Love in a time of hate

In my hometown of Louisville, a white racist recently shot and killed two African-Americans. He reportedly had been unable to burst into a black church to kill even more people. A grocery store became his killing field. He was blinded by hate of another race.

Soon afterwards, a Florida man sent what the FBI said were real bombs, not hoax ones, through the mail. Thank God, none exploded. Hate had blinded him, which was confirmed by what he posted on social media. It was full of hatred of Jews and immigrants and African-Americans, according to law enforcement. He was, terrorism experts said,  "self-radicalized." 

On the Jewish sabbath, a man burst into Tree Of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh and shot and killed 14 people at prayer and wounded a half-dozen other people. He thought Jews a threat to his race. Reports on his social media activity revealed extreme anti-Semitism. He was blinded by hate. His murderous rampage has terrorized the Jewish community nationally.

Hate has been activated in America by politicians to increase and expand power for themselves and their pernicious ideologies. Combined with fear of black people, brown people, Democrats and liberals, among others, hate is a deadly and dividing force. It has dehumanized and demonized whole groups and classes of people, including the poor. 

Because of today's politics and rhetoric of fear and hate, some historians claim that America is more divided today than it was during the late 1850s in the buildup to the Civil War. 

What America needs today, while we still have time and before we risk a plunge into another civil war, is a commitment to the rhetoric and politics of love. 

I am a Christian, a follower of Jesus Christ. I believe that Jesus, a Jew, revealed the God of love perfectly, and he suffered,  died and rose from the grave on the third day to demonstrate that love is more powerful than hate. People of all colors and creeds who believe in the power of love have transformed this country for the good at points in our history—abolishing slavery, working for voting rights for African-Americans and the protection of them and advocating for compassionate treatment of the poor and the vulnerable.

In the sacrament of Holy Baptism, I committed myself to Jesus as my Savior and Lord and to his way of love; love is willing and doing the best for every human being, regardless of who he or she is. Jesus fed the poor, welcomed the outcast, healed the sick and broken, cast out demons. He brought people the fullness of life. He teaches me that despite what people who hate and promote division say, I am not to view people who are different from me as the the other, the enemy, as people undeserving of freedom, rights under our U.S. Constitution, or, indeed, life itself. To paraphrase Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., If God is or father, then we are all brothers and sisters. We are all family. Genesis says or our ancient origins that we are from the same parents, Adam and Eve.

Instead of being blinded by hate, we Americans need to be sighted and motivated by love. 
and as hard as it is, especially now, we need to do what Jesus and all great religious teachers have urged: Love our neighbors as ourselves. 

I place little hope in elected officials showing us the way of love or acting according to it, although we should still press them to do so, including through the power of our vote. Instead, individually, we need to enact love not just on days of our religious observances in our churches, synagogues and mosques, but every day. 



How? Get to know people of other faiths and races and political viewpoints. Attend the local Interfaith Alliance of the Ozarks’ meetings.  Do some act of kindness. Volunteer at a food pantry. Refuse to laugh at the racist joke or to vilify someone who believes differently from you. Pray for people you regard as enemies. Mute the voices of hate, division and violence. Raise your voices against them. Whatever our faith, race, class or party affiliation, we must unite against hate and live the way of love for a better America.


The Rev. Kenneth L. Chumbley, Springfield,  is an Episcopal priest.

Nearer My God to Thee

   Why do people attend houses of worship?

  According to a recent Pew Research Center study, 81 percent of the more than 4,700 survey participants said that they regularly attended their houses of worship “to feel close to God.” (Other reasons cited for attendance included: to provide moral education for their children; to become a better person; for comfort in time of trouble or sadness.)

   For as long as I can remember, I have attended church regularly, although I did miss some Sundays when I was in university. But after a profound religious experience during my senior year, I decided I would be in church at least weekly. I wanted to get to know God better, this God I had met in that conversion experience as overwhelming, consuming love. This verse from the Letter of James spoke for me then and now: “Draw near to God, and God will draw near to you.”

   Worship draws me near to God, and without it, I would quickly lose that sense of intimacy that I now enjoy.

   Even when I am on vacation, as I was in July, I attend church weekly. I would never think of missing, just as I would never think of not breathing, or of not eating food or not drinking water. They are necessary to my life. So is God. So is my worship of him. Worship is that act in which I acknowledge my dependence on God, thank him for his blessings, seek his forgiveness and help and receive his grace or favor in word and sacrament. Worship is part of who I am.

   I am part of that 81 percent of Pew respondents. I worship because I want to be close to God. The Sunday service is a time of holy encounter every week. Sometimes, that encounter is intense, other times more subdued. In some way, God meets me there. And I am better for it. My faith in God is stronger.

   On vacation, this summer, Penny and I and granddaughters June and Christa visited Christ Church, Summit, N.J., a United Church of Christ congregation. Our oldest friends are active members.

   There, we met warm, loving people who welcomed us. We learned about the ways the church was showing God’s love to others. In worship, we listened to that day’s Scripture readings and heard an edifying sermon. And we were inspired by the music.

   After the sermon, the choir sang an old African-American spiritual, “There is a Balm in Gilead,” Hymn 676 in the Episcopal Church Hymnal. It goes like this:

Refrain:

There is a balm in Gilead

to make the wounded whole,

there is a balm in Gilead

to heal the sin-sick soul.

Sometimes I feel discouraged

and think my work's in vain,

but then the Holy Spirit

revives my soul again. 

Refrain

If you cannot preach like Peter,

if you cannot pray like Paul,

you can tell the love of Jesus

and say, "He died for all." 

Refrain

   

    Soon, the whole congregation joined in singing the hymn. As I sang, I started to cry—tears not of sadness, but of deep joy. Christa, our youngest granddaughter, took my hand. I smiled. “I’m okay,” I whispered.

   I was more than okay. For in the singing of that hymn, I felt God’s presence with me in a real, even dramatic way. I knew that he loved me, that he had given himself for me and my salvation in Jesus that he was with me always. And I was thankful. That hymn reminded me that God, whom I know in Jesus, is the balm in my Gilead.

   Every Sunday, you will find God in a church near you. He will be there in liturgy, whatever your Christian tradition, as well as in fellowship, in education and formation and in service. Worshiping with other Christians weekly, you will know for yourself that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is the balm of Gilead. He will make your wounds whole and will heal your sin-sick soul.