go. Now, I quote McGill directly: “Philanthropy is a typically evil form of love. You give what you do not need — surplus money, uncommitted time, extra blood.” To a person like me, (not a generous giver. I repent on that, my Evil, and try to change my behaviour to nurture a true sense of security.) those who give generously through philanthropy inspire my admiration. However, I also get what McGill is saying. In the kind of philanthropy which he challenges, giving is still grounded in the security of having. However, what Jesus, and Jesus’ crucifixion, teaches us is that living by the power of God means really letting go — letting go to another, giving what we have, what is essentially our own. 

In this world, the kingdom of evil, which McGill juxtaposes with the kingdom of God, need means we lack. We lack adequate possessions. Need is what we have when what we have is unsatisfactory. I need because I lack. In this light, need is depicted as being negative. If we are needy, we are wrong. We are less adequate. We have a problem or are a problem. Therefore, (and I find the following logic thought-provoking) Love in the kingdom of evil seeks to remove need. Because need or being needy is inconvenient, uncomfortable. For example, Love in the kingdom of evil seeks to remove need from the poor, seeks to give them the possessions they need so that they are no longer needy. 

But in the kingdom of God, need is the ground of love. I really want to ponder with you about what it means to acknowledge need, embrace need, understand need and being needy in the light of the kingdom of God, because in the kingdom of God need is the ground of love. Need is not to be removed; need is to be acknowledged, and to be included. 

Clearly seeing, recognizing and therefore humbly acknowledging that we have needs, our own needs, is transformative. We may struggle to find the right language, right word, right poem, right prayer that can help us to truly understand and befriend our own needs — emotional, spiritual, mental, physical or other needs. We might have buried them not to see, not to feel, not to bring up to the table, because we know that “needs” are unwelcome. We feel insecure, afraid of being judged or judging. However, seeing needs, acknowledging needs, learning about needs, our own needs, will open us up to see our ultimate condition of interdependence in God, and to see the needs of our neighbours. Need is what makes giving authentic and significant. It is the soil of life. To give is to lose, to become needy calls forth giving from one another. 

In the Kingdom of God, we satisfy others’ needs, not remove their needs. Any effort to remove another’s need is really an effort to get that person off our backs, so that we do not have to bother ourselves about them anymore. For the same reason, we should embrace our needs. We shouldn’t remove them, bury them, or make them obsolete, because understanding our needs and embracing them are the path to the truth of ourselves and to the truth of each other’s lives. Do not replace our needs and one another’s needs, with something else. Use the need and make an occasion for “expenditure for love and therefore for life.” 

We are what we generate in one another. Our giving is our being. Today, on this Thanksgiving Day, I invite you to give thanks to God for our needs. What do you need? What do others need? Needs are our window. Need humbles us. We don’t need a big theory or Ego to simply acknowledge our needs. As well, needs can be the pathway between two houses, two beings, two worlds to meet (as I shared in the story of “wampum — friendship belt” in the Children’s Time.) We can welcome and accept one another on the pathway of our needs. 

I also ask: Was I a needy person yesterday? Yes. Am I a needy person today? Yes. I will continue to be needy. I celebrate that I have needs; they humble me. I have an insatiable longing for care, prayer, love, honesty from others. How about you? Have you been needy? Have you seen people who were needy? My question is, then, what are we going to do with our own being needy and others being needy? Consider needs as seeds, and plant them in the soil of love, with the spirituality of peace, therefore, in the soil of life. You will see the first-fruits in the following Spring. Amen.