Meet My Research Assistant -- Author and Advocate Hailey Joy Scandrette (Part II)
Greetings all!
If you’ve read Grace is a Pre-Existing Condition, you may have noticed me thanking my research assistant, Hailey Joy Scandrette, for her crucial contributions to the book.
Hailey is an author, advocate, and independent researcher, and I thought you might like to know more about her! She kindly agreed to answer a few interview questions to share with my readers. Yesterday, I posted Part I of our interview, in which she shared a bit about herself, her journey with chronic illness, what things are like in San Francisco right now, and what’s life-giving during this season:
Here’s Part II of my interview with Hailey, in which she reflects on research, writing, faith, and the need for a revolution in our cultural values to center the kinds of community we are all longing for.
You can also read more of Hailey’s writing at haileyjs.wordpress.com, and/or join me in supporting her work at patreon.com/haileyjoy
I initially reached out to you to be my research assistant for Grace is a Pre-Existing Condition because I saw you were considering creating a free guide to discussions around healthcare. Can you share a bit about the free justice resource guides you've made?
In June of 2018, my social media feeds were flooded with articles about the ongoing immigration crisis, asylum seekers from Central America, and family separation at the border. I have long been concerned by the injustice present in the United States’ immigration system and was deeply upset by both the reports from the border and the rhetoric about immigrants and asylum seekers circulating social media at the time. I also saw a lot of confusion about what sources could be trusted, misunderstandings of the legal processes in play, and often a lack of background information and historical context. Because I studied history, a huge part of my college education was focused on learning good research habits and practices. I didn’t have a lot of resources or money to donate to on-the-ground organizations, but helping others to educate themselves with reliable, easily-accessible sources felt like a small thing I could do to help. So I started creating the first immigration justice resource guide.
“I try to find a balance between remaining focused on finding reliable data and information, while also allowing myself to be impacted by the stories of human suffering and hardship that are impossible to avoid when learning about our healthcare system.”
I began by finding the answers to questions like “What is Asylum?,” “Why are People Leaving the Northern Triangle?,” “How Long Does it Take to Immigrate Legally?” and “What Rights do Immigrants Have in The U.S.?” And eventually added sections on current issues in the news, personal stories from immigrants and asylum seekers, organizations to follow and support, and sources about the history of US immigration policy and US intervention in Latin America and its connection to present-day asylum-seeking. Although I wanted to maintain a high level of reliability in the resources I gathered, I also wanted them to be accessible to a non-academic audience and free to read. I used mediabiasfactcheck.com to check my sources and only included articles from sources with a “high” or “very high” factual reporting rating. I released the guide in July 2018, and continued to update it until the following spring. People in my circles online responded positively and shared with their friends.
I started thinking about other topics that people might want to educate themselves on, but might not know where to start. I brainstormed a list of possible topics and shared it on Facebook to ask friends which topic they’d most like to see a guide on. The majority voted for a healthcare guide, so I began drafting my research questions. This is when David reached out to see if I’d be interested in being his research assistant for Grace Is a Pre-Existing Condition (my answer was an enthusiastic “yes!”).
Meanwhile, I continued to update and share the immigration justice resource guide as news continued to roll-in. As I continued to work on the guide I began getting the question “Is it for Christians?” from my Christian friends and acquaintances. At first I’d laugh a little and say, “Well, I think Christians are just as capable of reading news articles, data, and fact sheets as anyone else, so… yes?” But after a while I began to think that maybe there was a need for another resource guide that specifically used Christian rhetoric and theological framework to discuss immigration. So, in March of 2019, I released a shorter guide the goal of which was to aid Christians who were concerned by reports from the border in developing a faith-based understanding of immigration justice. For fun, I also made a women’s history month mini-guide, highlighting impactful women that I hadn’t had the opportunity to learn about in school (particularly women of color and LGBT women).
As I worked on research for Grace is a Pre-Existing Condition, I filed away articles and reports that might be useful in a mental healthcare subsection of my intended healthcare guide, but every time I sat down to work on the guide I felt overwhelmed. Research on topics where injustice is a deeply rooted issue requires a lot of emotional effort. I try to find a balance between remaining focused on finding reliable data and information, while also allowing myself to be impacted by the stories of human suffering and hardship that are impossible to avoid when learning about our healthcare system. At this time I was struggling with my own mental health, and decided I could only handle doing one healthcare research project at a time. Hypothetically, I would like to return to and finish a healthcare resource guide, but I am in the process of trying to determine what projects I want to invest in for my personal growth and goals as a writer.
Is there something you learned while doing the research for Grace is a Pre-Existing Condition that surprised you or that has particularly stuck with you? Why does that particular piece of research stand out to you?
The medical debt numbers, especially when contrasted with the salaries of health insurance CEOs, really stood out to me. I think because together those numbers really illustrate what I see as the fundamental problem of the US healthcare system, which is that it’s a for-profit industry, within which it is often impossible to really prioritize people over monetary gain. When people have to go into debt for medical care they need to survive, I can’t see that as anything other than evidence that the system is failing. If a system can’t serve the people who need it most, what good is it?
(Note from David: If these numbers jumped out at you too, consider donating to RIP Medical Debt — and right now, you can order a signed copy of either (or both!) of my books and the proceeds will help forgive medical debt through this organization. Just send me a message to request a signed copy.)
You've shared before that you grew up in a very particular kind of Christian household, but that you've had trouble finding a faith community outside of that household where you feel like you fit in. Could you talk a bit about that? What was it like working on a book with a very church-y audience? Do you think Grace is a Pre-Existing Condition would be a good read for someone who, like you, isn't quite sure how they feel about "The Church"?
Although I didn’t grow up in a traditional Church setting, I did grow up in a household with a very deep emphasis on faith, particularly applied Christian faith, questions of how to follow Jesus in everyday life were part of daily conversations in my family. For most of my life my parents built community around the idea of practicing the way of Jesus. As a middle schooler and teenager I participated in workshops dedicated to exploring themes from Jesus’ life such as justice, prayer, and creativity. There were always adults around who were engaging in faith in similar ways to my family, but most of them didn’t start having kids until I was about 12. So, a peer faith group isn’t something I’d ever had.
“Regardless of my own complicated relationship with faith, I feel strongly that informed, compassionate conversations around mental illness are deeply needed in Christian spaces.”
When I got to college I tried out a campus ministry and found that I struggled to feel like I was connecting. It felt like many of my peers in that group had a common language, common assumptions and a shorthand that I didn’t speak. I didn’t know how to bring the conversational, questions-encouraged mentality I’d been brought up with into that space without making myself feel even more like an outsider. I was lonely in college, I didn’t want to rock the boat, I just wanted to find my people. I stopped going after one semester, and the following year started an online progressive Christian magazine for young people that lasted about 2 years. When I became disabled by multiple chronic illnesses about 4 years ago, I was catapulted into a new phase of faith deconstruction, which I am still working through, which additionally complicates my search for community.
However, regardless of my own complicated relationship with faith, I feel strongly that informed, compassionate conversations around mental illness are deeply needed in Christian spaces, so I was excited to work on this book. Mental illness runs on both sides of my family, so I know the importance of talking about it, and the need for good frameworks for that conversation in Christian spaces. As the research assistant I honestly didn’t think too much about the audience. I’d read blog posts David had written about faith and mental health and I believed in what he had to say, so I focused on doing the best research I could. I do think that Grace is a Pre-Existing Condition could certainly appeal to people who are unsure of their relationship to “The Church.” I know many people who are passionate about the intersection of theology and systemic justice (where I think this book sits quite nicely) regardless of their comfort with religious institutions. I also think this book could be helpful in encouraging productive conversations about mental health and mental healthcare with friends or relatives who are comfortably situated in a more traditional church culture, which is very valuable.
This isn't the first book project you've been a part of -- in fact, your writing has been published in two books by your parents, Mark and Lisa Scandrette. What have you learned about yourself as a writer and a researcher by working on these projects?
This is true, I have sections in both Free: Spending Your Time and Money on What Matters Most, and Belonging and Becoming: Creating A Thriving Family Culture. I wrote my contributions for both of these while I was in college, so my memories of working on them are mixed in with a blur of academic paper-writing and it’s hard to remember much about the process. However, writing reflections in general (as I did in these books, and as I do on my blog) has definitely taught me a lot about myself as a writer. The actual writing process comes fairly easily to me when I am writing about my own experiences, however, I tend to suffer a bit of imposter syndrome and it’s been a learning curve to trust that what I want to say could be useful or impactful to other people. I think often our own thoughts, insights, and experiences can seem really obvious and boring to us because they live in our brains all the time, but still might have something new to offer someone else. I have learned that leaning into vulnerability in these situations, even if you’re not sure you’re saying anything new or important, can provide an opportunity to connect with other people who have felt or thought similarly, which can leave both me and my readers feeling less alone.
I really enjoy combining reflection and research when it's appropriate. I think people underestimate the extent to which research and data are just a different form of storytelling. One thing I like about Grace Is a Pre-Existing Condition is its use of both research and personal experience to support the story it seeks to tell.
Focusing on writing reflections and research for so long has also taught me that, while I enjoy these things, I also crave writing that allows me to be more creatively engaged, which is something I am focusing on exploring this year.
I'm a college chaplain and a campus minister. When we first met, you were about to graduate from college and you were helping facilitate a network of young adults reflecting on matters of spirituality, meaning, and life. What do you think college students and young adults are searching for in terms of a community of faith and meaning?
I want to start by saying that I think that for many young adults who are no longer in college there’s a real lack of opportunity for community overall. Our culture prioritizes work in such a way that for many people their workplace is their primary source of communal social interaction. As someone who can’t currently undertake traditional work due to disability, and who hasn’t yet found a faith community I fit into, the lack of other sources of community is discouraging.
I think people my age and younger long for spaces where they can cultivate connection and vulnerability, as well as put theory into practice. Most young people I know are passionate about social and environmental issues and want to make a positive impact in the world. But it is hard to do this alone, and it’s hard to do without safe places to learn, make mistakes, and grow with others. I think that community structured around common values, whether religious or otherwise, can be a powerful thing, especially when said community is committed to being present and cultivating growth both within itself and in the world around it.
“I believe that humans are wired for community, but we may need a revolution in our cultural values to prioritize the compassionate, growth-centered, deeply connective community that I and many of my peers long for.”
I’ve made a couple attempts at cultivating spaces where people can connect and share their thoughts and experiences myself, and find that although people respond positively and even enthusiastically when I tell them about it, it’s very hard to actually get people to show up. I ran an online magazine for young adults interested in discussing faith matters for almost two years, but during much of that time the only contributors were myself and one or two other people each month. I know online communities have their own challenges, but my experience with facilitating in-person gatherings has been somewhat similar. People want to come, but when the day arrives they are often busy or tired from work. I live in a place where many people my age work multiple jobs and/or frequently work overtime due to both financial and cultural pressures, most of my friends struggle in some way to draw boundaries between their work and their own needs. I think that in many cases the beliefs our culture holds around productivity, scarcity, and success are negatively impacting people’s ability to find community because they simply don’t have the time or energy to prioritize their social/emotional needs. Many researchers agree that there is a loneliness epidemic in the US, which leads me to think that the factors that impede people in seeking and finding community are not unique to where I live. I believe that humans are wired for community, but we may need a revolution in our cultural values to prioritize the compassionate, growth-centered, deeply connective community that I and many of my peers long for.
Thank you to Hailey for being willing to offer such thoughtful responses to my questions. In Part I, we’ll talked a bit about chronic illness, what San Francisco is like under stay-at-home orders, and what’s life-giving in this season.
Meet My Research Assistant -- Author and Advocate Hailey Joy Scandrette (Part I)
Greetings all!
If you’ve read Grace is a Pre-Existing Condition, you may have noticed me thanking my research assistant, Hailey Joy Scandrette, for her crucial contributions to the book.
Hailey is an author, advocate, and independent researcher, and I thought you might like to know more about her! She kindly agreed to answer a few interview questions to share with my readers, which I’ll share in a couple of posts.
You can also read more of Hailey’s writing at haileyjs.wordpress.com, and/or join me in supporting her work at patreon.com/haileyjoy
Here’s Part I of my interview with Hailey, in which she shares a bit about herself, her journey with chronic illness, what things are like in San Francisco right now, and what’s life-giving during this season:
What are a few things you'd like viewers of my website/readers of Grace is a Pre-Existing Condition to know about you?
Hi! My name is Hailey Joy Scandrette, I’m a 26-year-old writer and independent researcher from San Francisco, CA. I have a degree in US History and a minor in Counseling, and am fascinated by how humans work on both macro and micro scales. I am passionate about the power of storytelling as a connective force between people, which may or may not just be a fancy way of saying that I like talking to people, writing, reading novels, and watching Netflix. I am chronically ill and learning to dream up a small, slow, meaningful life that honors my body's limits while also honoring my heart’s needs and desires.
You've written about your own experiences with chronic illness, and I quoted some of your writing in my book. Can you share a bit about that -- what's something you wish more people understood about chronic pain and/or fatigue?
I’ve written quite a bit about how often the hardest parts of dealing with chronic illness and chronic pain aren’t the actual symptoms, but are the ways other people respond when they don’t understand and the isolation that many people with chronic illnesses and disabilities often face because of the narratives in our culture around sickness and disability. Being in pain is really awful, don’t get me wrong. But being in pain all of the time and not feeling seen or validated in that experience by people in your life is heartbreaking. Having to defend my experience, my treatment choices, and even my acceptance process makes me feel incredibly lonely, vulnerable, and misunderstood. I understand that it is confusing to people that I look healthy and can often participate in normal activities for a set period of time, but also openly tell people that I am disabled and unable to work a traditional job. Most people do not see me at my worst, especially now that I have learned to manage a lot of my pain by staying within my energy limits. I understand their confusion, but I am still hurt by it, especially when it comes out in suspicion about my own or other disabled people’s truthfulness.
Sometimes I feel pressure to prove that I am really ill by displaying my most miserable moments for other people even when that doesn’t feel safe or helpful to me. I long for a shift in our societal narratives that encourages people to trust chronically ill and disabled people as the authorities of our own experiences. On a personal level, I especially long for other people to accept and support my acceptance of my illness. It took me years and years to accept that I may never work a conventional full-time job, it was a long, painful process, but on the other side of it I have found a sense of peace in not spending my life trying to have a different one.
“I long for a shift in our societal narratives that encourages people to trust chronically ill and disabled people as the authorities of our own experiences. It’s been so powerful to begin to believe that I can have a good, meaningful life even if I’m not financially independent, even if my productivity doesn’t look like abled people’s, even if I have to be different.”
It feels so freeing to decide that my purpose in life isn’t to be able-bodied or to do everything that healthy people can do. It’s been so powerful to begin to believe that I can have a good, meaningful life even if I’m not financially independent, even if my productivity doesn’t look like abled people’s, even if I have to be different. However, I still meet with people (friends, family members, even some medical professionals) who aren’t comfortable with my acceptance. It can be very isolating to not be believed or trusted to know my own body, experiences, and needs. So, if I can give any advice to people seeking to love their disabled and chronically ill neighbors better it is, start with the assumption that we know our needs best and trust that we are being truthful about our experiences.
What has the experience of isolation because of the coronavirus been like for you? What are things like in San Francisco right now?
San Francisco was one of the first cities in the country to issue a Shelter in Place order, so we’ve been self-isolating at home since March 17th. We are successfully flattening the curve, so that feels hopeful, but it’s been a surreal experience. The city is slower and quieter than usual, although as isolation has begun to wear on people we’ve seen more people going on walks and bike rides than we did the first couple of weeks. My brothers are both essential workers at a small local grocery store and they are busier than ever, even now that most people have stopped stock-piling toilet paper and food staples.
For the first couple of weeks I actually felt particularly qualified to cope with self-isolation. Since becoming chronically ill I’ve become used to managing without seeing people outside of my household for a couple weeks at a time either due to exhaustion, symptom flares, or self protection during cold and flu season. Of course this isolation came with a bit more anxiety than other instances. I am not immunosuppressed, so not at high risk for fatality, however, I actually have an overactive immune response which means than when I contract a virus (even a normal cold or flu) it triggers a flare-up of my chronic illness symptoms that can last much longer than the virus itself because my body will basically become hypervigilant and wear itself out fighting the virus harder than it has to. Because of this there are concerns that for someone with my condition getting coronavirus could trigger a flare-up that lasts for months or years. So I’ve definitely experienced some extra anxiety about my health throughout this. It’s also been an interesting experience to see most of the world learning to cope with isolation and kind of having some solidarity in that, when for me learning to cope with isolation when I first became sick was a very lonely process. I hope that maybe this experience will help more people to have compassion and empathy for people with illnesses who deal with isolation even when there’s not a global crisis.
“For the first couple of weeks I actually felt particularly qualified to cope with self-isolation. It’s been an interesting experience to see most of the world learning to cope with isolation and kind of having some solidarity in that, when for me learning to cope with isolation when I first became sick was a very lonely process.”
For now, I am hanging in there. As I’m sure most people are experiencing, the emotions of this come in waves, which I am trying to learn to ride with compassion for myself and others. I’m finding that exercise is a great outlet for my anxious energy, so I’ve been more on top of my physical therapy regime than ever. There have been a lot of opportunities to work on better communication practices with friends and family through this, which is growth that I know will be valuable in the long term. That said, I’m really ready to hug my friends and go to the beach again!
What's life-giving for you right now?
This year I’ve given myself permission to focus on exploring my love of fiction as my primary outlet for writing, which has been scary, but also exciting. I’ve wanted to write fiction (and have dabbled in it on and off) since before I could write or spell, but it also feels more vulnerable and energy-consuming to me than writing non-fiction, so it’s harder to make myself do it. However, I do have an idea or two that I really like, so I’m working to figure out how to manage the ebbs and flows of creativity and inspiration, which is a new process for me.
I mostly read for pleasure. Sometimes I think that I read so much nonfiction in college that I used up my capacity to read anything longer than an article for the next decade. I read a lot of young adult fiction which ranges from thoroughly fluffy love stories to thoughtful, vulnerable explorations of identity, mental health, and the human condition. The YA authors I really admire are able to hold this raw, poignant honesty, and a lot of hope at the same time, which resonates with me. (There’s a list of my favorite books I read last year on my blog).
I’ve been mostly taking a rest from research since finishing my work on Grace is a Pre-Existing Condition, but I did give myself a nerdy little research treat back in January. In college I did most of my research on the immediatist abolition movement of the 1830s, which was a radical strain of abolitionism wherein many of the anti-slavery societies were racially inclusive in their participation and leadership, and out of which came many of our early women’s rights leaders. I came to that research through some preliminary readings about Sarah and Angelina Grimké, who were a remarkable pair of sisters from the South who left their plantation upbringing behind to become powerful advocates for abolition, racial equality, and women’s rights. Angelina, in particular, has become very near and dear to my heart, so in January I requested an collection of the Grimké family letters from the library to learn a bit more about her personal life. I was especially interested in her relationship with her husband, fellow abolitionist Theodore Weld, and how they navigated their passion for equality in an era in which marriages were inherently unequal. The letters were really fascinating, and an interesting reminder that while so much has changed in the past almost 200 years, humans are still humans, falling in love and learning to navigate the complexities of being in relationship with one another. They were also surprisingly romantic and candid, whole passages had me giggling with glee. I made several friends sit on my couch and let me read letters out loud to them… I am not sure they enjoyed it as much as I did, but I am grateful to them for humoring me.
Another small, fun thing that’s been life-giving lately is having little solo dance parties in my room a few times a week. I’m finally at the point in my physical therapy where I don’t hurt myself dancing, so it brings me a lot of joy to put on some music and just move for 15 or 20 minutes. I’d recommend this to anyone feeling a bit restless in self isolation right now!
Thank you to Hailey for being willing to offer such thoughtful responses to my questions. In Part II, we talk a bit more about writing, research, and faith!
"My Wounded Lord, My God with Scars": Sermon for the 2nd Sunday of Easter
I was invited to offer the sermon this morning for the good people of First Christian Church in Fayetteville, NC, who met for worship via conference call. Here is a recording of the message.
I included the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (1-800-273-8255) in the sermon; I keep a more complete list of helplines here on my website.
The text was John 20:19-29, a story, I noted wryly before reading it, which I have probably preached on more than any other single Bible passage in the decade since I first entered seminary, because of a confluence of two factors. First, the Revised Common Lectionary always has this text for the Gospel reading on the Sunday after Easter. Second, the Sunday after Easter is jokingly referred to by some in my line of work as “Associate Pastor Sunday.” Because of the intensity and demands of Holy Week on preachers, pastors will often turn over the next Sunday’s sermon to their associate pastor if they have one, or maybe to a seminary intern, or say to a local chaplain. And having served as a seminary intern, and a pastoral associate, and as a chaplain, I have often been the recipient of “Associate Pastor Sunday” preaching opportunities – which in turn, inevitably, means taking another look at the Gospel of John, the 20th chapter, from the 19th verse onwards.
So I have thought a lot about this passage.
This chapter, and in fact the whole of John’s gospel, is a rich tapestry, made up of seemingly thousands of interwoven threads. Sometimes, we stand back and look at this thing from a distance, seeing the big picture of the gospel message in all of its vibrant colors and rich textures. Other times, we move in close to see the individual threads in intimate detail, to perhaps notice how some of those threads have worn bare with time, how some are oddly clashing up close, others tangled with each other and perhaps needing to be picked apart.
So when I read this passage again with an eye to trying to share some good news, I have a decision to make as your appointed guide to this gospel for the day. Do we step back to marvel at this rich tapestry from a distance? Or do we move in close and pick apart some threads?
Fair warning for your fingers: today, we are going to be pulling at some threads. Let us hear what the Spirit has to say to the Church.
Sermon Text:
So. Some threads of the tapestry.
It starts with that very first clause. It was evening on that day. This is a story about things that have just happened. It has an immediacy to it. And since we have read the story so far, with its heights and depths, its hill of Calvary and its dark empty tomb, we know that this is a story about fresh trauma as much as it is a story about new life.
It was the very first day of the week. The day we now call Sunday. The day after the Jewish sabbath, when the day of rest has come and gone and the cycle of time has begun anew. It was the first day of the week – a new beginning.
And yet, the disciples are locked inside of a house. I won’t belabor the point here. I won’t overemphasize the connection of a group of Disciples of Christ locked in their houses in a time of fear, yet longing for a new beginning. You can feel that link for yourselves, can’t you? You can sense the isolation, and the fatigue that comes with it? Yes, you know this thread. Its feel has become familiar to you over these past few weeks. Our fingers need not dwell on this well-worn piece of the tapestry for overlong.
But of course, a difference – these disciples, the story tells us, are not afraid of a virus. No. We read that they were afraid of “the Jews.” This, and the tendency of John’s gospel to use this phrase throughout its narrative, has caused more than its share of trouble through the years. Do I need to dwell here, on this bloodstained portion of our tapestry, for long? Do I need to list examples of how scapegoating our Jewish neighbors for Christianity’s problems has played out in horrific ways? Do I need to tell of pograms, of expulsions, of the Holocaust? Do I need to tell you that John’s gospel was the favorite of Adolf Hitler for exactly this reason? Do I need to remind us of a shooting at a synagogue in Pittsburgh last year, the shooter’s wounds eventually treated at a nearby hospital by Jewish hospital staff? Do I need to tell you the story of how my wife Leigh and I, just a few years ago, watched Nazi flags being waved at us by young men with swastika tattoos, not so far away in Charlottesville, Virginia, as they chanted at passersby, “You will not replace us! Jews will not replace us!” How we saw our Jewish colleagues in ministry remove their kippahs, their traditional head-coverings, before leaving the church where we served food and drinks, fearing for their lives? And people did die there that day. Yes, my friends, the language of John’s gospel, has been spun by many throughout the centuries into an anti-Semitic fabric, with deadly consequences.
So let’s stay on this thread for a moment. We look closer, and see multiple, smaller threads, tightly wound together, too small to see at first. For you see, this blunt-edged translation, “for fear of the Jews,” does not capture the subtleties of our tapestry weaver, the gospel writer. We might better translate it, “for fear of the local religious leaders,” but that still doesn’t capture it. Because Jesus was Jewish. All of the disciples were Jewish. And John’s gospel, despite being perhaps the latest written of all of the four gospels, is profoundly Jewish. In fact, scholars have noted that while written in Greek, John’s grammatical structure is actually much more akin to the Hebrew language. Biblical scholar Sharon Ringe, who I had the pleasure of having as a professor at Wesley Theological Seminary, suggests that the language of John’s gospel is much like the language of multi-generational immigrant communities in our own country, in which, for example, a grandmother may only speak Spanish while a grandchild may only speak English, leading to the creation of a bridge language, a mixture of the two, a transplant community’s hybrid Spanglish. John’s church is like that – Jewish, some Aramaic speaking, some Greek speaking, trying to make sense of the fact that they find themselves dispersed, scattered, on the outside, separated from their old ways of doing things and their old symbols and communities and comforts. We must remember: It is this Jewish transplant community that talks about being afraid of ““The Jews.”” I imagine a similar tone to if you were to catch me, for a moment, with my guard down, reacting to recent news of “Christian” pastors continuing to hold massive worship services during this time of pandemic, to try to prove some sort of point at the risk of their parishioners’ lives and the lives of those their parishioners may come into contact with. Imagine me rolling my eyes at the article and saying to myself, “What is the matter with Christians?” It reads differently that way, doesn’t it? It changes the sound.
This matters, not only because of the history of violence that has gone along with these words, but because this passage cannot be made to be about scapegoating the Other, for it is about the opposite of that. It is about the surprising power that is made perfect only in weakness, as the Apostle Paul writes – the opposite of how we in the Christian world have often thought about the power of God. But hold that thread, lightly now. For we will return to it in a moment.
And so the disciples hid in their locked room for fear of the very religious leaders that they ought to feel comforted and cared for by….and somehow, Jesus is in their midst. Jesus, who shares no thundering words of power, no declarations of vengeance upon those who have done him harm…but instead, simply speaks peace to them. And he sends them, and gives them the Spirit, not with the roaring wind and fire of the Pentecost of Acts, but rather with a mere breath. In fact, in the Bible, the words for breath and wind and spirit are the same, life-giving word – just as in English, the word “spirit” and the word “respiration” share a common root and common syllable. Jesus breathes on them. It seems so soft, so intimate, so comparably weak – and yet we are reminded, in these difficult days, of the life-giving power of a mere breath.
And here is where these seemingly disparate threads begin to come together. For the fear of the disciples, and the insistence of this interpreter that this passage is not about scapegoats but about a subversive power made perfect in weakness, and the comparative weakness of a mere breath, all of these threads lead us to Thomas. Thomas who at first does not believe the testimony of his fellow apostles, does not believe their stories. But he comes to believe when he feels the wounds and scars which the Resurrected Christ still carries, still shows even as he offers new life. It is only when Thomas touches the very wounds that Jesus suffers that he cries out: “My Lord and my God.”
Did you notice that? So much ink has been spilled about the supposedly “Doubting Thomas” that has missed this crucial reality. It is the wounds of Jesus, not his ability to walk through walls or any sort of shining celestial aura, that makes Thomas declare, “My Lord and my God.”
A similar thing happens in the Gospel of Mark, when a Roman Centurion sees Jesus breathe his very last breath and only then says out loud, “Truly, this man was God’s Son!” Why is it Jesus’s dying breath which makes the centurion proclaim this truth? Why is it Jesus’s gentle breath which frees the disciples from their hiding-in-locked-rooms fears? Why is it Jesus’s wounds and scars which make Thomas say, “My Lord and my God!”?
And here we are, tracing all of these threads together to find a surprising truth, the same truth that we may perhaps see if we back away, now, to look anew at this whole rich tapestry at once. For the fundamental good news of Christianity is exactly this: that God, through Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit, enters into our human reality, takes on our wounds and our scars, and shows them back to us as proof not only of divinity but exactly of humanity. And in doing so reveals to us both the truth of our divinely-created image and our capacity to be truly human.
Show me a million possible philosophies, a billion beautiful sets of beliefs, and I will always, always find my way back to the one where God has some scars.
You see, I have some scars of my own. And you, too, may have some scars of your own. I won’t go into many details, today – but I did ask Lorenzo to put a phone number in the bulletin insert this morning, as well as a website, for the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. The number is 1-800-273-TALK. This is a number you can call or that you can share with someone who is going through a very dark time. If you, or someone you know, finds themselves hiding fearfully in the locked room of their souls, this number can be a safe and supportive way out. Again, my friends, I will not share many details this morning, but just know this: I have called this number, in the past. I have needed this way out. But what I have found over the years is that it can feel very hard, and very scary, to reach out when we are hurting. And so it helps to know that our Lord and our God comes to us, comes to us in the very rooms in which we are locked out of fear, and says to us, “Yes. I know. I understand. For I too carry scars.”
Disciples of Christ, this is the God we serve. This is the Christ we follow. Our wounded Lord. Our God with scars. Who meets us exactly in our own fears, our own wounds, our own scars. This is the Christ who bids us “peace.” Who shares the Spirit with us by way of mere breath. Who sends us, in the same way he has been sent: to bring peace, and breath, and Spirit to others. To witness to the reality of our Lord and our God by being willing to show our scars. And so we step back from the tapestry, and marvel that even the smallest of its threads contains the richness of the good news offered to us by the whole. And we say to each other, no matter how far away we are, no matter what rooms we are locked in, no matter what fears we may have, those words which Jesus spoke so long ago: “Peace be with you.”
Amen.
Easter Sunday: Resilient Hallelujahs
The following is a message I shared with the Barton College community this morning, but I pray it has resonance beyond our campus. Perhaps it will resonate with you, too.
Sunlight in Howard Chapel at Barton College, July 2018
"Hallelujah!"
It's an ancient word. Sung by millions of Christians around the globe this morning, it is Hebrew in origin, from deep within the Jewish tradition. Its Arabic parallel, "Al-Hamdulillah," is a common refrain in Islam and is an appropriate response to the question "Kaif halak?" ("How are you?") throughout the Arabic-speaking world.
Hallelujah is most easily translated "Praise the LORD!" More accurately, it is "Praise YHWH" -- the name by which God introduces God's self to Moses, and which, in the Jewish tradition, is never actually pronounced. It might mean something like "I AM," or perhaps "I will be who I will be." So Hallelujah means: "Praise the One Who Is," or "Praise the Name Beyond Names."
It feels somewhat odd to sing "Hallelujah!" this morning, with the pain of our world so readily on display.
And yet, again: it is an ancient word. The word and the traditions in which it is sung have survived plagues and pandemics, revolutions and reformations, wars and rumors of war. Hallelujah is resilient.
As I shared in an Easter greeting to our wider community this morning, when we look back on the earliest stories of the Resurrection, which Christians commemorate on this day (well, Western Christians -- our Orthodox neighbors have another week of Lent left to observe!), we see that for the people closest to Jesus, this morning was one of uncertainty, anxiety, and fear. And yet, with the benefit of hindsight, we can see that hope and new life was already emerging from an experience of trauma and pain.
And thus, even in the midst of difficulty -- perhaps especially in the midst of difficulty -- we proclaim that hope wins, that life wins, that love wins. Even in the midst of sorrow -- perhaps especially in the midst of sorrow -- we sing out that ancient, resilient word:
"Hallelujah!"
As we proclaim in the Christian tradition from which Barton College was founded:
Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Hallelujah!
Amen.
Good Friday Psalms
For Good Friday, my very cool wife, the Reverend Leigh Finnegan-Hosey, interwove Psalm 88, a lament psalm with which many are unfamiliar and which ends with no resolution, and Psalm 23, a comforting and familiar psalm. We shared it with our church community while our Minister of Music, Casey Childers, provided accompaniment. The weaving in and out of these psalms captures the paradox of Good Friday. And it reveals how our sacred scriptures reflect the depth and breadth of our human experience before God:
Barton College Honors Lecture: "Paul's Meaty Account of Freedom"
I was invited this semester to give one of our Whitehurst Honors Program lectures at Barton College, which obviously have now moved to remote format. Every lecturer was invited to deliver a lecture on the topic of Freedom, from their own perspective and discipline. I talk about Paul's account of freedom, primarily through the lens of his writing to the Corinthian Church about meat sacrificed to idols. Come for the Paul Rudd and RuPaul content, stay for the rich account of freedom offered by Paul, RuPaul, and the Poor People's Campaign:
Alternatively, if you don’t have half an hour to listen to me blab, you can just skip to the end of the lecture to watch and listen to this song from the Poor People’s Campaign, “Everybody’s Got A Right to Live,” and then take a second to read this fact sheet and sign the petition at the bottom of it!
Palm Sunday Sermon: Leaning into the Hosannas This Year
I preached at two churches this morning at the same time! I can’t wait to be able to gather in person once again, but recording sermons does have certain advantages. So here is the message I shared this morning with First Christian Church of Wilson and Ayden Christian Church, entitled “Stones Cry Out,” based on the account of Jesus’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem as told in Luke 19:
Here is the sermon text if you prefer that format:
I wonder if you’ve heard this Palm Sunday sermon before. You know the one. It’s the one where the preacher reminds the congregation that this coming week is Holy Week. And that we shouldn’t just ignore the story of Holy Week, especially the solemn remembrance of Maundy Thursday, the night of the Last Supper and the betrayals and denials of Jesus’s closest followers, and the pain and fear of Jesus’s crucifixion on Good Friday. We shouldn’t skip over Holy Week and go straight to Easter. Shouldn’t ignore the difficult parts, the suffering, the death, and go straight to the big celebration and the lilies and the brass band.
I wonder if you’ve ever heard a preacher say on this day:
“We can’t skip straight from the Hosannas of Palm Sunday to the Hallelujahs of Easter!”
I know I’ve heard preachers say that.
I know I’ve preached that very message before, myself.
But as I sat down to write this sermon, I could not bring myself to preach that message. Not this time. Not this day. Not this year.
For one thing, with the order from the governor to shelter-in-place added on to our previous commitment to distancing measures in order to prevent the spread of COVID-19, our church and thousands of churches like us our trying to figure out how we’re even going to “get together” for Easter, much less what to do about Holy Thursday or Good Friday. Footwashing ceremonies somehow just don’t work the same on Facebook. And for another thing, I don’t think any of us, right now, are blithely skipping over the tough parts of our sacred stories in order to rush ahead to the good stuff. No, the realities of sickness and suffering and death and isolation are really quite present for us this week, thank you very much. You need no high-minded reminder from me that these things are part of our story of faith. They’re pretty front and center for most of us right now.
Leigh has a cousin, Sarah, who serves as the principal of a school in St. Louis that’s run by the Sisters of St. Joseph. They serve a population of students who have had difficult and often traumatic circumstances impacting their access to education. She loves her work, but it’s hard work, and she is privy to a lot of really difficult and painful things in her students’ lives. Sarah gave me permission to share this story with you all: A few years back, Sarah was having a bit of a rough time. She was feeling discouraged in her ministry and in her personal life. She shared with us that she had gone to talk to a trusted spiritual advisor who said to her: “I don’t think you should do Lent this year. You have plenty of Lent in your life right now. Do Advent instead.”
I’ve been thinking about those words that Sarah’s spiritual advisor offered her as we move into Holy Week. Not that I think we shouldn’t “do” Holy Week this year. It’s just that right now, at least to me, every day feels like Holy Saturday. Like we are stuck in this scary, anxious limbo, scattered from our usual way of doing community, locked in rooms or at least houses haunted by the ghosts of isolation and fear. So I don’t want to tell you that you have to dwell in that kind of emotional space. Too many of us are there already. Instead, let’s really lean into those Hosannas and Hallelujahs this year instead, shall we?
Actually, the current public health crisis aside, there’s something else that bothers me about the admonition not to skip from the Hosannas of Palm Sunday to the Hallelujahs of Palm Sunday. That directive seems to assume that ‘hosanna’ and ‘hallelujah’ are synonyms. But they really aren’t. Hallelujah, you probably know, means “Praise the Lord!” It’s a Hebrew word. It shows up in many of the Psalms, for example in Psalm 150, the culmination of that great prayer book of the Bible:
1 Praise the Lord! (Hallelujah!)
Praise God in the sanctuary;
praise God in the mighty firmament!
2 Praise God for God’s mighty deeds;
praise God according to God’s surpassing greatness!
3 Praise God with trumpet sound; praise God with lute and harp!
4 Praise God with tambourine and dance; praise God with strings and pipe!
5 Praise God with clanging cymbals; praise God with loud clashing cymbals!
6 Let everything that breathes praise the Lord! (Hallelujah!)
Praise the Lord! (Hallelujah)
Some Christian traditions have a practice of “burying the Hallelujahs” during Lent – they won’t sing or pray using the word Hallelujah in the 40 days leading up to Easter, so that on Easter Sunday the Hallelujahs of the Church ring out with an even greater intensity of joy and victory. I’ve been part of a community that has that practice, and it’s amazing to notice just how many of our hymns and our psalms that would mean we couldn’t sing during Lent – we love to sing that word Hallelujah!
Hosanna is a rarer word. We generally only mention it on Palm Sunday. It’s also a Hebrew word, and it also shows up in the Psalms…but it doesn’t mean “Praise the Lord!” It means “Lord, save us.” Rescue us.
For example, here’s a piece of Psalm 118 – tell me if this sounds familiar:
25 Hosanna! Save us, we beseech you, O Lord!
O Lord, we beseech you, give us success!
26 Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.
The crowds in the Palm Sunday story are literally signing the words of Psalm 118 as Jesus enters Jerusalem. In fact, if you go back and read the whole Psalm, you’ll see that pieces of it get incorporated into the story throughout Holy Week – the happenings of Holy Week are drenched in the language of the Psalms.
"Hosanna" means "save us, Lord!” As Jesus rides into Jerusalem, the crowd is praising him, yes, but more than that, they are crying out for deliverance! Jesus, to them, represents the possibility of freedom – freedom from the oppression of the Roman occupiers, whose military police are watching over the procession with suspicious eyes and twitchy trigger fingers. Freedom from the political and religious leaders who have aligned themselves with their oppressors. Freedom from the crushing economic realities of debt and wealth hoarding and harmful labor practices. Freedom from the shackles of guilt and shame and that so often chain those who are forced to live on the margins. And so they are crying out for rescue.
“Save us, Lord.” This week, and this month, and this year, have given us plenty to shout “save us” about. Save us, O God. Save us from fear. Save us from sickness. Save us from isolation. Save us from the harmful behaviors that can be brought about by times of anxiety and crisis, whether its grocery hoarding or profiteering or xenophobia. Save us from those who put profit over people. Save us from callousness and evil at the highest levels and antipathy and nihilism at the lowest. Save us, save us, save us God, anybody, save us, for surely it seems we are in need of saving. .” And so it is not so much that the "hosannas" fade over this week, as that the tone of them changes, and that, by the end of this week, but before the beginning of the next, they have become quieter, more muttered, more like whispered prayer than shouted acclamation.
So yes, we can lean into the Hosannas this year, Church. We are allowed to sing them out loud and proud, for surely we are as much in need of them now as we ever have been.
Now I’ve spent quite a bit of time talking about hallelujahs and hosannas, but if you were listening carefully to the story from Luke’s gospel today, you might have noticed something. You might have noticed that in Luke’s account of Jesus’s triumphal entry in to Jerusalem, there actually aren’t any “hosannas” at all. Mark’s gospel has ‘em. Matthew’s got ‘em. Even John, strange and ethereal John, has the crowd singing “Hosanna! Save us, Lord!” But not Luke.
Luke instead adds a little detail which none of the other gospels have, and which I just couldn’t pass up this particular Palm Sunday. In Luke’s gospel, there are some religious folks in the crowd who start getting more than a little nervous. And I don’t blame them. It’s one thing to get a few people together, maybe sing a few songs, get seen by the right people – but this sort of mass gathering? This was starting to feel like a riot. Those aforementioned Roman military police were not going to look very favorably on this kind of thing. And when a big group of people armed with nothing but palm branches goes up against the most powerful military force in the known world? Well, we all know how these kinds of things end. In blood.
Jesus, of course, knows this as well as anyone. He knows the sort of violence and oppression he’s up against. How will he respond to the request of his fellow countrymen and religious teachers?
“I tell you,” Jesus shouts to the nervous onlookers, “if they were to keep silent, the stones would shout out.”
If they were to keep silent, then even the very stones upon which they walked would shout out in praise and petition.
I don’t know if I can think of any better good news for Disciples of Christ right now then this: that even if we were to shut up right now, why then even the rocks would shout out for us.
I don’t know if I can think of better good news for the Christian Church than that even if we cannot be gathered together in person right now that even the rocks will shout out.
That even if we can’t get together in this building made of stone that the very stones of this building are crying out and letting God know that we sure do need God doing some saving and some rescuing and some victory-making right now. In fact, right now we the Christian Church are getting a good healthy reminder that our faith ain’t never been about this stone building anyway, our faith is about the God who sets us free, the God who gives us the victory over sin and death, that even if our church buildings were to crumble into rubble, even that rubble is capable of up and praising God. And so we, too, are given the gift of voice and of Spirit to be up and about praising God even in the midst of trials and tribulations, because if even these stones can cry out than certainly we can too. In fact there’s a song by the composer Lloyd Larson that goes like this, it goes:
Here comes the Lord ridin' on a donkey
With people waving branches and callin' Him King
Here comes the Lord ridin' through Jerusalem
If the people don't shout
The rocks will cry out
Rocks keep silent
Jesus comes to set me free
Rocks keep silent
I'm gonna' shout in victory
Rocks keep silent
Jesus reigns in majesty
Ain't no rock gonna' shout for me
Ain’t no rock gonna’ shout for me
No, I’m gonna shout out myself.
And there’s more. Because as the Apostle Paul writes in his letter to the Romans, “the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we are saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it in patience. Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with groans too deep for words.” So it’s not just the rocks that are shouting out with us, Church. It’s all of creation groaning and crying out with the birth of something new. All of creation is crying out, and our own spirits our crying out within us, and the Spirit of God is crying out within us, and they are all crying out for the same thing, that same freedom and deliverance that the crowd around Jesus shouted out for as he rode into Jerusalem on that day long ago. Save us, O God, deliver us, free us, open our mouths that we might truly sing songs of praise and of new life.
Disciples of Christ we may be physically apart from each other right now, but that’s never stopped the Church from crying out before and it’s not gonna stop us. Nothing can stop this song we sing, nothing can stop our prayers of rescue, nothing can stop our praise of the God who gives New Life and New Birth, because even if we run out of breath for a second, even if for a few minutes our voices drop to a whisper out of discouragement or fear or pain, that’s ok, Church, because the stones are going to be crying out, the creation is going to be crying out, the Spirit of God is going to be crying out within us, singing, in the words of Psalm 118:
19 Open to me the gates of righteousness,
that I may enter through them
and give thanks to the Lord.
20 This is the gate of the Lord;
the righteous shall enter through it.
21 I thank you that you have answered me
and have become my salvation.
22 The stone that the builders rejected
has become the chief cornerstone.
23 This is the Lord’s doing;
it is marvelous in our eyes.
24 This is the day that the Lord has made;
let us rejoice and be glad in it.
25 Save us, we beseech you, O Lord!
O Lord, we beseech you, give us success!
26 Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.
We bless you from the house of the Lord.
27 The Lord is God,
and has given us light.
Bind the festal procession with branches,
up to the horns of the altar.
28 You are my God, and I will give thanks to you;
you are my God, I will extol you.
29 O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good,
for his steadfast love endures forever.
So yeah, Church. We’re singing some hosannas today, and throughout this week. And we will be singing some hallelujahs with each other next week. And that is good, and right, for us to do. The rocks are singing and crying out – save us, Lord! Free us! Open our mouths to sing songs of life, of love, and of praise! Creation is singing and crying out – save us, Lord! Free us! Open our mouths to sign songs of life, of love, and of praise. God’s very Spirit is singing and crying out within us – save us, Lord! Free us! Open our mouths to sing songs of life, of love, and of praise! Rocks are singing, creation’s singing, the Spirit is singing….Take a deep breath. And let’s sing, too.
Amen.
Interviews, Podcast, Live Chats, Oh My!
Hi all — Just sharing a few recent interviews and talks related to Grace is a Pre-Existing Condition.
Robert Vore and Dr. Holly Oxhandler interviewed me about the new book on an episode of CXMH, a podcast at the intersection of faith and mental health; you can listen here or wherever you get your podcasts.
Peter Clark and Brach Jennings hosted me on their Stumbling Block podcast, which involved a lot of geeking out about theology but also some great conversation about God’s solidarity in Christ with the suffering. You can take a listen here.
I did a Facebook live chat to talk about the book and also to announce our latest debt relief effort, which will let us forgive an addition $10,000 of debt through the organization RIP Medical Debt. Overall, Grace is a Pre-Existing Condition has helped us forgive more than $55,000 of medical debt, something for which I am incredibly excited and grateful! You can watch the video here.
And our seminary alma mater, Wesley Theological Seminary, interviewed Leigh and me about ministry in the midst of COVID-19, which you can read on their website.
A Prayer for Our Wilson Community
I was honored to be invited by Mayor Carlton Stevens and the City of Wilson to share a morning prayer for our community. Grateful for this opportunity to recollect together times in our lives when God has faithfully made a way out of no way:
Buy a Book, Forgive Medical Debt
I've been so very grateful during these tough few weeks that you all helped us forgive more than $45,000 in medical debt before this crisis hit. That's one financial pressure that a family or families somewhere don't have to worry about in addition to everything else going on right now. So...let's forgive some more!
Here's how it will work: for every copy of either of my books that you purchase between now and the end of the month, I'll donate $1.50 to RIP Medical Debt, which they'll in turn use to forgive $150 in medical debt.
Please purchase through a local independent bookstore that's filling orders -- like, say, Scuppernong Books in Greensboro -- or through bookshop.org/shop/davidfinneganhosey, so that we're supporting small businesses that are hurting right now. Then just send me a picture or copy of the order receipt, and I'll donate!
OR you can purchase from me and I'll send you a signed copy. Just send me a message and we'll work out the details.
Either way, every book purchased will be a $1.50 donation -- a "tithe" from the cost of the book -- to RIP Medical Debt, thus forgiving $150 in medical debt. I'll donate up to a total of $150 (thus forgiving $15,000 in debt).
I'll do a Facebook live event at the end of the month to share how much debt we've helped forgive, talk a bit about the theology of forgiving debt, share a reading or two from the book, and take questions.
Let's give some folks less crap to worry about right now!
To Our Seniors: A Particular Kind of Grief
This was a message I sent to our Barton College senior class today.
While the context is of course specific, there are many other students having similar experiences across the country and the world right now.
I thought I would share it here as a resource and a comfort for others:
Greetings to the Barton College Class of 2020,
It's your College Chaplain, David, here. I wanted to send a message specifically to those of you who are planning to graduate at the end of this semester. I know the uncertainty and challenges of this time may be hard on you in a particular kind of way. This was supposed to be your year, and it may feel like it's been hijacked by a virus, along with your season, your performance, your farewell gatherings with friends.
I want to say a few very brief things to you:
First, it is ok for you to be feeling what you are feeling. You are allowed to grieve the remaining months of this senior year you thought you had in front of you. In the rich theological language of my Christian tradition: this sucks, and it's ok to say that. You will not take away from any of the other very important crisis responses that are happening right now by feeling what you are feeling and sharing what you need to share. We are all allowed to feel hurt and upset even as we do what we need to do to protect each other, protect our families, and preserve life.
Second, please know that I am holding you in my prayers and on my heart right now, and so are a lot of other folks. We see you. We know this is hard. There's a ton that's outside of our control, and a ton of big, tough decisions that haven't been made yet, but know that your Barton family sees you and loves you through this. We mourn with you just as much as we celebrate with you.
Third, grief is a strange companion, and the particular kind of grief you are feeling right now is no exception. It does not actually move along through five neat stages. It's more like a swirly-spaghetti-bowl-mess of confusing reactions and feelings. Grief can be a friend -- it can remind us of the things we care about and love the most -- but it is, at the very least, a rather difficult friend to be around at times, and again, it's alright to acknowledge that.
Fourth, grief calls to grief. If you were already processing something difficult in your life, separately from this current crisis and its impact on your senior year, those reactions can combine, intensify, or complicate each other.
So, fifth, please, please don't hesitate to reach out for support. I'm here -- you can set up a time to talk with me . Our counseling center is available -- you can schedule an appointment. I'm doing remote prayer meetings at 11am every Tuesday and 8pm every Thursday as long as we're in remote learning mode.
And of course, you also have each other as peer supports, confidants, and companions on this odd journey. You are not alone. We see you. We value you. Even though this is a strange time where we are required to be physically distant, it's never been more important to affirm: we only get through this thing together.
Please don't hesitate to reach out if you need to talk. Your Barton family is here for you.
Light and Life,
Chaplain David
From the Poor People's Campaign: Poverty Amidst Pandemic
Here is another message from the Poor People’s Campaign about moral responses to the COVID-19 pandemic, including an action item! Now that the Families First Coronavirus Response Act has been passed into law, there’s more to be done to make sure resources get to the most vulnerable people in our society, including those with mental health struggles, pre-existing conditions, and/or medical debt:
With its broad sweep, the COVID-19 pandemic has forced us into an unprecedented national emergency. This emergency, however, results from a deeper and much longer term crisis - that of poverty and inequality, and of a society that ignores the needs of 140 million people who are poor or a $400 emergency away from being poor.
Right now, Congress is considering an influx of urgently needed money from the federal government—one TRILLION dollars. We need to bear witness and make sure that money gets to where it is most needed – extending fundamental needs like paid sick leave, health care and housing security to everyone.
We call on President Trump, Vice-President Pence and all Members of 116th Congress to fulfill their moral and constitutional responsibilities to the American people: join your voice to expand the emergency provisions and enact our Moral Agenda.
We cannot return to normal. Addressing the depth of the crises that have been revealed in this pandemic means enacting universal health care, expanding social welfare programs like SNAP and LIHEAP, ensuring access to water and sanitation, providing cash assistance to poor and low-wealth families, guaranteeing good jobs, living wages and an annual income. It means ensuring that our abundant national resources are used for the general welfare, instead of war, walls, and the wealthy.
Sign on to the Poor People's Campaign's demands in response to COVID-19.
Forward together,
Rev. Dr. Willam Barber II and Rev. Dr. Liz Theoharis
Co-Chairs of the Poor People's Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival
P.S. Join us for a live discussion Thursday at 6:30 p.m. ET / 3:30 PT with MoveOn about a Moral Response to the dual crises of Pandemic and Poverty—we'll be live at Facebook.com/MoveOn and Facebook.com/ANewPPC!
HR6201 Has Passed the House -- Call Your Senator Today!
I’m re-sharing this email from the Poor People’s Campaign now that House Coronavirus Bill - HR6201 - Families First Coronavirus Response Act has passed the House of Representatives and is in front of the Senate. Call your Senators (script below) to tell them to pass this immediately with no watering-down, and then give your Representative a call, thank them for passing this, and give them some ideas from the Poor People’s Campaign list of what more can be done to protect the most economically vulnerable during this time.
Dear David,
We are in the midst of an unfolding public health crisis due to the coronavirus — but our current state of emergency results from a deeper, much longer-term crisis — that of poverty and inequality, and of a society that ignores the needs of 140 million poor and low-wealth people. We know that we must enact the demands of the Poor People’s Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival to fully address this crisis.
We support the call to pass House Coronavirus Bill - HR6201 - Families First Coronavirus Response Act because it provides critical resources for food assistance, testing, unemployment insurance, immediate paid sick days, and protection for health care workers. Importantly, this bill also includes things the Poor People’s Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival has been demanding for a long time — a suspension of work requirements for SNAP, worker protections in the form of paid sick leave, increased resources for Medicaid and free testing for all, including the uninsured.
In this moment, we must join the call to demand that our government face this crisis — we cannot go back to business as usual. We call on each of you to reach out to your Senators to vote and pass this bill immediately (see below for a call script you can use).
This bill alone, however, will not fully address this crisis, nor the ongoing crises of poverty and inequality in this country. We call for important additions to the bill, listed below. Many of these demands are already a part of the Poor People’s Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival’s Moral Agenda. It’s clear we need them now more than ever:
We demand more targeted and specific protections for low-wage and temporary workers, including child care workers and care providers. Rapid, direct payments to individuals is the most effective way to ensure low-wage workers who are especially sensitive to changes in work schedules have the resources to provide for their families and households and to manage their care and treatment.
We demand targeted and specific protections for homeless people, including and especially children, who will not have access to online learning, meals, or running water outside of their schools; this can and must include a call on city and local governments to open and prepare vacant properties to house the homeless.
We demand a national moratorium on evictions, tax foreclosures, and rent hikes.
We demand a national moratorium on water and utility shut-offs and maintained access to communications and Wi-Fi.
We demand a national moratorium on medical debt collection that would compromise an individual, family or household’s ability to provide for their health and care during this emergency.
We demand a suspension of Medicaid work requirements.
We demand the reauthorization and protection of community health centers and rural hospitals, including the suspension of any pending closures of rural hospitals.
We demand targeted protections for people in mental health facilities, prisons, jails, immigrant detention centers, juvenile detention centers, and nursing homes, especially in the form of supplies, personnel, testing and treatment.
We demand that immigrant communities are able to seek safe testing and treatment by suspending CBP and ICE enforcement and declaring all emergency provisions as disaster relief, thereby making immigrants who are otherwise ineligible for health care, nutrition and other government programs eligible for these emergency programs.
We demand that nobody — no individual or corporation or financial interest — is profiting off a public health crisis by ensuring that vaccines and treatments are affordable and/or free for those who cannot afford the costs.
Text COVID19 to 747464 or call 1-844-633-2048 to easily reach your Senator.
Thanks to MomsRising for providing this service.
You can adapt the following script with your Senator's info when you call. Most importantly, strongly encourage them to vote for this bill!
“Hello, my name is ______ and I am from [city/town]. This is urgent: Please tell Senator _____ to vote for the House coronavirus bill without watering it down at all. You must take action to ensure that no one goes without food, that everyone can get testing, medical treatment, paid sick days or unemployment insurance if they can’t work during this emergency and that our health care workers are protected. The House bill is a necessary start — you must do more [add 2-3 examples from our list above], but please vote for this now.”
Let’s continue to mobilize, organize, register, and educate for our demands in this uncertain time.
Forward together,
The Poor People’s Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival
What Greater Love
I keep thinking about a class on the Gospel of John with Dr. Sharon Ringe at Wesley. She talked about the translation of John 15:13, "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." That the verb there (tithemi in the Greek), means more like "appoint" or "ordain," literally "to set down." That this verse, rather than some glorification of death and suffering, is an invitation to consider what we can "set down" in order to care for our friends.
She asked us to think about this question: what can we set down, appoint, or ordain in order to preserve life rather than destroying it?
And I can't think of a clearer meaning of "setting down our lives for our friends" in this sense than to make the tough choice to cancel in-person gatherings, avoid going out in groups, figure out how to do things like classes and worship remotely, in order to slow the spread of a virus that could be really, really dangerous for beloved members of our community.
We are setting down a lot of things in our lives right now, and that is hard. There is real sacrifice in that. But we are doing it to preserve life. And that is good news indeed.
What greater love can there be than this, to set our lives down in this way for our friends?
The View From A Colorado Scientist (who also happens to be my cousin)
My cousin Laura is a very smart human; she’s a PhD candidate in microbiology at the University of Colorado School of Medicine, and her work over the past 15 years has been in areas like drugs to slow the spread of viruses and the biology underlying disease. Here is a message from her about what her lab and her community are doing to limit the spread of coronavirus, which I’m sharing with her permission:
Dear all,
Many of you know I've spent the past 15 years in and around scientific research. As a consultant, I worked with large biopharma companies that bring drugs and vaccines to market, and with smaller clinical laboratories that develop diagnostic tests. My first job out of college was on a project working to develop drugs that could be used to slow the spread of virus during a measles outbreak. A few years ago, I took a huge paycut to leave industry and get my PhD in molecular biology, because I believe that basic science research — the study of fundamental questions about the underlying biology of health and disease — is a public good.
I'm now a fifth year PhD candidate and RNA biologist at the University of Colorado School of Medicine. Yesterday, we shut down our lab to limit the spread of coronavirus. Our institution is taking this situation very seriously, and I hope you are as well. Since the U.S. response to COVID-19 has been more reactive instead of proactive, it's now falling to decision-makers at every level of American society to make the right calls to limit the impact of this disease in their communities. I thought it might be helpful to share what my colleagues and I, as scientists, are doing right now in the absence of a more coordinated national response:
Starting Monday March 16, all non-essential staff across our entire campus are being asked to work remotely. Travel is cancelled indefinitely.
Research labs are winding down all experiments, and designating 2-3 employees as emergency personnel to manage animals, cell lines, and freezers. Labs at similar institutions have been told to prepare for 6-8 weeks of closures.
In a very Colorado move, yesterday my boss instituted a policy that only one person should be in lab at a time, and if that's not possible, we should maintain a "ski's length distance" from each other.
We reached out to the Colorado Department of Public Health to see what supplies they needed, and began coordinating donations of laboratory supplies - including materials necessary for running the tests, and personal protective equipment for the workers performing them. Similar efforts are being coordinated more broadly by my professional organization, the RNA Society.
In Seattle, graduate students are being asked to volunteer to help prepare samples and run tests. If the same request comes through in Denver, I will be volunteering as well.
The number of COVID-19 cases in the U.S. is increasing exponentially, and roughly 18% of positive cases need to be hospitalized. If everyone gets sick at once, hospitals will be overwhelmed, and many people will die needlessly. U.S. cases are about 10 days behind Italy, where this week, the entire country is on lockdown and hospitals in Lombardy are running out of space, supplies, and protective gear. If you are reading this email, I urge you to help protect medical staff, immunocompromised people, people over 60, and others at risk by 1) limiting your contact with other people as much as possible through social distancing, and 2) washing your hands. For me this week, that meant postponing a research collaboration on the biology of coronavirus until whenever our lab reopens. That's how important it is to slow the spread of this disease right now.
Working together, we can help flatten the curve of new cases so that we don't overwhelm our healthcare system, and provide more time for researchers and doctors to understand which treatments work best for the people who are most sick. As extreme as closing offices, schools, businesses, and places of worship may seem, not physically interacting with other people is the best way to buy time as the number of cases continues to increase.
On a personal level, Jake and I have:
Stocked up on roughly 3 weeks of food to minimize the number of trips we need to make to the store
Gotten 3 month supplies of all prescriptions for us and the dogs
We already own a watch that can measure blood oxygen, or else we would have bought an inexpensive pulse oximeter
In the event that we get sick, we will be calling our doctors' offices to get permission to be tested at Colorado's drive-through testing site, and avoiding ERs unless we have a pulse oximeter reading below 90% oxygen saturation. The most common early symptoms of coronavirus infection are fever, followed by a dry cough.
This situation is going to get substantially worse before it gets better. As the crisis continues, peddlers of conspiracy theories and snake oil will try to enrich themselves off of all our fears, just as people are already trying to make a quick buck by buying up pallets of hand sanitizer to resell. I urge you all to be skeptical and consult trusted sources (like the websites of your public health department, or the Johns Hopkins Coronavirus Resource Center), and to vote for politicians with the courage to put public safety and scientific expertise before politics. Most importantly, if you have any ability to cancel events with >25 people in the next few weeks, please do not wait for someone else to tell you to cancel. If you manage employees or volunteers, insist that they stay home if sick — and do what you can to make sure they can afford to do so.
I hope this email finds you well. Take care of yourselves and the people you care about.
Sincerely,
Laura
From the Poor People's Campaign: Call Your Senators, Pass HR6201
I wanted to share this email call to action which I received from the Poor People’s Campaign. There’s a script at the end that you can use to call your Senators and tell them to quickly pass the House Coronavirus Bill - HR6201 - Families First Coronavirus Response Act with no watering-down or alterations, as a first step to protecting our health, healthcare, and wellbeing during this pandemic.
Dear David,
We are in the midst of an unfolding public health crisis due to the coronavirus — but our current state of emergency results from a deeper, much longer-term crisis — that of poverty and inequality, and of a society that ignores the needs of 140 million poor and low-wealth people. We know that we must enact the demands of the Poor People’s Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival to fully address this crisis.
We support the call to pass House Coronavirus Bill - HR6201 - Families First Coronavirus Response Act because it provides critical resources for food assistance, testing, unemployment insurance, immediate paid sick days, and protection for health care workers. Importantly, this bill also includes things the Poor People’s Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival has been demanding for a long time — a suspension of work requirements for SNAP, worker protections in the form of paid sick leave, increased resources for Medicaid and free testing for all, including the uninsured.
In this moment, we must join the call to demand that our government face this crisis — we cannot go back to business as usual. We call on each of you to reach out to your Senators to vote and pass this bill immediately (see below for a call script you can use).
This bill alone, however, will not fully address this crisis, nor the ongoing crises of poverty and inequality in this country. We call for important additions to the bill, listed below. Many of these demands are already a part of the Poor People’s Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival’s Moral Agenda. It’s clear we need them now more than ever:
We demand more targeted and specific protections for low-wage and temporary workers, including child care workers and care providers. Rapid, direct payments to individuals is the most effective way to ensure low-wage workers who are especially sensitive to changes in work schedules have the resources to provide for their families and households and to manage their care and treatment.
We demand targeted and specific protections for homeless people, including and especially children, who will not have access to online learning, meals, or running water outside of their schools; this can and must include a call on city and local governments to open and prepare vacant properties to house the homeless.
We demand a national moratorium on evictions, tax foreclosures, and rent hikes.
We demand a national moratorium on water and utility shut-offs and maintained access to communications and Wi-Fi.
We demand a national moratorium on medical debt collection that would compromise an individual, family or household’s ability to provide for their health and care during this emergency.
We demand a suspension of Medicaid work requirements.
We demand the reauthorization and protection of community health centers and rural hospitals, including the suspension of any pending closures of rural hospitals.
We demand targeted protections for people in mental health facilities, prisons, jails, immigrant detention centers, juvenile detention centers, and nursing homes, especially in the form of supplies, personnel, testing and treatment.
We demand that immigrant communities are able to seek safe testing and treatment by suspending CBP and ICE enforcement and declaring all emergency provisions as disaster relief, thereby making immigrants who are otherwise ineligible for health care, nutrition and other government programs eligible for these emergency programs.
We demand that nobody — no individual or corporation or financial interest — is profiting off a public health crisis by ensuring that vaccines and treatments are affordable and/or free for those who cannot afford the costs.
Text COVID19 to 747464 or call 1-844-633-2048 to easily reach your Senator.
Thanks to MomsRising for providing this service.
You can adapt the following script with your Senator's info when you call. Most importantly, strongly encourage them to vote for this bill!
“Hello, my name is ______ and I am from [city/town]. This is urgent: Please tell Senator _____ to vote for the House coronavirus bill without watering it down at all. You must take action to ensure that no one goes without food, that everyone can get testing, medical treatment, paid sick days or unemployment insurance if they can’t work during this emergency and that our health care workers are protected. The House bill is a necessary start — you must do more [add 2-3 examples from our list above], but please vote for this now.”
Let’s continue to mobilize, organize, register, and educate for our demands in this uncertain time.
Forward together,
The Poor People’s Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival
Tips on Livestreaming Worship from fellow CPI Author Peter Jarrett Schell
My friend and fellow Church Publishing author, Peter Jarett Schell (whose book, Seeing My Skin: A Story of Wrestling with Whiteness, you should definitely be reading), shared these helpful tips on livestreaming worship for congregations who are needing to move their services online during this pandemic. I’m sharing these with his permission:
Aggregating a few things I've been learning about livestreaming worship:
1-Zoom is great. It's easy and intuitive to use. A pro account is $15/month. You can have lay ministers call in to lead parts (readings, solos, prayers, ect.) Your tech-limited members will be able to call in from a landline and hear worship, and you can simoultaneously livestream from Zoom tp Facebook live and Youtube. Here's the link to do it:
https://support.zoom.us/hc/en-us/articles/115000350406-Streaming-a-Meeting-or-Webinar-on-Facebook-Live
2-If you use Zoom:
-Turn off password acccess to the meeting (it makes it easier to call in.)
-Turn off the call in chime (it minimizes distraction).
-Set things so folks will be muted on entry (to avoid a cacophony of background noise.) Then manually unmute folks who will have speaking roles.
3-Offer folk the opportunity to send in prayers to be included in worship. You're offering a chance to participate.
4-Include a few things we can all do by heart: Lord's Prayer, Psalm 23, familiar hymns, stuff like that.
5-You can't really pass the peace in any ordinary fashion. So, instead, ask your folk to commit to call and check in on one other member of the congregation when the online component of worship is over.
6-Consider doing the whole thing remotely, from your respective homes, rather than in the Church sanctuary. It might help engender the sense that this is something we're doing together, rather than something a couple people are doing, and others are just watching.
7-Having a choir member or two sing solos (everyone else can sing along muted) is probably the most technically feasible way to include live music.
6-Do a dry run with all participants before Sunday.
7-Send folk the instructions on how to access a couple days in advance. Then send them out again the day before.
A Pastoral Message Shared With The Barton College Community
The following is the pastoral message which I shared with the campus community at Barton College after our decision to pause classes for a week and then resume with all classes meeting online for at least several weeks, out of an abundance of public health caution related to the coronavirus.
While the context is specific, I thought the overall message might be of comfort or help to some outside of our community, as well:
