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In Betty’s Corner

Director of Community Ministries

 It’s amazing what happens on street corners. A few days ago I was working on a corner near the Hayward Farmers Market to get out the vote for a favorite candidate, greeting folk and reminding them of the coming election. I shared the corner with a pleasant young man who was gathering signature to run as an independent candidate for Governor of California. Because he is an inde-pendent he must gather many, many signature to qualify for the ballet. Of course I signed his petition; every one deserves an opportunity. We ex-changed pleasantries and continued to share the street corner. At one point, the prospective candidate greeted an approaching older man with his usual, “Hello and how are you today?” The response, with a broad smile, was “I am wonderful. I have Jesus in my heart!” Without missing a beat, the younger man replied, “I have Jesus in my heart too! Congratulations for speaking out for the Lord!” The conversation about Jesus and his position in their lives con-tinued. My side of the corner got busy and I tuned out for a while.

The two were still deep in conversation when I tuned in again. But the subject had changed. Now the discussion was about the wonderful courage of the folk in Arizona in who stepped up to the plate with their hard line solution to the problem of Them. They talked of many ways to deal with The Problem right here in California. Many options were agreed upon, all punitive and devoid of any relationship to justice as we define it in this county. All solutions were justified because of The Crisis these law breakers have created. And finally, because They took our jobs and overburdened our welfare and healthcare sys-tems, California will never recover economically until They are driving out and the borders are sealed!

As they solved the problems of our state, both men were oblivious to the brownness of the community coming and going on the street corner around them. Families pushing strollers, old couples, a man with a small girl on his shoulder, the sellers in the market stalls, the buyers filling their shopping bags with produce…all participants in the commerce of the Farmer’s Market on a sunny Saturday morning.

I had to wonder where the Jesus in their hearts had gotten off to…. I thought I heard weeping.

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Westminster Hills Presbyterian
Is
RECYCLING!
Please use the bins for your aluminum cans and plastic bottles.
We are hoping that this will help reduce our environmental footprint
while raising a little money for our ministry!
If you have any questions, ask
Winn or Jean!
Thanks for recycling

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SCHOOL OF THE AMERICAS WATCH - 2009 -

FORT BENNING, GEORGIA

About Our Minister

Our Pastor, John Wichman, came to Westminster Hills in May of 1993. Ten years later he was asked how he felt about working with what he describes as Òthis wonderful collection of disciples in this exciting and vibrant community”

"I write this as I sit in a community garden in a poor neighborhood in a midsize city in the San Francisco Bay Area. This garden is the joint effort of an interfaith coalition and the neighborhood collaborative of which it is a part. This small garden is tilled, planted, and harvested by 20 diverse neighborhood households: Afghan, Mexican, Guatemalan, African-American, single parent, same gender, Euro-American, Vietnamese. It is a real symbol of the vibrant potential of the global reality of what is urban America. Its existence and the dynamic of its creation is a real vision of the reign of God, or the communal expression of Divine or corporate presence of Christ in this world. This becomes the reference for describing the characteristics of any church or organization where I would want to work. It actualizes all the theologizing conjecture, biblical interpretations, doctrinal pronouncements about the vision toward which we strive as people of faith. In other words, a congregation whose mission is informed by the dirty and calloused hands, creatively challenged minds and open compassionate hearts.”

“I have herded cows in Spanish in Cuba. I have cursed rats in Cantonese in Chinatown San Francisco. I have sung New Yorican Doo Wop in small town night clubs in Puerto Rico. I have served the Eucharist on the run from the migra in avocado fields of southern California. I have case-managed developmentally disabled Spanish speaking school age children and recovering addicts. The closer I am to people who represent the rainbow of humanity, the happier I am. And I do what I can within the limitations of my musical skills of Afro-Cuban leanings to weave the rhythms of this colorful garden Earth into the celebration of life and its Giver in worship, even and especially by the River of Babylon.”