What Are We Looking At?
A Sermon on Occupy Wall Street

Silly hippies! No, not just silly, but undisciplined, with more than a bit of attention-seeking exhibitionism thrown in! And not just that, but dangerous too!

In other words, no one is quite sure what to make of them. I'm talking, of course, about the Occupy Wall Street movement - which is now growing far beyond Wall Street. No one is quite sure what exactly we are looking at. But everyone has an opinion, most of which have not been all that favorable. And I'm not just speaking about what FOX news has to say. No, the criticisms are being leveled - somewhat surprisingly - from both the right and the left. And while I've frankly found most of those criticisms silly themselves, two in particular seem worth our attention and thought - especially as religious people.

The first comes from the Left - from those who you'd think would have been immediate and unanimous cheerleaders. This is what I call the "GET RID OF THE KITCHEN SINK CROWD" and it is usually voiced by veteran activists, those who marched for civil rights or against the Vietnam war, or long-time union organizers. And to be fair, one must say that their's is intended as "constructive criticism" - even if the implicit condescension is barely veiled. It most often goes something like this: "We're so glad you're out there kids" - imagine here a self-designated responsible adult patting a little child on the head, "We so admire your spunk, but to be effective you've really got to focus your demands. A grocery list of grievances just won't do. Real change happens only when you put your collective power behind a few carefully chosen goals."

And yet, here's the interesting thing: so far these so-called naive kids and newbie activists have politely thanked their well-meaning mentors and - in effect - said, "That's ok, we're doing fine with the ways things are" - with the way things are being signs and speaking out against everything from unaccountable corporations to environmental exploitation to unjustifiable war spending to the scapegoating of teachers and unions. A favorite sign of mine gets at this refusal to pick just a couple demands. It reads: "We're Not Disorganized; American Just has Too many Problems!" Indeed this refusal to narrow is one of the more curious pieces of this entire thing. And we'll come back to it later.

But there's also the second major criticism. This one from the right, and it's probably best expressed by well-known New York Times Conservative columnist David Brooks. He too frames the protesters as juvenile, but for him their childish move lies in the way they are treating things as a simplistic Harry Potter-like battle between "the evil few and "the innocent, virtuous many." Taking aim at the Occupy Wall Street's primary slogan, "WE ARE THE 99%," he writes, "This slogan allows the protesters to think very highly of themselves and believe that all their problems are caused by the nefarious elite. Unfortunately, almost no problem can be productively conceived in this way. A group that divides the world between the pure 99 percent and the evil 1 percent will have nothing to say about education reform, Medicare reform, tax reform, wage stagnation or polarization. They will have nothing to say about the way ALL Americans have overconsumed and overborrowed. These are problems that implicate a much broader swath of society than the top 1 percent. ...If you think all problems flow from a small sliver of American society, then all your solutions are going to be small.. It's about changing behavior from top to bottom. Let's occupy ourselves."

And while Brooks himself doesn't go on to say this, his conservative colleagues have expanded this line of argument to frame the Occupiers as dangerous. When a large group paints itself as innocent and pure, they point out, it doesn't take much for them to justify violence. Just watch, says this camp, it's only a matter of time before this hippie love fest turns into an angry mob that starts pulling Wall Street bankers from their cars and enacts their own form of vigilante justice.

And here's where that thing I said about us being religious people comes in. Because, as we know, all the great religions warn us of such simplistic scapegoating. What's that famous quote? "If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being." So - without a doubt - we need to take this critique seriously. And watch for it carefully. And urge against it.

But maybe not watch for it too hard. Or any of these expected criticisms too hard. Or else we end up seeing what others want us to see rather than what might be entirely new about this movement!

Which brings me to a favorite quote that has often hung beside my and Kaaren's desk. It reads: "IF A PERSON ISN'T GIVEN A CHANCE TO SAY "I HURT,' THEY WILL INEVITABLY SAY 'I HATE'."

For the past few weeks as I've been following this Occupy Wall Street movement, I haven't been able to get that quote out of my head. And I should say right away that Kaaren and I have most often used this as a guide to church leadership, recognizing that in a growing church, things change. And when things change, people can feel left behind or like they don't count anymore. When the things they liked or the things that gave them status or a feeling of home disappear, they don't just experience loss, they feel lost - and they hurt. And so if you don't provide them with avenues to say "I'm hurting"; if you do not recognize their hurt, they will make themselves seen and known through the next natural means available: they will shout "I hate" and soon we're in a fight.

But here's the thing: most of us don't want to fight. We just don't want to be left behind. We want someone to see and care about our hurt. And maybe - like everyone else - I'm projecting my own preconceived notions on the Occupy Wall Street Gang, but as I've been looking and listening this is what's stood out for me: I don't see a protest of ignorance or disorganization. Nor do I see a protest of anger. I see a shout of collective pain!

Take that central slogan: "WE ARE THE 99%!" This too, I think, is being radically mis-read, or maybe better put - not "fully read." It's being described, even by some of the protesters, as a warning. Especially as it's held high and put in the face of all the bankers sitting up in their offices of privilege and power. "Watch out" it seems to say. "There's a lot more of us than there are of you!" And no doubt, that's what's surely intended to a large degree.

But on another level - an even more important level - I think it voices an additional message - one that may be unconscious, but is still no less important, or no less at play. When I see those signs held high, I hear them saying - no matter what particular thing is written on them:

Look at us!
Look down here!
Dare to witness our pain, just once!
We deserve to be seen!

And, friends, that's not a battle cry as much as it is a declaration of worth. Maybe even a declaration of A DISCOVERY of worth.

And to see this most clearly, you've got to go to the video tape - to the YouTube videos. I don't know if you've had a chance to get on line and watch the dozens of video and youtube interviews with the actual protesters, but you should. And what I hope you notice most is how many of the people interviewed DO NOT pontificate or blame or vent, but simply and calmly share their story:

"I'm here because I work two jobs and still find myself having to choose monthly between paying the rent and feeding my kids."
"I'm here because I played by the rules, got a college degree, took out the recommended amount of loans, but now can't find that supposed job out there that everyone said would allow me to get out from under that debt."
"I'm 65 and laid off and no one will hire the old guy anymore."
"I'm here because I got sick during that one year I couldn't pay for health insurance."
"I'm here because I helped my kids get through college, but it required sacrificing my own retirement."
"I'm here because I'm homeless."
"I'm here because my mortgage is underwater."
"I'm here because I'm doing fine but everywhere else I look others aren't."

Often you also hear the stats. 16-20% of Americans out of work depending on the way you count. 15% of American households - many working households - living in poverty, which translates to 22% of all children living in poverty.

And yes, of course, what often get's tacked on to these people's sharing is indeed some blame of others, but you have to be deaf and callous not to hear in between those lines a more important and more fundamental declaration that "IT'S NOT MY FAULT."

And let me be very careful here, so I'm not misunderstood.

When I say I hear people expressing that "It's not my fault," I'm not talking about people trying to weasel out of responsibility. Nor am I talking about David Brook's obscenely concocted thing about people wanting to paint themselves a pure and blameless victims. These folks know they bear responsibility. They know they made some choices they wish they hadn't. No, they are expressing something much more complex. It's more an epiphany than an effort to shift blame. They are voicing a new and profound awareness that "It's not ALL my fault."

In other words, I don't hear them making an argument as much as talking out loud about something they are just now getting, just now understanding deep in their hearts and heads. "Yeah," I hear them saying, "Yeah, I could have and probably should have done some things differently, but you know, I also think the game was rigged!"

And here, out of everything I've talked about so far today, is the most important characteristic of this movement, whose larger significance is so easy to miss. Those brave folks camped out in those parks all around the country - I believe - are disavowing shame! Yes, disavowing shame!

Think about it with me. For years now, pundits, cultural analysts, left-leaning activists and even many of us... have been wringing our hands and asking why hasn't a protest like this emerged sooner? Why haven't the hurting and the struggling risen up? Spoken up? Demanded change?

Many answers have been given. But the most common one is: WE ALL SECRETLY BELIEVE THAT SOMEDAY WE WILL BE THE RICH! Right? No one - so this logic goes - no one wants to mobilize against or change the system because we all secretly believe that one day we will be able to play the system to our advantage. We've remained silent about the injustice and silent about their own situation because one day we will be the ones on top.

Well...Baloney! (And I'd say something stronger, but we're in church!)

As I've said from this pulpit before: When I've been down, I don't secretly think I will one day be on top. When you've been down, you don't secretly believe you will one day be on top. Our friends too. They don't secretly believe they will one day be one top.

No the reason so many of us stay silent when we struggle is that - on some deep level - we believe those struggles are our fault! It's the great mass delusion of American society that no one wants to talk about! And it's rooted in the dominating, debilitating and disempowering cultural story-line that says America is the land of plenty. The land of opportunity. The ultimate even playing field. And so if you work hard enough and are smart enough and play by all the rules, the sky is the limit! But if you DO hit a limit, or fall, or fail, or land at the bottom, well there's no one to blame but yourself. Simply put, your situation can't be anything other than your fault. You deserve to sit alone in your shame.

And, friends, what I'm saying today, is that - if we look and listen closely - what we are seeing in these parks all around the country is people refusing to sit in and accept their undeserved shame any longer.

They are standing up! Because they've woken up!

And they are inviting us to wake us up too!

A story.

When I was a kid I loved to play Monopoly. And I loved most to play it with my brother, who was four years younger than me. You see he didn't quite get it. He'd go around the board buying only the properties with the names that sounded interesting him or the ones that had the colors he liked. He based his choices on things he loved. Trains were cool. So he'd save all his money until he landed on one of them. Silly kid! He just didn't get it that the game wasn't about what you loved, but about accumulating as much as you could as fast as you could. I, on the other hand, did understand the game.

And so inevitably that glorious moment would come - the tipping point so to speak. The game wasn't officially over but it would be clear to us both that it was only a matter of time. The game was now rigged, no matter how smartly he played or what choices he made. I just owned too much for him to recover or make a come back. He was - and he felt - defeated.

Now at this point, I usually did one of two things.

If I was at my best, if it was one of those days where playing with and connecting with my brother was what mattered most, I'd voluntarily give up some of my properties. I'd redistribute my wealth and make it a truly level playing field again, one in which he was a legitimate player, not just my pawn.

But if I was not at my best, well, I'd change things up just enough to give him the illusion that he had a fighting chance. You know, I'd give him that entire cheap street just after GO - Baltic and Mediterranean Avenue. And maybe - if I really wanted him to believe he had hope - I'd throw in St Charles Place and other purple properties in the sketchy corner of town, right where they'd placed the jail! I'd even make sure he had a house on each property to ensure the illusion of security and status. But of course Boardwalk and Park Place, and those ritzy green properties, each with a hotel on them, would stay under my control. And it would certainly look to him as if now he had a fighting chance,but of course he didn't.

And so, this time, when he lost for the second time, he'd feel nothing but shame. I was just better than him. He had to admit it.

But then a funny thing happened. He grew up. And he got wiser. And he could tell when my redistribution efforts were in good faith and when I was just rigging it.

And on those times, when he saw that I was rigging it, do you know what that ungrateful little rebel did? HE QUIT THE GAME AND DEMANDED WE PLAY AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT ONE!

Just like those supposed silly, undisciplined, naive little (and big) brothers and sisters who are now camping out in parks all around the county!

Friends, make no mistake: what we are looking at now is so much more than a call for justice. Or a demand that sadistic big brothers in bankers's suits be held accountable. And neither is it just a happy sign that the youth and sleepy baby boomers are finally willing to be politically active again.

No, through the lens of the Occupy movement, we've got a window into a country growing up and waking up. And realizing that the game is not just rigged, but fundamentally broken. Little tweaks that invite us to shamefully stumble around the board a couple more times simply won't do. A much bigger move is required. We've all got to quit the game!

And here's the ironic good news: we don't have to all do that in the same way.

This too is the genius and gift of the Occupy Wall Street movement. It's why they've politely refused to give up that "kitchen sink" approach that old school activists are so worried about. As a friend of mine put it, "I'm coming to realize that the power of Occupy Wall Street is not in IT deciding the one important thing it will do, but in challenging me to decide what the one important thing is that I will do."

And she voiced her particular choice this way, "I don't think you'll find me sleeping in the park with those kids, but they did get this suburban middle-aged home owner to waddle over to my local bank and begin the process of moving all of our accounts out of JP Morgan Chase & Bank of America and into a credit union. My first small step toward quitting. I will keep looking for more."

Friends, I can't wait to hear what your first small step toward the BIG QUIT will be!

Amen.

Scott Tayler, Parish Co-Minister
October 16, 2011