My Macedonial Call

I had the privilege of co-leading an LGBTQ+ discussion organized by Desi Rainbow Parents and Allies on Zoom the other day.  This group was primarily made up of second-generation young people born of immigrant parents from India. 

Knowing that both co-leaders are from the Kerala Syrian Christian background and myself being a Christian clergy, many of the Zoom participants were young people and identified themselves as LGBTQ+ and belong to the Kerala Syrian Christian ethnic churches. They were looking for community, connection and an affirmation of their expressions of sexuality. 

As a parent of two second-generation children, let me share a few characteristics which apply to their cohorts. By and large, they grow up under tremendous pressure to be perfect and be a model minority. They are expected to perform at the top of their class and to land in careers which the parents themselves could not achieve due to lack of opportunity in India. Often, they hear parents saying, “We came to this country for you, to give you a better life.” They see them working hard in jobs often below their expertise or experience so that their children can excel. Closeting themselves to homes and their ethnic churches, parents understand that the neighborhood or society they live in as a distraction to their goal of raising trophy children at best, and at worst a bad influence on morals. For parents, even schools, the only exposure children have with the outside world, are considered a necessary evil to be tolerated. Weekends are usually devoted to more studies, ethnic community gatherings, and church on Sundays. Talking about sex at home is a taboo. And even having thoughts about sex is considered deviant. Parents seem at a loss when children reach their teens and become aware of their biological changes. Parents, ill-prepared to address the needs and concerns of their “rebellious” children, use the threat of sending them back to India if they don’t stay within the scope of parental discipline. 

For these young people, the ethnic churches are no oasis either. Transplanted to a different shore primarily to provide a spiritual home to the immigrant community and to offer worship services in the native language, these churches are hardly ready to support young people. Their needs are different from those of their parents. Are these transplanted churches and their pastors who are sent from India for a short time equipped to help the second generation in their psychosocial development and acculturation in this new society? I seriously doubt. Chief among their developmental concerns is how they navigate through the different parental, societal, cultural and religious mores relating to the “dos and don’ts” of sexual expression. The sexual expression (understood to be God ordained in the parent’s culture and church) is heterosexuality; and after marriage, everyone is assumed to be heterosexual, again as 'God intended.'  

The second-generation children, gifted in expressing their sexuality in other ways than the church norm, are thought to be ‘disordered’ or ‘broken.’ Parents, once they find out that their trophy children are ‘disordered’ or ‘broken,’ keep it as a secret if they can from their ever-prying fellow members of the church and family. Most children, not wanting to bring dishonor to their parents, often suffer their pain alone in secret and may even develop suicidal thoughts. Many lose their faith in the church and the God of their parents. 

During the zoom conversation, it was heartbreaking to hear the stories of these second-generation immigrants who had come out of the closet.  I applaud their courage to be who they are and to not give in to the pressure to be otherwise for the sake of cohesion and the appearance of uniformity. They appreciated seeing me, a clergy person from their background, and hearing me say, ‘they too are God’s beloved, their sexuality, too, is a gift from God, and that their identity is something that comes from God and not from their organized ethnic churches.’ 

I just hope and pray that the parents and families of these children accept them as they are and affirm their sexualities. These children should not become victims of prejudice or ignorance. It is my prayer that parents will choose their children over their unquestioned or unexamined faith. And I hope that Syrian Christian Kerala churches would wake up to its call to minister to the LGBTQ+ community.

Why Does The Risen Lord Still Show Wounds?

Sermon Preached at St. James' Church, New London on 

April 19, 2020

Alleluia, The Christ is Risen! 

The Lord is Risen indeed, Alleluia!

Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" John 20: 28

People often ask me, "How come, Koshy, you got an American last name?" I tell them that in the part of India where I am from, the name Mathew is as common a name as Smith is in the US, and that Mathew is not an American name but a Biblical name, and that Christianity came to India way before it ever came to the Americas.  Many of us may not be aware that just around the same time Paul and Peter brought Christianity to Rome and to the west, Thomas, the main character of our gospel lesson today, went to the southern part of India by sea and established the Christian Church.  It is called the Mar Thoma Church.  This church still follows the liturgy of St. James, the brother of our Lord Jesus Christ and the bishop of Jerusalem, used in AD 52, and up until recently, the whole liturgy was conducted in Aramaic, the spoken language of Jesus.  It used to be custom of Thomas Christians to name their children in Biblical names, and during the time England colonized India, Christians translated their names into English.  By the way, Koshy is also a Christian name, it means Jeshua or Jesus.  Well, now, today, you have a preacher named Jeshua Ben Mathai. Now that we have settled the issue of the name let us reflect on the gospel at hand.         

         How many of you were not in church last Sunday, the Easter Sunday? I mean on the Zoom church. Well, if you were not, don't feel embarrassed, guess who else was not in church, Thomas. So, you are in good company.  But poor Thomas gets a bum rap here. It is unfair that he is called the 'doubting one.'  All except Thomas were there in the house when Jesus made the first post-resurrection appearance. We don't know why Thomas was not there or where he was. Perhaps, Thomas wanted to be alone to mourn his loss. A week after, when he joined the rest, they told him about their experience of seeing the resurrected Jesus. But Thomas demanded to see Jesus on his own before he would believe any of what others say.  He just plainly said, "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe." All he wanted was to have the same experience the others had received. He was just like them. The other disciples also didn't believe it until they saw the risen Lord with the wounds and scars and all. For that matter, Thomas was like not just them, but he was also like us. Don't we all wish to see resurrected Jesus in person like those disciples, a first-hand experience? However, Thomas was the only one who expressed his desire in words. And for that, we call him somewhat self-righteously and judgmentally, Doubting Thomas. 

         Friends, Thomas identifies with us. Btw., do we know what his name, Thomas, means? It means The Twin; in Greek, it is Didymus. However, the gospel is silent on who was his twin. Let us fill in the blank.  Each one of us could easily claim to be Thomas' twin brother or sister.  It is a huge revelation for us. Honestly, aren't we also like Thomas? Aren't we like Thomas, a bit skeptical? I believe, like him, we too are seekers. We even personally hope to have a peek of Jesus to really believe. We demand, like our twin brother Thomas, to see the wounds of the sufferings that Jesus endured.

In demanding to trace his finger over the wounds of his Lord, Thomas was being neither petulant nor audacious; he was just being honest. He was being honest about his actual state of mind at a time of turmoil. Yes, perhaps, unlike the other disciples, he may be showing his real vulnerability. That is his nature. Remember, earlier in John's gospel, when Jesus assumed that the disciples knew the way to the place where Jesus was going, it was Thomas who said, "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" Thomas was a matter-of-fact guy.  He is a science person, very data-driven, so to speak. 

Perhaps, it appeared to Thomas that his fellow disciples were acting like giants of faith, displaying a cocksure certainty in the risen Lord, and probably feeling a little smug about themselves.  In the meantime, Thomas, our twin brother, representing all of us and fully baring his soul, perhaps, praying this prayer, "I believe, help my unbelief." This is a prayer for more faith. We all have faith, but at a time when "words of fear, retribution, and anger dominate the news and fill our ears, words of hope, forgiveness, and love seem an idle tale at worst and unbelievable at best." (Br. James Koester) We're amid a global pandemic which has already drastically changed the way we live, move, and have our being. It changed even the way we worship.  With so many lives lost around the world and in our country, with so many people are out of work. Our economy is in ruin, with the threat of a return of the pandemic in the coming months. With the fear that we may never go back to the way we live before, Thomas gives us permission to have doubt, and yet believe in the resurrection, and its message of hope, forgiveness, and love.   

         About faith and doubt, Thomas, our twin, is giving voice to the inadequacies of our faith. When things go wrong, and when we are amid death and decay, we struggle to express our faith authentically. For John, the empty tomb was enough to believe, for Mary Magdalene, hearing her name being called was enough to believe; for other disciples, it was the bodily appearance, but for Thomas, it was more tactile. For those of us who struggle with faith and doubt, Thomas gives us permission to trace the wounds of our Lord Jesus before making the big confession, "My Lord, my God." 

This pandemic has fully exposed the preexisting wounds and conditions of our society: racism, white supremacy, sexism, xenophobia, inequality, lack of access to health care, education, and housing, to name just a few. It has brought us ever closer to the wounds. Every time we watch the news from our places of isolation, the sights of these wounds are penetrating our souls. Easter this year is a tactile experience for us as it was for Thomas.   

The resurrected body of Jesus carries open wounds for a reason.  The risen body of Jesus with the scars, bruises, and wounds is an invitation to you and me is to touch, trace, engage, to be present, and to walk in solidarity with suffering humanity. We are feeling the wounds when we work with people, whether it is in our Lord's pantry in New London, or with our brothers and sisters in Goma in the Republic of Congo, or in El Salvador, Central America, or in India where Thomas went. And as we do, life emerges, and we cry out, with Thomas, "My Lord and My God." 

Easter Ahead

We saw a rainbow this morning, not in the sky, but on the trail, we take for our morning walk. The caption said, "Better Times R Ahead," pointing to the future.  We needed that after loading up on the news. The rainbow on the trail reminded me of a camera shot from the movie, Distant Thunder, by late Satyajit Ray. It is a movie about the great famine of 1943 in Bengal, India, a cataclysmic tragedy that wiped out over 3 million people. Arial shots of the scene panning over miles and miles villages laid in ruins with skeletons of humans and animals strewn on dusty grounds and parched fields showed the extent of devastation and human suffering. Finally, the camera found something resembling life. It zoomed in on a  little flower on a tiny plant grew out of the crack in a parched rice field, showing the inexorability of life.  Easter is inevitable.

As we live through this uncertain time, I am more and more drawn to the story of Jesus' first appearance to his disciples after the resurrection. Fearing authorities, the disciples, like fugitives, isolate themselves in a house behind locked doors. One could imagine their dread as Jesus enters their space and greets them, "Peace be with you."  Jesus eases their fears by showing his identity, the bodily wounds of his suffering, and as they begin to rejoice, he appoints them to their mission by breathing into them. Just as the breath of God brought life to the man formed of dust in the beginning, Jesus breathes into these few good-as-dead men for the work of God. Overcoming the deathly experience of Good Friday, Jesus pours into his disciples a new wind, the Ruah, the Spirit of God of Easter.

This period of desolation is unlike anything we have experienced in our lifetime.  What we are going through now is our collective exile. It may be the first time we have ever come face to face with our vulnerability. It may be the first time we have felt that we cannot bluff our way out of it. Our previously held notions that we are in charge or control of our destiny, or we are invincible, or that we are exceptional, or that we have the best system of governance, are all now so exposed, questioned, and challenged.  Collectively and individually, it is our moment of truth. Brought to our knees in this time of our desolation, let God breathe into us His Ruah and help us live again and thrive in the better days ahead of us.      

Bishop Barbara C. Harris

This morning I woke up to hear the sad news of the demise of Bishop Barbara C. Harris last night. I thought of her as my spiritual mentor.  She took a personal interest in seeing me become a priest in the church, and she advocated for me. It was she who ordained me as a deacon in 2001.  

My love and appreciation for the Episcopal Church grew more as  Diocese of Massachusetts displayed its grit in electing Barbara in 1988 to be consecrated as their suffragan Bishop in 1989 even in the face of the objection of the archbishop of Canterbury and the bishops of many provinces of Anglican Communion.  For them, still, today, ordaining a woman as a priest is too controversial, let alone consecrating one to be a bishop. I had the privilege of attending her historic consecration at the
Hynes Auditorium in Boston. It was under tight security, as there were death threats against her. Though she was urged to wear a bulletproof vest, she refused. As one can imagine, her consecration to be a bishop was about to usher in a significant sea change in the annals of church history.  As the first-ever female and, to boot, an African American, to become a bishop of an established church was, in her own words, "fresh winds blowing in the church, refreshing to some, frightening to others."

Over the years,  she kept in touch with me to see how I was doing. One of the things I am most grateful to her was that she accepted my invitation to come to St. Peter's in Phoenixville, where I was serving. I still remember the day she came to St. Peter's. It was one of the most bitter cold Sundays in January when our boiler gave out. Still, she preached and officiated at the table and then took off to DC, where she was to attend President Obama's first inaugural festivities in 2009.

With Bishop Harris at the last General Convention

She was a caring person.  When she found out that Susan, Manju, and I were going to South Africa to visit with Ranjit, who was doing an internship there, she helped us with funding our travel.  Three years ago, one day, she called me unexpectedly asking me to find about an inmate at Graterford Prison. For years Barbara had been in touch with this person, and then for some reason, the correspondence stopped.  She wanted me to find out as to what happened because she cared about him. Last time I saw her was at a side event during the General  Convention in Austin, Texas, where she was being honored for trailblazing ministry and advocacy for women and minorities.  She remembered to ask me about my family, especially about Ranjit and his ministry in Connecticut.

One thing I am most indebted to Barbara is her advice for me. I always like to hear her preaching. She was very down to earth and yet very profound, she found sacred even in the most profane. Her irreverent way of saying things endeared the hearts and minds of people and made them look at the Gospel in a fresh and life-giving manner. During my postulancy, one day after hearing her preached an amazing sermon, and I asked her whether she had any advice for me to be able to preach like her. With a smile on her face, she told me, 'Koshy, you will find your own voice."  I thank God for Barbara, for her courage, and for turning things upside down, for her advocacy for the marginalized, the lost, the least and the left out.
Barbara, I miss you. Hope to meet you one day up there.  

Super Tuesday Fallout

I am saddened to know that Elizabeth Warren has ended her candidacy for the Democratic Party's nomination on Thursday.  Super Tuesday results closed her progressive path for nomination.  With her exit, the Democratic Party's primary contest is now down to two white male septuagenarians.

In her absence, who would pick up the concerns and issues she raised,  and fight for it as passionately and relentlessly as she did on the campaign trail?   For her, having access to healthcare and education for working families in the US is a must and a right.  Her policies on both these issues, if implemented, would address the ever-widening inequality in the US.

From a faith perspective, inequality is also a moral issue. For the church, it is a cause that requires more than charity, but a problem that needs exploration as to why it persists in the US, a nation founded on Judeo Christian values.  It may get the church into controversial territory.
Late Roman Catholic Arch Bishop of Brazil, Dom Hélder Pessoa Câmara, says, "When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist."

The system in place favors the economically dominant in the world. By and large, they are WEIRD (Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, and Democratic) peoples of the world. Episcopal Bishop, C Andrew Doyle, in his book, Citizen: Faithful Discipleship in a Partisan World, cites from a published paper, "…Americans, as a subset of global citizens, are the weirdest of the WEIRD." The WEIRDs, who make up the system, on their own, are not going to share their privilege or what favors them to achieve equality.  They perceive reality differently from others.  Bible is clear on its indictment against those who make up systems, which stacked against the poor and vulnerable. "Woe to those who make unjust laws, to those who issue oppressive decrees, to deprive the poor their right and withhold justice from the oppressed of my people, making widows their prey and robbing the fatherless." Isaiah 10:1-2. Gospel envisions an egalitarian society, the hallmark of which is equality.

The policies Warren championed on and promoted through her candidacy, to name a couple, education, and healthcare. Addressing these two key issues alone would bring about a turnaround in an ever-widening inequality in the US. Now that we no longer have that candidate on the trail talking about the problems of the working poor and the marginalized, I hope that the remaining candidates would pick up her legacy and run with it.

My Lenten Journey

To me, this lent is unlike other lent of yesteryears because it is the first one in years I am not in charge of a congregation. With no congregation to lead in going through the rigors of Lenten disciplines, I'm now more self-conscious of what lent means personally for me. I begin my day by reading from SSJE's Signs of Life, specially written for Lent. It gives me something to meditate on the Word daily. Let me cite today's reading, "Life is lived right now, at this moment. That's an important reminder for all of us because we tend to think, "If just this would happen, then I would be happy." When we put a condition on our lives, we miss out on the present moment because we're waiting for something else to happen."

What does 'living in the present moment' mean? My nephew, Thommachen, just sent me on WhatsApp the picture of a beautiful sunrise taken from the back of his house in Kerala.  It is so beautiful and made me think of the hymn, 'The morning has broken like the first morning.' Yes, like the first morning at creation, not like the one with the ominous clouds of worry over the Corona Virus, which has now spread across the world, causing thousands of infections and hundreds of deaths. If I were to say I would appreciate the beauty of sunrise only if our leaders, dealing with the Corona Virus, were more transparent, and were more concerned about the human toll rather than its impact on the politics or the economy, then I have a long way to go to be happy. If I were to say I would wait to be happy till the political situation in India changes from being sectarian to back to secular, or the society reverts from being communal to communitarian, then it may take some time.  If I were to say I would wait to live in the present only if my ideal candidate would win the upcoming general election, then that day may not ever come.

Even while I await the ideal situation emerges, or the utopian vision realizes, or the Reign of God establishes, I must live fully in the present, manifesting that future I am hoping and praying for now. The season of Lent serves me as a metaphor for my wilderness journey from exile to the Reign of God.

On the Eve of Returning

Here I am on the eve of returning. ‘Returning where?’ one might ask. Home, of course. But where is home? When you have two places you can call home, how can going home can be returning? Well, that’s how I feel this evening. I genuinely call both India, where I was born and brought up till 23 years old, and the United States, the place where I lived 48 years and became myself, as my homes.

This belonging, I sense, is beyond citizenship, nationalism, and patriotism. The forces of nativism in both places deny and refuse you to experience and enjoy the duality of belonging. For them, it is an either-or proposition.   Lately, the dominant group in both my home countries is asserting itself to be exclusive. The United States, known for so long as a country of immigrants, is now making laws and building walls, restricting immigration of people from certain countries. And India, with a long history of embracing world civilizations, is now turning inward and taking an antagonistic attitude towards secularism.

In spite of this nativism and exclusivism, in both places, there are communities that embrace secularism and diversity.  For them unity is not uniformity and diversity is not division. You don't have to let go of who you are to belong to such an all-embracing community.

Well, after six months of being in such a loving community, we are heading to our other home community in Phoenixville, United States. It is going to be different from before because now I am retired and not in charge of a church. I am open to God's guidance and direction as to how I can be useful and productive.

Suitcases are packed, our apartment is mothballed, goodbyes are said, and now we are on the way to Cochin airport to catch our flight to Doha and then to Philadelphia.  Look forward to writing my reflections about our stay in India in my next blog.       

Leaving Behind and Taking On

The year 2020 began for us rather imperceptibly.  The excitements we are used to in the US in embracing a new year were absent for us this year in Kottayam. Everything here is church-centered. As most of our friends and family flocked to their respective churches for long mid-night masses (3 to4 hours), we went to bed early to be awakened shortly by Manju from California (13.5 hours behind us) to wish us Indian Happy New Year. It took a while for us to go back to sleep because of the celebratory fireworks from different nearby homes. We woke up late on New Year’s Day, and then took part by Skype in the celebrations of our children who live time zones three hours apart in the US. We sipped the champagne vicariously and proverbially.  As usual, Ranjit took the role of the provocateur, by asking all of us in the family Whatsapp group, “What is everybody going to leave behind in 2019?” 

It got me thinking. What is of 2019 am I going to leave behind? Like it or not, 2019 is behind us. For Susan and me, 2019 was a year of many changes. Following my retirement from parish ministry, we put our house on the market, moved to India, and took a temporary residence in a flat in Kottayam. We experienced so much joy and love throughout in 2019, and we thank God.  In our new place, we made new friends and found new avenues for ministry.  We were inducted into the Senior Citizen’s Forum, a distinguished group of individuals, now retired from active vocations, but continue to be influential in society. Having re-established my relationship with the CMS College, my alma mater, the college asked me to serve as an English worship leader at the chapel on Mondays.  All of these are good.  One thing I leave behind is my disappointment over the denial of membership in a local Mar Thoma Church. It is hurtful for me not to be officially part of the church of my birth, baptism, and confirmation because I am an Episcopal Clergy.  How can I leave that behind knowing that both the Mar Thoma Church and the Episcopal Church, USA are in full communion since 1979? However, I must leave that behind and not let that bother me. 

On what is to leave behind, members of our family group identified fears, anxieties, negative thoughts. Procrastination, expectations, and of course, the proverbial pounds (bodyweight). It appears to me that ‘fear’ is the underlying cause, and the rest are just presenting symptoms. Fear prevents us from acting on God’s call to us.  God continues to push the envelope on us because God knows that we are capable of achieving more in life.  Gripped by fear, we procrastinate, develop negative thoughts, and justify that our expectations are too unrealistic.   However, Jesus continues to call us to live fearlessly and encourage us to dive deep into the depths of our existence. Let this prayer by Francis Drake be our prayer for the New Year,

“Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly, to venture on wilder seas, where storms will show your mastery, where losing sight of land we shall find the stars.”  

O God, as we set out on following your call this year, may we experience your peace and confidence throughout and may we never let our eyes from you. Amen.

Below are pics from Senior Citizens Forum Meeting, CMS College Chapel,and from being with friends.