Ephesians 1:15-19; Acts 4:23-31
I was afraid I didn’t have it in me this time around. I had just been alerted to a breaking news article–revelations of racist and homophobic texts written by coaches in the Framingham Youth Football League. The texts, included in the article with portions blacked out, were extreme in the ways they denigrated African-Americans, Mexicans, women and gay men.
I was horrified. And I felt so weary. Again? More? Still? The depth and breadth and persistence of hatred felt overwhelming. I knew it was important to respond–some expression of solidarity for people who have once again been targeted.
But I had no idea what to write. What could I say that was different from what I said the last time, or the time before? Words that had seemed fresh and passionate last month felt worn, even cliched. Anything I could think to write about hope felt simplistic.
Thankfully, hope is not dependent on my ability to write about it on any given day. Blessedly, I am part of something larger than myself. The day after the news broke, through phone calls and emails, Rev. Dr. J. Anthony Lloyd from Greater Framingham Community Church, Rev. Liz Garrigan-Byerly from CASA and now also from Edwards Church, and I agreed on a plan. Liz drafted a statement–a moving expression of solidarity with a strong commitment to working for lasting change. Then we got to work inviting others to sign on. A few hours later, there were thirty signatures. Now there are 263. 263 people saying NO to hate and prejudice in our city. 263 people committing ourselves to take action–to work for lasting change that will uphold the dignity of each person and seek opportunity and equity for all. It may take time to figure out what actions will be most helpful; we have committed ourselves to staying in the process.
Alone, I felt tired and hopeless. As one of three involved in developing this statement, I could begin to feel a glimmer of hope. As one of 263 signers, I can boldly commit to acting in hope.
Over the last ten days I have had three conversations that have shaped the way I hear the opening phrase in our Stewardship Theme: “Committing to Hope.” The first was that conversation with colleagues. The second happened on Tuesday night before Buddhist meditation, over pizza at Neko’s with Clair. We were brainstorming ideas for her testimony for this morning. We talked about how overwhelming life can be and how overwhelming the problems of the world feel right now. There is so much that needs to be done, too much for any one of us. We talked about the gift of being in a community where we know other people are acting to make a difference in arenas where we, on our own, cannot. Each of us can do something; together our efforts are multiplied.
As we shifted our focus to our theme, “Committing to Hope,” I thought back to that first conversation. Each of us has times when we struggle to find hope–in our personal lives, in our efforts to care for family and friends, in our desire to be a force for good in our world. In those times, we don’t have to grit our teeth, power through and try to force ourselves to feel hopeful. All we have to do is show up and be part of a movement greater than ourselves. All we have to do is dare to trust that this community can hold hope for us, until we can reclaim it for ourselves. And when we have reclaimed it, we dare to trust that we can hold hope for someone else who is struggling.
If we are isolated individuals, the call to commit to hope feels harsh–without much space to allow for our very human doubts and struggles. If we are a community, committing to hope is a joyous challenge. To commit to hope is to dare to trust one another with both our vulnerability and our desire to make a difference. To commit to hope is to promise to hold hope for one another and to allow others to hold hope for us. To commit to hope is to show up to support one another in our efforts to seek justice and healing for our world.
The third conversation took place in our Wednesday night Bible Study. We read about Peter and John, leaders in the early church who were put on trial by people in power for healing a disabled man. They were acquitted, but then instructed never to speak the name of Jesus in public again.
What did they do? They went back to their newly formed community, not to hide away but to pray for boldness. As they prayed, the earth shook beneath them, and the Holy Spirit filled the room. They went out from there with boldness–to share Jesus’ teachings, to offer healing and welcome in his name.
“What is the boldness we need as a church today?” I asked the group. Courage to speak up, one person responded. We talked about the courage to stand fast against hatred and intolerance. We also talked about the courage to look deep within ourselves, to recognize the judgments we make about others and to examine the ways we participate in systems that perpetuate inequality. Boldness, we agreed, requires both willingness to speak the truth as we know it and humility to listen to others, recognizing that we don’t have all the answers. Reflecting on how tempting it is to fight hate with more hate, we talked about the boldness it takes to confront hate with love.
Where do we get that boldness? Our reading from Acts gives us a simple answer: by praying for it. When we come together, committing ourselves to hope, praying for courage to live and act in hope, the Holy Spirit will move through this place, shaking the walls, filling us with boldness.
No one of us can do it alone–there is too much in our lives and in our world that leads us to despair. When we pray for boldness, when we open ourselves to the Holy Spirit making us community, we can do it. We can commit to hope–hope that is more than a feeling, hope that is persistent, courageous action. We can be hope for one another. We can be hope for Framingham. We can be hope for our world.
“Committing to Hope” is the first half of our Stewardship Theme. The second half follows from it: “The Miracle of Giving.” I was the one on the Stewardship Team who insisted on using the word “miracle” as part of our theme. That’s because I so often experience this church as a miracle. Not magic, where the laws of nature are subverted, but miracle–God breaking in with the power of love, God working through us to bring hope to our world.
There are so many other things each one of us could be doing right now, and yet here we are. There are so many reasons to mock faith in the power of God’s love, and yet here we are praying that we can be part of that power. There are so many factors in our culture that can lead us to isolate ourselves; even so we choose community. There is pain and struggle in each of our lives; still we breathe deep and sing hymns of gratitude and joy. Surely, God has broken into our lives with the power of love. Surely it is a miracle.
I am especially aware of the miraculous nature of church–this church in particular–at Stewardship time. We manage a campus of five buildings and four gardens, inviting people from many faiths and backgrounds to find hope here. We support an amazing staff. We reach out to the wider community, sharing our financial resources, our time and passion, working for justice and healing. We do all this relying on the voluntary contributions of our members and friends. We trust that if everyone gives as we are able, there will be abundance to share, hope overflowing. That amazes me. That inspires awe in me. That must be a miracle–God’s love at work through our generosity.
When we commit to hope, when we pray for boldness and dare to trust each other, when we give generously and receive graciously, we are God’s love breaking into our world. We are a miracle. May it be so. Amen.