Dear Ohio Governor DeWine:
Thank you for sharing your response to the shooting of innocent people in Dayton. Because of your own personal loss years ago, I do not doubt your sincerity when you mentioned that you and your wife were brokenhearted by this senseless act.
But the problem we face has nothing to do with our hearts that can be broken by this hate, by this blasphemy we call white supremacy, this lunacy we call gun ownership. It is the fact that we have lost those values which once made our hearts what they should be. Decency, caring, looking after the vulnerable, offering compassion to those who are broken, listening to those with whom we disagree, seeking to discover what it is that unites us not what divides us, and putting aside our differences for the common good.
No, we have allowed our hearts to become scarred by angry rhetoric and hateful words, rhetoric that demonizes anyone who dares to question, words which tear down the souls of others. We have allowed our hearts to become hardened by viewpoints that cast foreigners as murderers and rapists, not as families seeking a new life. We have allowed bitterness to flow through our veins, bitterness thinly veiled as patriotism and offered as a political philosophy. We have allowed our hearts - hearts which served in war, hearts which sought peace, hearts which build homes and hope, hearts which feed the hungry and shelter the homeless - we have allowed them to become hardened by fear, by doubt in the motives of fellow human beings, by hatred of the other, and by false misrepresentations of what this nation has always stood for since its founding.
Yes, you and your party will continue to offer us your thoughts and prayers every time these acts of domestic terrorism take place. But is it possible for you to have new thoughts, different thoughts. Can you, and the other leaders of our state, dare to think what passing an open carry law would bring to our state? Could you entertain the thought of daring to veto such a bill? I wonder if you could think what a difference it might make for future victims, if you took leadership in banning military style assault weapons once and for all. Every police officer, every military person I know, says such weapons do not belong in the hands of civilians. I hope that you might be willing to provide leadership for your party, in this state as well as nation, to stand up to the obscene power which has been given to the leadership of the NRA, a group that could care less about responsible gun ownership, and more about its ability to buy more and more politicians who will dutifully do whatever they demand.
And yes, let us pray. By all means, let us pray. And when we do, let us keep the photos of those who died in Dayton, in El Paso, in Gilroy, and in places too many to mention. Because if we see those faces - the faces of children, of a mother who shielded her child, of a senior citizen, of young people out on a date, of families who were simply shopping for school supplies - maybe then we will know what to pray for. Maybe we will pray for the courage to denounce those who speak words which are hate speech masked as politics, the wisdom to set aside our demands and listen to the pain-filled cries of survivors, the ability to discover that there is another way to live and to serve, to care and to hope. And maybe, just maybe we can find our way back to being a nation built on justice, grace, kindness, and welcome for all.
Like you, my heart is broken.
But I am determined not to let it be filled with bitterness, hate, division, fear, and anger.
(c) 2019 Thom M. Shuman
Monday, August 5, 2019
Thursday, August 1, 2019
words
Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ Λόγος, καὶ ὁ Λόγος ἦν πρὸς τὸν Θεόν, καὶ Θεὸς ἦν ὁ Λόγος.
A long, long time ago, in a college far, far way, these were the first words we read in Greek 101. It was most appropriate, since most of the folks in the class were those who had self-identified as having an interest in ministry. For those who have not taken Greek, it is John 1:1: 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." (And after all these years, it is probably all the Greek I remember!)
Words are important. They are the basic building blocks in relationships - how we communicate with others, How we share our ideas, our hearts, our fears, our hopes. They are how we learn about, well, just about everything. As both a pastor and a writer, words are my stock in trade. I use them to share with others what I see God doing in the world; where Jesus is hoping we will share the gospel of love, grace, hope, and peace; how the Spirit is gifting us to be God's people in a world which hungers for truth, for compassion, for civility.
Words are precious. I still remember my mother tracing her finger under the sentences in books, as she introduced me to the wonder of how words can transport us to places beyond imagination, can introduce to people who lives transform ours, and can challenge us to go deeper than we ever dare into the possibilities open before us. There are still sentences and paragraphs from books that spring to mind and bring me hope, healing, grace when I most need them. There are verses of scripture that are carved into my soul, just waiting to cradle me when I am most afraid.
But now, now words have become weapons. Weapons of mass destruction. They are used to disparage whole communities, and nations. Rather than building others up, words become bullies to knock people off their feet, their hopes, their lives. Words no longer mold the dreams of strangers, they are used to mock those who are different. Words are not used to voice compassion for the most vulnerable among us, but are spoken in such a way as to let them know they have absolutely no value to the speakers.
And because words have become weaponized, we who know better, think we are justified to use words in the same way, to attack those with whom we disagree; to seek to knock them off their pedestals; to bully them, to denigrate them, to let them know they have absolutely no value to us.
Fred Rogers once said that when two people meet, they are standing on holy ground. If this is true, and I believe it is, then surely the words they speak, surely the words we speak, are to be holy as well. But we have lost that sense of holiness in the words we think, we use, we speak. They have become hurtful, shaming, destructive, life-damaging.
The Word was not just with God, was not just God, but became flesh, living among us. Holiness came and spoke of feeding the hunger of folks, the hunger in their bellies as well as their souls. Holiness came and told us stories of people who cared for the brokenness of their enemies, as much as they would for their own family. Holiness walked among us and modeled how we are to listen to the voiceless, to raise up the ones knocked down by fear, to gather those tossed into the ditches of despair, to see each person as the Beloved of God. Holiness traveled the dusty ways of hurt and humiliation, death and grief, and spoke of a way to respond with wonder, with grace, with love.
The Word came, and gave us the words which can bring healing to division, which can transform fear into hope, which can unloosen the grip of hate on our hearts, which can share peace with every single person around us.
Not words of anger, but holy words of affirmation;
not words of judgment, but holy words of justice;
not words of hurt, but holy words of hope;
not words filled with grudge, but holy words overflowing with grace;
not words of ridicule, but holy words of wonder;
not words that destroy, but holy words of life.
Maybe it's time we relearn those words and become speakers of holiness.
(c) 2019 Thom M. Shuman
A long, long time ago, in a college far, far way, these were the first words we read in Greek 101. It was most appropriate, since most of the folks in the class were those who had self-identified as having an interest in ministry. For those who have not taken Greek, it is John 1:1: 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." (And after all these years, it is probably all the Greek I remember!)
Words are important. They are the basic building blocks in relationships - how we communicate with others, How we share our ideas, our hearts, our fears, our hopes. They are how we learn about, well, just about everything. As both a pastor and a writer, words are my stock in trade. I use them to share with others what I see God doing in the world; where Jesus is hoping we will share the gospel of love, grace, hope, and peace; how the Spirit is gifting us to be God's people in a world which hungers for truth, for compassion, for civility.
Words are precious. I still remember my mother tracing her finger under the sentences in books, as she introduced me to the wonder of how words can transport us to places beyond imagination, can introduce to people who lives transform ours, and can challenge us to go deeper than we ever dare into the possibilities open before us. There are still sentences and paragraphs from books that spring to mind and bring me hope, healing, grace when I most need them. There are verses of scripture that are carved into my soul, just waiting to cradle me when I am most afraid.
But now, now words have become weapons. Weapons of mass destruction. They are used to disparage whole communities, and nations. Rather than building others up, words become bullies to knock people off their feet, their hopes, their lives. Words no longer mold the dreams of strangers, they are used to mock those who are different. Words are not used to voice compassion for the most vulnerable among us, but are spoken in such a way as to let them know they have absolutely no value to the speakers.
And because words have become weaponized, we who know better, think we are justified to use words in the same way, to attack those with whom we disagree; to seek to knock them off their pedestals; to bully them, to denigrate them, to let them know they have absolutely no value to us.
Fred Rogers once said that when two people meet, they are standing on holy ground. If this is true, and I believe it is, then surely the words they speak, surely the words we speak, are to be holy as well. But we have lost that sense of holiness in the words we think, we use, we speak. They have become hurtful, shaming, destructive, life-damaging.
The Word was not just with God, was not just God, but became flesh, living among us. Holiness came and spoke of feeding the hunger of folks, the hunger in their bellies as well as their souls. Holiness came and told us stories of people who cared for the brokenness of their enemies, as much as they would for their own family. Holiness walked among us and modeled how we are to listen to the voiceless, to raise up the ones knocked down by fear, to gather those tossed into the ditches of despair, to see each person as the Beloved of God. Holiness traveled the dusty ways of hurt and humiliation, death and grief, and spoke of a way to respond with wonder, with grace, with love.
The Word came, and gave us the words which can bring healing to division, which can transform fear into hope, which can unloosen the grip of hate on our hearts, which can share peace with every single person around us.
Not words of anger, but holy words of affirmation;
not words of judgment, but holy words of justice;
not words of hurt, but holy words of hope;
not words filled with grudge, but holy words overflowing with grace;
not words of ridicule, but holy words of wonder;
not words that destroy, but holy words of life.
Maybe it's time we relearn those words and become speakers of holiness.
(c) 2019 Thom M. Shuman
Monday, July 29, 2019
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