The Crazy Ones

God warned the people of an earthquake that would swallow all the waters of the land. The waters that would take their place would make everyone insane. Only the prophet took God seriously. He carried huge jugs of water to his mountain cave so that he had enough to last him till the day he died.

Sure enough, the earthquake came and the waters vanished and new water filled the streams and lakes and rivers and ponds. A few months later the prophet came down to see what had happened. Everyone had indeed gone mad, and attacked him, for they thought it was he who was insane.

So the prophet went back to his mountain cave, glad for the water he had saved. But as time went by he found his loneliness unbearable. He yearned for human company, so he went down to the plains again. Again he was rejected by the people, for he was so unlike them.

The prophet then succumbed. He threw away the water he had saved, drank the new water, and joined the people in their insanity.

- Anthony De Mello, The Song of the Bird

Phoebe read this excerpt from The Song of the Bird to us, DPF interns, the night before we were to say goodbye and go our separate ways. This story reflects the crazy world we are going back into, a world where those of us who advocate for ending Islamophobia and for a more just and humane way to deal with terrorists, who advocate that black lives matter and that the justice system NEEDS to be reformed, who point out that the US is supporting a government that actively oppresses and is slowly eradicating the Palestine people, who challenge the church to truly welcome the LGBT community, are often viewed as the crazy ones.  We are crazy because we say that Jesus’ command to love our enemies applies to all-including those that the west designates as terrorists. We are insane because we point out that US understandings of legal justice are rooted in inequality and injustice.   We are ridiculous because we dare question the idea that being pro-Jewish means being anti-Palestine and endorsing the Israeli government’s attempt to destroy the Palestinian people. We are crazy because we believe that the gospel-that Jesus calls us to be better and to do better.

When I began this summer, I just knew that I would get pushback for some of my beliefs, simply because that tends to be the general trend of my life. I am an equal-opportunity offender: it doesn’t’ matter where you are on the political or theological spectrum: liberal, conservative, progressive, moderate, etc chances are that something I say at some point will anger or annoy you. I firmly believe injustice isn’t the exclusive domain of any one side of the theological or political spectrum. Injustice must be spoken out against- no matter what theological or political ideology is used to justify it. For example, in this election season, most of the anger that has been directed my way has come not from those who identify as conservative but those who identify as liberal and progressive, who seem to believe that injustice should only be exposed if it tarnishes those on the Right or whose notion that the other party is the greater evil, excuses the slaughter and murder done in the name of the Left.

However, throughout the summer I was surprised by the welcome and understanding I received. Many agreed with my viewpoints and even those who did not, were willing to engage in respectful dialogue. This summer I felt…sane. It was the rest of the world that was crazy. The rest of the world with its obsession with guns and violence, with its insistence that bombing terrorists and civilians to bits would end terrorism, with its twisted belief that affirming the lives of black people would mean disregarding the lives of police officers, was crazy.  I was in an environment where standing up for justice wasn’t just a quirk of mine, to be admired or loathed depending on whether or not I was asking tough questions about a particular political candidate or ideology, but it was expected. Christians were to advocate for justice-they were to stand with the least of these, they were to question the empire, not endorse all of its policies unquestioningly.

But now I am back in the “real” world and it is hard not to feel like the prophet in the above story: isolated and alone. I know that the world and its twisted values are the crazy ones, but I often get treated as if there is something wrong with me. It’s crazy to believe that when Jesus said to love our enemies it includes terrorists and it means not bombing them to bits or torturing them. It’s crazy to believe that one can be both pro-black and pro-law enforcement and that by asking law enforcement to recognize the humanity of all citizens, one is creating an environment that is much safer for all people. However, unlike the prophet in the story, I know that I am not alone. I know that there are other people, trapped in their own mountains who are struggling to remember that they aren’t insane.  DPF provided an opportunity for me to leave my mountain and encounter other people who are just as passionate about social justice work. As I go back into this crazy world that insists that I am the insane one, I will remember that I am not alone. Yes, I have God. I always have God. But there are hundreds of prophets-some high school age who insist on showing the world a different way of being.

Note: I am horrible at blogging on a regular basis, but I am going to attempt to do just that. If you are interested in my thoughts on faith and politics, you can check out my blog Homeland Insecurity at https://homelandinsecuritysite.wordpress.com/

Last Day Reflections

These are all pictures from my last camp in Washington state! This camp made me so happy, and was the perfect end to the summer. Today is the last full day of this entire internship, and I am trying to sort through a lot of emotions. My camera is filled with all of the joy I've found this summer. I have pictures of majestic trees, beautiful landscapes, bright flowers, new friends' laughter, smiling babies, happy campers, and camp pets. I've met at least 500 new people that have touched my heart and helped me know more about beloved community. But looking at my camera is too easy—now I really have to look at my heart. What just happened? And how did it go by so fast?! I'll start by saying that I'm never going to forget the fellow peace interns that I've met. I spent the most time with the graceful Minerva. We shared four camp experiences together in addition to training and concluding weeks. She has sacrificed her time, safety, and comfort to share what life is like under the Occupation, and she has never raised her voice or lost her cool, even though the oppression she lives under is sickening. Her composure and sincerity has taught me about dignity, and how no one can take that from us unless we give them permission. I'm so happy to know her, and I'm forever grateful for finally being able to put a face to all of the stories I have only vaguely read or heard. Likewise, Rachel has been a joy to get to know. Her spunk and humor have given us all so much laughter and warmth this summer. Matthew is incredibly brilliant and ready at any moment to drop the most insightful vision into a conversation. Naiomi is FIERCE, bold, and fun-spirited, and it has been lovely to dig deeper and find that awesome personality under her seemingly hard shell. I love these people. I love that I just shared two and a half months with their support and encouragement. And now, I love that I get to leave knowing that we carry this unique experience with us wherever we go. Of course, Phoebe is the most perfect Peace Momma for this job. She is patient, hilarious, way too talented for words, and she is so giving of herself. These relationships are the kind that stick like sap. We are all changed because we met each other. When I get home tomorrow, I am taking this strange new knowledge that I actually am enough. I began this summer with so much self-doubt. I wondered if I would know enough, be bubbly enough, be strong enough... But from the moment I began my first workshop, I knew it would be okay. My happiest moments were when I was teaching and engaging with campers, and my saddest moments were when I was trying to find my footing in new places. I don't know if I changed anyone's mind, nor do can I predict how this experience will affect my own life going forward. But what matters most to me right now is that we are all more than enough. We are capable of anything, and we get to make our own peace even when the world or our circumstances don't want to make too much room for it.

As a Member of The Christian Church, Disciples of Christ...

I would like to take a moment to write to you through the platform of this Disciples Peace Fellowship web blog as a member of Christian Church, Disciples of Christ. Yes, on this platform I represent DPF in some capacity, but please set that aside purely for this post…

I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was doing work for the XPLOR program (Disciples of Christ) in Ferguson, Missouri, when the news articles started spreading like wildfire. RFRA – that phrase that now seems so powerless had just integrated itself into public rhetoric. It was the Religious Freedom Restoration Act, or to be more precise in how it sounded to me, it was the package deal that allowed services to be denied based on sexual orientation. More personally, it meant services could be denied to me.Yes, this day stands out like it was yesterday! Not because there was anything particularly unusual about the act itself. If memory is correct (and I have a terrible memory), there was already standing legislation in other states that served the same purpose. No, this didn’t stand out because of anything particularly new about the legislation. Instead, it was the response.

Seared into my memory is the image of Rev. Dr. Sharon Watkins on Yahoo! News releasing a public statement on behalf of Disciples of Christ. Truly, my heart swelled! While I won’t claim to have been a Grinch before that day, if my heart had indeed been two sizes too small, it would have swelled to twenty sizes too big. The very denomination I had been participating in would now solidly be my home.

My home church, Table of Grace, did not put much weight on membership. Rightfully so, I might add. Having been involved in this new church startup for a few years prior to RFRA, I understood that membership created a sense of status and this just didn’t have much place in our community. All are equal at God’s table from the richest to the poorest. Indeed, the wonderful beatitudes imply that whatever hierarchy is established here on earth is reversed in the glorious Kingdom.Yet my view was shifting. Somehow, some way...I wanted to deepen my relationship with Disciples of Christ...My home church doesn’t like representatives of status. As such, I had never had ‘official’ membership in Disciples of Christ. After reading of my denominations response to RFRA, however, that simply had to change. While others in my home church did have membership by default through either Baptism or having started the church, I was the first to pursue membership outside of the route of default. I wanted to stand with the denomination that stood with me. I wanted my name to be counted as a voice in solidarity with the voice that stood in solidarity with me.

I wanted to proclaim to the best of my ability that I, Matthew Capestro, support the life and ministry of Disciples of Christ. What a proud moment the day I was officially a member of DOC!

Now an official member, I no longer think of membership as status. I entered into spiritual covenant with Disciples of Christ. Thus, my membership does not represent a hierarchy of power but a commitment to be in relationship with my church. Too often, it is easy to forget this portion of membership within the church. It is not about the numbers, but about the relationships. If we expect our denomination to be in relationship with us, it is equally expected that we be in relationship with the denomination.

The famous phrase, “ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country,” reminds me that in the life of our church, we are the body. The denomination is not just a static or abstract set of ideals or theology, but instead an actively breathing representation of the collective wholeness of one body. It is, in essence, the product of us.

So, what’s all this talk about membership mean? Well, I wanted to share my view of membership as a covenant – a sacred relationship, if you will – so that you can understand just how I am speaking as a member of Disciples of Christ. As a member, there are a few things I want you to know about Disciples Peace Fellowship, and particularly what supporting the intern program means.

The day that Rev. Dr. Sharon Watkins spoke out alongside other church leadership against RFRA, I saw the church I wanted to be in relationship with. Today, having finished an extensive and exhausting summer traveling all across the United States of America, I see yet one more reason I want to continue to be in relationship with Disciples of Christ.

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, JR. once said “Without justice, there can be no peace.” Oh, how these words resonate in my understanding of peace! And to be quite frank, didn’t Jesus completely understand this? Didn’t he challenge the rule of the Pharisees over and over? Justice was not foreign to the peace that Jesus so vehemently represented. As such, this is why I believe in the Disciples Peace Internship.

This summer, five interns have dedicated huge amounts of time and energy into creating workshops that resist the Pharisees, Goliaths, Pharaohs, and oppressors of our day. As a member of DoC, I have seen how these workshops come together and how they are designed to facilitate larger, deeper conversations of what it means to be Christians who have a goal of peace. More importantly, how a route to peace is not possible without justice.

It is in this spirit that having participated in the Disciples Peace Fellowship this summer, I speak as a member in saying quite clearly this is exactly the type of program I want supported in my church! As I have told the leadership of the program itself, I’m sold. I’m a lifelong supporter from here on out.

If we want the church to be active in fulfilling a vision of peace, this is the program to support. If we want a denomination that supports its youth and young adults, enabling them to be more informed and justice-oriented people on this earth, then this is absolutely the program to support.  If we believe in a voice for the marginalized, victimized, and oppressed, then this is the program to support.

Friends, as a member of Disciples of Christ, I urge you to read the blogs of the interns so you can know their passion and their efforts. More than that, I urge you to hear them so that you may hear God speaking through our church. Lastly, I urge you to support this voice so that this ministry of our church might continue to live out its fullest potential.

Below, you will find a link to the letter our church leaders wrote on behalf of a marginalized community. It is still something I read with great pride and joy. No doubt even readers of this blog will have differing views on how the church should respond to what happens in the world of politics, but I urge you to see that at the root of it all is our church speaking on behalf of marginalized. In so doing, it had to speak as a response to politics not by choice but by necessity.

I believe in a church that stands as a voice opposing injustice. As Rev. Dr. MLK also said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” It is so, and so may we support the ministries of our church that stand for justice. My humble prayer - may we support ministries like DPF so that the link below is, over time, figuratively amended and molded to speak on behalf of all marginalized communities. Let it be our vision!

Click here to read the response to RFRA

NYE 'Feels'

The National Youth Event in Orlando, Florida - what an interesting few days! Minerva and I did not know what we were signed up for, but it turned out great. The relaxing atmosphere of NYE was a welcomed contrast to the intensity of each camp.

As the two Palestinian Peace Interns, we were paired up for a workshop together to talk about our life living under Occupation. We were given a conference room that seats about 70 people, and two workshop times for two days, an hour each. Our first workshop had about 15 people show up, most of whom were adults. This wasn't very encouraging to us because we were at the National Youth Event! After all, we were to reach the youth.

Our next workshop had a better turnout with about 20 people, still a majority of whom were adult chaperones. Then that night I ran into Lisa. I shared with her our story as Peace Interns from Palestine, and asked if she would tell those she knew at the conference to find our workshop and experience it.

The next day our first workshop had people tell us that they were there because Lisa recommended it. We had a total of 40 people that time. Lisa, if you are reading this I just want to thank you for being so kind! You made the NYE week so much better.

At the end of that workshop, it was sinking in that we had only one workshop left after that one and that we had reached a total of 75 people at an event that was hosting 3,000 people - this was not nearly enough. So I told those attending this: If you honestly felt that you learned something here that is of any importance, please tell your friends to come to the next workshop because it will be the last workshop we have. It will be the last opportunity to share our story of living in Palestine with all of you at NYE."

What happened next was beautiful...

The final workshop was full and even had a few people standing in the back! Many of them expressed that they were there at the recommendation of a friend. There was even one boy who had been in the earlier workshop and stood outside the doors of our small conference room trying to recruit other youth to come in!  I apologize for not having the opportunity to learn your name, but sincerely thank you for your passion that day.

I thank God for the platform to share our story with so many people this summer.

I am thankful for finding those who developed a passion for our story by attending our workshop.

I pray that your passion goes beyond just that day and beyond just you, but also comes to life in the world.

One last Campfire...

I could have never imagined how much fun and exciting this camp would be, Cascade Christian Camp in Idaho was amazing! We went rafting in Boise river and we did zip-lining, it was my first time to do these things and I loved them! It was awesome to see campers and counselors conquering their fears, being encouraged and having trust in themselves, people and God to do these things! They were really great group activities!

One night we went by the lake to see the stars,the sky was so dark and full of stars, we could see the milky way, some of the zodiac signs, spaceships, falling stars and Mars and Saturn through the telescope. It was pretty cool! We also had different theme every night, we had Mexican, Mardi, Italian, Mediterranean, Hawaiian and American food along with decorations, accessories, songs, games and dances, it was a lot of fun! The camp was pretty small but and we felt like a family, and we learned through the week that "we don't need a whole lot, just use what you got, faith, hope and love, just a little bit of faith, hope and love".

The last day of camp, we were preparing the songs for campfire and our small group decided to sing a special song so we chose "Let it rain", and we sang it at the end and it actually started sprinkling while we were singing, people were smiling, some were raising their hands up and some were hugging, it was a great moment and a perfect ending for this camp and for the whole camps I have been a part of this summer. I don't want to think that these are probably the only church camps I will ever have, I truly feel that it is a blessing for the youth here to have the chance to go to these church camps, I know if I had the chance to go to them while I was growing up a lot of things would have been different for me. I don't know how would I feel when I go home and how much will I miss being in camps but I will sure miss the little things, the moments when I felt God is there and everybody was feeling the same way.

Expectation vs. Reality

Initially going into the summer, I was a little anxious about my internship in the USA.

I did not know what to expect from the camps I was going to, and what the campers would be like. I thought it highly likely that I might find some existing prejudice towards Palestinians specifically and Arabs in general. However, instead of finding negative impressions from false stereotypes, I found that there was actually a lack of any knowledge at all of the Israeli Occupation of Palestine. This prevalent lack of awareness and information was present in the minds of the youth and even the adults. So, I tried to explain the occupation to the best of my ability to campers and counselors alike.

The main reaction was: "I had no idea!"

Since there was little to no knowledge, I then expected to be asked more questions on the issue. I thought they would want to ask about every little detail of the oppressed and the oppressors, and their relationship with each other. However, I was dismayed that very few would ask for more information and details about Palestine. And I don't know if it would have been better to face preexisting misconceptions and positions on Palestine and the occupation.

As a Palestinian, it is a very discouraging and disturbing thing to realize that your struggle from oppression is something that is not only unknown to so many people but sparks very little interest. Especially the interest of the people whose government provides some of the largest military aid to the oppressors. (The United States gives Israel three billion dollars in military aid annually. There is currently talk between Israeli officials and U.S. President Barack Obama to raise that number to five billion dollars before the end of his term.)

I am not saying that all people were uninterested in Palestine and the occupation. There were a few people from every camp that would come and ask me about more things and were genuinely interested. But why is it that the majority of the people that we come across are so indifferent?Matthew and I were talking about this at one point this summer, and he pointed out something very important. That if you are not the marginalized it is difficult to care for the marginalized.

What does the Bible say about being indifferent to the plight of the marginalized?"

I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm--neither hot nor cold--I am about to spit you out of my mouth." Revelation 3:15-16

What should the Christian response be?

"If anyone with earthly possessions sees his brother in need, but withholds his compassion from him, how can the love of God abide in him? Little children, let us love not in word and speech, but in action and truth." 1 John 3:17-18

Let us love in both action and truth. 

Camp Gwinwood, the last hoorah.

I just finished my last camp. What?! How did this happen so quickly? I still feel like I'm trying to process the month of June, and it's already August 6th.

I never thought that spending 24/7 with so many other people, one week after the next, could pass so quickly. But there's something about camp community—it's like a vortex of insight, kindness, silliness, and energy that sucks you in and spits you right back out into the great big world, where community never seems to reach the same depths that it can with a lake, a campfire, and these amazing people.

Here are some observations from this week:

—The youth of today are much cooler than I ever was or will be. And they can DANCE. Really, really well.

—I started this summer being really bad at the silly parts of camp. I just wanted to talk about justice and be a nerd. Now, I can't stop humming Gwinwood's traditional campfire song, "Black socks, blacks socks. They never get dirty; the longer you wear them the blacker they get. Sometimes I think I should launder them, but something inside of me says not yet, not yet, not yet."

—Wednesday is the golden day. On Monday and Tuesday, everyone else is energized and excited, whereas the peace interns arrive already worn out. Just make it to Wednesday, and then they feel like family, and you can be silly and tired and happy and bitter and they'll forgive you and accept you and take you right in. —Camps should have camp pets, but a camp baby will do. Thanks Zadie Blake, you were adorable, and I loved when you smeared Oreos all over your chubby cheeks.

—Make sure you're loading the right video for workshops, so that you don't awkwardly show the wrong one and confuse everyone.It has been a great week. This was my most diverse (achem *only* diverse) camp, which added a unique texture during our Hot Topics and Peace Intern discussions. I was absolutely terrified to give the workshop on Black Lives Matter, but there were actually some really good discussions that came out of it. I think I become afraid because I know the weight of this topic and I'm so scared of not doing it justice. All I can do is create a safe space to learn about tensions between the police and the communities they serve, but it's up to the response of the youth to guide the conversation. This camp had AMAZING yout

—SO thoughtful and so smart. I loved hearing their opinions and watching their reactions to bias they found among the group.

Thank you Camp Gwinwood!

Feeling a Tad Bit Salty...

Within the past year, a new phrase has introduced itself into my vocabulary. I’ve heard people say “Someone’s a bit salty…” over and over again. Baffling as the birth of this expression may seem, I want to take a minute to recognize that the Bible itself gives us permission to be salty.

Understanding this expression would likely lead you to think I’m referring to Matthew 21:12-17 where Jesus gets a little salty about what is going on in the holy places. “My house shall be called a house of prayer,” Jesus proclaims, “but you are making it a den of robbers” (Matthew 21:14). Yes, Jesus did indeed get a bit salty, yet this is not the passage I’m referring to.

San Francisco Bay, NAPAD Convocation

Let us then rewind to the fifth chapter of Matthew – the beatitudes. Blessed are you who are meek, Jesus says. Blessed are you who are peacemakers, Jesus says. You who mourn, you that are poor in spirit, you that are merciful and persecuted! Yes, all of you! You are blessed. Your reward is great in heaven, you will see God. You will be called children of God. Yours is the kingdom of heaven. You will indeed be comforted. Blessed are all of you!

Blessed are all of you, but who are you? Do you know who you are? Do you know your innermost self? Immediately following these wonderful verses is a command to be salty. All summer long, I’ve been leaving young people and fellow counselors on the journey with a passage I’ve been reflecting on deeply. Matthew 5:13-16 is a call to be our authentic selves, as Parker Palmer might say.

“You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under a bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” (Matt. 5:13-16, NRSV)

Camp Christian, Ohio

Right here in scripture we are granted the authority to be salty! You might notice, however, that this is not a call to be angsty or prickly to our neighbor. No, this is a call to “let your life speak” as Parker Palmer most eloquently put it. This is most certainly a call to embrace your true self as God so wonderfully made you. This no doubt comes with periods of intense discernment and reflection with the Spirit alongside us. Our true, authentic self is… who? How do we know who our authentic self even is? Yet we are called to be that – to be the salt of the earth. To preserve what is good and true in the world by being our authentic selves, for what good are we if we do not be that which we are so uniquely made to be? If salt does not embrace its saltiness and live its authentic self, what good is it to anyone?

Yes, I believe this passage encourages to be who we truly are. A peacemaker, for example. To be the most authentic version of myself as a peacemaker, I must rely on a sermon preached to me a few years ago by Rev. Vrizola Law as part of my orientation into the XPLOR program (Disciples of Christ). She called each of us to know our story, for what good can we be in the darkest places of this world if we do not know our own light? How can we shine as a light of the world if we do not know where the light switch is? So to be a peacemaker, I must know my true inner self and my story.

My story is that of struggling with my sexual identity from a very young age. Actually, come to think of it, I didn’t struggle at all with it. It was normal to me to be gay, so to speak. It was not normal for the world, though. The world struggled with my authentic self. I fit many stereotypes applied to homosexual men. I walked different, talked different, played music instead of football, got excited over my red sequin shirt for show choir! Yes, they were and are all true of me. I had no problem with this, though. This was not my struggle – this was the struggle of society.

I internalized societies struggle, at which point it became my own. Yes, I internalized the struggle that society has accepting men who are not manly men. I tried to be that caricature for many years so that I could be accepted by society. It never truly fit, though. In fact the more that I tried to be what I wasn’t, the more ridicule I got. No, it didn’t work out at all to be what I wasn’t. So at 26, I gave in to who I am. I lived authentically.

Craig Springs, Virginia

This has empowered me to have difficult conversations all summer about the place of gay, lesbian, transgender, bisexual, and non-binary gender/sexuality conforming people in the church. My authentic self has allowed me to fulfil the peacemaker portion of the beatitudes in my own unique way. It only took the support of several wonderful Pastors along the way, Parker Palmer, and reflecting on one piece of scripture to come to ask myself what good am I for anyone if I cannot know my story and be my authentic self?

Oh friends, there is also danger in this passage. Great danger, to be honest. Consider how one can possibly know if we are being pulled toward an authentic self or we are being misled toward inauthenticity. Growing up Catholic, I tried for many years to be the heteronormative male ideal because the faith I learned taught that the authentic self must only be heterosexual. What a dilemma. That which was inextricably hardwired into my very core was wrong in the eyes of the church. My learned faith taught me to struggle and change it. My owned faith had the final say, however.

Bethany Hills, Tennessee

Long nights spent with God by my side in discernment of just how to be the salt of the earth or the light of the world taught me the faith I came to proclaim for myself. My relationship with God, embraced and nurtured over many years, whispered truth into my life. This, I believe, is how we come to know ourselves authentically – by relationship with God. You define God! You do that for yourself. I will not say that God needs to look any particular way. Instead I will say that you define God and be in relationship with your unique and true understanding of that which is greater than ourselves. That, I believe, is the understanding that guides us into authenticity.So as I end my time at camps, I leave you with a few reflections. You will undoubtedly come to know yourself and God in ways that no other person on earth will truly understand. Yet start with knowing your story, as the wise Rev. Vrizola Law taught me a few years ago. Continue with finding your authentic self and letting that speak truth, as Parker Palmer encourages in Let Your Life Speak. Then, reflect on the command of Jesus himself in Matt. 5:13-16. However you know Jesus and God, that knowledge is part of your authentic self. Perhaps it will be ever-changing, or perhaps not. It is that knowledge that speaks to you through this scripture. Then go out – go be salty. 

"You've Got To Know Your [Stuff]!"

Last week was my penultimate camp experience in Southern California. So far this summer, I have been too busy and too happy to miss home too much, but this week in California, exhaustion and homesickness really smacked me in the face. I arrived at camp like a zombie, so tired that I could barely maintain a conversation that required more than mumbles and grunts. I went to sleep Sunday night wondering how on earth I was going to make it through the week. Minerva shared her story with the camp on Monday night, and I was scheduled to start giving workshops on Wednesday. Looking back, I am glad that they pushed me later into the week, because I was able to realize how much it means to me to be teaching and engaging with the youth. Until I was able to meet with them, I felt empty. But once Wednesday afternoon rolled around, I got to talk to the youth about the death penalty and race, and seeing their expressions as they learned about the injustices of our criminal justice system helped me realize all over again why this summer is so meaningful and important to me. Originally, I had two main fears: 1) That I wouldn't pick the “right” workshop topics to match youths' interests, and 2) That I would face a lot of opposition to my workshops. Neither has been an issue this summer at all. For one, I no longer think that there are such things as “right” topics. I met a really incredible woman (and past Peace Intern from '06!) this week at the Disciples National Convocation. Her name is Bonnie Osei-Frimpong (Bonnie, if you ever read this, please comment with the correct pronunciation of that name!). I only got twenty minutes to chat with her, but twenty minutes was more than enough. She filled those twenty minutes with the best advice I've gotten all summer. “You've got to know your [stuff]. BE SUBSTANTIVE. There's plenty of muck in this world. You've got to be substantive.” Her own DPF experience taught her how to use twenty minutes to explore all that she can of the nooks and crannies of a conversation. While listening to her unleash her genius upon me, I realized that topics actually don't matter THAT much. What matters is how well we listen to one another, and how much we challenge each other to see alternatives. For the life of me, I cannot remember what my past peace interns have said that have changed me so much. But I remember exactly how they made me feel—how I felt acknowledged and challenged and eager to unpack more. All it takes is one realization that maybe there are other answers and maybe there are better questions, and we get to be changed forever. There is no wrong topic, but there are wrong ways to approach topics, and there are wrong ways to approach people. Therein lies the crux. As for facing opposition, that almost hasn't been a challenge this summer at all. I think the secret here is, as a past peace intern told me, to always tell my Truths. If I know I'm speaking from that space, from my own personal experience and concerns, then opposition can only help me unpack my Truths more. What's so scary about that? Now, a confession: I had a third fear that I didn't even know I had. I didn't want to teach a workshop on Black Lives Matter, because I didn't think I could handle it. I almost broke down completely in the airport when I saw the news on the Dallas shootings after the deaths of Alton and Philando. I had no idea how to talk about something so painful in front of a room full of people. This is an incredibly complex conversation. A lot of people think BLM is an anti-police movement—that is fundamentally untrue. The leaders of BLM have collaborated with researchers, activists, and the President's Task Force on 21st Century Policing to create extensive policy goals aimed at understanding and solving the strenuous relationships that often exist between police and the communities they serve. This conversation with youth requires a lot of unpacking. What is systemic racism, and how does it affect us (sometimes unknowingly)? What is privilege? What is white privilege? What is it like to live in these communities where major tensions exist between the police and the community? What does it mean that our nation is talking about police as though they are separate and distinct from the communities they serve? Why have there been riots? Why don't we say “All Lives Matter”? Don't the cops have the right to use their guns if they feel afraid? I'm hearing Bonnie's voice: “YOU'VE GOT TO KNOW YOUR [STUFF].” But Bonnie, can't I just be a coward and keep putting this off? In California, I decided I couldn't put it off any longer. After such a horrible week for our nation, I knew we needed to unpack what's going on together, in the safe space of camp. We began the workshop in family groups, discussing what we already know about BLM and how that phrase, “Black Lives Matter,” makes us feel. Collectively, the group knew very little about the movement. Among the comments: It's a popular hashtag. It should be All Lives Matter instead. Police brutality. Riots. Fighting for equality. I gave a brief history of the movement, explaining how it went from a Facebook status to a hashtag to a campaign with incredibly nuanced policy goals, then the family groups discussed how they feel about “Black Lives Matter” v. “All Lives Matter.” I passed out quotes from key figures in the movement who explain why they say Black Lives Matter. When it comes down to it, we know that all lives matter. That is not a question in our minds. (Although, I would definitely argue that the death penalty is one of the nation's ways of disagreeing with that.) But after centuries of inequality and systemic racism, we are at a point where it is vital to ask: Does this nation actually believe that black lives matter? I'm not convinced, as we watch black bodies being aggressively man-handled, shot, and left in the streets, as we examine the racial disparities in our prison-industrial complex, and as we assess the inequities in access to quality education. After Alton's death, the cop can be heard saying “Just leave him.” And let us not forget that Michael Brown's body was left in the street for four hours, after being shot six times. Does this nation actually believe black lives matter? Let's talk about it. After giving that workshop, I felt like it was the most important thing I'd ever done. I don't mean for this to sound prideful; I mean that it felt right to be unpacking this together and challenging ourselves to ask the hard questions that matter. We must be ready and willing at all times to confront our messy world and our own thoughts. I truly believe that this is the only fight worth fighting.

An adventurous week

Loch Leven camp was amazing! It was such a fun, spiritual and meaningful week and full of new experiences for me. On the second day of camp, we had a strange and cute visitor, it was a baby bear lying on a branch of a tree near the dining hall who lost his mommy and he stayed there for awhile.

The area was full of bears, mountain lions, spiders and snakes, thank God we didn’t see them all. We also slept outside for a night and it was a bit scary knowing that there are animals surrounding us and it was a bit cold but overall it was nice sleeping under the stars and trying something new.

We also did a great trust and teamwork group activity which was a wall climb. Campers and counselors had to get each one of the group over the wall to the other side. It seemed scary and it was dark but most of us did it! I ended up with a couple of bruises but it was worth it!

Being here this summer and moving from camp to camp I learned that most people don’t know anything about my country Palestine, they don’t know where it is or what happened and is happening right know, and if they knew they only knew one side of the story, and most of the times, when people hear that I am from Palestine, their questions would be about arranged marriage, how women are treated their, if I wear Hijab back home, how do I dress and what do I eat, they are not about the occupation, the checkpoints or the wall!  So I really appreciate this opportunity to tell people the other side of the story, the side that they would probably never hear in the media, and increase their awareness about the need of peace and justice in the world and I appreciate their willingness to listen to something new and openness to think about it.

Last week was intense, we discussed Palestine's situation, black lives matter, and LGBT. I have seen different responses and opinions and all of us learned a lot. I really enjoyed Loch Leven and  meeting everyone there and I really appreciate being a part of this amazing group of counselors and directories, Brain, Jeannie and Chris who made me feel welcomed and I sincerely thank them for a great week, I feel blessed that I was there.

Seats at Christ's Table

I am not ordained, and yet…
I AM A MINISTER.
I AM A BEARER OF MY EXPERIENCE WITH GOD.
I BRING TO THE TABLE UNIQUE GIFTS THAT I ALONE CAN BRING!

And so do you…

As the story of Esther goes, she was positioned in just the right place for just the right time. Yes, her place in the king’s favor allowed her to advocate for a community on the fringes. Her heritage was hidden for a while but never forgotten. Esther reveals just how scary it is to stand for the marginalized of society, yet sometimes our positions demand such a stance.

Midway through this internship, my primary focus has been on inclusion of the LGBT community. Their place at the table of Christ is essential to fulfilling the Kingdom of God. If you find this statement to be radical, I encourage you to ask yourself why. Through the Hebrew Bible and New Testament, it is the marginalized who God stands with. Those on the fringes are not forgotten by God. Instead, God challenges time and time again the status quo and reminds all people that we are called to protect the marginalized.

While my topics range from white privilege to the death penalty, I focus primarily on a group closest to me that continues to suffer blatant exclusion from Christ’s table. It is still a fight for someone identifying anywhere on the LGBTQIA spectrum to serve openly as clergy. The debate rages whether churches need to declare that they are indeed open and affirming or if people can just tell by attending. To answer this question, I speak only for myself in saying vehemently that NO, I cannot just tell by attending your church that I am truly welcomed and affirmed. The history I must claim as a gay man says this – churches exclude me and there are only a few diamonds in the sea of coal that both welcome and affirm. If you do not say it, I cannot know it.

The dialogue concerning inclusive theology is essential at the denominational level, regional level, church level, and camp level. My experience midway through this summer is that my views receive a great deal of support from clergy and church leaders alike, yet surprisingly my conversations are quite often the first of their kind to make their way to our young people. Calling all clergy and church leaders here, I need your help!

There are texts in the Bible that are often used to do great damage to my community, yet there are only a select few. While in Leviticus we may find one such passage, in Deuteronomy we find another that encourages the elders of a town to stone to death unruly children. Why is it I am the first one who has made their way into several lives this summer asking these children how to make sense of this? Why am I the first for so many young people to have asked why embracing a Levitical law condemning homosexuality is more common than embracing the one encouraging us to stone our unruly children to death? This is essential to including all marginalized communities at Christ’s table, and dear clergy of the church, it happens to fall on you to be providing spaces for these conversations to be happening.

The resounding temperature of my conversation this summer has shown that these discussions are not happening. I have left my loft at a small liberal arts school having completed my freshman year of college to represent a discussion that those far more educated than me are often times avoiding. Esther hid her identity for just the right moment, yet the miracle was her decision to use her placement at the table to help the marginalized find their own seat. You, clergy members of Disciples of Christ, are positioned as Esther. When my conversations stop this summer and are forgotten by many come this fall, it is up to you to keep them going. You represent the people of God – ALL PEOPLE – and I encourage you to keep these conversations alive.

There are many people doing many great things, but the theology of acceptance and inclusion of those in the LGBTQIA community is coming as a surprise to far too many of our young people. I encourage you to make your pulpit alive to this conversation. You are the advocates for the marginalized. You are the educators of Christ’s inclusion. You, friends, are the ongoing conversation these young people will be left with as they return home from camp this summer. Please do not let the call to inclusion fall silent.

Blessings,
Matthew

A prayer

Dear Loving God,

My heart is heavy. Everyday brings another heart breaking story: terrorist attacks in countries where the people have already suffered and seen so much war and destruction; the death of another person of color by a police officer, the murders of police officers, not to mention the other small acts of violence and murder that don’t gripe the nation or world media, but which cause irreparable damage and suffering. Each act of violence leaves behind a slew of victims; not just those who died, but family and friends who are left to mourn and try to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives.  Children without fathers and mothers, mothers and fathers without their children; lives all cherished by God snatched in seconds because of hatred, violence and fear.

My heart also breaks for those who engage in acts of violence. I am overwhelmed by the anger, fear, and hatred that cause some to view other people that are a different skin color, or have different religious beliefs, as such dangerous threats that they are to be killed.  I am devastated that there are some people who believe that the only way to gain justice, the only way to counter hatred and violence, is by taking the lives of innocent people.  The individuals who engage in these acts of violence are mothers, fathers, daughters, and sons.  They too, are beloved children of God.

I cry for Adel Jaf, one of 175 killed in a terrorist attack in Baghdad July third. I weep for Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, two of many men throughout the last few years that have been killed by police under questionable circumstances. I mourn for the five officers murdered in Dallas: Brent Thompson, Patrick Zamarripa, Michael Krol, Michael Smith, and Lorne Ahrens.

It grieves me that as a society-we believe certain lives are worth-less than others.  Those who are killed in Baghdad-whether by terrorists or by western forces-often become nothing more than a number to be rattled off in a news article. Their lives and stories are erased. It pains me that those killed by police-are often portrayed as criminals and thugs -regardless of their criminal history or lack thereof. By virtue of their past or skin color, their lives are viewed as easily discarded. And I am devastated that Micah X Johnson in response to the racism and hatred that he railed against, decided that the best way to deal with his anger and the injustice that he saw, was to go out and shoot and kill five police officers.  His actions, as well as his own death, have left scores of people mourning: the family and friends of police officers, and his own loved ones.

I find myself asking with the psalmist, how long O, Lord?  How long O’ Lord until your children learn to value and care about each and every life? How long O’ Lord until we reject the myth that violence saves and brings justice? How Long O' Lord, until the tears stop?