Basking in the Light

On Monday, I traveled in a car with a Republican, an Independent, a Democrat, and other people whose political affiliation I don’t even know. If pushed, one of us would have claimed Libertarian and another one of us Socialist. The youngest of us was twelve. The oldest of us was in their 40s. We were united by one goal: THE LINE OF TOTALITY.

None of us had ever seen a total eclipse. Our hometown was scheduled to experience 98% coverage and we were skeptical of driving two and a half hours to see totality. Nevertheless, we persisted, without a plan. We knew we wanted the longest possible full-coverage view without driving more than three hours, or getting stuck on an interstate. So we took off driving to Tennessee as one of us navigated the back roads of pig paths (a term I was unfamiliar with). When we got close to the line of totality, we saw a sign for a state park and pulled over. The state park was full, we were redirected to the overflow, a podunk air strip in the middle of somewhere Teneesee.

There we set up make-shift camp with 300 strangers. 100 of them had flown in on private jets. Some of them were in beat up, barely running pickups. There were pregnant women, there were newborns, there were those at the end of their life. There were Kentuckians, Tennesseans, Northerners, and Southerners.

And it was safe. The entry to the airfield was marked by make-shift plastic with a handwritten sign and a volunteer asking people not to walk out on the airtsrip if they didn’t have a plane. The twelve-year olds roamed free while interviewing folk for their YouTube Channel. There was no chain-link, razor-wire, armed guards, or riot gear. We were just there, one humanity, to experience together the extraordinary gift that Mother Nature was about to offer.

I’ve seen a lot of natural phenomena in my life. Moonbows, moon rises, sunrises, sunsets, dust storms, canyons, waterfalls, and all that God’s creation has to offer. None of it compares to a total eclipse.

At 1:31, the sky went completely dark. Folks took off their glasses and looked at the sun with naked eyes. There were oohs, ahhs, gasps, yells, tears, cries, yelps, and silence. The sight was so breathtaking, that hundreds of people let out emotion in whatever way they felt led, and they did so without judgement. For two minutes and thirty-one seconds we stood together. There was no male, female, black, white, or brown. There was no rich or poor, alt-right or alt-left, there was no straight, gay, transgendered, or bisexual, pro-choice, or pro-life.There was no Christian, no Atheist, No Muslim. There was just humanity, basking in the presence of an inexplicable phenomenon which caused the day to be night, and the sun to be viewed with the naked eye, and a 360 degree panoramic sunset of extraordinary and unbelievable colors.

On the ride home, we seemed changed. We seemed different. No one commented on the National Guardsperson, was a National Guardswoman, or the fact that she was clearly born in a country other than America. No one mentioned the transgendered woman and her partner who were in the car next to us. No one wondered what life on a private jet was like. Or, why the family next to us didn’t have enough funds to buy a car that like it ran. Despite our age, we spoke the same language of music. We listened to a podcast on breathe and life together. We tried, unsuccessfully, to explain our experience.

This Sunday, in the Episcopal Church, we will pray a prayer that says, “Grant, O merciful God that your church, being gathered together in unity by your Holy Spirit, may show forth your power among all peoples, to the glory of your Name.” For those of us studying Track 2, we will read the words from Isaiah 51, “Look to the rock from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were dug.” They are deep words that remind us we were all created from one place, one rock, one earth.

For just a moment on Monday, we were gathered in unity. We remembered we were all hewn from the same rock. We sat in awe, united by the beauty of creation. I pray we have the courage to stand in the light and remember in the days to come.

Dear Muslims, Immigrants, and Airport Detainees,

I have a message about salvation in Jesus Christ. If you have lived in the United States for any period of time, you have probably received a lot of those messages. However, this one is not about your salvation, it is about mine.

This morning, I read Matthew 5:1-12 to my congregation. It is the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, a collection of Jesus’ teachings. It begins,

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

As I sit in the safe comfort of my warm apartment, I realize this is not a message for me. This is a message for you. This is a message for those of you who have traveled from war-torn homelands to create a better life and have nothing left but a few bags, faith, and hope. May you know the Kingdom of Heaven is with you, that God is with you. This is a message for you who mourn the loss of everything you knew - your home, your families, your village. May you be comforted. This is for you who hunger and thirst for a better way, a newer life, a life filled with hope, love, joy, life, and opportunity. May you be filled. This is for you, who have been persecuted in this country, who have been given sideways glances, who have been told to go home to a place which is not your home. May you know that God’s kingdom belongs to you. This scripture is for those of you who have been singled out, bullied, and had nasty things said you. This is for you who have stood up and offered words of mercy, forgiveness and kindness even in the midst of your struggle to be heard as true Americans. The mercy of God is with you.

This scripture is for you. As a priest in Christ’s church I bless you and say to you, “May the Lord bless you and keep you, may the Lord’s face shine upon you and be gracious to you, may the Lord turn his face upon you and give you peace, and may the blessing of God be with you this day and always.” I want to bless you and I want to thank you.

One of the most popular teachings of the Christian faith is the Good Samaritan found in Luke 10:29-37. The story is about a man who walked from one city to another in his own country. While in transit he was robbed, stripped of clothing, beaten, and left for dead. One would assume someone would have come to the rescue. The priest walked by and didn’t help. A man of the same religious upbringing walked by and didn’t help. But the Samaritan, the foreigner, the person not welcome in the man’s country stopped, saved the man, took care of him, and showed him mercy. The story ends with Jesus’ question, “Which of these three, was a neighbor?” and the answer, “The one who showed him mercy.”

We often forget that this story comes to teach us about who is our neighbor. Even those in our society who do not claim to be Christian can state the Golden Rule, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” This is the preface for the Good Samaritan. Right before the story of the Good Samaritan we read this -

Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus.* ‘Teacher,’ he said, ‘what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ He said to him, ‘What is written in the law? What do you read there?’ He answered, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbour as yourself.’ And he said to him, ‘You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.’

But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?’ Jesus replied, ‘A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. -Luke 10:25-30.

It is Jesus way of telling us everyone is our neighbor, that you are our neighbor, and that you have lessons to teach us about the way in which we are saved. So, today, I want to thank you for the ways in which you have taught me about my salvation in the last few weeks.

1. You have shown mercy. Despite insults thrown at you for wearing your hijabs in public, despite having your family detained at airports, despite being asked to “go home” (even though you were born here), you have responded with mercy, kindness, and understanding. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.

2. You are peacemakers. Time and time again, you have boldly stood between hundreds of people who do not understand you and proclaimed that being a Muslim is not the same as being a jihadist, that being a Muslim is not the same as being a part of ISIS. Time and time again, you have composed yourself, rid yourself of anger, and shown us what true peace looks like. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

3. You are pure in heart. You pray for forgiveness, guidance, and peace FIVE TIMES A DAY. Enough said. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

You are my neighbor, my friend, my Samaritan, and the one who reminds me how to act out the sermon on the Mount. I’m thankful for your witness and your blessing.

Peace,
Amanda