September/ Septiembre, 11, 2011 Mass Bilingual/ Misa Bilingue The Rev. Melissa Campbell-Langdell   I remember. Perhaps you do, too. Uds. probablemente recuerdan el día. My radio was my alarm during college in Poughkeepsie, NY and I heard about the plane going into one tower, then a second. Mencionaron en la radio que el avión había chocado primero con una torre, y después una segunda. At first I thought it was some strange joke but I realized belatedly that it really wasn’t. Después, mencionaron a los aviones volando hasta el pentágono. Then we heard about the planes headed to DC. I called my parents to warn them to stay out of the city—if they were hitting NY and DC, LA might be next. But it wasn’t. Después, todos estaban mirando el televisor todo el día; we watched the TV and asked where we could give blood, but it turned out there was no one to give blood to. The sense of violation was followed by a rush of patriotism. Había banderas en todos los lugares—I especially remember the flags everywhere—flags all over lawns, banderas en los carros, flags especially prominent on the few Muslim-owned businesses in town. And then the loss in the wars since—the valor and the loss. Valiente, pero también unas perdidas grandes. Readings like the Exodus passage speak to the joy we feel when we feel oppressed and we strive to win, knowing that God is on our side. Lecturas como la lectura en Éxodo nos hacen recordar cómo se siente la gente oprimida, y cuanto necesitan sentir un éxito sobre un enemigo. The Jews had faced so much, that they needed a victory. But then I read Paul telling me not to judge. And I picked up this passage in an Interfaith Reflections book, a passage that spoke to forgiveness from Islam. Después de escuchar de San Pablo de no juzgar, ví un pasaje de Islam. Uno preguntó/ One asked: “My Lord, who is the greatest of Thy servants in thy estimation?” And received the reply, “The one who forgives when he is in a position of power.”[1]  Él que perdone desde su posición de poder. And who in the world has a position of power like the US?   ¿Hay una nación más poderosa ahora que los EEUU? But let me back up a bit, because I don’t want to present an easy solution. As Sheila Cassidy, a woman who was tortured during the regime in Chile said, una mujer quien fue torturada en Chile dijó:  “Nunca diría a alguien “tienes que perdonar.’” / I would never tell someone ‘you must forgive.’ I would not dare.” / Nunca me atrevería jamás… solo puedo decir, ‘Cuanto hemos sido maltratados, cuando justificamos nuestra ira, si lo queremos, nos va a envenenar. / She said, “’However much we have been wronged, however justified our hatred, if we cherish it, it will poison us. We must pray for the power to forgive, for it is in forgiving that we are healed.’” / El perdonar, somos sanados.[2] In forgiving, we are healed. Not as much in rattling our tambourines in the victory, although there are moments for that, but in being merciful to others even as the father is merciful to us. Pero en perdonar, no estamos diciendo que lo que paso fue bien. Bill Countryman remarks on a habit we have in the US. When someone wrongs us and says they are sorry, we say “It’s OK.” Well, frankly, it’s not. No está bien si alguien hace algo malo.  Forgiveness, at its best, actually allows us to take back the reins, to say, that was not OK, but I am going to lay this aside, for my well-being and for the world, because I don’t want hate to poison me. No quiero que el odio me envenene. I want to be free. Dar el perdón dice que lo que paso fue mal, pero voy a tomar la situación en mano y voy a perdonar para librarme a mí y ayudar que la paz venga al mundo. Countryman suggests that it is vital to say “I forgive you,” not “It’s OK,” because you claim your moral authority. Es clave decir “Te perdono” en vez de “Esta bien” porque en hacer esto está tomando en mano su autoridad moral.[3] And as a country, we are trapped right now. Every time we are in an airport and we see alert signs. Cada vez que vemos algo sobre terrorismo en el periódico. But it all seems bigger than us, so how can we do something to respond? I think as communities of faith we can acknowledge the evils that have been committed and still work for reconciliation in our communities. La paz empieza con nosotros y como comunidades de fe podemos mostrar un poco sobre la reconciliación. Let me give an example of this. I read in a recent Sojourner’s magazine about a church in Tennessee that found out that its Muslim neighbors didn’t have a place to spend Ramadan because their mosque was in construction. La comunidad musulmana en una ciudad en Tennesssee no tenía un lugar para orar durante su tiempo más sagrado.  So the congregation of Heartsong Church invited them in. But they only did so because they had built a relationship that looked beyond easy categorization. They weren’t giving up their Christian faith. Ellos no estaban dejando al lado su fe cristiano. No. As the pastor said, “Jesus told us to love our neighbors. These people are actually our neighbors.” El respondió con un verdadero amor para sus vecinos, respondiendo a que Jesús nos preguntó amar a nuestro vecino como a nosotros mismos.[4] This isn’t an easy solution. How to love in Oxnard, and still honor the dead of that day, is a hard question. Es difícil ver cómo reaccionar al 9/11 y tratar de sembrar la paz en Oxnard.  Maya Angelou gave me a place to start when she talked about an ancient Roman black slave who became a playwright the other night. His name was Terence. Era un esclavo Africano en el imperio romano y escribió obras de teatro. And he said “I am a human being, and nothing human can be alien to me.”   “Soy humano y ningún humano puede ser extraterrestre o extranjero para mí.” Nothing human is alien to me. Angelou said that this means that if we see someone do something awful, we cannot say “I could never do that” because we are human. She said we could say “I will try never to do that” but we have that possibility in us because we are human.  At the same time, anything good that we see, we cannot say we cannot attain to it, because we are human like the best of humanity.[5]  Cada cosa, si mala o Buena, si tenemos esto en nosotros, una capacidad de hacerlo, por ser humano también. Pero esto nos da compasión.   But this understanding gives us compassion. And with compassion we can free ourselves from the slavery of feeling hateful and wronged and begin to say, No, it’s not OK, but we can have a different world. Con compasión, podemos liberarnos de la prisión de sentir maltratados y dañados y decir, nosotros podemos crecer un mundo diferente. As Angelou also likes to say, we can be the Rainbows in another’s grey clouds—nosotros podemos ser los arco irises en los nubes oscuros de otra persona.[6]  That’s a bit of what we will be celebrating in talking about life and gifts in our potluck today.  Esto es un poco sobre lo que estamos celebrando en nuestra comida hoy día.  So be it. Amen. [1] Hadith of Baihaqi, from University Religious Conference of Santa Barbara’s Interfaith Inspirations. [2] Sheila Cassidy, from “Seventy times Seven,” The Tablet, March 2, 1991 with thanks to Suzanne Guthrie, www.edgeofenclosure.org (Proper 19 A). [3] L. William Countryman, Forgiven and Forgiving, 26-29. [4] Bob Smietana, “Peace be Upon them,” Sojourners, Sept-Oct 2011. [5] Paraphrased from “An Evening with Maya Angelou,” Arlington Theatre, Sept 9, 2011. [6] Ibid.