For the love of God is this, that we obey God’s commandments. And God’s commandments are not burdensome, for whatever is born of God conquers the world. And this is the victory that conquers the world, our faith.

1 John 5:3-4

Our next Presbytery meeting comes this Saturday, June 19^th. This date is often called “Juneteenth” and commemorates June 19, 1865, when the State of Texas declared emancipation, two years after the Emancipation Declaration took effect. This holiday is a celebration of liberation, but also of justice delayed, overcome only by the perseverance of the faith and spirit of the ancestors of our African-American siblings today.

It is fitting, therefore, that this Presbytery meeting is dedicated to empowering us to follow Christ’s mission of justice and peace in our world. Though many have lamented the long delays in confronting injustice against vulnerable people in our presence, we nonetheless strive to learn from each other about how to be more loving and more effective witnesses to the power of God’s grace.

At the meeting, we will learn about the latest on pandemic safety in our churches, initiatives we are taking to further God’s kingdom, and progress for established churches and new worshiping communities. We will hear from individuals in our midst with different perspectives to share, including voices that we rarely hear, such as asylum seekers who are settling into peaceable lives in the United States, and church leaders from Egypt, Kenya and Indonesia. And we will announce several different resources for support and development that the Presbytery will be offering. I believe there will be glimpses into our ministry that will inspire you, and I strongly encourage you to join us, and invite others to join the meeting. The meeting is on Zoom so please register for the meeting here. We anticipate the business meeting will go from 9-10 am, with the Day of Empowerment and Engagement activities from 10 am-noon, and everyone is welcome for any part or all of it.

Yesterday we heard of another historic event, this time in Israel. An unlikely coalition government was adopted with a one-vote margin. The coalition includes eight parties that represent a broad spectrum of views, including the United Arab List, the first Islamic Arab Israeli political party to be part of the governing coalition of Israel. The New York Times described the first Prime Minister of the coalition, right-wing Naftali Bennett, once Benjamin Netanyahu’s chief of staff, this way:

It would be akin to Mitch McConnell abandoning Donald Trump to work with Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Chuck Schumer — and Ocasio-Cortez and Schumer saying yes.

It seems that only God will be able to guide this coalition to break down the political gridlock that has damaged Israel, even in the eyes of the Western world. Let us pray that God will show God’s glory through these unlikely agents, as God did in so many unlikely situations in the Bible.

Closer to home, we look for small glimpses of hope that love will prevail. A New Yorker named Meir Kay tried what he calls his “Blindfold Hug Experiment.” You can view the responses at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2efPkjLS_SA.

In the middle of busy New York City, he stood blindfolded with a sign saying:

My name is Meir
I am a Jew.
I stand for peace, how about you?
Let’s share a hug between us two.
And show the world what LOVE can do.

It can be easy to despair of justice that seems to have been delayed beyond redemption. But God has given us “the victory that conquers the world, our faith.” Perhaps our faith calls us to reach out to unlikely neighbors for the salvation of our world. Perhaps our faith calls us to take unlikely steps to live out God’s purposes in the world. Perhaps our faith calls us to

love beyond our fear. Let us see how we can show the world what God’s love can do.

See you on Saturday,

Wendy

Yesterday was Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit came to fulfill Jesus’ promise to empower his followers to spread the gospel around the world. This promise came upon the people of the Jewish diaspora gathered in Jerusalem to celebrate the Festival of Weeks, or Shavuot.

Whenever I think of this promise, though, I remember the second sermon I ever preached, which was on this text. That preaching experience was an exceedingly difficult one; actually, it was my worst nightmare, but not unexpected. You see, when I entered seminary, I never expected to get ordained, because I had such paralyzing stage fright that I didn’t want to have to preach the one sermon you must preach in order to be certified ready for ordination. My fear of preaching was realized in this second sermon. Now, God being God, my FIRST sermon was a miracle, and proved that it wasn’t up to me to preach, except to the extent that I had to be willing to show up in the pulpit and open my mouth. Because of that first wondrous experience, the second horrible experience just gave me opportunity to appreciate God yet again having the last laugh on me.

So how could the sermon be so difficult? I was asked to preach for a Japanese church by their pastor, a family friend of mine. She told me how the church was known for their stubbornness that caused a traumatic split in the church, because the younger generation wanted them to broaden their ministry, but the leaders insisted that they stay very exclusively Japanese.

This was also a time when the Korean churches were growing very fast, so they were often asked to share their faith in just about every venue in the PCUSA. Back then, they would begin every testimonial with a recounting of the atrocities they suffered at the hands of the Japanese. For Japanese-Americans, this caused some awkwardness. Some would feel shame for the real atrocities that the Japanese military inflicted on the Korean people. Some would resist the shame, saying something like “we didn’t do that to the Koreans; we were in internment camps in the United States when this was happening.” This, to me, was our parallel to White people objecting to the thought of reparations on the part of their racist ancestors. My response is that while my parents or I did not commit the atrocities, we hold within us the same kind of pride that enabled us to succeed and, if left unchecked, can lead to dehumanizing brutality against those deemed inferior. Just as I have benefited from this cultural self-confidence, I grieve the imperialistic extremes that flared during World War II, and this always humbles me in relationships with my Korean siblings.

Back to the sermon. My friend and I talked about this church’s troubles with their own members and neighbors, so I thought I could speak to our sin of rejecting the people closest to us. When I consider Jesus’ promise, I notice how the promise started small, with their own people, then moved to the Samaritans, who I consider to be the estranged cousins of the Judeans, before moving out to everyone else: “you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” I thought how the most painful breaks occur with those closest to us; I don’t believe it’s coincidence that the most painful, bloody, and schismatic war in US history was the war within our borders. So I boldly (foolishly?) pointed out to this church how they could be looking to reconcile with their members (who were their young adult children, mostly), and with their local Korean neighbors, before attempting to reach out to international missions.

During the sermon, I had the distinct feeling that I was preaching to concrete blocks. But regardless, I still believe that we find reconciling with those closest to us to be the hardest. Many churches prefer a mission focus with a different country rather than connecting with their impoverished neighbors. Divisions within families, churches, and denominations cause more distress and continued hard feelings than disagreements with strangers. (Former Fuller president Richard Mouw pointed out how the PCUSA will form close relationships with Lutherans and Episcopalians far more easily than with members of other Presbyterian denominations like the EPC or ECO.)

But to me, the deepest, oldest, most intransigent conflict of all is that between the children of Abraham, the children of Sarah and Hagar, God’s own people—the people of the Holy Land. We Presbyterians have long and profound relationships with the people of Israel, Palestine, and Egypt, among other nations. I am grateful for Egypt’s role in facilitating the ceasefire in Gaza. But it is particularly painful to see the continued conflict between Israel and Palestine, and the impact it has throughout the world, so much so that we tremble at the thought of saying anything that may be perceived as hurting Israel, even while we cry at the sight of walled-in communities, kindergarten- age bombing victims, and an entire people who have no citizenship in any country. I continue to be grieved and paralyzed by this; just as I believe Japanese lost any credibility in holding Koreans to account, Christians have no moral right to critique the Jewish people who have suffered so much by people claiming Christ in their hateful attacks.

So what do we do? For now, I can only pray, and I found a prayer from Christian Aid UK, who is asking that we all pray on the 24^th of each month (that’s today) for peace in Gaza, and throughout the Middle East:

Let us pray not for Arab or Jew, for Palestinian or Israeli,

but pray rather for ourselves, that we might not

divide them in our prayers but keep them both together in our hearts.

When races fight, peace be amongst us. When neighbors argue peace be amongst us. When nations disagree peace be amongst us.

Where people struggle for justice let justice prevail.

Where Christ’s disciples follow let peace be our way. Amen.

Let our prayers have the power of the Holy Spirit to do what we cannot do for ourselves. Praying for Peace,

Lately, I have been thinking about Hawai‘i more than usual. I was reminded of some fun experiences, and of concepts and values that expand my understanding of living in the world and being a faithful follower of Christ.

One word I always appreciated is “kuleana.” The word is usually translated into English as “responsibility.” But, as happens regularly in translation, there is much more to it than however each of us might understand “responsibility.” I heard it stated in the context of an assigned task (“It’s my kuleana to make sure the kids are safe”), or authority (“You have the kuleana to guide us.”). It may be an inheritance; one of my friends was the son who inherited the bulk of his parents’ estate, which meant he had the responsibility to manage the estate on behalf of his siblings. Frequently, Hawai‘i residents are reminded of their kuleana in caring for the land. Their relationship with the land allows them to benefit appropriately from its gifts as they care for it with gratitude and respect.

While there may have been some codification to enable people, especially outsiders, to live within healthy relationships with each other and with nature, I think “kuleana” is best appreciated within the larger framework of community. This is easier to appreciate when you live on a small island like Kaua‘i, where it’s relatively difficult to leave or to hide, so your behavior sticks with you and impacts you in a much more pronounced fashion, and people also learn how to live together through differences, and to forgive. So it seemed there was greater focus on maintaining healthy relationships over following the letter of the law. One of my favorite examples of that involved the beloved piano teacher in Waimea, who had moved with her husband to the island from the mainland in 1947. In 2000, a local police officer stopped her for a minor traffic infraction. He recognized her (everyone knew her), but he still needed her driver’s license to complete his report. She handed him her driver’s license—from the Territory of Hawai‘i! She had never bothered to get it updated. The police officer looked at it, gave it back to her and said, “Oh, Mrs. Cassell! That’s quite an antique, but please, you really should get a new driver’s license.  We’re a state now, you know.”

In North America, we are so much bigger and diverse, we cannot assume that people will make judgments based on commitment to shared community values and relationships, so we rely on written rules and regulations to create environments that may or may not be peaceable, but at least they are less dangerous. It would be great to develop a spirit of community and love for each other, and to develop good discernment practices to support them, but in lieu of that, the laws are there to keep some level of order. Martin Luther King, Jr., spoke of the role of religion and education to teach morality and love, but until that happens, “It may be true that the law cannot make a man love me, but it can keep him from lynching me, and I think that’s pretty important also.”

In the Presbyterian Church, we have tended to rely on rules and regulations to guide our life together.

Sometimes we have held to these rules even when they failed to address every situation with mercy or understanding. Even though our polity is deeply rooted in our theology and the experiences of our people, the rules can become so complex that too many people follow them not because they understand them, but because they are there.

Many Presbyterians became so dependent on the Book of Order that when it was stripped back for greater flexibility, there was widespread panic. Some presbyteries attempted to insert the old Book of Order into their policies, in order to reinstate control. A few other folks took this new freedom to maximize their personal profit, to the expense of the gospel. We had to be reminded that with freedom comes responsibility. In times when the rules aren’t clear, you can’t be paralyzed, nor should you look for ways to ignore your responsibility to ensure a safe, just, and mutually beneficial environment.

Why do I reflect on this? Because the great low numbers of COVID transmission is leading public health officials to change the regulations at a dizzyingly rapid rate. As a presbytery, we are trying to provide guidance and updates, but there will naturally be a lag time, and the public health guidelines sometimes conflict with each other. We will continue to try to track and interpret the guidelines as they evolve, but every church session has the freedom—and the responsibility—to make the best decisions for your church, considering a few general guidelines:

• The session should know best the needs of your congregation—and the session has the responsibility to watch for the safety of your members, and your community
• You do not need to change every time the public health (or presbytery) guidelines are relaxed
• Feel free to consult with the Presbytery staff, and your sister churches, about how to phase in new plans
• Know that Jesus is in charge of the church, not the pastor or the loudest session member or your neighbor or the big church down the street—and God will bless your church as you seek to be

As we exit pandemic conditions, there will be some uncertainty for months to come. New strains could arrive, and there is added risk when the fall comes. So it is all our kuleana to stay alert, stay agile, and be faithful and sensitive to the many responses our communities have to the changing, hopeful conditions. This is a “good” problem to have, and with God’s help, we will weather this historic pandemic with renewed faith and better focus on the essence of our ministry.

Blessings in your discernment and your prayerful leadership in your church and your life,

Last night, San Marino Community Church bid farewell to Jeff and Lynn O’Grady, as Jeff retires and they get ready to move to Nashville, Tennessee. It was an upbeat evening of gratitude for Jeff’s leadership, and the impact he has had on the church. He leaves San Marino healthy and hopeful for the future, with support for their remaining head of staff, Jessica Vaughan Lower. Jessica showed her capable leadership by reflecting on a pastor’s life, and how well Jeff has led his. She spoke about the pastor as an “emotional extremist,” putting words to a phenomenon with which I am quite familiar.

In the life of a congregation, you can go from the highs of new life to the tragedy of sudden death, with many mundane tasks that still need to be tended to throughout.

In my own way, I’ve experienced some of that this weekend, and I’m a bit weary. I expect my fatigue may come from several factors, including the weather turning back to cold and cloudy, some uneven sleep, and the cumulative impact of life in 2021. This weekend, my version of emotional extremes includes the high of preaching and meeting with a congregation on Asian-American awareness which was a great joy, the gratitude but also some grief in saying good-bye to Jeff, and the cumulative impact of Zoom fatigue.

Life on Zoom has its benefits, but also its bumps and discomforts. Whenever we’re in breakout rooms, and we get snatched out of the group at the designated time, I think of Philip being snatched away from his encounter with the Ethiopian eunuch. We are very aware of Zoom’s benefits of broader, more cost-effective participation when we don’t need to travel to a meeting; conversely we miss the casual and friendly interactions, and the sense of being one body, when we meet in person.

The word for the near future is hybrid, as we find ways to retain the advantages of on-line meetings while we also cautiously move back into in-person activities. Most of our churches will be looking at this for worship and other aspects of church life. And the General Assembly has announced a hybrid design for 2022, including a series of in-person committee meetings flanked by on-line plenary sessions. See an article on the new design and docket here. Interestingly, the current plan for the national church is to continue all meetings on-line throughout 2021.

As I try to envision how this hybrid GA will look, my fatigue takes over. I’ve been noting that as we slowly transition into whatever post-pandemic life will look like—a transition that seems to be as fraught with uncertainty as was the transition into the pandemic—we will witness many different emotional responses as we process this massive disruption in our lives. For instance, I noticed last week I was more irritable (even more than usual!), and this week I’m tired. As the adrenaline levels move back to normal, I have to accept the fact that I may not be as productive as I process all that has happened for me—and this is true for every one of us!

So it’s timely that May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and I think we all need to give ourselves permission to tend to our mental health. This isn’t easy or comfortable for most of us, because we take our mental health for granted, and even make judgments when mental health is at risk. So I’m thankful that the PC(USA) has a Mental Health Ministry, and that they have seen fit to provide a grant for our presbytery to offer some support for our churches.

With the help of our Chaplains for Honorably Retired Presbyterian Church Workers, Lauren Evans and Diane Frasher, and COM member and Jungian analyst Sophie Eurich-Rascoe, we are planning on a three-pronged approach:

• We will offer three webinars for church leaders and anyone interested in these topics: managing post-pandemic stress, suicide prevention, and recognizing and responding to mental health concerns in our
• We will hold support groups as we reflect on how life has been this past 14 or so months. The groups will be open to everyone (with clergy in a separate group, for more open sharing for pastors and church members alike), on-line, and facilitated.
• We will organize a set of resources curated and archived on-line for use by our churches. The resources will include a referral list of local therapists, information on issues such as suicide prevention, and materials designed for on-line distribution or printing at your

We hope to announce specifics for these activities and resources starting in May. In the meantime, the Office of Mental Health Ministry has compiled this list of resources.

As we go forward, let us care for ourselves as well as each other. Let us take a break, take a walk, get some fresh air, and give our eyes a break from screen time. Let us be aware that we will all be processing life in our individual ways, but we share the experience that life as we knew it has radically changed. And just as we need time and rest to heal from an illness, let us take that time and rest to recover from these strange times. And let us rest into the grace and care of our loving God, and may we always remember that it is not up to us alone to do the work of the church—the Holy Spirit works through us. As we turn towards Pentecost on May 23, let us give thanks for God’s glory, witnessed and reflected by our ordinary and extraordinary lives.

Thanks be to God!