Baccalaureate 2013, Bluffton University

I was honored to be selected as one of two student speakers for the 2013 Baccalaureate service at Bluffton University. The following is the text of my speech, given on May 5, 2013 in the Sommer Center at Bluffton University.

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Three and a half years ago, Rudi Kauffman changed my life.

It was the first day of spring semester classes. I had just transferred to Bluffton, and looking back, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. That January afternoon, as I sat in the classroom waiting for the professor to arrive, a very young, VERY energetic man walked through the door and started cracking jokes at the front of the room.

“Great,” I thought to myself. “This guy is pretending to be the professor!” Within seconds, my mind was blown when he introduced himself and was actually Rudi Kauffman. What Rudi said to us at the beginning of that class taught me almost everything I needed to know about Bluffton, and much of what I hope we will carry with us as we graduate and go out from this place.

He started out by saying something that is so common here at Bluffton that most of us take it for granted: “Just call me Rudi.” After transferring from a school where I didn’t even know the first names of most of my professors, it took me a whole semester to adjust to this strange new place, where my professors were simply Rudi, Trevor, Lynda, Alex, Gerald…and the list goes on. You see, when Rudi invited me to know him as Rudi, nothing more and nothing less, he invited me to know him as a person, not just a professor. In that moment, I learned that at Bluffton, faculty members are simply people living alongside us in community. They are incredibly gifted, accomplished scholars, but they are also human beings who care more about relating to us than they do about status and fancy titles.

The second thing that Rudi said is something that I will remember for the rest of my life. He said, “I am not a professor. I am a teacher. To call myself a professor would be to claim that I have some knowledge to profess to you. But we all have knowledge, so I am a teacher and so are you. This semester we will teach one another.”

Now, by this point, I was sure that I had wandered into a parallel universe. As someone who has taken classes at three other universities, let me assure you, this is not typical of professors. To my surprise and delight, though, Rudi’s words came true with each class I took at Bluffton and with every passing year. Bluffton professors are not only people who live in community with us; they actually expect to learn with and from their students. Class of 2013, in these last four years, we have been given the extraordinary gift of learning not only with one another, but with these gifted scholars who have been to us, and will continue to be, teachers, mentors, and friends.

You see, Bluffton is a unique and beautiful place because we do community together—students, faculty, staff, guests, and even strangers. We are a community of respect and warm welcome. But with that being said, like any family, we have our disagreements and we have our challenges. Contrary to what I thought during my first semester here, Bluffton is not a utopia. Yet I believe that the challenging experiences we have faced, both individually and as a community, are the greatest gifts to us as we move forward. We have learned together, many of us have lived together, and we have seen each other at our worst and our best. But as the Scripture for this morning urges us to do, we have loved one another deeply, and the love in this community is what remains. It is love that we have for one another and for this place as we gather this morning to reflect upon our time as Bluffton students. It is love that we carry with us as we move into the next chapter of our journeys. It is love that we are called to be in the new communities we will call home.

As we stand at this moment, looking back upon our time at Bluffton and looking forward to all that lies ahead, this morning’s Scripture also issues a fitting challenge for each and every one of us: “use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms” (1 Pet 4.10).

As I look out this morning and see each of your faces, I see an abundance of gifts to be used in the world. Class of 2013, we are a diverse community. We are athletes and we are scholars. We are from just down the road and from across the globe. We are residential students and those who have never set foot in a residence hall. We are people of all ages who have come together for this season to learn and grow, and today, we are sent out into the world to put our learning into action. Just as all of our gifts have brought a rich diversity to the Bluffton community, the Scripture tells us that as we use our unique gifts to serve others, we become the embodiment of God’s grace in the world.

Now, if you are like me, this task of going out to serve the world is a daunting one. Community, love, diversity, and grace seem possible here at Bluffton, at least on our good days. But the thought of leaving this place and actually living up to these values is incredibly intimidating. And if we are being honest, for many of us, the sheer thought of leaving this place is overwhelming.

On this final day of our Bluffton journey, I believe the lessons that I learned from Rudi on my very first day in this community contain wisdom and guidance for all of us today and in all of our tomorrows.

First, just be Rudi. Now, I am not encouraging anyone to actually be Rudi; I think we all know that would be a little dangerous. But I am encouraging all of you to be yourself, nothing more, and nothing less. Do awesome things, get PhDs and score jobs with impressive titles, but don’t take yourself too seriously. Be real in your community. Dare to treat every person you meet as your equal. Just be Rudi, and let everyone else be who they are, too.

And second, be a teacher and be a learner. Never forget that every person you will meet has gifts and knowledge to share with you and with the world. Be ready to receive these gifts, be eager to learn what they have to teach you, and be grateful every step of the way. These practices are the foundation of true community.

So, go, class of 2013, and be your most authentic self.

Go, class of 2013, knowing that all are one and all are equal.

Go, class of 2013, eager to learn with and from all who cross your path.

And above all, go into the world and be love. Amen.

be comfort. be grace.

The following is the meditation I preached at my final Gospel Choir concert at Bluffton University on April 20, 2013.

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About a month ago, Crystal asked me if I would be willing to give a short meditation on the theme of this concert: messages of God’s enduring grace, mercy, and provision. At the time, I had no idea that the week leading up to this concert would be one of horrific violence and fear in our nation and world. Last night, as I sat glued to the live coverage of the events unfolding in Boston, I knew that proclaiming the gospel of grace in this time was a much heavier task than I had anticipated. In this world where violence, suffering, injustice, and fear seem to surround us, we are truly a people in need of grace, now more than ever.

Although this is not the Scripture I originally planned to share, this morning I woke up with these words echoing in my mind. Hear these words of comfort and grace from the prophet Isaiah, chapter 40:

¹Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. ²Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.

³A voice cries out: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. ⁴Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. ⁵Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”

⁹Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tidings; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings, lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Judah, “Here is your God!” ¹¹He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.

These words of comfort were spoken to God’s people after the Babylonian empire had destroyed Jerusalem and taken them captive. God spoke to this community returning from exile with words that we, too, need to hear:

Comfort, comfort my people.

In this dark, wilderness place, my grace is present and calling you out of this cycle of violence and suffering.

From this place, I am calling you to walk a path that will make my grace known to all people.

Do not fear! In the wake of suffering, proclaim to all those whose lives are in ruins: God is here. God is holding you like a mother holds her child. God is leading us, all of us, gently toward healing.

Today, God is speaking these bold words of comfort to the people of Boston, and to the people of Baghdad; to those who have lost loved ones, whether innocent or guilty; to those who are suffering, and to all those whose silent suffering goes unnoticed until it leads to unthinkable acts of violence. When God says, “comfort, my people,” God is extending grace to all people and calling us to do the same, for all people are God’s. To friends and enemies, in our own nation and around the world…be comfort, God says. Be grace.

This call is deeply challenging and profoundly counter-cultural, particularly in times like this. But because grace is a gift that we have been freely given, it is a gift that we are called to freely give. So, be comfort. Be grace. To all.

We need it now more than ever.

restlessness of the prophets

A brief poetic reflection on my final C. Henry Smith Peace Oratorical Contest at Bluffton:

restlessness of the prophets;
bold words pregnant
with the world as it should be.
my mouth gives voice
to your heart within,
but the message is heavy
and remains a part of me.
articulating these words
only multiplies the responsibility.
so with my life, you call me:
speak.

I was honored to place second this year, and will post the full text of my speech in the coming days!

be peace,

Katie

Speaking a Wor(l)d of Truth: Proclamation as Peacebuilding

The following is the text of my speech from the annual C. Henry Smith Peace Oratorical Contest at Bluffton University. The contest took place on March 28th, and my speech earned first place.

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"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me...[God] has anointed me to bring good news to the poor...to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor" (Luke 4.18-19 NRSV).  Luke 4 depicts the inauguration of Christ’s ministry; Jesus boldly unrolls the Isaiah scroll and at once proclaims the gospel, exposes the bankrupt system of the world, and liberates all people. In this text and throughout Scripture, word is inseparable from action. The Word has become flesh, and the words proclaimed by this embodied Word do the concrete work of unbinding captives, restoring sight to the blind, and liberating the oppressed (Luke 4.18). At the center of the Christian faith stands this claim, that the proclamation of a true word is a catalyst for the concrete transformation of the world— thus, proclamation is an act of peacebuilding. And this task of proclaiming peace has been entrusted to you and me, who have been commanded by Christ to "go into all the world and proclaim the good news" (Mark 16.15). As a biblical studies major and peace and conflict studies minor, my academic interests and my call as a Christian peacebuilder stand at this intersection between Scripture and shalom, proclamation and peacebuilding. Tonight I would like to invite you to consider with me this radical claim that the act of proclaiming peace is truly a locus of peacebuilding.

First, I will establish the connection between word and action, proclamation and peacebuilding. Second, I will expose the contrasting proclamations of the world and the gospel, which constantly compete for our allegiance. And third, I hope you will join me in celebrating places in our global community where words of peace truly have created a world of peace. For as we proclaim the gospel of Christ, our true words make manifest the true world of God's peaceable kingdom.

First, let us examine the relationship between word and action, recognizing that to speak peace is to build peace. According to Paulo Freire, a word is the interplay between "reflection and action," and these two elements must be held in tension. He argues that "to speak a true word is to transform the world.”  Thus, for Freire, proclamation presupposes praxis; to proclaim peace is to practice peace and vice versa.

Walter Brueggemann also addresses the intimate connection between word and action, emphasizing the relationship in Scripture between the spoken word and the created world. In his book The Prophetic Imagination, he argues that "all social reality...spring[s] fresh from the word.”  For this reason, the content of our proclamation becomes the context in which we live. And according to Brueggemann, it is the prophetic peacebuilder’s responsibility to legitimate a radical alternative to the proclamation of the empire, in turn bringing forth a new world.

Peacebuilding scholar Lisa Schirch asserts that transforming worldviews is the key to changing the world for peace, since the way we understand the world directly impacts the way we act and react in situations of conflict.  Therefore, this task of proclaiming Christ’s gospel of peace as a legitimate and radical alternative is essential; for if we are to transform conflict, we first must transform minds for peace.

We see this intimate connection between word and action, proclamation and peacebuilding, in Christ's own words in Luke 4. Jesus proclaims release to the captives (Luke 4.18) and speaks healing, just as God created the universe by the nonviolent power of the word. As Christian peacebuilders, we are commanded to do the same-- to go into the world and proclaim the gospel, at once transforming the world for peace.

Next, if we are serious about speaking words of peace, we must understand the contrasting proclamations of the world and the gospel. For many of us, the proclamation of the world invades our mind before our feet hit the floor each morning. Our alarms go off, we grab our smart phones, and with one touch the headlines echo in our ears. Death and destruction, violence and fear, power and politics. We call this proclamation news, but do we call it gospel? As I wrestled with this question, I created a Wordle,  or a visual representation, of five of last week's top news stories on CNN.  Word size is determined by frequency, so this literally paints a picture of the world's proclamation.

What does this tell us about the world in which we live? Let's examine the largest words, the words that appeared most frequently in last week's headlines: “Zimmerman, House & Senate, shooting, police, PTSD, [and] soldiers.” Here we have the name of a man who killed an unarmed African-American teenager, surrounded by a cloud of power, fear, and violence. This is the proclamation of the world, a hegemonic rhetoric of death and power, filled with facts but void of truth.

In contrast, this is a Wordle of Isaiah 61.1-3 and Luke 4.16-19 (TNIV), two texts that are central to the prophetic call to proclamation. This image represents the radical alternative of a truly biblical worldview. Here we see the words "proclaim, LORD, Spirit, instead, good news, annointed, freedom, [and] favor." Friends, this is a radical subversion of the world’s rhetoric of death. At the center of this proclamation stands the name of the Creator and the invitation to proclaim the gospel as the "instead"—the alternative— to oppression, death, and violence.  As Christian peacebuilders, we might be surrounded by the empire’s rhetoric of death, but we are nourished by and called to proclaim this life-giving rhetoric called gospel. Tonight, we are faced with this challenge: which word will we proclaim? Which world will we create?

With this in mind, I would like to turn now to one example in our global community where words of peace truly have built a world of peace. In the midst of the rhetoric of violence and nationalism surrounding the U.S. war in Iraq, just this month here at Bluffton the proclamation of our Iraqi international students truly did build a new world of peace; as they vulnerably and courageously shared their experiences of the war on a student panel, the power of their words broke down barriers and built the understanding necessary to pursue the common goal of shalom. Let me be clear that as a citizen of the United States, their stories were not easy to hear, and I left with a new sense of responsibility for the ways in which my nation's actions have devastated the lives of my friends at Bluffton and around the world.

But despair did not have the last word that evening. At one particularly powerful moment, a student from the United States asked the panel what their dreams were for the future of Iraq. In unison, the Iraqi students replied, "Peace." A bold word of hope confronting the seemingly hopeless world of violence. In that moment, proclamation and peacebuilding were one and the same. This is the task of proclamation according to Walter Brueggemann— to expose the status quo and propose a radical alternative, to dismantle the imperial rhetoric of death and legitimize the new rhetoric of God’s kingdom— words of life, words of peace, words of hope.

In closing, may we always remember that to speak a word of peace is to build a world of peace. Recognizing the undeniable connection between word and action, may we embrace Christ's call to proclamation as a call to peacebuilding. Striving to subvert the hegemonic rhetoric of empire, may we always choose to proclaim the radical alternative of Christ's peace. And celebrating the places where proclamation truly has created a world of peace, may we always have hope.

Go in peace, knowing that the world has been transformed by the true words spoken in this place. Go in peace, trusting that Christ's word of life holds greater power than the world of death. Go in peace, to proclaim a world of peace. Amen and thank you.

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Works cited

Barrett, Ted and Deirdre Walsh. “Standoff in Congress threatens highway construction funding.”  No pages. Cited 22 March 2012. Online: http://www.cnn.com/2012/03/21/politics/congress-transportation-bill/index.html?npt=NP1

Brueggemann, Walter. The Prophetic Imagination. Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress, 2001.

CNN Wire Staff. “Sanford, Florida, police chief steps aside ‘temporarily’ in fallout from teen’s  death.” No pages. Cited 22 March 2012. Online:  http://www.cnn.com/2012/03/22/justice/florida-teen-shooting/index.html?hpt=us_c1 .

Djau, Umaro. “Renegade soldiers declare power seizure in Mali.” No pages. Cited 22 March 2012.  Online:http://www.cnn.com/2012/03/22/world/africa/mali-suspected-coup/index.html?hpt=hp_t3

Feinberg, Jonathan. “Wordle.” No pages. Cited 22 March 2012. Online: http://www.wordle.net/

Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum, 2010.

Schirch, Lisa. Ritual and Symbol in Peacebuilding. Bloomfield, CT: Kumarian, 2005.

Shaughnessy, Larry. “Army reviewing PTSD evaluation program.” No pages. Cited 22 March 2012.  Online: http://www.cnn.com/2012/03/21/us/army-ptsd-evaluation-program/index.html?hpt=us_c2

Verello, Dan. “Occupiers clash with police in New York; 6 arrested.” No pages. Cited 22 March  2012. Online: http://www.cnn.com/2012/03/21/justice/new-york-occupyarrests/index.html?hpt=us_c2

on darkness

I just ran across the text of my chapel talk from the Women’s Studies chapel at Bluffton University back in March and thought I would share it with anyone who might be interested!

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Today as we explore the theme of wholeness, I would like start with a conversation about what it means for us to experience seasons of darkness and doubt on the journey of faith. As I read verse 12 of Psalm 139, listen for the echoes of your own voice, questions, and doubts in these words of Scripture:

Even the darkness is not dark to you;

The night is as bright as the day,

For darkness is as light to you.

As I was reading Psalm 139 and thinking about our theme today of wholeness, I was immediately drawn to the phrase, “darkness is as light to you.” My first thought was, “No, God, today’s theme is WHOLENESS, not DARKNESS!” So I read the passage again. And again.

And I ended up back where I began:

Darkness is as light to you.

Since I couldn’t escape it, I decided I might as well embrace it. So, darkness.

Have you ever been there?

I have been. This year has been, in a sense, a dark one for me. Those of you who know me know that I love to ask questions. As a religion major, I have been equipped to ask big questions…you know, the dangerous ones. Is God real? Does truth exist? Can I trust God? Is it really possible to live faithfully? At times, I have found myself in places where doubt overshadowed faith and darkness seemed to drown out the light.

But our Scripture today tells us that DARKNESS is as LIGHT to God.

What does this mean when we find ourselves in times of doubt and darkness?

First, it means that experiences of darkness are TO BE EXPECTED on the journey of faith. The psalmist here isn’t afraid to ask questions of God, and she affirms that darkness is part of the journey. In fact, darkness is an opportunity to have faith and trust that God is indeed our guide and God sees only light.

Second, it’s important to note that the psalmist says that darkness is as light TO GOD, not to you and me. When we experience a time of doubt and darkness, it is NOT our job to see, find, or somehow create the light. Our faith should never be fake—real doubt is far better than false joy, because thankfully the light of God does not depend on us. For this reason, when darkness comes—and the psalmist tells us that it will come—we can trust that God sees the light even when we can’t, and that is enough.

Third, it seems significant that this verse paves the way for the most popular portion of Psalm 139. It serves as the prelude for the resounding praise of God as our Creator, that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” You see, the psalmist’s questions and doubts and struggles…the psalmist’s experience of darkness…is but one step on her journey, the journey that each of us are traveling—towards wholeness and restoration. Towards healing through God’s radical grace. And friends, the final destination of this journey is not darkness, but the praise of the God who created both light and darkness.

In my own journey this year, this has been the case. God has led me, like the psalmist, from darkness to light and from doubt to praise. I have asked the hard questions, engaged the times of darkness, and trusted in the God who guides me and sees light when I see only darkness. In spite of my feelings and my doubts, I have continued to pray, attend chapel, go to church, and study Scripture. It is all too easy to put these things aside, but I believe that our willingness to actively seek God in the midst of all of our questions and doubts is key to allowing God to lead us from seasons of darkness into seasons of abundant praise.

Another important aspect of my own journey towards wholeness has been community. We talk a lot about community here at Bluffton, and I don’t think that’s a coincidence; as it turns out, these people sitting next to you are a gift of God on this journey toward wholeness. In seasons of darkness and seasons of light, I have found listening ears, warm hugs, lots of laughter, and genuine support from my friends and professors in the Bluffton community. In some of my darkest moments, these people—many of you here worshipping with me today—have spoken the words of God into my life when I could not hear God’s voice for myself. That is true community— trusting one another and God enough to be real, to be vulnerable, and to let the light of God shine through others when we can’t see it for ourselves.

This is my prayer for our community today and every day as we think about what it means for us to journey together toward wholeness—that we would be a community that takes the words of Psalm 139 seriously and acknowledges that darkness is a beautiful and essential part of wholeness. A community that doesn’t buy into the lie that our faithfulness is measured by our ability to see the light. A community that is built on mutual honesty, trust, and encouragement in times of darkness and times of light. A community that celebrates the fact that the journey of wholeness is not to be traveled alone.

walking with God: an expository sermon on Micah 6.6-8

“With what shall I come before the LORD, and bow myself before God on high? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6.6-8 NRSV)

Do justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly with God. These words are familiar to many of us, but what does it really mean to live this way? That is what I would like to explore with you—through the Holy Spirit—this afternoon. Although I grew up in a faith tradition that emphasizes social justice, when I came to Bluffton I encountered people whose lives were a more radical example of the justice, kindness, and humility that the prophet Micah is calling for. I met people who go on Christian Peacemaker Team delegations, literally putting their lives on the line to stand in solidarity with their brothers and sisters in Christ around the world. I met people who not only articulate, but embody, Christ’s call to enemy love. These examples were both compelling and overwhelming to me; I felt called to live a life of justice, kindness, and humility…but I knew that it wouldn’t be easy. In fact, I was pretty sure I couldn’t do it.

As it turns out, the people that Micah addresses in this passage were equally compelled and equally overwhelmed. God makes it clear in the first few chapters of Micah that God’s people need to clean up their act; they have been unfaithful, worshiping idols, abusing their military power, and distorting justice. But in chapter six, God’s people encounter God’s call—much like I did when I encountered people whose radical lives stretched my understanding of God’s call to a life of justice and peace. Through the prophet Micah, God invites God’s people to come home—to repent and live in righteousness. But much like me, God’s people are pretty sure this call is an impossible—or at least completely unreasonable—one.

So in verse six, we find them questioning God through the prophet Micah—

LORD God, how can I even approach you?

How could I possibly make things right?

Would everything I own be enough to deserve your love?

If I sacrifice my child to you, would you forgive me?

Can you hear the desperation?

With each question, the voices of God’s people become progressively more dramatic—they are desperate to be reconciled to God. They know they want to live out God’s call, but they know how hard it will be. So they propose a list of acts of piety and ritual holiness that become ever more extreme….even to the point of child sacrifice.

But the good news is that the story doesn’t end there. In verse 8, we hear another voice, a fresh perspective—the prophet Micah gives God’s response to the people’s questions.

“Silly people, God has already told you what you need to do. Here’s the deal— God needs for your faith to be shown in your everyday actions and in the way you treat others. And one last thing—remember that every step you take, every single day of your life, is a step that you are taking alongside God. Living that kind of life means more to God than any amount of calves or rams or oil. God wants you, not your stuff.”

God has blessed me with several Micahs in my life—people who have encouraged me and walked alongside me on my faith journey toward justice and peace. I remember one particular conversation I had with a friend, when I told her that I wasn’t ready to be a pacifist. I asked the question, “But what if I am not ready to die for this?” Today I hear echoes of the questions of God’s people in my own question—“With what shall I come before the LORD?” And in my friend’s answer I can hear the prophet Micah—she simply said, “Peace is a journey. Today is the first step.”

“He has told you what is good….do, love, walk...take the first step.”

So, who is your Micah? I hope you can identify people in your life whose voices interrupt your feelings of insufficiency and desperation. But I also hope you will let me be a Micah for you today as we think together about what it means to live out God’s call to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.

First, what does it mean to do justice?

In short, this means that actions matter. The verb here is “do,” and it is here to remind us that God cares about everything we do. And it is no accident that the word “do” is paired here with the word “justice”—God wants our actions to be just, reflecting God’s own character. This teaches us that justice is not something we simply think about, pray for, or believe in—justice is something that must be lived out. This has been the case throughout the history of God’s people, with calls for justice echoing throughout the Torah, the prophets, and the new covenant. Today, doing justice can take on many forms—buying fair trade coffee, reducing energy use, withholding taxes that would be spent on war, or even taking part in acts of civil disobedience to stand in solidarity with our global neighbors. Remember—this is a journey and this is an invitation to take the next step for you, which will probably look different for every single one of us!

The next way we are called to live righteously in God’s sight is by loving kindness.

Here, the Hebrew word for “love” has a unique meaning. The prophet Micah is not calling us to a warm, fuzzy kind of love, but a deep, all-encompassing life of love. In English, this kind of love is best described as loyalty. So, loving kindness means being loyal to kindness above all else. This loyalty to kindness in turn reflects our loyalty to God. So, what does it look like to be loyal to kindness? How about being kind in spite of feelings, turning the other cheek, acting compassionately toward personal and national enemies because loving kindness is our highest loyalty? Loving kindness means seeking the well-being of the places we inhabit, even if it is not our home—just as God’s people were called to do in exile. You see, loving kindness is not a one-time event, it is a way of life that echoes throughout the history of God’s people. The prophet Micah spoke in a different time than our own, but the call is for us as well. Love kindness. Be good. Be God’s people and build up God’s Kingdom in this place and this time.

The third element of a righteous life is to walk humbly with God.

Here, we find out how we are to live with and relate to God. This command is filled with meaning, and the Hebrew words hint at what God is calling for. First, the word “walk” in Hebrew is the same word used to describe ethics; this means that the way we live out our faith should be a natural part of our everyday life, just like walking— and we are called to walk and live humbly with God. The Hebrew word translated “humbly” can also be translated as “carefully,” so the call to walk humbly is really a call to live an ethical, conscious life. Doesn’t that sound a lot like the call to do justice and love kindness? As it turns out, while Micah gives three commands, he is really painting a picture of one whole and holy life, a life lived with God.

That brings us to the last three words of the text…

With. Your. God.

Those three words are the most important words that I’ve spoken today. They not only encompass Micah 6.6-8, they encompass the broad scope of Scripture as a whole.

We are called to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God—but we are not called to do this alone. Not only do we have Micahs along the journey to speak God’s truth into our lives, we have the Creator and Sustainer journeying along with us.

So, go and do justice—take the first step on this journey. Go and love kindness—be a loyal witness to God’s radical love. Go and walk humbly—be conscious of every step you take. And above all else, go with God and go for the world.

Today is the first step on the journey.

May it be so. Amen.

Bibliography

Anderson, Francis I. and David Noel Freedman. Micah: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Anchor Bible. Garden City, NJ: Doubleday, 2000.

Limburg, James. Hosea-Micah. Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988.

March, W. Eugene. “Micah.” Pages 660-664 in HarperCollins Bible Commentary. Edited by James L. Mays. San Francisco: HarperOne, 2000.

Smith, Ralph L. Micah-Malachi. Word Biblical Commentary. Waco, TX: Word Books, 1984.

Criminal Injustice: Collateral Consequences and the Gospel of Reconciliation

A couple weeks ago, I participated in the C. Henry Smith Peace Oratorical Contest at Bluffton University. It was an exciting opportunity to proclaim God's message of grace and reconciliation, and I ended up earning second place! So, for those of you who didn't make it out that night (or for those of you who did), here is the text of my speech:
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      This evening, I would like to invite you into an unlikely dialogue— a dialogue between the U.S. criminal justice policy and the biblical text. Specifically, I will focus on the collateral consequences of criminal convictions, which are the laws and policies in place that make reintegration into society nearly impossible after individuals have served prison sentences. Turning to the biblical text, I will examine these laws and policies through the lens of the story of the Prodigal Son in the Gospel of Luke, exposing and dismantling the structural violence in the U.S. criminal justice system. Finally, I will issue a challenge for each and every one of us— to imagine and create a criminal justice system shaped by the narrative of reconciliation found in the biblical text rather than the narrative of violence, injustice, and fear that permeates the world in which we live. As God’s people, the story of the Prodigal Son— a story of abundant grace and reconciliation— is our story; informed by this narrative, we must work for criminal justice reform, calling for a truly just system characterized by reintegration, restoration, and reconciliation.

       First, we must expose the structural violence in the U.S. criminal justice system. While the injustice in the system is extensive, this evening I will focus specifically on the collateral consequences laws. While many people assume that a person’s prison sentence is the extent of their punishment, this is simply not the case; the collateral consequences laws impose life-long punishment over and above time in prison. According to Marc Mauer in the Ohio State Journal of Criminal Law, in addition to their prison sentence, 18-year old first-time drug offenders in many states are denied access to welfare benefits, public housing, and federal loans for college, as well as permanently denied the right to vote (610).

Further, Mauer points out the common practice of denying employment to individuals with even minor previous criminal convictions. With 47 million people having criminal records on file (Mauer 3), these laws and policies impact nearly one in six of the 312 million people currently living in the United States according to the Census Bureau. One in six of our sisters and brothers in the United States left without a job, without access to food and housing, without the hope and opportunity of an education, and even denied the right to vote. One in six of our sisters and brothers trapped in a cycle of poverty, violence, and crime. One in six of our sisters and brothers, shackled for life by invisible chains of injustice that have been locked with our consent, the key thrown away as we have remained complicit to the status quo of the criminal justice system.

With these 47 million people in mind— 47 million real lives, real faces, and real stories— let us turn now to the biblical text. Luke 15 tells the story of the Prodigal Son, the story of a young man who takes his share of his father’s estate, runs away to a distant country, and throws away his resources and the honor of his family in corrupt living. Realizing the mistake he has made, and ashamed of his actions, he chooses to return to his father, hoping to be taken in as a hired hand since he is no longer worthy of the family name. This is the story of a sinner, an offender, a criminal, returning to his community— an experience familiar to many of our sisters and brothers in the criminal justice system.

With them in mind, hear now the story of the return of the Prodigal Son from the Gospel of Luke: “While he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him…the son said… ‘Father, I have sinned against…you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son. But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe— the best one— and put it on him…get the fatted calf and kill it…let us eat and celebrate, for this son of mine was dead and is alive again, he was lost and is found!’” (Luke 15.20-24 NRSV). Tonight, I would like to suggest that the story of the Prodigal Son subverts the status quo of our criminal justice system, exposing and dismantling structures of injustice and oppression and inviting us to imagine and create a system marked by the reconciliation of the sinner, the offender— the Prodigal Son.

When people complete their prison sentences, the U.S. criminal justice policy prevents the story of the Prodigal Son from playing out in our communities. People with previous convictions are denied employment in the U.S., but the biblical narrative goes beyond employment, welcoming the offender not as an employee but as a member of the family, as a son, as a daughter; and not only that, the Prodigal Son is the most treasured family member precisely because he was lost, he did make mistakes, but now he has returned, he is found, he is alive! (Luke 15.24) The father welcoming his son back into his family is an act of abundant grace and reconciliation. Before the son can even get the words out of his mouth, “I am no longer worthy…” (Luke 15.21), the father exclaims, “this is my son!” Here we find no collateral consequences— only collateral compassion and collateral celebration.
        Comparing the U.S. criminal justice policy and the story of the Prodigal Son also leads us to consider issues of scarcity and abundance. While the collateral consequences laws create a world of scarcity in which many people with past criminal convictions are deprived of basic human needs, the story of the Prodigal Son is a narrative of abundance. While the criminal justice system says to those returning to their community, “You don’t deserve anything,” the father in the story of the Prodigal Son says, “Give my beloved son the best we have.” The U.S. criminal justice policy condemns those with previous criminal records, deeming them unworthy of life itself by denying them access to the things they need to survive. But in the story of the Prodigal Son, the father affirms the sacred worth of his child, giving him not only everything he needs, but everything the father has— everything the son does not deserve. That, my friends, is grace— completely unmerited, undeserved free gift.

 You see, this story is not just about criminals— this story is about you and me, ordinary prodigals. This is the story of our journey, our sin, our reconciliation to God, and our call to continue God’s work of reconciliation in the world. We have been prodigal daughters and prodigal sons— we have squandered the free gift of God— and we have been and are being welcomed home into the arms of God, our mother and our father. The fatted calf has been killed, the celebration has begun— this reality of abundant grace and reconciliation is our reality, the reality in which we live and the reality we are called to create.

In closing, let us consider these words from John Howard Yoder’s Body Politics: “Church and world are not…two institutions with contradictory assignments, but two levels of the pertinence of the same Lordship. The church is called to be today what the world is called to be ultimately” (10). This means that the dialogue between the U.S. criminal justice policy and the story of the Prodigal Son is not a debate between two separate, competing realities. The point is not for us to live in the reality of God’s grace and reconciliation and ignore the harsh, unforgiving reality of the world around us. Rather, as God’s people, we are called to engage in the reality of the world, transforming structures of oppression and injustice and creating a world shaped by God’s vision of reconciliation, justice, and peace. As prodigals who have been reconciled by the abundant grace of God, we must call for a criminal justice system shaped by the gospel— the good news— of reconciliation. And along with God, our abundantly merciful mother and father, we are called to celebrate as our prodigal sisters and brothers return home, proclaiming, “This—this is my sister! She was dead, but she is alive again! She was lost, but now she is found!” With these words and this welcome, let the celebration begin!

           

Works Cited

Mauer, Marc. “Collateral Consequences of Criminal Convictions: Barriers to Reentry for the Formerly Incarcerated.” Presented to House Judiciary Subcommittee on Crime, Terrorism, and Homeland Security. 9 June 2010.

Mauer, Marc. “Thinking About Prison and its Impact in the Twenty-First Century.” The Ohio State Journal of Criminal Law 2:607 (2005): 607-618.

"U.S. & World Population Clock." Census Bureau Home Page. Web. 02 Apr. 2011.

Yoder, John Howard. Body Politics. Scottdale, PA: Herald, 2001.