November 17, 2024 – Twenty-Sixth Sunday After Pentecost
Kahu Gary Percesepe
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea,, though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble with its tumult.
The earth is rapidly changing. The nations are in tumult, its people widely separated, torn by rivalries for power and influence. Mother earth has suffered from neglect, treated more like an object than a subject, less our Mother, more like a bank we believe we can make unlimited withdrawals from. But our Mother is issuing cries of distress which we experience as tremors, cracks and fissures, floods and earthquakes, fires and pestilence. We are failing to adapt fast enough to these changes. The earth’s people dwell in fear.
In our personal lives, we want to believe that the world we’ve built for ourselves is predictable, stable, and fixed. Yet into every life there comes that time when our world falls apart. A phone call in the middle of the night can alter the shape of our lives, throwing us into crisis. An election can produce elation or deep and profound fear. Where can we turn when our world falls apart?
Psalm 46 opens with an affirmation: God is our refuge. The earth shakes and the sea is in an uproar. Still, the psalmist declares that God is our refuge, a very present help when trouble comes. God can be trusted, even amidst our fears. Despite fearsome changes, the people are comforted by God’s presence, which the Psalmist compares to a river whose streams gladden God’s city. In a dry land there is a promise of a river that preserves life. The river flows from the throne of God. Its waters remind us that the Lord of Hosts is with us. The Psalmist calls us to be in silent awe at God’s marvelous works.
But what happens when we come to church for comfort only to discover more change? A beloved Kahu of three decades is gone. Another Kahu, also beloved, gone. Gone too, the aunties and uncles, whose physical presence in church is missed. And then Ellen & Taka departed for a neighbor island, and not long after, Danette Kong, gone to the mainland. They were beloved members of this congregation who are missed not only for their musical gifts, and sense of humor, but also for their non-anxious presence, for the way they were able to absorb conflict into their own bodies without transmitting the pain to others. All of these friends have the spiritual gift of discernment, but above all, they embody the meaning of aloha.
I knew Maui as a young man in the 1980s, and a visitor through the years, but it is only as a resident that one can live into the deeper meaning of aloha. In my own journey of discovery, I am slowly learning how aloha can grow and spread in me.
This week, Danette passed along a video of Kamu Bradford Lum teaching aloha during times of crisis and conflict. Here is what I am slowly learning from Kamu: we experience aloha when we are kind and courteous. In our work, we encounter aloha in honesty and good faith business dealings that are ponoand learn to avoid that which is pono ‘ole: unjust, unrighteous, dishonest, unprincipled, wrong.
I am learning what so many of you already know, that for people living on an island, aloha is especially important in building an empathetic and cooperative society. Being greedy and selfish in island life can lead to many consequences we wouldn’t normally experience on the continent. Isolation, depression, anxiety, hopelessness can easily creep in.
Kumu Lum believes that to have a successful life living in community one must embrace and live aloha. But how does one do that in times of conflict?
Conflict is an inevitable part of any community, but aloha offers a framework for addressing disagreements constructively. Kumu Lum explains it this way: “When we approach conflicts with love and respect, we can find common ground.”
This approach promotes lōkahi, to be in union. For me, this sounds much like a choir singing in unison on the verses but singing in parts on the chorus, each of our voices blending in harmony, honoring those individuals with differing perspectives without needing to destroy them because they may sound different to us. By embracing aloha, community members can navigate conflicts in a way that strengthens relationships rather than damages them.
Kumu Lum teaches that the practice of aloha cultivates empathy, allowing individuals to see the world through others’ eyes. We have landed in a world that currently disrespects empathy and even makes empathy feel like a force that divides us, but by spreading aloha, we can bridge gaps between cultures and backgrounds. This allows us to resolve conflicts peacefully. When community members choose to approach disagreements with kindness, they create an atmosphere conducive to collaboration.
Finally, Kumu Lum believes that small acts of kindness can lead to significant changes in how conflicts are handled. When we consciously choose to spread love and positivity, we create a ripple effect that encourages others to do the same. This ripple effect can transform our community’s approach to conflict and make resolution a collective effort rather than an individual struggle.
Last week I witnessed directly how this ripple effect works. Last Sunday I was a bit flustered when I tried to replace the batteries in this lavalier mic. Tom Nelson saw me struggling. He helped me get it right. Standing outside just before worship, Deacon Victoria Smith gave me a red poppy to commemorate Veterans Day. She mentioned that Thom Probst procures these poppies every year at his own expense, and that it is good to recognize our veterans in church. With gratitude, I affixed the poppy to my lei. Thom was ringing the bell. He noticed my poppy and thanked me for wearing it. I thanked him for the poppies and gave him some money to offset the cost, which he accepted and said he would put into the offering. During the Prayers of the People, I said a heartfelt prayer for all who have served their country, even to the last measure of their devotion, but forgot to ask the veterans to stand so that we might recognize them and thank them for their service. Later, I pulled Thom into my office, and in his Thom-like way he shared some sound advice for my service as Kahu here. Two simple words: Slow down. With gratitude for his willingness to share this truth with me, I pulled him into a hug and told him I loved him. He told me he loved me back. This all happened because Tom Nelson got the mic to work, and because Victoria Smith saw that I needed to wear a poppy. Her small act of kindness is still rippling through this entire congregation today.
Beloved, this is how we do it. Spread aloha. Feel the ripples. ‘Amene.