A Whole Lot of Tears

I have hanging in my home a small picture created by Brian Andreas, the artist behind Storey People that says, "She said she usually cried at least once each day not because she was sad, but because the world was so beautiful & life was so short."

I have found myself crying often each day this week - not because I am sad, but because life is, indeed, so incredibly beautiful.

The last week or so has been overwhelming in many ways. We have raced to the finish line in order to close on the church's new property just in time for the building dedication last Sunday and then a large Urban Ministry Symposium on Tuesday. Each time I behold the new ministry space, I realize just how much God has given the small congregation that meets on the corner of 9th and Massachusetts - and more importantly, just how much God has given to the people of Washington, the United Methodist Church, and the church of Jesus Christ around the world.

Four years ago, I was told often by people at Mount Vernon Place how there was nothing more to do. The congregation had tried everything to make their church grow again. They had held on tight to one another, and taken care of one another, but few new people were coming in the doors. It would be easier to spend the money doing what they had always done, and when the money was gone, the doors would close.

Last Friday morning, I came to the church early in the morning to see furniture being delivered and set up in a wonderful, light-filled fellowship hall. I watched as our furniture angel worked with the delivery people from her company. I remembered how generous this angel has been with her time, her knowledge and her company. I watched them work, and I could hardly hold back tears as I expressed my gratitude to her once more for what she has done for us.

On Sunday, I watched this same fellowship hall become filled with people enjoying lunch after worship in the sanctuary. We had 190 individuals in worship on Sunday - some of our partners from Wesley Theological Seminary, our bishop, our district superintendent, our architects, our new building partners, former members, and countless other people. In worship that morning, I watched as about twelve of the individuals who were with us in July of 2005 stood as we expressed gratitude to them for their courage to trade the known for the unknown, voting to sell a portion of the church's property more than four years ago. I then watched as the individuals stood who have come to Mount Vernon Place since this time - the fifty plus individuals who have discovered Christ again through the ministries of our congregation.

On Tuesday, I watched as people came into the church to learn about Urban Ministry. That night, I stood at the lectern and looked out to see individuals from two very different churches coming together for worship - distinguished ushers from Asbury United Methodist Church were shepherding people into the sanctuary. Mount Vernon Place people were greeting and handing out bulletins. Individuals from Wesley Seminary were sprinkled around the building. Three institutions - three very different institutions - one seminary, one church founded by African Americans who got tired of sitting in the balcony of another nearby church and who faithfully and prophetically left to build their own church less than two blocks away from Mount Vernon Place, and one church founded by Southerners who believed in the institution of slavery and built a grand monumental church calling itself Mount Vernon Place - all coming together - planting seeds for what might be accomplished together in the future and opening doors for a much needed process of healing to happen that I pray will happen.

Mount Vernon Place is now two days away from our annual charge conference, an annual meeting of the congregation where we vote on certain things. At this charge conference, we will vote on my compensation for 2010 and our list of lay leaders for the new year. We'll also have the joy of voting to approve two incredibly gifted individuals to continue on the path towards ordination in the United Methodist Church. And, we'll have the opportunity to vote on becoming a member of the Reconciling Ministries Network in the United Methodist Church - adding our church's name to the list of faithful, risk-taking churches who proudly proclaim that our congregations are going to openly welcome, love and extend Christ's welcome and love to all people - regardless of their physical ability, their economic income, the color of their skin, their educational ability, their ethnic background, or their gender or sexual identity. We are voting to open wide our doors - to be the people who not only say with our lips that the United Methodist Church is a church with Open Hearts, Open Minds and Open Doors but to be these people - these people who desire so much to see what God can do when all people are welcome and beheld just as we are - encouraged to do all of the things that we in the majority get to do.

I cry often these days. Not because life is sad - but because the church is beautiful - especially on the corner of 9th and Massachusetts. You should come see what God is doing - come look at the extraordinary generosity of God that is so apparent in the new ministry space and then see the stunningly beautiful makeup of the body of Christ who worships here.

Bring a tissue - you might find yourself crying, too.

Dedication Day

I am far behind on my blogging, gathering a list of things to write about instead of actually writing about them. I promise to write soon. In the meantime, I want to offer you a glimpse of what has been happening at Mount Vernon Place. We closed on our new ministry space on Friday and dedicated it yesterday. Here are some shots from our wonderful celebration.

The view inside the four-story glass atrium that connects the historic church building with the new space:

Our new fellowship hall:

Waiting to get inside:

Cutting the ribbon:

Changing Perspectives

I saw them again on Wednesday morning. They were walking rather briskly, three girls dressed differently from the rest of the early morning crowd. One had on the doll-like outfit that I have seen her in many time before. Another had on a dress that was designed to cover her front but leave nothing to the imagination in the back. Still another had on a short leather skirt and tall leather boots to match. I saw them. But this time I saw them with different eyes.

I used to see them as women who had made this choice for their lives. I saw them as individuals who had chosen to spend the nights walking the streets, waiting for their next client to pull over and shepherd them into the car.

I now see them so differently.

I see them as victims. I see them as girls, some as young as 12 or 13. I finally notice how young they are. I see them as individuals who have been taken captive and have a hard time getting out. I see them - not as prostitutes but as people who are being prostituted. I see them as individuals who are being trafficked. I see them as people who need help.

After searching for different options for how our congregation can be more involved with all of our neighbors, including these individuals, two of our members found an organization called Courtney's House (www.courtneyshouse.org). Founded and led by a survivor herself, Tina is an extraordinary leader, speaker and visionary. She knows the life these girls are living, and she knows that it is not easy to get out. She is pouring all of her time and energy into providing a way where there is seemingly no way.

Tina estimates that there are 1000 pimps working in Washington, DC alone. These pimps have control over boys and girls, some as young as 11 years old. Tina has opened our eyes to just how painful their world is and to the realities of the business. Pregnant girls are more valuable than non-pregnant. Breast milk sells. The younger the girl, the higher the amount can be earned. A typical one-night quota offered by the pimp to the girl is $1000 to $2000. Beatings happen regularly when this money does not come in. 95% of the girls have been sexually abused. The average age of someone coming under pimp control is 12 to 14 years old. An average night includes sleeping with 12 to 15 men.

And, we're trying to help. Last Saturday, Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church was able to host a group of 26 women who are willing to help - willing to be trained in how to work with these boys and girls. Soon, our church will become the office location for Tina and her assistant. We're trying to play a part in providing ministries of mercy and justice.

I keep thinking about how much my perspective has changed. My entire vision has changed since I have learned more about this issue and the stories behind what I see. My outlook has changed to one of disgust to one of compassion. My heart has been taken captive in a whole new way.

I wonder.

I wonder what might happen if we all took time to listen to the stories of others - to not be so quick to conclude who a person is or why a person lives a certain way, loves a certain way, talks a certain way. What if we were to first take time to hear the person - to hear their heart, their mind, their background, their hopes, their dreams, their fears.

I wonder then if we might all have a change of perspective - towards the people who work the streets at night, towards our gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered brothers and sisters, towards the homeless man who sleeps on the church's porch at night, towards the person in line before us at Safeway who is using electronic benefits.

I wonder.

God, give us eyes to see and ears to hear. Help us to see the people around us as you see them. Forgive us for being quick to judge and slow to listen. Help us, Lord, to be more like you. Amen.

Draw the Circle Wide

We welcomed five new members at Mount Vernon Place yesterday and had the privilege of baptizing two of these individuals. It was a beautiful day - one of my all-time favorite worship experiences in this place. As part of worship, I asked two of our new members if they would be willing to testify - to share a glimpse of why they were excited about joining Mount Vernon Place and what brought them here. Both of the witnesses were extraordinary - offered with love, grace, passion, and excitement. It was a blessing to hear their words.

I asked one of the individuals if I could have a copy of his words to share on my blog. As I read them, my only prayer is that God will continue to keep us on this path, and that God will show us how best to further open the circle that has powerfully been opened to so many people already. What a blessing it is to serve in this place!

Here they are for you to read:

I remember an afternoon when I was 16 years old. I was sitting in a meadow in front of the chapel at Camp Aldersgate – our United Methodist Church camp in the Adirondack Mountains of New York State. A pastor speaking to a group of us shared this simple poem:

They drew a circle that shut me out;
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win,
We drew a circle that took them in.

As a Christian who also happens to be gay, I have known the hurt and despair of having circles drawn that shut me and those like me out in ways that keep us from experiencing the fullness of life and faith in the very communities of faith in which we were raised and once nurtured. My guess is, there are others here today who perhaps for the same or for different reasons have shared similar experiences.
But after a few short months here, in this place, I stand to give witness to what I sense is happening at Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church; and why, today, I seek to be a part of this community of faith. Something is happening here that captures my imagination and convinces my heart: the God of Abraham and Sarah, of Moses and Deborah, of Paul and Priscilla is a living God who is walking among us today – speaking new words of hope to those both inside and outside these walls, and leading us all to new places of promise that encourage greater strength of community, healing and depth of faith. Something is happening here!

Today the five of us seeking membership in this congregation are linking hearts and minds with a community of believers who have taken an incredible leap of faith as you seek to be faithful disciples of Jesus Christ – reaching out into our city and our nation in bold and creative ways to meet neighbors in need. Drawing circles around them that included – that incorporate them into a shared life that provides for a greater hope and promise of well-being.
I sense this congregation to be a community of seekers: people who know that living a life of faith is like being on a journey. As God moves among us, so must we seek and be prepared to be led to new and different places in our ministries. I’ve said to others that one dynamic of this community that makes me want to be a part is the sense that “we are always becoming!” There are other places we all could be where the sense is “This is who we are! This is what we do! And this is how we do it!!” It’s a good thing to know who you are, but each day is a new day that presents new situations, and new challenges with opportunities to share our faith with those around us. I want to be a part of a community of faith that has this sense of adventure – a sense of “always having to figure it out,” always discerning where we are, and what God is calling us to do in this new day, this new moment.

In 1980, as a young gay man who had just spent four years in seminary preparing for ordained ministry in the United Methodist Church, I attended our General Conference in Indianapolis, IN. I was there as part of a group of gay and lesbian United Methodists with a new name: Affirmation. Needless to say, in those early days we were very much on the outside of “the circle,” well into the margins. At the opening of the Conference I stood in an outer hallway of the Convention Center holding a tall banner we had just made a few days earlier that read, “Affirmation: United Methodists for Lesbian and Gay Concerns.” The hallway where I stood was the path that all of our Bishops took as they processed onto the main floor of the convention center. They all passed by me and ‘my’ banner. One bishop stopped and said, “Get out of here. You must leave this place! ” I looked him in the eye and said “Bishop, I’m not going to leave!” At that moment my heart was more resolved than ever to speak honestly and openly about who I was as a person of faith, and to always search for that growing community of believers in Jesus Christ who understand that their faith compels them to welcome – to include rather exclude people.

So Bishop, here I am! I’m still here! And I give thanks for my sisters and brothers in this place – for the way you welcome me; for being the people of God that you are; for being the people of God that you hold promise to become; and for being a people of God who have a passion for drawing circles that include people rather than keep them out. Thank you for embracing the five of us this morning and bringing us into this community. We want to draw circles with you.

William J. Matson
Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church
Washington, DC
September 27, 2009

The Breaking of Bread

I purchased a book yesterday in one of the museum shops. The book is filled with pictures of paintings that portray the Lord's Supper. I am fascinated by different artists' interpretations of this sacred meal. I am awed by the paintings that tell the story - of how Jesus appeared, of who was at the table with him, of how Jesus broke bread. We know that this meal is what led the disciples to recognize Jesus in the breaking of the bread following his resurrection.

I saw Jesus last night. Jesus came to me in the breaking of the bread.

Craig and I were dining in one of Florence's oldest restaurants, celebrating Craig's 40th birthday. We knew ahead of time that we would arrive at the restaurant, get in line, and then be seated with strangers. We followed the wisdom of the hotel staff, and did exactly what they suggested we do. We were seated at a table, and within a matter of moments, another couple was seated with us. A man named John sat down next to me. John's wife, Rosemary, sat down next to Craig. We sat down as perfect strangers.

Soon food started to arrive on the table. Italian meats came first. Then came some tripe (which I said, "no thanks" to). We then had a lovely salad. Pasta arrived next. The pasta was followed by a plate of meat - four different kinds of meat. When the meat was enjoyed, a plate filled with different desserts arrived. All of this food was washed down with a huge jug of red wine that sat in the center of the table. We all shared the meal together. We all enjoyed one another's company. We laughed. We told stories. We contemplated life. We dreamed about the future. And, all I could think about was the Eucharistic feast - the Great Thanksgiving.

There is something extraordinary that happens at the table. People sit down as strangers. But they leave as friends. When bread is broken, community is formed. When a table is shared, barriers are broken. When individuals come and offer what they have, others are blessed. Craig and I experienced this kind of fellowship last night. It was amazing.

At the end of the meal, the check arrived. We were prepared to share the cost - to split the cost of the 180 euro meal. John, however, immediately got out his wallet. John treated us - telling us that he wanted us to enjoy marriage as they had enjoyed marriage - all 30 years. He wanted Craig to have a special birthday. He wanted us to experience generosity. Meanwhile, his wife, Rosemary, sat back and said, "This is just the way he is."

It was grace. Extraordinary grace.

And, that's just the way the one is who hosts us at his banquet feast each time we come to his table to participate in the Eucharistic Feast.

It's just the way he is, and we encounter him often in the breaking of the bread.

Climbing to the Cross

I have spent the day looking at incredible art. While in Florence, we have visited the Uffizi Gallery and the Academia. I have marveled at David. I have seen so many pictures and statues. But, I have been amazed even more at the theology behind some of the works of lesser known artists.

Luke 23:50-53 reads, "Now there was a good and righteous man named Joseph, who, though a member of the council had not agreed to their plan and action. He came from the Jewish town of Arimathea, and he was waiting expectandly for the kingdom of God. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid."

I have never before thought about who took the body of Jesus down from the cross or how these people got the body down. I have never thought about it until I saw so many pictures with ladders. So many of the Italian artists have created the crucifixion with ladders - with ladders that extend to the top of the cross - ladders that people can climb in order to get the body of Jesus and the other two people down from the crosses.

Ladders. I have never thought about people actually climbing to the top of the cross in order to remove the body of Jesus - to carefully untack the hands and the feet of Jesus. But, I saw the ladders today as portrayed by Italian Rennassiance artists. I cannot stop thinking about these ladders. And, I cannot stop thinking about Joseph of Arimathea.

We are told that Joseph, though a member of the council, did not agree with the plan and action of the council. Joseph, an insider, chose to be an outsider. Joseph chose to stay close to the cross. He chose to put a ladder against the cross - a ladder that would extend to the top of the cross.

I can imagine the pain and ridicule that came Joseph's way. I can imagine that his colleagues questioned why on earth he would be carrying a ladder to Golgatha - why on earth he would be placing that ladder up against a cross - why on earth he would be removing the body of one who was crucified. Still, Joseph went. He went, he carried a ladder, he climbed the cross, and he removed the body.

When I am rediculed, questioned, or criticised, it is so much easy for me to back down the ladder than it is to climb the ladder. When people question what I do in the name of my faith or my prodding of the Holy Spirit, it is so much easier to give into their criticism, and to stop what I am doing, than it is to continue on my way.

Joseph, however, did not stop. Instead, he carried a ladder to Golgatha. He placed the ladder up against the cross. He removed the nails in Jesus' hands and feet. He brought the body down and laid it in a tomb. He brought the body down that would rise again in three days.

I wonder.

I wonder even more now that I have seen these ladders in so many paintings today, what might happen if we did not back down in the face of criticism. What might happen if we continued to climb the ladder. What might happen if we continued to climb the ladder and talk with those with whom we disagree? What might happen if we tried to always stand for Christ - for Christ's ways, Christ's love, Christ's grace - even if we are going against what others are telling us we should do or think or say or feel.

Joseph climbed the ladder. I saw him climb it in so many paintings today. He climbed the ladder - even though he was a member of the council who fought for the cross - he climbed a ladder when the council's actions were over. And, in the paintings, he is not the only one who climbed the ladder.

Many others were there with him.

God, help me to climb the ladders you have placed in front of me. Amen.

Cussing in Church

I got cussed out today, and it happened in a very unlikely place. I was not driving on I-395 into the city. I was not in the Costco parking lot, competing with 25 cars for the two remaining spaces. And, I was not in a grocery store that is always crowded on Sunday evenings in Washington. I was, in fact, at church.

At Mount Vernon Place, we have a regular practice of sharing our joys and concerns. It is a central part of who we are as a congregation. We seek to be real and authentic with one another, truly sharing the things that are giving us joy and the burdens we are carrying - the things that are causing us hurt and pain. Several people shared joys that are happening in their lives today. It then came time for concerns. After a few people shared, I got up, stood at the microphone, and asked for prayers.

I shared with the congregation how we need to pray for our country. I talked about how I was in downtown Washington yesterday and happened to get caught in the traffic as mobs - thousands upon thousands 0f people - were gathering in Freedom Plaza for an anti-tax, anti-Obama, anti-health care demonstration. I shared how as I sat in traffic, so many of the signs broke my heart because many people held a sign of hatred in one hand and a sign with scripture printed on it in the other hand. I then shared how my heart broke yesterday morning when I read an editorial in the Washington Post. The editorial is written by Colbert I. King and is titled, "A Dangerous Kind of Hate." In his editorial, King writes about pastor Steven Anderson's sermon of August 16 - a sermon preached in a Baptist Church in Tempe, Arizona in which Anderson focused an entire message on "Why I Hate Barack Obama." In this sermon - a sermon preached in a Christian Church, Anderson preached, "'I'm not going to pray for his (Obama's) good, I'm going to pray he dies and goes to hell."

King goes on to write, "There's something loose in the land, an ugliness and hatred directed toward Barack Obama , the nation's first African American president, that takes the breath away" (Colbert I. King, "A Dangerous Kind of Hate," in the Washington Post, September 12, 2009, page A17).

My breath was taken away yesterday morning, and while I did not quote this specific line of King's, I did talk about Anderson - how I did not understand how anyone could be filled with so much hatred and still call himself a minister of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I then invited the congregation to pray - specifically saying that whether we sit on the right or on the left, we are to pray. I said that no matter what our views are, we need to pray for the unrest that is so real, so apparent, so rampant in our nation. I asked that we pray for our leaders - all of our leaders.

During the closing of the final hymn, I noticed that two women who I had never seen before were no longer singing. In fact, they were standing with their arms folded in front of them.

When the benediction was over, I stepped out to the front portico as I always do to greet first time guests who come filing out first. One of the two women came marching up to me, looked me in the face, and shouted, "You are a God-damned liar." She then went on to shout something about tax dollars and abortion. Her friend soon walked up behind her with tears in her eyes and handed me a note written on the inside of an offering envelope. It read,

Pastor Donna -

As we sat through the first hour of the service today, I was touched by the kindness, love and compassion that was all around us - thus, the shock and dismay that I felt as you referred to me as divisive and full of hatred was akin to a kick in the gut. You see, my friend and I took part in Saturday's march. We did not have signs of hatred - we walked in prayer - praying for the future of our country - praying to be understood and not stereotyped. Thus - I leave the church this morning weak with anger and cannot understand why you hurt me so - Yet, I love you in Christ's name.

Lis from Naples Florida

I've never been called a God-damned liar in one breath and told that someone loves me in Christ's name in another breath. It just does not add up to me. I did not know what to do - I stood there in dismay as they walked away.

I did not stereo-type anyone. Rather, I invited people to pray for the hatred that was evident in the sermon quoted by King and in the signs I saw people carrying. I questioned how people who follow a peace-filled Jesus could be filled with such hatred - could wear the t-shirts that some were wearing, could carry the signs that some were carrying, could pray death upon anyone. This is not the Jesus I know and follow.

King's right, there's an ugliness loose in the land - an ugliness I have never seen before. I'm praying - for the safety of our leaders, especially our president who has people wishing his death. I'm praying - that one day people who follow Jesus will also fight for the things Jesus taught us to be concerned about. I'm praying - that this unrest ends soon.

God, help us.