When Love Shows Up: Weekly Reflections about God’s Presence

God Help Me - The Rev. Philip DeVaul

I pray a lot more now, as you might expect from a professional Christian. Of course, I lead prayers in worship on Sundays. As a parent, I pray with my children before meals and bedtime.
When I am invited to a hospital to see a newborn child, I pray for little babies as I hold them. Here is the prayer I pray: “Watch over your child, O Lord, as her days increase; bless and guide her wherever she may be; Strengthen her when she stands; comfort her when discouraged or sorrowful; raise her up when she falls; and in her heart, may your peace which passes understanding abide all the days of her life, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” I didn’t make that one up: it’s in the Episcopal prayer book. What do I believe about a new life and what my hopes are for them? I have decided to let this prayer shape my belief.
When I show up at the end of someone’s life, I pray for them. Sometimes they are somewhat aware of that. Most of the time they are not.  Here, from the same prayer book, is what I pray: “Deliver your servant, O Sovereign Lord Christ, from all evil, and set him free from every bond; that he may rest with all your saints in the eternal habitations; where with the Father and the Holy Spirit you live and reign, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.” I do not always know what I believe about death. These words I pray are not simply a comfort: They are a challenge. They push me to accept the things I cannot change, and to find God even in death.
Jesus says to pray for those who hate you. What a command.

The Hope is the Point - The Rev. Philip DeVaul

Crucifixion, too, was common in the Roman Empire. More public, more long-lasting, more inefficient, more painful even than stoning. The victims of this form of violence were stripped down naked and forced to carry the heavy horizontal piece of their cross to the site of their death. And again, none of this inhumane brutality was accidental. It was a tactic of terror. The cruelty was the point.
Peter knew the score. Jesus had told him many times before that walking the way of love in a cruel world would have its cost. And Peter had seen what it did to his friend. Peter was undaunted. Once you know the power of love, the magnificence of grace, the friendship of God, I mean what else is there? They bound him and took him to that place he did not want to go, but Rocky was Rocky – stubborn even in his humility, immovable once he knew what he knew. He said, “I’m no Jesus. If you’re gonna kill me, hang me upside down.” Peter had worked the last several decades in hopes that he could simply live into the faithfulness for which he was born. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be worthy of it, worthy of the love that had transformed his whole life. So he used the last bit of rockiness he had to try in his own way to show he was not kidding around about the work of love. The hope was the point.

The Diverse, Equitable, Inclusive Body of Christ - The Rev. Philip DeVaul

We may posture our objections to diversity, equity and inclusion as objections only to specific policies, we may say we are speaking on behalf of meritocracy. We may be sincere when we say these things. For most of my life I was a person who, in the name of meritocracy, spoke out against diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives. I wonder if it is coincidental that I tended to see all my own accomplishments as merited, while comfortably questioning the achievements of others – especially those that do not look, talk, or think like me.
There’s a lot to be said for the idea of merit. The problem has been, and continues to be, who decides who deserves something? Who sets the parameters for merit in our communities, in our country? The people who are already in power do and always have. Arguments for merit might have more teeth if we were operating on a level playing field. We are not. We never have been. This is not new, and it is not a problem unique to our time or place. Once, when Jesus was teaching in a way that asserted his own merit and authority, some around him muttered, “Isn’t he just the carpenter’s son?” Another person, when hearing of his rising prominence, asked rhetorically, “Has anything good ever come out of Nazareth?”
The implications are clear: We define merit based on the status quo and the existing structures of our culture – whether they are healthy or not. And Jesus seeks to subvert our status quo, to dismantle the existing structures that silence, marginalize, and harm large portions of our populace – even when those structures have been built in his name.

We Have Come to Believe - The Rev. Philip DeVaul

The Bible does not say that slavery is wrong. Slavery – the act of owning another human being – was a common occurrence in the cultures that are portrayed in the Bible. There are multiple descriptions as to how slaves should be treated, but there are no places in which slavery is condemned, neither outright nor implicitly.
Over time though, through interaction with Scriptures, in prayer, and in discussion with one another, Christians came to believe that slavery was in fact evil. I believe it is important to note that Christians did not come to this conclusion by finding some hidden biblical text that said, “Slavery is bad.” Christians came to this conclusion – far too slowly actually – by taking Jesus seriously in his description of how we are meant to treat one another, and by looking at the whole of his ministry. His was a ministry of humanization. Engaging in acts of dehumanization did not and does not reflect the heart of Christ.

When It's Legal - The Rev. Philip DeVaul

There are multiple places in which people might have stood up in Jesus’ defense. He did, after all, have friends, disciples, and followers. It is clear in the narrative they are scared, overwhelmed, and feel powerless. What would any one of their voices even do? What would happen to them if they spoke up? Retaliation is real.
Maybe some people watched cautiously, assuming that the processes put in place would be enough to curb injustice and save Jesus’ life. After all, the Roman Empire was imperfect, but it had laws. And their own Judean authorities could not all be on the same page, right? Some would have the courage to stand up and demand fairness and integrity. The peace brokered between Rome and Israel included checks and balances, didn’t they? Why speak up when they could just let the system work.
Still, some would stay silent out of something between apathy and complicity. The status quo may not be great, but at least they knew how to navigate it. At least they had found a way to function within it. Sometimes there will be some injustice. Sometimes innocence is ignored or misunderstood. And anyway, is anyone really innocent? If Jesus hadn’t done anything wrong at all, what did he have to be scared of? The Roman governor Pilate made a show of washing his hands. Sure he did. We all know sometimes you’re going to get your hands dirty. Sometimes that’s the cost of greatness.

Roommates - The Rev. Philip DeVaul

I was very nervous to share with Cory that I had become religious again. And he certainly was skeptical about it and had no problem sharing that with me. When eventually I decided to become a priest in the Episcopal Church, Cory said, “I have mixed feelings. I think you’ll be very good at it, but you’ll be leading people into a lie.” That was maybe the meanest thing he ever said to me. And when you think about it, it wasn’t actually all that mean. Tactless and insensitive, maybe. But heartfelt and honest and completely in keeping with years of our interactions. In fact, it was much less cruel than many things I had said to him in our time. I wasn’t even phased. “I know, man,” I said, “I know you think that. Thanks for saying I will be good at it.”
Cory once said that if he was right about there being nothing after you die, he would be very annoyed, because he’d like just a moment after death to know he was right. I love the audacity of that so much.
He asked to come to church with me a few times. He expressed desire to see me, as he said, “do my thing” once I had become a priest. He loved me, and was proud of me, and did not act like his feelings were mixed. And he continued trying to understand his own spirituality on his own terms. He explored and wondered and tried and thought and wrestled. I don’t know where he was with all this when he died, but I have no doubt he never stopped being curious and hopeful.

Formed for What - The Rev. Philip DeVaul

As we were coming home from church one Sunday, my mom commented excitedly about the pastor’s sermon. It was 1992 and the presidential race had been heating up. President George H.W. Bush was running for re-election and he had two opponents: the Democratic Governor of Arkansas Bill Clinton, and billionaire businessman H. Ross Perot, who ran as an independent. Bush had been relatively popular and at first looked like he’d be cruising to an easy win. But things took a turn, Perot’s run began to siphon some of Bush’s support, and the charismatic Clinton started to become a real threat. Clinton was hounded by mutliple scandals based on sexual indiscretions. He had also famously dodged the draft, avoiding service in the Vietnam War, and had admitted to once smoking pot – though he famously said he didn’t inhale.
Bush on the other hand was as straight-laced as they come, a decorated World War II veteran who had dedicated most of his adult life to civil service. And while he was also very intelligent and articulate, he suffered from a comparative lack of charisma and relatability. You could just tell he found the idea that this crass kid could beat him for the highest office in the land was unthinkable. He would never say that though. What he did say was that this contest was a matter of character more than policy or ideological differences. Character, he said. It was a careful way of saying, “Are you going to elect the draft-dodging, word-fudging, pot smoking, womanizing power abuser, or the patriotic war hero who has devoted his life to public service?”
Of course, we know what America chose.

Formed for What - The Rev. Philip DeVaul

As we were coming home from church one Sunday, my mom commented excitedly about the pastor’s sermon. It was 1992 and the presidential race had been heating up. President George H.W. Bush was running for re-election and he had two opponents: the Democratic Governor of Arkansas Bill Clinton, and billionaire businessman H. Ross Perot, who ran as an independent. Bush had been relatively popular and at first looked like he’d be cruising to an easy win. But things took a turn, Perot’s run began to siphon some of Bush’s support, and the charismatic Clinton started to become a real threat. Clinton was hounded by mutliple scandals based on sexual indiscretions. He had also famously dodged the draft, avoiding service in the Vietnam War, and had admitted to once smoking pot – though he famously said he didn’t inhale.
Bush on the other hand was as straight-laced as they come, a decorated World War II veteran who had dedicated most of his adult life to civil service. And while he was also very intelligent and articulate, he suffered from a comparative lack of charisma and relatability. You could just tell he found the idea that this crass kid could beat him for the highest office in the land was unthinkable. He would never say that though. What he did say was that this contest was a matter of character more than policy or ideological differences. Character, he said. It was a careful way of saying, “Are you going to elect the draft-dodging, word-fudging, pot smoking, womanizing power abuser, or the patriotic war hero who has devoted his life to public service?”
Of course, we know what America chose.

A Prayer for Social Justice - The Rev. Philip DeVaul

The truth is, some of the barriers we experience are systemic, and they create reason for suspicion and hatred. Sometimes suspicions and hatreds are not themselves the problem, but symptoms of more deeply rooted problems. If I support defunding your child’s school, if I refuse to recognize your gender identity and vote for laws that marginalize you, if I cheer the removal of laws that protect you from discrimination, I have no right to wonder why there is a barrier between us. I have no business pondering why we can’t just disagree and get along.
I have a responsibility to you. I believe that is present in this prayer and must not be overlooked. We are praying that God would move the hearts of the people of our land, that God would move our hearts. The idea being that we want God to help us truly see each other’s humanity and belonging in such a way that we work together to remove the barriers that separate us. This, then, does not have to be idealism: it is the practical application of the command to love your neighbor, to love your enemy. See the humanity in all in such a way that you are moved to tear down the cultural, societal, and socio-economic barriers that separate us.

Loving My Political Enemy - Part 5 - The Rev. Philip DeVaul

Speaking of loving your political enemy, I remember a conversation I had with a relative a few years back. They are a family member with whom I tend to vehemently disagree about political issues. One day they sent me a text out of the blue that said, “Do you think God really cares about income inequality?” First, I need to tell you – because it may not be obvious - that the question was asked with sincerity. They were curious about my opinion as a religious professional, and not just baiting me. They are Roman Catholic, and were trying to sort through something Pope Francis had said about inequality.
Secondly, I want to say, I think this is a great question. It’s the kind of question I think Christians should engage in and wrestle with: One that expresses curiosity about how God views what we’ve got going on down here.
I don’t have my text response anymore, so I can’t quote it verbatim. I will be sure to make myself sound much smarter and more articulate in the retelling. But I remember sitting with the question for a minute.  Do I think God cares if some people make more money than others? Do I think that income inequality is inherently anti-Christian? Well, no, I don’t think I do. And that was the first part of my response. Because I recognize the basic premise that different jobs have different levels of responsibility, impact, and skill requirements, and that different levels of income might reflect that reality. So fine, ok.
And while I was typing that response, I started thinking about our prayers.