#my grandma would always get my sister and i the books or print off individual coloring sheets for us to color in so this was weirdly

[marblerose-rue]

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fire alone can save our clan. bye! *sound of lps feet clacking away*

[gracewithducks]

Faith in Action (James 2:1-10, 14-20)

My husband Mike never had any sisters. And even though he lived through the nineties, as far as I know, his own hair was never long enough for a ponytail… and given that he shaves his head, he certainly isn’t wearing any fancy hairstyles these days.

 All of which is to say that, when I learned this week that he didn’t know how to braid, I was caught off-guard – but not really all that surprised. When you grow up with long hair, braiding is a life skill. When you spend your summers at camp making friendship bracelets, you learn at least seventeen different ways to make a braid.

 But when you grow up with a buzz cut, when you grow up playing football and spend your summers running drills, braiding is apparently not a priority life skill.

 Even these days, when he helps with our daughters’ hair, Mike can do a pretty passable ponytail… but he leaves braiding to grandma Cathy and to me.

 Unless you remember learning to braid yourself – or even perhaps if you’ve made it this far without ever learning – you may not realize just how complicated it can be.

 Discovering Mike’s lack of life skills in this area reminded me about another dad who tells the story of braiding his daughter’s hair for the first time. He’d seen it braided; he knew what a braid looked like, and he figured, “How hard can it be?” So he took her hair, and split it into two sections, and started trying to twist those sections together. The thing is, no matter what he did, the twists never made a braid. And no matter how tightly he wound those sections round and round, his “braid” just kept falling apart.

 It fell apart, because there was a piece missing. A braid requires three sections, not two. Something so simple, so ordinary – but when you’re making a braid, without that missing piece, it all just unravels no matter how hard you try.

 And in so many ways, our faith is the same way. Too often, the way we talk about faith and the way we think about faith is, we talk and we act like our faith is just something between us and God. Even the question – “Have you accepted Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior” – it makes it sound like my faith is about this transaction between God and me. And while our faith is indeed profoundly personal, if that’s all it is – something private, that I keep hidden in my heart – then I’m missing a very important piece. And much like that guy who tried to braid with just two strands, pretty quickly, it’s going to unravel and fall apart.

 My faith isn’t just about me and God; my faith is about me, and God – and other people, too. That’s why, when God calls Abraham, God doesn’t just say, “I will bless you,” but God says, “I will bless you, and through you, all the families of the world will be blessed.” It’s why, when God brings the Hebrews out of slavery and into the Promised Land, God doesn’t just give them measurements for a temple and rules on how to pray, but God gives them rules for living together, rules that are made to protect every member of the community and to make sure that greed or power or prejudice never allow anyone to get taken advantage of. It’s why Jesus didn’t just call individuals but he gathered a community – and why, when he’s asked about the most important commandment, he offers two: “Love the Lord your God” and “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.”

 And the apostle James says it this way: “Faith, without works, is dead.”

 Our faith isn’t just about us. And our faith isn’t just about punching our ticket to heaven someday. Our faith is about how we live in the world, how we live together, how we care about and treat other people here and now. Without that piece, our faith doesn’t make sense; it quickly unravels all around.

 We’re spending this month with the letter of James, and while James believes in grace – in the good news that God’s love is given freely – James is also a firm and relentless advocate of the idea that how we live matters. Our faith is meant to be lived. I remember growing up and hearing my youth group leader say it this way: “If your faith was just about getting yourself to heaven, then God would take you to heaven as soon as you put your faith in Christ. But God leaves us here, because our faith is bigger than ourselves. It’s so much bigger than when we die, but God cares about how we live.”

 Our faith is meant to be lived, says James. And living faith is faith in action in the world. And if you look at what James has to say, his vision of active faith, it’s inherently linked to justice and compassion. If you say you have faith, he says, but you don’t welcome the stranger – or if you welcome the stranger, but you prefer the rich stranger, the familiar stranger, the one who might pay you back for your kindness, the one who doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable or go too far out of your way – then you’ve missed the point. If you say that God loves everyone, if you preach that all are welcome, then you’d better learn to act like it.

 And James puts some skin in the game; he gets specific – perhaps because he’s heard of churches that are separating themselves, that are dividing among themselves along economic lines, that act like some are more welcome and more equal than others. Really, we’re just as guilty of it today: when we talk about welcoming new members, about wanting more people to join our community, we may never say it aloud, but what we’re really hoping for are people who look like us, who speak our language, who dress like us, whose hygiene habits don’t unnerve us, and who hopefully will be able to help contribute to our ministry costs. We may think we welcome everyone… but somewhere inside our minds and our hearts, if we’re honest, we each have our own fine print.

 James says, if you prefer the rich to the poor, the clean to the dirty – then you’ve missed the point. Jesus came especially to help those who are struggling, who are overwhelmed and desperate – and if we’re going to proclaim the message of Jesus, we shouldn’t be surprised if it resonates with the people whom nobody else wants around. But so often, it’s in those encounters that make us uncomfortable, that push us where we’d rather not go, that put us together with people we’d never otherwise meet – it’s in those encounters that we not only get to share grace but we find God’s grace most profoundly revealed to us, too.

 Loving people isn’t always pleasant or easy – but then, love makes you do things you otherwise never would. Thank the Lord for all the people who’ve loved us when it wasn’t easy or convenient! Once upon a time, someone spent sleepless nights for your sake – someone spooned food into your mouth and wiped your nose and changed your diapers, and in return, you colored on their walls and puked on their shoes… and they kept on loving you, even though you were one big rude selfish smelly mess.

 That’s love. We do things for our children, for our parents, for our families, we make sacrifices, because we love them. That’s what love in action looks like: and it’s a lot more than flowery words. It’s messy. It’s unpleasant. And it’s worth it.

 We keep loving our families, even when we might rather walk the other way. But Jesus demands us to think bigger: to realize that we will never ever meet anyone who is not a part of God’s family. Everyone you meet is a beloved child of God: the cashier at the store, the driver who cuts you off, the man who disagrees with your politics, the woman with the sign by the side of the road. Everyone. You will never look into the face of someone Jesus doesn’t love enough to give up everything for.

 And if we are his disciples, we love as he loves. He ate with lepers and tax collectors, with madmen and prostitutes, with foreigners and outcasts. He loved them all. And it shocked and appalled the nice, respectable religious leaders – but Jesus knew that simply treating someone like a human being, like they’re worth your time, worth really seeing, worth listening to – when we’re loved like that, especially if we never have been, that kind of love has the power to change how we see ourselves. That’s where resurrections happen, where new life begins.

 This is how we follow Jesus: by loving as he loves, not in words but in action, by loving in concrete ways. Real faith, says James, is faith that feeds the hungry, that clothes the naked, that befriends the outcast, and defends the powerless, and welcomes the unlovely – and shows them they are loved.

 Working in the world for mercy, for peace, for justice, that’s not a distraction from our faith, it’s not an optional addition to our faith: it’s at the heart of our faith. Because working for mercy and for peace and for justice is at the heart of what Jesus was all about. I saw a post recently by a priest in Minneapolis named Marcus Halley, who says, “They ask me, ‘Is this a social justice church?’ And to me, that’s like asking, ‘Is this a book library?’ or ‘Is this a food grocery store?’” How we live together – how we work for compassion, for justice, for everyone – it’s a necessary part of who we are and who God is. And without it, the gospel message starts to fall apart.

 Faith without works is dead, says James. But the good news at the heart of our faith is that ours is a God who has overcome death – and even dead faith can be raised to new life. It’s never too late. The Holy Spirit renews us again and again.

 One of the things I love about this church is that it’s full of people who “get it” – who look for ways to love God by loving others. We may not always get it right, but we try, and we keep trying. Even just over the past few months, we’ve had a day of service here in our community, planting flowers with nursing home residents, and helping at the Habitat for Humanity restore, and making pillowcases for local children in need. We’ve collected backpacks and school supplies so that, inasmuch as it’s up to us, every kid gets to start the school year knowing that someone believes in them enough to invest in their future. We’ve extended our space to students catching up on their high school credits, to addicts working to stay sober, to mothers advocating to end gun violence. We’ve baked lasagna and served spaghetti so that our neighbors can get health care and a fresh start. We’ve given to help support the churches working to get clean water to the residents of Flint, and to support our friends navigating the immigration system... And we’ve loved each other through some difficult days of grief and loss, too.

 Our faith is working. But we’re not done yet. As we begin this new year, may we recommit to being a people who put our faith in action. It starts simple: looking people in the eye. Treating them as you’d like to be treated. Greeting your neighbors. Holding the door. It gets bigger: helping to end hunger, volunteering in classrooms, advocating for justice – never forgetting that we are all connected, and our faith is so much bigger than ourselves.

 I don’t know where God is calling you this year. But I know that God is calling you: to grow in faith, and to grow in love, and to put your faith and love to work.

 May we show our faith by our actions. And may they know us by our love.

  O God, it’s so much easier to speak about hospitality and compassion, about justice and mercy, than to live them out. Help us to put our faith in action; in Christ’s name. Amen.

[multiracialmedia-blog]

Ask Lisa: Advice for the Multiracial Community #1

Today we begin a new advice column, which will address itself to issues confronting those in the Multiracial Community.  Our advice columnist is Lisa Rosenberg, a Licensed Clinical Social Worker in private practice since 1999. Lisa is multiracial—black/white—and specializes in counseling multiracial families, couples and individuals including issues related to transracial adoption.

Do you have a question?

Ask Lisa

And, with that, let’s begin:

Dear Lisa,

Please help me understand why my daughter-in-law, who is as white as I am, thinks I am racist. I admit that my husband and I live in a town and attend a church that is mostly white, but we are politically liberal and believe that all people are equal in God’s eyes, no matter what color they are.

Four years ago my son and his wife adopted a beautiful little girl from China. My husband was skeptical of their adopting a child of another race, but I reassured him that it would be fine, seeing as the child would be raised in our son’s family and so would be just like our other grandchildren.

This has turned out to be very much the case. I am very close to my granddaughter and consider her my own blood, even if she is not. Well, this past Christmas, I guess I really put my foot in it, though I do not understand how or why. Wanting to let my daughter-in-law know how I felt about my granddaughter, I said “I love her so much I barely notice she that is Chinese anymore.” My daughter-in-law was furious with me, called me racist and would not explain what was wrong with what I said. My son is no help. He just told me to let his wife cool down and everything will be fine. What is wrong with what I said?

-Hurt Grandma wants to learn.

Dear Hurt,

I can tell you love your granddaughter very much, but why shouldn’t you notice that she’s Chinese? She is Chinese and that’s one of the wonderful things that makes her special. Your statement implies that being Chinese is something to be overcome with the help of love. Can you love your granddaughter because of—rather than despite—her differences?

I counsel all parents (and grandparents!) welcoming a child from another country, or of another race, to embrace the child’s culture and incorporate it into the family. When their daughter came home, your son and his wife stopped being a white couple and became an interracial family. Chinese is a part of their identity and now yours as well. You owe it to your granddaughter to learn something about the province she comes from, about the history and about the food.

Also, read books for parents adopting children of different races, as your son and his wife probably have, to understand how to make your transracially adopted granddaughter feel accepted, confident and proud of who she is.

***

Dear Lisa,

I am biracial (white, British mom and black, Kenyan father) and will soon be marrying an African American woman whom I love deeply. The problem is, she insists that we include the American Slave tradition of “jumping the broom” in our wedding. I am not comfortable with this practice, as I feel it is demeaning and connects us to a slave culture that should be left in the past. Since my African heritage comes from my dad who is Kenyan, American slavery is not part of my personal heritage. How can I convince my bride-to-be that our wedding should be about us and not archaic traditions that do nothing to elevate the relationships of people of color?

–Broomless Groom

Dear Broomless,

You say you love your fiancée deeply, yet you seem very quick to disparage a tradition she holds dear. Though there is some debate about the exact origin of Jumping the Broom, most agree that it is one of the few West African practices that American slaves were able to preserve. Many American blacks view it as a beautiful a way to honor ancestors and celebrate the survival of a brutalized, denigrated people. Ask your fiancée to talk about what the ritual means to her and to her family. Then share one of your own family’s traditions which you would like to include in the ceremony.

Though some might not consider you and your fiancée an interracial couple, you come from vastly different cultures. To make this marriage work long-term, you will need to create a joint culture in your home that celebrates both your families. Learn about each other’s family customs (I hope you have done this already!) and figure out how to keep the most cherished ones alive. This will sustain you as a couple and will be of enormous value to your future children.

My wedding gift to the two of you is one word: dialogue. If you can share your viewpoints—about culture, traditions and everything else—if you can listen to each other with open minds and hearts, your union will thrive.

***

Dear Lisa

This is the latest chapter in the ongoing feud between myself and my younger sister. We are both mixed-race and were raised by our white mother in a largely black neighborhood. For reasons that I won’t get into, my sister (who is actually several shades darker-skinned than I am) has always identified more with our mother’s Scotch-Irish heritage than with our father’s African-American heritage. I am much more connected to my black ancestors than she is. Not surprisingly, her husband is white and mine is black.

On Christmas, when I off-handedly referred to my six-year-old son as biracial, my sister lit into me, saying that he can’t be biracial if he is three-quarters black. She says that to “count” as mixed-race, you have to be half and half like we are, and have two parents of different races. On the other hand, she insists that her three children, who are ¾ white, DO count as mixed only because appearance-wise they cannot pass for white. I got through Christmas, but I haven’t spoken to her since. My husband, who considers all of us BLACK, period, says to let it go: what do I care how my sister categorizes our boy? But I am still angry. I think my sister is being exclusionary and elitist. How do I explain to her that it is my son’s right to identify however he pleases?

–Mad Sis

Dear Mad,

What about just telling your sister that it is your son’s right to identify however he pleases?

Of course, I suspect you are looking for something more than that—some advice to ease the complex dynamic between you and Sis? You mentioned quite a few things that I would want to explore if I were seeing the two of you for family therapy. Most significantly:

1) The skin color difference between the two of you. Did being different shades of brown have an impact on your sibling relationship as well as your identity in general? Did being lighter-skinned in a largely black neighborhood put pressure on you to identify more with your black heritage? Likewise, did being darker make your sister work harder to identify with your mother?

2) Fractions. You mention that your sister’s children are ¾ white and she notes that yours are ¾ black, where you and your sister are ½ and ½. If you were in my office, I would ask whether people in your family routinely identify multiracial people in fractions and what that means to you.

3) If your husband identifies all of you as “black, period,” what conversations do you have with him about racial identification (you referred to yourself as mixed-race and your son as biracial)? Does he object to your referring to your son as biracial?

In any case, it would be great if you and your sister could have a few sessions with a credentialed family therapist to talk over your relationship and shared multiracial heritage. That said, right now I would let your sister know exactly why you are angry. Is it that she implied that her children “counted” more than your son because of their genetic make-up? Do you feel she is denying your son’s connection with your mother’s Scotch-Irish roots? It may be helpful to write out everything that is bothering you and then talk over the main points with her when you are both feeling calm.

—

The advice offered in this column is intended for informational purposes only. Use of this column is not intended to replace or substitute for any professional advice. If you have specific concerns or a situation in which you require professional, psychological or medical help, you should consult with an appropriately trained and qualified specialist.

The opinions or views expressed in this column are not intended to treat or diagnose; nor are they meant to replace the treatment and care that you may be receiving from a licensed professional, physician or mental health professional. This column, its author, and this website (multiracialmedia.com) and their individual and/or collective employees, representatives, agents, principals, members, successors and/or assigns are not responsible for the outcome or results of following any advice in any given situation. You, and only you, are completely responsible for your actions.

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