Jason C. Stanley

ponderings of a dad walking humbly & seeking justice

Tag: violence

Sermon: How Long, O Lord?

A sermon preached at Peakland United Methodist on Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-5 for Children’s Sabbath.

Sermon: Savior, Like a Shepherd

A sermon preached April 21, 2013 at Peakland United Methodist Church the Sunday after the Boston Marathon bombing. The texts for the sermon were Psalm 23, Revelation 7:9-17, and John 10:22-30.

The Color Purple (1985)

The_Color_Purple_posterSteven Spielberg’s film is based on Alice Walker’s novel of the same title. It is the heart-wrenching story of Celie (Whoopi Goldberg). Celie is raped by her father, gives birth to two children who are immediately taken from her and sold. When a neighboring widower comes by to request marrying Celie’s younger sister Nettie.  Celie’s father offers Celie to him instead, along with a cow.

The man is Albert Johnson (Danny Glover), but throughout most of the film, Celie calls him “Mister.” Living in rural Georgia in the early 20th century, Celie’s journey is one of self-discovery through discrimination and violence, mostly from the hands of those who are to love her. That summer, Nettie shows up at the Johnson’s home. She has escaped her father, who will not keep his hands to himself. Mister is okay with Nettie coming to live with them, because he has had his eyes on her for a long time.

The move is good for Celie. The sisters have always had a deep, spiritual connection. Nettie, who goes to school, teaches Celie how to read, including Charles Dickson’s Oliver Twist. Celie seems to find solace in Oliver Twist, for she too feels orphaned.

On her way to school one day, Mister makes an attempt to rape Nettie. She, however, refuses to become a victim. Furious that she refused him and furious that she kicked him, he violently throws her out of his house. It is one of the most intense scenes of the film. Mister is yelling and screaming, all while throwing Nettie’s belongings. Nettie and Celie cling to each other, and Mister violently pries them apart. Nettie shouts over and over, “Why!” Nettie, played so well by Akosua Busia, carries this scene. She represents Celie salvation. Her relationship with her sister, is the only thing that soothes Celie’s soul. With her gone, that sense of calmness and salvation is gone. And along with it, all hope.

Nettie cries out to Celie as Mister continues to force her off his property, “Nothing but death can keep me from you!”

Nothing Will Keep Me

From then on, the Johnson mailbox becomes a focal point. The sober shots of the empty mailbox represent the emptiness in Celie’s heart. Celie longs for a letter from Nettie to show up in that mailbox. “She said she would write,” Celie narrates, “but she never does.” Mister threatens her to open that mailbox, so Celie never really knows.

Mister gets a letter from Shug Avery (Margaret Avery). Shug is a pivotal character in this film. We first meet her as she comes into to town to sing. Celie sees in Shug who she wants to be. If she only has the courage.

One night Mister brings Shug Avery to the house, drunk and sick. Mister tries to care for her, but he can’t. He doesn’t know how. Celie, meanwhile, cooks, baths, and brushes Shug’s hair. A relationship between the two women begins to form, one that is more intense and sexual in Walker’s novel than in Spielberg’s film. It is this relationship, like Celie’s relationship with her sister that is Celie’s salvation. When Shug is around, Mister does not beat Celie. When Shug is around, Celie can be herself.

Shug offers more than just salvation to Celie, she empowers her to the point of transformation. But more on that later.

Credit: Photo by Moviestore Collection / Rex Features

Credit: Photo by Moviestore Collection / Rex Features

Shug is the main entertainment at Harpo’s bar. There is drinking, singing and laughing, and all kinds of carrying on. A fight breaks out, with Sofia at the start of it. In the midst of this bar scene, the camera takes us across the swamps and fields to the nearby church. It is only seconds long, but it has a significant impact on the story. With directors like Steven Spielberg, scenes like that may seem out of place, but are actually very intentional.

The inclusion of the church and the preacher giving a sermon against such sinful behavior as the bar scene illustrates the tension between sinfulness and righteousness. Or, more accurately, perceived sinfulness and perceived righteousness. There is a perceived understanding that treating your wife as another piece of property is acceptable. While singing jazz and the blues at a bar is not.

Shug goes to the church to see the preacher. She stands in the back of the church talking to the preacher who is sitting on the front pew facing forward. He refuses to turn and face Shug, no matter how much she pleads with him. He gets up from the pew, walks into another room and closes the door, all without saying a word. Shug backs out of the church, closing the church doors, symbolizing her relationship with the Church and with her father, the preacher. Her father will not look at her for he will look at sinfulness.

With the doors closed on the relationship with her father, Shug leaves town again, this time for Memphis. Celie dreams of going with her, escaping “Mister Jail,” and finally breaking free. But she doesn’t quite have the courage yet to stand up to him.

In the spring of 1936, Shug returns to the Johnson’s home, this time with a husband, Grady. While the men are drinking, Shug checks the mailbox and sees a letter for Celie. It is from Nettie.

While the two men are out of the house, Shug and Celie go through the whole house until they find the other letters from Nettie.. She learns that Nettie has been a nanny for African-American missionaries who were serving in Africa. The missionaries’ children are Adam and Olivia, Celie’s children that her father sold to the missionaries.

This connection to her sister begins a change in Celie. When finally see – and hear – the change when the family is gathered at the dinner table. Shug announces that she and Grady are going to be leaving soon. She also announces that they are taking Celie with them. Mister does not like this idea. Celie, standing up from the table, speaks her own voice for the first time:

You’re a low-down dirty dog! It’s time to get away from you . . . You took my sister Nettie away from me. You knew she was the only somebody in the world who loved me  . . She’s coming home . . we’ll all get together and we’ll whip your ass! She’s got my children and they know other languages.

As they leave the house, Mister shouts to Celie, “You’re black, you’re ugly, you’re a woman, you’re nothing at all!”, which sums up how Celie thought of herself for her whole life at the oppressive hands of men who were suppose to love her.  As the car drives away, Celie shouts back, “I may be black,  poor. I may even be ugly. But I’m here!”

In the fall of 1937 and Mister’s life has gone down hill. The house and property are neglected, just as his own life. Celie comes home for her father’s funeral, only to learn that he was her stepfather. Celie, though still disgusted that he rapped her, has a sense of relief that her children are not her half-siblings. Celie inherits her birth father’s property. Celie moves into the house and starts a seamstress shop in town.

One afternoon as Celie and Shug walk through the fields of purple flowers that she and Nettie did as children. Shug compares people’s indifference to the flowers with their indifference to God. It is a theological statement that brings to mind the scene where Shug closes the doors of the church.

Celie & ShugShug: You just walk past the color purple and don’t notice it.

Celie: You mean that God just wants to be loved.

Shug: Everything wants to be loved.

We go back to Harpo’s bar where Shug is singing. Across the water, just as before, the camera takes us to the church where the preacher is preaching. The song Shug sings includes these words, “God is trying to tell you something.” Someone in the congregation interrupts the preacher to tell him, “God is trying to tell you something.”

The choir starts to sing, and it at first overpowers Shug and her band. It’s not long before Shug starts singing with the choir, and makes her way to the church. The crowd from Harpo’s follows her. When the crowd gets to the church, Shug flies open the church doors singing with the choir, “God is trying to tell you something.”

Shug and the preacher meet in front of the altar and embrace. Shug whispers to him, “See, Daddy, sinners have a soul too!”

This is such an amazing scene! Where previously these two worlds – the righteous and the sinful – were separate now they collide in a powerful way. Shug is the prodigal daughter coming home, opening the doors that she closed on her relationship with the church and her father. It is also a transforming moment for her father, the preacher. The moment is a reminder of the powerful transformation that can occur through reconciliation.

Mister, Albert, has been sitting on his front porch this whole time, listening to all the singing. With the choir singing as the backdrop, Albert checks the mail and there is something from the immigration office for Celie. He gets a handful of cash out of the hiding place. He goes downtown to the immigration office and the next thing we see is a car pulling up to Celie’s place.

It is Nettie and the children back from Africa. Celie and Nettie are finally reunited in the fields of purple flowers at their home place. Albert watches the reunion from a distance. The only person who sees him is Shug, who smiles to herself, knowing that Mister has finally grown up.

The women in The Color Purple, including Sopia (Oprah Winfrey), display for us what the journey through Lent results in: Transformation.

The Ten: Don’t Hurt People

Do not kill. (Exodus 20:13, Common English Bible)

The Ten - jasoncstanley.comThere is a story in Genesis of two brothers, the world’s first two brothers: Cain and Abel. They both brought sacrifices to God. Able brought the first and best of his sheep, while Cain brought scraps from his harvest. Their tithing was their worship. God looked favorably on Abel’s offering, and not so favorably on Cain’s offering.

In a fit of jealousy and anger, Cain kills his brother Abel.

The world’s first murder.

Perhaps this story from the Hebrew tradition is what came to mind for the Hebrews when Moses announced this commandment. Life is a precious gift given by God. The responsibility for giving and taking life belonged to God. But the commandment to not kill may have a broader stroke.

Terence Fretheim writes about this commandment:

….any act of violence against an individual out of hatred, anger, malice, deceit, or for personal gain, in whatever circumstances and by whatever method, that might result in death.

“Any act of violence” with the intention of death.

Recently our community had bomb threats at a number of area schools, elementary through high school. A fire drill blared, and the students, in orderly lines, went outside. Some of the students were funneled into school buses. The next day there were children who did not want to go to school. They were filled with anxiety and fear. And I can’t blame them. If I was in the first grade and had that experience, I most likely would fight my parents to not go to school.

The person or persons who called in these bomb threats are attempting to act in God’s stead. This act of violence goes against God’s loving creation. The effects of this act will last longer than that moment, which can be wildly dangerous. God beckons us to place value on the lives of others.

Jesus, in his Sermon on the Mount, goes a bit farther. Jesus, always one to turn the world upside down, tells the crowd that the commandment goes beyond physical violence. Verbal abuse and other expressions of anger, hatred, malice, and so on. Jesus extends the commandment to include anything that we might do to hurt others. Name-calling, gossiping, back-stabbing, (all the stuff you see happening on House of Cards), is damaging to the person you do that to. It kills a part of them. And frankly, it kills a part of us as well.

When we hurt others – in physical, emotional, or verbal ways – we are hurting God’s plans for a safe and loving world. When we call in bomb threats that leave first graders huddled on a cold school bus, we are disrupting God’s plan for a safe and loving world. When we choose vile and selfish ways to keep people out (even in the name of God), we rattle God’s plan for a safe and loving world.

In the beginning, God created and it was good. When we hurt others, we disturb the goodness of God’s creation. And that is not good.

You’re Next (2011)

Ponderings - You're Next ReviewAs far as horror films go, Adam Wingard’s You’re Next is mild. It is by no means Saw or Nightmare on Elm Street. But it is still a horror film, though it beats to its own drum. Wingard’s approach is strike and go. He does not linger on the blood or violence. There is more to this story than that.

In You’re Next, a wealthy couple invite their grown children and their partners to their isolated estate. As the family gathers, it is a very typical dysfunctional family dinner. Old rivalries that have resided in deep resentment surface. During a heated argument at the dinner table, one boyfriend notices something outside. He stands up to look out the window. He is the first of this family to fall fate to the animal masked men outside the home. Ironically, the boyfriend is a documentary filmmaker who is portrayed by horror film maker Ti West.

The message “You’re Next” is scrawled around the house. So, we the humble horror film viewer, know that there is more to come. The film, however, has a few plot turns that are unexpected. Mainly the character of Erin, the girlfriend of one of the sons. Sharni Vinson is by the far the best part of this film. As Erin she is a strong, independent, leader and survivor. When all the mess hits the fan, she goes into survival mode. She does what she learned to do growing up in Australia. It is natural for her, unlike her boyfriend who runs off. This sets Erin apart from this family that she marry into.

Erin is the only one who does not give up. She is only one who does what she must to survive. She will not allow this darkness, this violence, this injustice, to win. And it’s not easy. She sets up traps and arms herself with an axe. The true difficult moment comes when she figures out who is behind all of this violence.

Vinson as Erin

Sharni Vinson as Erin

At the heart of this film (do horror films have hearts?) is family. The problem that the film presents for us is that the darkness, the violence, the injustice that we experience can be at the hands of our family. It quickly becomes clear that the family reunion has been hijacked to ensure that one son gets an inheritance much sooner than planned.

It is hard to believe that family would do this to family. Paul Tillich taught that the thing we care about the most – the thing that motivates us to do the things that we do – becomes our ultimate concern. And that ultimate concern becomes our religion.

And, let’s face it, people do crazy things for their religion. Even kill?

Perhaps.

Repost: The Greatest Gift of All

Linus recites Luke 2:

Linus recites Luke 2:

This post was first posted on December 24, 2012. 

 

Sometimes, we can feel like Charlie Brown. We get caught up in the hustle and bustle of Christmas and wonder, “Is there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?” Linus, much like the angels on that first Christmas, remind us what Christmas is all about.

“Peace and goodwill toward men.”

Peace and goodwill is hard to come by these days, as it was that first Christmas.  Charles Campbell reminds us, “The political powers, in both Jesus’ day and our own, play on fear to get their way – whether it be the fear of the emperor, the fear of terrorists, the fear of the ‘other’ (the immigrant), or the fear of death.”

Government mandated oppression.

Discrimination against those were different than them.

The poor were kept poor.

People suffered from hunger.

Violence was evident on the streets daily.

But, that was in “those days.”

“And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7, NRSV).

The arrival of Jesus brought with it a “new day.” There is no longer need for fear, only joy. There is no longer need for corruption, only freedom. There is no longer need for hunger, only feasting. There is no longer need for occupation, only liberation. There is no longer need for war, only peace.

And yet, we struggle to see this “new day.”

Political parties inspire fear of the other party.

Hatred and bullying of someone, anyone, who is different from us is rampant.

The great divide between the have’s and the have-not’s gets wider and wider.

People suffer from hunger.

Violence is evident on our streets and in our schools.

And there is something deep inside of us that wants to cry out like Charlie Brown, “Is there anyone who knows what Christmas is about?” Sure, we get all these warm fuzzies at this time of year that make us feel so good. It’s great giving and receiving gifts. It’s great going to parties. It’s great having family and friends around.

But, at least for me, there is something hard to swallow about Christmas. That is with all the joy, there is grieving and hopelessness. And I don’t mean to put a damper on things. From Central America and back, I have seen suffering at the hands of poverty, addictions, and violence. And while we try to not think about these things at Christmas, we have to remember this is why the baby boy was born. This poverty, these addictions, and this violence is the reason God became man. This suffering is the reason that Jesus was born.

Jesus is not just the reason for the season. Jesus is the greatest gift of all. In that lowly manger sits hands of grace that bring healing and hope into our hopelessness.

John’s gospel talks about Jesus’ birth as a great Light that penetrates  the darkness of the world. Matthew quotes Jesus telling the disciples that “You are the Light of the World.” This is just one of the many commissioning sayings of Jesus. God sent Jesus as the Light, we are the light-bearers. It is now our responsibility to carry that Light into the dark crevices of the world. Because we claim Jesus Christ, we now become a gift to the word.

Taking the Light to the oppressed.

Taking the Light to the poor and the hungry.

Taking the Light to the bullied and the bullies.

Taking the Light into the violent streets.

It is us who must act. It is us who must bring peace and goodwill to all. It is our gift to give.

A Kingdom of Peace

Read Isaiah 11:1-10

Advent Ponderings

We can all remember where we were when we heard about the terrorist attacks on 9/11. I was walking across campus at Randolph-Macon College. I had an early class that morning and was walking towards the library when I overheard other groups of students talking about the attack. I couldn’t believe it. And truthfully there was a part of me that didn’t believe it. I by-passed the library and went to my car. I turned the radio on and listened with a heavy heart to the news reports of airplanes flying into the World Trade Center buildings.

How could such a thing happen? How could there be so much hate in the world that hundreds of people would be killed?

College students who are freshmen this year were in the first grade when 9/11 happened. The only world they know is this post-9/11 world. A world where war is common. A world where politics are more important than people, no matter what side of the aisle you are on. A world where bullying and school shootings are the norm.

A world filled with violence.

In her book God’s Gift of Love, Donna Schaper writes, “From a world without love and without hope, nothing is possible, expect a repeat of the same injuries.” Injustice breeds injustice. Violence breeds violence. At some point the cycle of hate must stop. But how?

Nelson Mandela is an example of someone who ended the cycle of hate. After being a, at sometimes violent, leader against his government, and being imprisoned, something happened. He changed. When he emerged from his jail cell, he was a different man. A man filled with peace. He led his people to become united and to reconciliation.

Mandela made a difference in many ways, across many countries. And we argue that some of the changes were big and some of the changes were small. But they were changes. And they started within himself. He found peace in himself before he was able to lead others to find peace. Change towards peace does not always have to be by the pound. Change towards peace can be by the ounce. Ounce by ounce through prayer and contemplation, worship and Bible study, scheduled acts of mercy and random acts of kindness, we change ourselves, and make the world around us a better place.

Because love breeds love. Hope breeds hope. Justice breeds justice. And peace breeds peace.

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