The church as sanctuary

Last week, as the United Methodist Church gathered in Tampa for General Conference, I seldom found our meeting place, our worship or our conduct with one another as a place of sanctuary. Entering into the space where our plenary sessions were held each morning last week, I felt not a sense of calm, but an engulfing tension. In encountering individuals with whom I had differing beliefs, I found no refuge, only vulnerability and pain. The communal ‘church’ that I encountered in Tampa created neither a holy nor sacred place, and failed to be a place of asylum or refuge for those feeling outcast from the denomination. For me, the convention center halls were no sanctuary.

In venting my frustration concerning the ‘church’ and this lack of peace, this lack of inclusion, and the absence of welcome and safety present at the General Conference, a friend reminded me that ‘church’ encompasses, yes, the institutional rulings, agencies and workings, but also extends far beyond the reach of the convention center halls of Tampa, Florida. Oftentimes ‘church’ is found instead in the smallest corners, initiatives, and extensions of love.

Throughout General Conference, the Love Your Neighbor Coalition’s ‘Tabernacle’ tent across the street from the convention center provided such sanctuary and exemplified the possibilities of ‘church.’ There, all were welcome. The homeless, the bishops, the local volunteers, the international delegates. There, one could cry without judgment, receive a hug simply by asking, and always find something to nibble on. If this is not such an example of ‘church’ that my friend encouraged me to seek out, then I am not certain what is.

Since returning to Berlin, I have given much thought to what ‘church’ means for me. Yes, I work in a church building. Yet I do not always personally find sanctuary there. However, as my first day back at work reminded me, ‘church’ can remain a ‘sanctuary’ even if the institutional church fails to provide such security and peace.  

I spent my first afternoon back at work outside on the playground, playing board games for a bit, later passing a soccer ball around with a small group of kids until it became clear that some of the youth were planning to fight one another on the soccer field. After lengthy preparation and plenty of talk about being manly, strong and invincible, two youth began fighting one another. Before I could work to stop the fight, one of the youth was already on the run, attempting to get away from the group of boys following him. Living pretty far away, he wouldn’t have made it home. So, where did he go? Straight into the church where I work. As soon as he headed for the church, I ran after him. He knew, just as I did, that once he was in the church he was safe. We would not only ensure that he was uninjured, but that, regardless of who was at fault, he made it home safely past the groups waiting outside to continue the fight. That we would tattle neither to his parents nor to his friends. There would be few to no questions asked.

He had found sanctuary. In the church.

The ‘church’ has a history of providing sanctuary to those in need. In the modern sanctuary movement, asylum seekers and refugees have often sought the church as a safe haven. The Heilig-Kreuz congregation in Berlin supported three Palestinian families from Lebanon in seeking asylum in Germany in 1983 and from this precedent, churches in Berlin have organized to offer “Asylum in the Church” (Asyl in der Kirche, e.V.) and amongst German Christians, the concept of church as a ‘sanctuary’ is self-explanatory. In the United States, a parallel sanctuary movement providing safe haven for Central American refugees fleeing civil conflict emerged in the 1980s. In 1985, my home church congregation, Dumbarton UMC, sheltered an undocumented Salvadoran immigrant.

The basis for the ‘church’ as sanctuary exists. Not only from our traditions as a ‘church,’ but also through our reason and our scriptural basis. This ‘church,’ this sanctuary, need not only be a physical place, but can be a person, a group, an activity or event, or simply a way of living. Sometimes it is hard to see an institution as sanctuary. But, luckily, ‘church’ encompasses more than the building, than the rules, than the doctrine, than the agencies, than the politics.

‘Church.’  When fulfilling its purpose, ‘church’ reaches beyond these details and remains simply the safe haven, the sanctuary to which or to whom one can always run. Whether running from the politics and doctrine, from the kids on the playground trying to beat you up, or to a place of inclusion and welcome, the ‘church’ must remain a strong foundation. A safe space. A sacred place. A refuge.

A sanctuary.

Complacency in Investment. Complacency in Silence. Complacency in Injustice.

“Not to take sides is to effectively weigh in on the side of the stronger.”

-William Sloane Coffin

Today, we, as a representative body of the global United Methodist Church at the General Conference, voted to not support divestment. United Methodists across the connection have passionately devoted time and energy these past four years to work towards realizing and calling for divestment this General Conference.

As the United Methodist Kairos Response states:

“Divestment is a form of nonviolent moral action to change unjust practices,” and in doing so, it can:

“1. …provide hope to Palestinians who see their freedom denied every day;

2. …raise the level of awareness about how profitable Israel’s occupation has become for companies around the world;

3. …ensure that we as investors are not profiting from this;

4.  …put companies on notice that their support for Israel’s occupation may turn away investors;

5. …stimulate public discussion about the realities of occupation, which have largely been hidden from Americans, and can lay the groundwork for changing US policy;

6. ….send a message to Israeli leaders that we view the occupation as immoral and we will actively oppose it; [and]

7. …show the world that we believe in the equality of all God’s children, and that our faith requires our commitment to justice and peace.”[1]

Well, engaging in divestment could have had these impacts….

In discussing the investments and divestment of the United Methodist Church’s finances and stock-holdings, the UM Kairos Response movement of the church had petitioned to, hoped for, and envisioned a divestment from Caterpillar, Hewlett Packard, and Motorola, the three major companies invested in the Israeli occupation through the implication of the use of their products in home demolitions, the construction of settlements, biometric monitoring of checkpoints, and surveillance systems for settlements, military bases, and the wall. The major issues of divestment, for those represented here and opposed to such action, included the financial implications of such action for the General Board of Pensions and Health Benefits (thinking, first, of ourselves), Israel, and (lastly) Palestinian Christians. Discussion of this and another petition regarding Israeli settlements was charged with negative, hateful language, particularly directed at ‘the Muslims’ and ‘all the Arabs,’ who ‘pose a threat to the security in our backyard.’

Having been in Israel and Palestine in 2010, I have witnessed that the movement to divest and the seeking of peace in the Holy Land moves beyond these concerns.

Having broken bread with, lived with, and worked with Muslims in Palestine, Turkey, and Germany, I am outraged and personally offended by such hateful speech against Muslims on the plenary floor of a Christian organization, to which I am a member.  Three years ago, I joined the United Methodist Church, impassioned through and empowered by the denomination’s commitment to justice, but have never questioned my membership in this institution more than I have in the last ten days.

This afternoon, the United Methodist Church has chosen to do nothing. To remain silent. To remain complacent.

Although Wesley stood on the principles of social holiness and the belief that there is no religion but social religion;

Although the United Methodist Church has a tradition of standing with marginalized peoples; and

Although the Palestinian Christians have asked us to stand in solidarity with them and have submitted a concrete call for us to act to bring peace and justice,

We, as a church, remain silent.

We turned from the UM Kairos Response’s call that ,“The Church should lead with prophetic action by publicly and promptly aligning its investments with longstanding church policies opposing the Israeli occupation.”

We failed to give voice to the voiceless. We failed to align our actions with our words. We quiver in fear, failing to stand brave together as a church.

In doing so, we fail to work towards peace and justice for Israelis and Palestinians suffering under occupation.

We fail to be the change that Christ calls us to be in this world.

Our Palestinian sisters and brothers in Christ empowered us in the Bethlehem Call, Here We Stand – Stand with us, “The pain will pass soon if we act now.”[2]

How long will we now need for this pain to pass? When will our Christian actions align with our doctrine and Jesus’ example of justice? When will peace and justice prevail?

“First they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for the Communists and I did not speak out because I was not a Communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out for me.“-Martin Niemöller

 

 

 When will we, as a denomination, speak out against and act in the face of injustice?

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[1] UM Kairos Response, Questions and Answers about Divestment.

[2] Bethlehem Call: Here we stand – Stand with us, 5.

So much privilege. So many ‘first world’ problems.

 

I live and work in a developed country.  I have a private university education, I have a laptop and a cellphone, I am from an upper class economic background, am white and hold an American passport.  Yes, I am privileged. Very privileged. And am also privileged to have the funding and the connections to have traveled to and be present at the General Conference of the United Methodist Church here in Tampa, Florida.

Now, perhaps it is because I spend nearly every-day with children, youth, families, and coworkers who are underprivileged. Many receive governmental social benefits. Many are underpaid for the work they do. Some are forced to work for inadequate wages. Many are fighting for their rights to become German citizens. Some are focused on how they will make ends meet to pay the rent, what they will eat for dinner, or who will care for their child the next day.

Even in a developed country, these are not ‘first world’ problems. And so my perspective is a bit different.

Returning back to the states is always a bit difficult for me. My reverse culture shock of everything being larger, not being able to always sort my trash in public locations, the indirectness (and sometimes superficiality) with which Americans speak with one another, and the insensitivity for the global community is almost always at the core of my resentment of such reentry. While being at General Conference has made for a different sort of ‘reentry’ into the church world and the United Methodist world, rather than the everyday ‘American world,’ it has brought its own struggles.

In the past week, I have seen more iPads, Laptops, iPhones, and Blackberries than I have likely seen in the past 10 months combined. I have seen more people (both young and old) reliant, dependent on cell phones, internet access, and constant interactive social media communication than I have seen since my time as an undergraduate. I have heard delegates comment about being unwilling to forfeit their ‘nap’ or ‘lunch’ time for the sake of expediting and expanding upon the work that they are actually here to complete. I have had more conversations with people that are based on a clear delineation of ‘us’ and ‘them’ language, regardless of where on the political and theological spectrum such individuals fall. I am also guilty of slipping into the use of such language and others of these cultural actions, mannerisms, and prioritizations.

These are all signs of privilege. Signs of our ‘concerns,’ our ‘problems,’ our absorption and our priorities in a developed country. Where  a cell phone battery dying can be a disappointment, having to wait too long in line can be an annoyance, and not knowing what to wear in the morning, a crisis.

But, in the big scheme of things, are these things that actually matter? If we are so busy with these everyday crises, then how can we acknowledge, embrace, and move beyond our privilege, particularly as a national and global church, to recognize the needs of others, to engage in both charity and justice, and to recognize each individual in this world as our neighbor, whom we shall love?

Then Where?

How is it with your soul?

It is not well with my soul.

I feel 

Hurt.

Violated.

Broken.

My heart, my soul is crying out,

Screaming,

Suffocating.

Amidst the parliamentary procedures,

the bureaucracy,

the hierarchy.

Amidst the confrontation,

the hurtful language,

the avoidance,

the brokenness.

Where is the hope?

Where is the love of the Gospel?

Where is the joy of the resurrection?

Where is the justice?

The equity?

Where is the peace, 

the welcome, 

the inclusion?

If such cannot be found within the church, then where?

A poem written in legislative committee Church & Society A of the United Methodist General Conference on April 27, 2012.