Preaching with a Heart in My Pocket
Rev. Kerri Parker, Executive Director
During Holy Week, I had an opportunity to join the Greater Milwaukee Synod ELCA for the Chrism Mass, where participants renewed their baptismal promises and rostered leaders renewed their ordination vows. Since Bishop Erickson had invited me to preach, it was an early morning making my way to Bay Shore Lutheran Church to acquaint myself with the sanctuary and plans for the service. Once we had discussed logistics, he beckoned me over to the sacristy. “I have a gift for you,” he said. “How many people are on your team?”
He proceeded to give me seven carved olive wood hearts. I opened my hands to receive them, cradling them in two joined palms. These hearts were made by Palestinian artisans. They were blessed in a worship service on the Feast of the Holy Innocents, representing some of over 13,000 children to have died in Gaza. When the service was held there were 8000 hearts laid on shrouds on the sanctuary floor and blessed, for 8000 children estimated to have died at that time. The number keeps growing.
Seven olive wood hearts held in my palms, tiny and heavy at the same time. Filled with the weight of so much strife. How should these short lives have to bear the burden of war and terror, bombs shipped halfway around the world, food stopped miles from where they reside, a sea of undrinkable water, desert, and destruction all around?
I am a Christian preacher in Resurrection season. I believe in New Life and the promises of Divine Love overcoming the powers of death. To do so means I always have a heart tucked in my pocket, the beating heart of God’s hopes for the world. Ancient olive trees, and songs, and children brought to the center of the gathering. The hope that those who raise the vines and trees will be able to tend them. That wolf and lamb can coexist. That creating scapegoatsis a fruitless enterprise. That hope lies in creating community and in persistent presence with one another, and in faithfulness to our promises.
At my installation as Executive Director of the Wisconsin Council of Churches, we sang a song of peace for the world. It was long. We sang it anyway, naming country after country, place after place, and praying our blessing in song. You could feel the Spirit’s presence building in the room. Peace, Jesus breathes to his dear ones. Not as the world gives.
Our work for peace is not always out-front and highly visible. Sometimes it is weaving people together, telling stories, inviting people into secure spaces, and making room for reflection. Wherever and however you work for peace – in a pulpit, through letters and statements, at vigils, in dialogue, by pressing those in power – do it with love. Be a peacebuilder with a heart in your pocket. Breathe. Sing the long song.
