The Crucified God

The Crucified God: Luke 23:33-44

Jesus was one of thousands of executed men and women in Palestine in the decades before Titus’ war against Jerusalem. It is said that the roads from Jerusalem to Galilee were sometimes lined with crosses. We remember Jesus now and the work that he did as unique, but his execution was not. Thousands of unnamed people died like this, in that time and place. 

Jesus died as one of his people, with them, victim to a greedy empire, dying publicly as a criminal, a person with no value, a person whose bones were meant to be left in the trash heap outside the city. 

Perhaps this is the most powerful message of the Christian faith. That God, in Jesus, joined in solidarity with human suffering— joined with every human who had died at the hands of injustice, joined with every human being who was suffering, joined with the human beings that empires declare non-people and human trash. 

We say today is Christ the King Sunday. In the text, that is a title given in scorn. It is a mockery of a dying man. Theologically, I would submit to you that it the Sunday where we see a Christ who is King of the suffering, King of the dying, King of the trash people that empires have always cast aside. Or, as theologian Jurgen Moltmann calls him, The Crucified God. 

The Crucified God is Remembered with his People

A Jesus who marches victorious with armies like the crusades is of little use to me. But, in my work among people who are poor and homeless in Grays Harbor County, we need the solidarity of the Crucified God. We need a God who joins us in our suffering. A God who takes our side.

In Aberdeen, the largest town in Grays Harbor, 1 out of 16 people are homeless. About half the population is on federal assistance programs. We are poor. We are struggling. We just had an All Saints service remembering all the people who had died in our community over the past few years. We put up over 45 pictures. Only a few were elderly; most were between 18 and 50 and most had died of lack of medical care, exposure, overdose or suicide. While we were having the service, two more deaths were announced. 

For us, Jesus’ crucifixion was not a stand alone event. Today, 2000 years later, it points us to the people who continued to be crucified among us. 

When I first began street ministry in Grays Harbor over six years ago, I was immediately aware of how many people were dying and how rarely their deaths were commemorated. John Sobrino, a theologian from El Salvador, said; 

“…the crucified people are also denied a chance to speak and even to be called by name, which means they are denied their own existence.”

Sobrino believed that it was a theological act to NAME suffering people. So often, all over the world, thousands of people die unjustly, die as people not considered worthy of naming, and their names are forgotten, and their bones are left in the trash heaps of history. We don’t know the names of the thousands of people who died at the time of Jesus. A funeral home closed in Aberdeen a few years back and there were hundreds of human remains found unclaimed and unnamed. 

Part of our ministry has been naming and remembering our lost ones, our crucified ones. We hold funerals and memorials as often as we can. We print out people’s pictures and put them up in our church space. We hold an annual service on All Saints where we put up names and pictures and share stories of our dead. Perhaps the most intimate way that I remember people’s names is that I tattoo the initials of every person I bury on my arm, under an image of the virgin Mary. 

And the act of remembering and naming is a theological act. It is affirming the life of suffering people. It is saying that the crucified God died alongside these people, these names, these holy ones. 

The Crucified God is Mocked with His People

From that naming, from that love, from that solidarity, we learn to stand with people and work for justice. We do it in Jesus name but we also do it in the name of all those we have loved and lost. 

Jesus was surrounded by mockery at the cross. The intention was that his name and his legacy be cast into the trash heap of history. The leaders of his day, the soldiers of his day, even some of the people suffering with him mocked him as a false king. As a king of the trash people. 

Today, in Aberdeen, in the face of so much death and suffering, people sometimes openly call for the death of homeless people. Or me, honestly. Sometimes, business owners, believing that homeless people are the cause for their economic decline, want to ship people out of town or jail— or even kill— them. It is not unheard of for people to gather baseball bats and show up to people’s campsites and drive them off. 

Small towns are historically known for their ability to take care of each other and look after each other. But we have entered a time when people are too poor to actually be able to do that. Instead, people who are homeless or drug addicted become the enemy. And that it is what is happening in Grays Harbor— and, if I would guess, maybe happening in your own towns up here too. 

I am from Grays Harbor, and when I returned to do ministry there, I was surprised by how many young people and people my age were on the streets. And even more heartbroken by the number of people stuck in a cycle of addiction, homelessness, and prison. When I read the story of the crucifixion, I recall all the young bodies I have seen so scarred, so thin, carrying the marks of police brutality, the prison system, hunger, cold, and despair. 

I remember the young Native kid I know who ran from Safeway after allegedly stealing food and was caught in front of his aunt’s tent in an encampment by the river. When I saw him in court, he was unrecognizable, his face a bloody mass, almost comatose, unable to respond to the judge’s questions. He’s now in prison on other charges, but I think of how his community has treated him as trash. Like Jesus. A young man who is considered just another criminal, just another junkie. And I think about how Jesus is king of the criminals and junkies. The Crucified God mocked with his people. 

The Crucified God Risen with his People

We call this Christ the King Sunday because we remember that this was not the end of the story. Jesus dying, Jesus suffering the mockery of all the people around him, God crucified. 

There is more to the story. The crucified God rises again, despite the empire, despite all the odds, despite the mockery and hatred and cruelty. He ushers the people who die with him into paradise and he rises again in power.

And the crucified God rises with crucified people today. In the six years I have done ministry in Grays Harbor, I have buried so many. But I have also supported amazing leaders who have, against all the odds, fought for their rights and stood tall as children of God. I have supported dozens of leaders who have left the streets, left jail, left addiction and found ways to heal. 

In six year, we have an eleven person staff and most of us have experienced homelessness. Now each of us serve as chaplains to people still struggling. We started a farm almost two years ago, to provide work for young people getting off the street and to bring fresh produce back into the community. We have big, audacious dreams of resurrection in our community. 

The Crucified God still stands with crucified people in our communities. And gives us audacious hope. 

A Mustard Seed Movement

Bishop Curry referred to us as a “mustard seed movement,” and we are indeed just that—a movement growing from small seeds of love and care for our neighbors, years of survival projects and jail outreach, and a tiny coalition of people from our own organization, tribal members and drummers, health care professionals, people with a wide range of political opinions and backgrounds, and people coming out of homelessness and addiction. Just like Jesus’ little group of poor and struggling people two thousand years ago, we are motivated by love for one another and a conviction that we are called to stand on the side of our neighbors who are increasingly targeted in our community. The leaders who have grown out of our efforts are simply incredible.

I wanted to reflect on some of the highlights, for me, of this event and its aftermath.

1.     A group of elders and drummers from Queets and the Quinault nation joined us, to lead us in prayer on this their land, to pray for people experiencing homelessness, and to open our vigil and prayers for our dead on the street. They also gifted the bishops with necklaces and tea. I was so deeply honored to have them with us, so deeply honored to hear from the wisdom of traditions that belong to this land. We were joined by April, who jumpstarted this movement with a powerful vigil for people who were homeless, including her own family, on the streets of Aberdeen. During his remarks, Bishop Curry reflected on her courage, in the face of opposition and harassment, and compared her to Rosa Parks. We are honored to stand with her.

2.     After our rally and the bishop’s words, we set up tents in front of city hall and camped out until the morning. We were joined by a young woman who has been part of our movement building for a long time and who is currently homeless. I cried as I listened to her explain why she was joining us and risking arrest: to stand up for her community and her friends and to be part of a larger movement for change.

3.     At the head of the group, leading the tour, was one of the young men who had helped us start our cold weather shelter in Westport several years ago. He is now in recovery and becoming a dynamic and powerful leader for change. I spend so much of my time walking through hell with people, and witnessing so much struggle, and it makes my heart sing when people’s struggle for life bears fruit. Chris shared his powerful story recently in the local press and I could not be more proud of him.

4.      In the city council meeting following the event, we issued a statement calling on the city to 1) repeal the sidewalk ordinances targeting homeless people, 2) to declare a state of emergency, 3) to prioritize affordable housing in any revitalization plans, and 4) to work to have shelter open by this winter. Two young women from our group delivered the message, asking the city to join us in making this a better place for all of us. While we have received considerable backlash in the local community, we have been able to stay on message and continue to press for change.

5.     I have heard from many young people in jail and prison, who were keeping up with this event and who were heartened by the willingness of a few people to take a stand for them and their loved ones on the street. “Do they understand that this is just the beginning of a demand for housing and the rights of oppressed people in our community?” they asked. They sent warm words of encouragement to us, as they struggled on the inside for survival.

6.     While conflict is difficult, especially in small communities, this event has forced conversation about the fact that 1 in 16 people in Aberdeen are homeless. Some of this has solidified a terrifying narrative, calling for the city to forcibly remove homeless people or even calling for their death. One poster on facebook said; “Do I realize they are human? Yes. Do I care anymore? Hell no… Bring  a bus, ship them out, and for the record, no, nobody should be expected to give them a damn dime or be responsible for rehoming them.” These increasing calls for violence and hate are disturbing in this current crisis, and have in the past led to acts of violence. I have buried more people than I can count, deaths due to poor health care, due to drugs being easier to obtain than food or housing, due to attention violence, due to actual violence. I issued and will continue to issue a call to choose love for one another, to choose the way of love and care for our neighbors. We are in a struggle for life or death, love or hate, in this community. I have been heartened by the number of people who are speaking out in support of their loved ones and their friends on the street and I pray that we are enough to stem the very real threat of further violence and address the very real violence of poor health care, no housing, police violence, and attention violence our people experience on a daily basis.

A mustard seed movement does not grow in a day. We have started and begun a continuation of the Jesus movement and we will continue to fight for each other. Thank you, Bishop Curry, for your encouragement on the steps of Aberdeen city hall. Forward together, not one step back.

To Restore the Streets to Live In

Isaiah 58:1-12

Just a little over a year ago, I was visiting a group in jail who had decided to form a Bible study. They were all young guys—some white, some Native— and they all came from the streets. They started reading parts of Isaiah until, during Holy Week, they read Isaiah 58. They were fasting that week, looking for guidance, and I believe it came. It was one of those holy spirit moments. That week, one of the guys leading the study came to me during our visiting time, and said; “This is it. This is what we are called to do. To be restorers of streets to live in!” He was thrilled, amazed by this thought that he—who had experienced the streets and all that went with it—the violence, the drugs, the hunger, the cold—could be part of restoring them, restoring the community. This young man is still in prison right now, but we write regularly and this study inspired us to use that phrase—“restoring the streets to live in”—as part of our mission statement.

As I was reading through this and preparing for this sermon, a few things came to mind about this text and how it relates to our own community.

1.     Isaiah is writing to people who lived through disaster

First, Isaiah is writing to people who lived through disaster during the Babylonian exile. It is a text that speaks to a generation and their children who witnessed the complete destruction of their homes and livelihoods—and their freedom. They saw war and they lost it; they were carried as slaves and exiles into Babylon, and there they lived and suffered until, 70 years later, a group was allowed to return.

They were a people who had experienced tremendous trauma, people who Louis Stulman says were living pillar to post between disaster and survival. That is, they were stuck between this loss and trauma, this destruction of their community, and their deep need to survive and live to rebuild their lives and dreams.

Our community also lives, in many ways, pillar to post between disaster and survival. We haven’t seen war and destruction in the same ways, but we have lived through our own traumas. We have been hit hard by the economic crisis, we have lost most of our main industries. We are one of many communities across the country with growing poverty and homelessness and a shrinking economic base. We have, in the process, lost ways of life. I grew up farming in this community and yet, coming back, there are so few working farms I feel like I can count them on one hand. Logging once supported this community and now very little of that industry is left.

In our own way, we are in between disaster—the loss of a way of life and the loss of an economic base—and survival—our deep need to find a future for ourselves and our children, our deep need sometimes to simply survive.

Like Isaiah’s community, this looks like growing homelessness, this looks like people who are hungry, this looks like people who don’t have living wage jobs, this looks like a daily struggle to survive.

2.     Isaiah is condemning religion without action, judgment and exclusion without mercy

And, Isaiah’s community faced a choice. They could close their doors and hearts, double down on their religious practice, and ignore the struggles of those around them. They could fast and they could judge everyone around them and point fingers.

Because that is the first impulse, I think, of people who are between disaster and survival. “Batten down the hatches.” “Close the doors.” “Protect yourselves.” These are human instincts. Let’s hole up in our new temple and fast and keep those doors shut.

Or, they could follow the prophet’s call. They could follow God’s way, which is ever so much harder than human instincts.

They could see their family, their own, their community struggling out on the streets. They could see the hunger around them. They could turn from greed to generosity. They could undo oppression when they saw it. They could make sure everyone was fairly and justly treated.

3.     Isaiah is calling people to restore streets to live in

And, the prophet gives them a promise. If they chose mercy over judgement, if they chose following God instead of empty religious practice,

If they made sure people were taken care of and fed and given a chance and paid fairly

If they removed oppression and injustice

Then, and only then, would they truly be able to rebuild. Only then would they restore the streets to live in. Only then would God pour out his blessing on them and their endeavors. Only then would they move from survival to thriving.

I think, as always, we have the same choices in front of us today, in our own community.

This is why I do the work that I do.

In our county today, at least 2,000 people are homeless and couch surfing. 1 out of 16 people in Aberdeen. 46% of us our on public assistance. Poverty and homelessness and hunger are everywhere and most of us, at least if we are watching, see it all around us. We had a service last year for all the people we’d lost on the streets and we had 17 pictures on the table. The youngest was 24.

And we too are called away from the anger and the vitriol and the hatred that too often we can see in our community. We are called instead to this: to this fast that God chooses—

We are called to rebuild our community.

The people I know who have the deepest vision and the deepest hope to rebuild this community—to restore the streets to live in—are those who have lived closest to disaster and survival. I have had the honor and privilege to know so many brave and courageous people in this place. So many people who have lost absolutely everything and still struggle every day to dig themselves out of a hole that keeps getting deeper, or struggle simply to survive one more day. I have witnessed incredible resilience and hope in the darkest places.

This year, our ministry formed Harbor Roots, a small farming coop, leasing three acres of land out the Wynoochee. Following the vision of those young men in that Bible study in jail, we looked for ways to offer supportive employment and to provide wrap around services and group support.

We’ve hired three people, just getting off the streets, just getting clean, just trying to get on their feet. I have walked with each of them through some pretty awful things, as their pastor.

I have seen a lot of awful things, actually, in my work on the harbor. I have seen people die in the mud. I have buried the 18 year old brother and 45 year old father of a 7 year old girl in the same 12 month period. I have watched moms lose their kids and I have watched young men shrivel away to skin and bones with drugs and hunger. I have sat with women in the aftermath of people taking bats to tents, I have sat by hospital beds with overdoses and exposure deaths and beat downs.

And. And. I got to sit at a table last week with a bunch of kids in recovery, including our apprentices, and talk about ways to rebuild. Talk about what healing looks like. And when I looked at them, I saw all their struggle and pain, but way more than that I saw their hope and their dreams and their vision and I knew that love will always overcome hate

and I knew that healing will always overcome suffering

and I knew that they would lead us.

I knew that they would restore the streets to live in.

I knew that, if we ever heal as a community, if we ever choose life (as the people of Israel were offered so long ago), if we ever have hope, it would be through them.

Isaiah was not lying. We restore life to our community through loving and protecting each other. We rebuild by lifting all of us up together.