Bridging the broken

May 20, 2016 / By Cathy Stengel

It has truly been a gift to have been here these nearly two weeks for General Conference.  I have heard people from African Central Conferences guide those of us who come from the United States.  Their world, their cultures are so different from ours, and they desire to be in partnership with us in so many ways.  We have been at worship; we have held hands and been in prayer,;we have walked and ridden the streets of Portland, eaten in restaurants, shopped.....often recognizing the strangers among us by the telltale name badges we wear.

The bridge I spoke of in my earlier post is here again, a different view.  I am experiencing a change in mood and spirit after yesterday.  It feels less anxious, less angry, less intense. The issues are still serious and very important - but it feels as though that center section of the bridge is coming down, coming down into the place where people can pass respectfully from side to side, walking together, or passing each other on their way to different destinations.

However - we have so far to go. I just walked out of the plenary session. We had just celebrated 60 years of the ordination of women. I came up behind two white men and a white woman. The young woman was walking behind the two men. The older of the two men turned and said: "As it should be, the woman walking behind two white men.  That's what I like."  I stepped a little forward, near the young woman, smiling, and said, "Excuse me, are you just being funny?  Lots of people can hear what you are saying." His response - "Good, I was hoping lots of people heard me.  That's the way I intended it to be; I am sick of trying to be politically correct." Off they went, the two men charging ahead of the young woman. 

We are all on a journey - and I don't pretend to know this man, or his story, or his angst.  I just know that this young woman could be my daughter, your daughter, or some young woman we don't even know.  It's a hurtful and confusing message to anyone, but especially younger women who may struggle to step up and speak, as I did. 

These have been days and now weeks that have brought out the very best in us, and seems to have also created hurt that fires back at the most unsuspecting passerby. 

We heard last night, as we honored, prayed about, and bore responsibility for the massacre at Sand Creek, that none of us is immune to the kind of harm that others do.  We are always just one bit of life away from hurting someone, or many someones. 

And so I pray, as I walk down to the river...that we might be washed and transformed, that we might hear ourselves and others, that we might honor on this journey.  Even if it's only one quarter crank at a time, let's bring that bridge down so that we can walk together in peace, in justice, in grace.  May the words of MY mouth and the meditations of MY heart be acceptable in God's sight.