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. 

Massachusetts Bishop Alan M. Gates apologizes for removing female priest’s clergy collar during Easter Vigil – Episcopal News Service

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

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.

The View from Bolton Street

If our God, whom we serve, is able to save us from the furnace of blazing fire and from your hand, o king, he shall save us. And if not, let it be known to you, o king, that we will not serve your god. And we will not worship the gold statue you have set up. 

Daniel 3

Rebellions are built on hope 

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story 

It can be hard to have hope these days. Politically, we are increasingly calcified in our views. Economically, the gap between the haves and the have-nots continues to grow. Socially, we spend less and less time with other people and more and more time online. Spiritually, we often see faith take a back seat to the practicalities of keeping the lights on or patching the hole in the roof of an aging building. Calls for an end to violence and war fall on deaf ears, whether in Ukraine, Gaza or anywhere else.

As Christians, we are supposed to exemplify hope, and yet, often it feels like it is in short supply.  So what are we to do?

This morning I gave the reflection at the Historic Saint James Church in Lafayette Square. I let them know I was grateful to be among them and more grateful still for their continued witness of resilience and hope.

You see from their inception, Saint James has been engaged in an act of rebellion and of hope. As the first Black episcopal church south of the Mason-Dixon Line, there were many who did not think they should exist at all. Every location, including their current home on Lafayette square was fought by white powers that be. And today, when it makes no economic or practical sense to have a church on that corner, especially one with the maintenance and other challenges it has, they continue to exist and persist, serving as a witness to all of us about the power of hope. 

Rebellions are built on hope. This line from the Star Wars franchise is one of my favorites from the new set of films, and it is the turning point on which the decision is made to try

To try and get the plans to destroy the Death Star. To try to preserve the rebellion. To try to stand up for what is good and right and decent. 

Churches are also built on hope, which, perhaps, suggests to us that going to church should be an act of rebellion. After all it makes no practical or economic sense to waste a few hours on a Sunday, maybe your only free day, to sit inside with a bunch of strangers.  There are more productive ways to spend a Sunday, certainly.

The View from Bolton Street

Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks.

John 12:20

Jesus was famous for not taking the classic all-time parental advice, don’t talk to strangers. Samaritans, Pharisees, Sadducees, Gentiles, the Syro-phoenician woman… and here in the Gospel of John, some Greeks. While I don’t normally advise ignoring your parents, Jesus did seem to make a habit of it. Remember when he ‘got lost’ and stuck around in the temple in Jerusalem? Or when his mom wanted him to make wine at the wedding and Jesus tried to get out of it. There is a reason that our parents tell us to not talk to strangers. Especially as children, it is for our protection. Making sure that we don’t end up in dangerous, difficult, or uncomfortable situations.

However, as adults, it is possible we take this feeling of safety a little too far. Only spending time with people we know, people we grew up with, people who look, act, talk, and think like us. Given all of the advances in technology, this is easier and easier. You can have almost any interaction over text or email, or increasingly with artificial intelligence specifically designed to get you exactly what you want, especially if it is a refund on your stolen Amazon package.

Let that sink in.

Collectively we have decided as a society it is easier and cheaper to re-order the same product someone stole from you, even if you know who it was, than to figure out how to change their behavior.  

Unfortunately, there are some conflicts that A.I. and high corporate overhead cannot solve.  

This week I am reading a book on the conflict in Northern Ireland, a first person account by Senator George Mitchell on how they were able to come to a resolution.  In it he says one of the first things he did was go and meet with as many leaders of different factions as possible and they all had wildly different views on what started the conflict and who was to blame.  They all agreed, however, on one thing. 

Years of conflict and violence had created crippling poverty.  Jobs and economic opportunities had to be a part of the solution.  So that is where the work began. 

When Jesus’ disciples try to stop these greeks from meeting with Jesus, they are just trying to protect him (and maybe themselves).  But Jesus is always willing to hear out those of differing viewpoints in order to find common ground and a path forward.  We could stand to do the same. 

And not through text, or A.I. or faceless voices online or in the news.  But in person. Face to face.  What is behind the compulsion to vote a certain way, live a certain way, act a certain way?  Can we be curious first, and leave the judgement behind?  Can we, like Jesus, entertain the idea that something different, new, challenging might be…. Better? For us, and for the world. 

The View from Bolton Street

Matthew 5:17–19

Jesus said, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven."

Where do we find HOPE in the midst of chaos?  Jesus promises faithfulness to the end, as we read above, and yet we look at the world, we wonder, where is Jesus.  Where is that faithfulness? Don’t you see what is going on down here?!?!

Whether you are worried about upcoming elections, violence in our city, the presence of evil in our world, your struggles and worries, or just the frustration of everyday life… I hope you will join us the next Three Wednesdays for our Lenten Dinner program with Brown Memorial and Corpus Cristi. 

The Program is entitled Finding Hope in Uncertain Times

With the myth of the inevitability of progress wrenched from dominant public discourse, many are facing the painful reality of a world that seems to be drifting away from the future that our faith promises. How do we find the energy to continue building toward that holy vision when things get worse, not better? How do we persevere when our actions for a just world seem inconsequential? Join members of Brown Memorial Presbyterian, Memorial Episcopal, and Corpus Christi Roman Catholic churches for dinner at 5:30, followed by education and discussion on these questions of finding hope in uncertain times.

In moments of chaos and uncertainty, it is most important to not feel alone.  Coming together as a community is a wonderful way to ensure you are not alone!  

So please do join us.

The View from Bolton Street

8 is Great! 

"You can hold it this way, you can hold it that way, It's still eight." 

The Count is right. Eight (years) is indeed great. This Sunday I celebrate eight years serving here at Memorial, and it truly has been a joyous and exceptional eight years.  

I am grateful to all of you who have been a part of this journey, which is really... all of you reading this reflection. Memorial has a long history and I am aware that I only play a small part in that story (My photo isn't even on the wall yet!) but let's consider all that we have accomplished in this time.

We went from a staff of four to a staff of eight, adding a bookkeeper, parish administrator, youth minister, and justice minister. 

Even with the pandemic, we have increased our attendance substantially, close to 20%. 

We have revitalized the entire physical plant; rehabbing the rectory, air conditioning and modernizing the sanctuary, and painting and air conditioning both of the parish halls.  

We are also in the process of putting new floors in the basement and rehabbing to create a Sunday school classroom and a more friendly and inviting space for the Samaritan Community. 

We began a first-of-its-kind reparations program in the middle of the pandemic, and are leading the diocese and the country in showing how Churches can process their complicated histories and continue to serve God and the community in the future.

We have distributed close to $150k in reparations funds to West Baltimore nonprofits, and many times that in volunteer hours and additional support. 

We have revitalized our music program, featuring exceptional musicians and vocalists, and a music minister who regularly composes new offerings not just for us but for the glory of God around the world. 

We have become more diverse as a congregation and in our staff and leadership, better reflecting the community around us and what we hope the Kingdom of God looks like. 

We helped more than 100 people escape the Taliban and find sanctuary in Abu Dhabi and Pakistan and provided critical legal and humanitarian services to refugees here in the U.S. who are trying to make a new home.

The Rectory went from a lightly used storage space to a home for the Episcopal Service Corps for multiple years and is now a home for refugee families resettling here in Baltimore. 

We have borne witness to what it means to believe in Jesus and share Christ's love with the world to our neighbors in Bolton Hill and beyond.  

We have been home to multiple non-profits and community-oriented programming that seek to make life more livable here in Baltimore for all. 

And perhaps most importantly we have crafted a community of love. One that does not always agree on everything but that does find common ground in the love of God and sharing that love with the world.

Thank you all for eight wonderful years. Looking forward to many more. 

The View from Bolton Street

Reflection Lent 2

No longer shall your name be Abram, but your name shall be Abraham; for I have made you the ancestor of a multitude of nations. I will make you exceedingly fruitful; and I will make nations of you, and kings shall come from you. I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you.

Genesis 17:5-7

I have made you the ancestor of a multitude of nations. That is a lot of responsibility, Abraham. I do wonder how Abraham would feel about this multitude of nations today. Despite this everlasting covenant with God, despite God’s commitment that it would be everlasting, we seem to be doing our best to test God on this particular agreement. 

It isn’t just Gaza, though that is a convenient scapegoat for some of our worst thoughts and fears. Consider how much you know about Judaism. Or Islam? How many friends and colleagues do you have of different faiths - and that you have in depth conversations about faith?

We are told from the beginning that we are family.  All connected through Father Abraham.  But we often act more like estranged cousins than children of the same God.  Real dialogue can be hard, and often we prefer superficial connection than actual conversation.  So I want to offer a few ways to encourage real dialogue in the midst of conflict and difference.  These come from Catherine Cornille, a theologian at Boston College and is a helpful model to follow. 

Before we see any dialogue across difference we must first demonstrate: 

Humility -  We may have strongly held beliefs, thoughts and feelings - but we also acknowledge that neither our tradition nor our faith has all the answers, and that we may have something to learn from others.

Commitment - We do believe something.  And we understand that belief enough to dialogue with someone else.

Interconnectedness - we commit to seeing the commonalities in our traditions, like, for example, Abraham! 

Empathy - We seek to listen with our whole heart, and mind and soul to the other, putting ourselves in their shoes and seeking to see the conflict from their perspective. 

Hospitality - and finally, that we offer welcome, sustenance, and shelter to all those who seek to dialogue with. Sharing a bit of ourselves as we share what we believe lightens the tension and proves we are invested in the relationship and not just winning an argument.

I hope these guidelines can help you in your own journeys towards healing, reconciliation and renewal, however you may understand them.