On this Indigenous People’s Sunday, I want to start by saying the name of Byron Buffalo who has been with the ancestors for two years. And I want to say the name of Toni Buffalo and Marlene Whiterabbit Helgemo. All three and many others have been my teachers and elders on my ongoing journey toward reckoning with the legacy of being a white settler Christian in this land. I say their names because I want to begin with the sacredness of relationship. Healing and repair are rooted in the sacredness of relationship.
And I’ve heard my queer ancestors—who used camp and outrageous humor as powerful weapons of transformation. I’ve been thinking a lot about the height of the AIDS pandemic when folx were dying and there was no treatment, let alone a cure and yet there was a fabulousness of resistance- like putting a giant condom over Jesse Helms house. Yes, the queer ancestors have been speaking to me.
As I thought about what I would share for the update about what the Lyndale UCC community has been doing for the last almost exactly six months since last we worshiped together at SpringHouse, one of the songs from Rent kept going through my head.