The past two Sundays, I've been experimenting a little with my preaching style. I've simply created notes and preached from the floor instead of the pulpit. From what I can tell, that has afforded me a little more laid back, engaging sermon, but it also means I can't give you my manuscript, because I don't record the sermons. Perhaps we'll start doing that if I continue on with this style of preaching. Until then, here's what I can remember:
Scriptures: 1 Corinthians 1: 10-18
Matthew 4: 12-23
I fished quite a bit as a kid, but I must admit I haven’t been in a while. There are certain things I remember though, and those things I do remember are translatable to the kind of fishing that Jesus asks his disciples to engage in: fishing for people. (I must admit that I haven’t done that as recently as I should as well though). some lessons i learned about fishing when I was a boy translate well to what Jesus is calling his disciples to do.
Fishing Requires patience. You don’t cast your line with any assurance that is going to be bitten. Cast many times.
There's a woman I know named Margaret who is bubbling over with invitation. She wants everyone she meets to walk with her on the path of discipleship. She's always casting out her line. She'll invite the grocery clerk, the lady at the drive through bank window, or the police officer who had just pulled her over for a ticket. I used to look at her with wonder and amazement because she felt so comfortable doing something that made me so uncomfortable. When I became a minister, I discovered that like it or not, I would need a portion of her spirit to help people feel welcome and excited about the ministry we were doing at the church to which I was appointed. We must be willing to cast our line into the water without any assurance that our invitation will be taken or not. We are surrounded by people who need to be "caught" by Christ. They may have gone to church once or twice a year here or elsewhere, or they may have never been involved with a church, but we quite literally surrounded by people who have no home for their faith.
Strategy and a knowledge of the ins and outs of the area helps tremendously.
the best fishers know their environment like the back of their hand. They know that a nest of brim usually congregate around that old fallen tree, or that the bend in the river usually contains a group of trout resting and in the mood for an occasional fly. To be effective evangelists, we should best know our own context and what we offer to our community.
You need bait and a willingness to go with different bait if what you’re using isn’t catching.
One of my favorite lures in my boyhood tacklebox was a big, colorful bellied fish with two multipronged hooks coming out of it. I think I liked it because even if I didn't have any fish on it, I still felt like I was reeling something in time after time. But for the little pond that I fished in, that lure didn't make much sense. It probably scared off the fish more than attracting them, because I was primarily catching perch and brim and the occasional bass.
Sometimes, in order to catch fish for Jesus, we have to be willing to change our lure. Sometimes we have to put aside our "pet projects" and favorite ways of doing things if we are going to attract new people.
You don’t just go from a fish biting to the fish being in your basket, you’ve got to reel them in.
One "hello" on a visitor's first visit isn't enough. We need to have consistent and continued contact with those who have taken an interest in our faith community.
Dynamite is an immoral way to fish. I used to enjoy tossing in an m-60 firecracker into the pond and watch all the little water creatures float up to the surface. but looking back on it, I really regret that I used to do that as a kid.
Some brands of Christianity employ the "scare the hell out of people" approach to evangelism. They harp on the crux of believing certain things in a certain way and the consequences they perceive are in the future for those who don't subscribe to their ideas. In my opinion, this isn't the kind of "Good news" that we are called to share in our community. We are here to invite people to walk with us the path of discipleship. We don't have a privileged standpoint, we are broken and faulty people seeking the companionship and shared journey of other broken and faulty people.
Those churches that use the "dynamite" of fear, threats, and damnation are likely to get the human equivalent of dead fish floating to the surface. We're looking for someone different: vital and vibrant fish who can contribute to our community.
Cleaning fish can be a stinky process. Cleaning catfish is one of the worst smells I've ever encountered.
Likewise, when we do attract fish who've been scouring the bottom of the pond for nourishment, the process that the Spirit undertakes to "clean" that fish sometimes causes an unpleasant environment. We must persevere in our calling to "fish for people" even when the results of that action cause consternation and strife in the community.
But all these analogies are built on the image of a fisherman with a rod and line. And so we probably make the equation in our own minds, since we go fishing as a past time, that perhaps evangelism is a past time. Perhaps evangelism is only something for those who enjoy it. You probably notice that Andrew and Simon Peter and James and John aren’t standing on the lakeshore artfully casting a line into the water. No idealistic soft lit river with Robert Redford’s narrative voice in the back ground. These men are doing hard labor with heavy nets. They are making a living.
I think Jesus expects us to “fish for people” with that kind of mentality. Inviting people into a life of discipleship to Christ, reaching out to those whom we know and love and pulling them along to follow Christ with us, is not a past-time. Fishing for people should be a livelihood for us. It should be basic to our walk with Christ. Part of the invitation that I’m giving to you to give to others is to worship the Living God with us here in community. But that’s not all and that certainly doesn’t have to come first. Sometimes, folks will respond to the invitation to join us in service to the poor or unfortunate. Sometimes we might invite others to look at the world around them with a different perspective when we encounter hostility or racism or narrow mindedness.
These are all invitations into discipleship. If you think I’m trying to convince you today that you all need to go out and invite someone to church, you’re hearing me too specifically. Think more broadly about what your life of discipleship means to you. That’s what you can best “advertise” when it comes to sharing the grace of Christ with others. Coming to church to be in worship is important, but it isn’t all there is.
I heard about a pastor who used this fishing model for evangelism, and a woman in our congregation said to him, "You know something, I hate fishing. And as for fishing for people -- I don't have the kind of time available you talked about. Does Christ have any place for a harried mom with four children?"
The pastor thought about that and came to the conclusion that the principles behind the text were not, "Help wanted - Fishermen Only!" The point is that you and I were meant to become a part of the tremendous divine plan to bring light to a dark world right whoever and wherever we happen to be. The carpenter's invitation reads, "Follow me and I will make you build people." The accountant will hear it as, "Follow me and I will make you help people know they count." The waitress will hear, "Follow me and I will make you serve the spiritual hunger of people." The physician will hear, "Follow me and I will make you a healer of people's souls." A beleaguered mom's call is, "Follow me and I will make you a builder of children."
Do you see? You were meant to be a part of God's divine plan to bring light, hope and meaning to a dark world. You can do this where you are. In fact, Christ needs you where you are. Fishermen will reach the fishermen. Teachers will reach the teachers. Truck drivers will reach the truck drivers. Moms (and Dads) will reach the kids.
What an amazing wonderful thing that you were designed to bring the light of God to a corner of the world that only you could possibly reach. Somewhere, someday, you will encounter that person that no one else in all of God's creation could reach with the light of God.
The only question left is -- "Are you available to bring the light of God to them?" It's what you were meant to do!
Monday, January 28, 2008
Jan 20 sermon: Come and See
These are just notes from my sermon. I preached more extemporaniously here than I usually do.
I'm intrigued by this invitation that Jesus gives his disciples to "Come and See" when he is asked where he lives.
Where does Jesus live around here? He might be telling us to "come and see" and we're not hearing it. Come and see where Chrsit lives.
Whereas the story tells us that Jesus took the disciples to his house, perhaps now when we respond to Christ's call to "come and see," we'll find that he's not staying in one place. In order to see where he's staying, we must follow him.
When we respond, when we follow, Christ takes us by the arm and opens our eyes to the depths of things much like Amelie takes the blind man on the curb and describes to him in beautiful detail the world around him. Perhaps we are blind, since we fail to see the utterly intense beauty of the world and people around us. We pass through it like we are living in the darkness, as Isaiah says, but if we respond to the invitation to "come and see," we will be blessed with our eyes being opened for us. Christ describes all whom we encounter in ways that we were previously blind to. He helps us sense the "thou" in those whom we meet.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Wesleyan Covenant Renewal Sermon
Scriptures: Isaiah and Matthew
I was thinking the other day about an article I read in the Christian Century a couple years ago. The article was about a poll that was conducted nationwide regarding teenagers and belief. Perhaps surprisingly, Most Teens learn beliefs from parents! But most parents don’t feel competent in transferring beliefs.
Religious traditions understand themselves as presenting a truth revealed by a holy and almighty God who calls human beings from a self-centered focus to a life of serving God and neighbor….but most teens and probably most parents too think
religion is to help them make good life choices and be happy.
This focus of beliefs is what the poll conductors ended up terming “Moralistic Theraputic Deism,” moralistic in terms of being rule and ethic based, therapeutic in the sense that the point is to make you feel good about living life, and Deistic in the sense of the theological worldview that many of our founding fathers had—God created the world, but then kind of stepped back and didn’t do anything to influence the world. God is not active in the world other than in how the natural consequences of his original creative act have panned out throughout space and time.
Why we don’t affirm Moralistic Theraputic Deism:
We have a much richer, more theologically deep religion, and the distintinctive elements of it are the unique parts of the revelation—we could come up with “be happy and feel good about oneself” without a revelation from God. Furthermore, we don’t believe that God is satisfied with “being happy and feeling good about oneself.” It’s not that God wants us to feel worthless and bad about ourselves, but God wants us for us a happiness that sometimes defies our worldly sense of happiness. The old saying goes, “God loves us just as we are, and loves us too much to leave us that way.”
Wesley wrote in the covenant oath that we will take today, “Christ has many services to be done. Some are more easy and honorable, others are more difficult and disgraceful. Some are suitable to our inclinations and interests, others are contrary to both. In some ways we may please Christ and please ourselves. But then there are other works where we cannot please Christ except by denying ourselves.”
I believe we are what the book of Revelation calls “lukewarm” if and when we all believe Christ has called all of us to “easy and honorable” service for Christ. When you respond to Christ’s call to “follow me,” and then the path you walk is never among and with the poor or sick or outcast, then perhaps you’ve sleepwalked off the road of discipleship. Perhaps the calling you responded to wasn’t Christ’s, but the prophet of “moralistic, therapeutic, Deism.”
In our expression of Christianity, we believe there is a moment of being “saved,” but we believe the process of salvation involves a continual outpouring of grace propelling us toward a higher plane of living and loving.
A covenant is an expression of living into a higher plane of trust and commitment. At first glance a covenant looks a lot like a contract because it is an agreement. One way of looking at it would be turning over our own will freely to the will of God. Certainly, later in the covenant service, you will all say the words, “I renounce my own will, and take your will as my law.” However, I believe a better way of thinking about it would be making a formal commitment in the presence of God and our community to consistently strive for the Vision and Goals we find expressed by God in the Scriptures.
At the end of the covenant service, we will also all say together, “O mighty God, you have now become my Covenant Friend, and I, through your infinite grace, have become your covenant servant.”
As Jesus proclaims in the Gospel, by acknowledging our connection to the life giving vine—which is Christ himself, we will bear much fruit. A covenant is this kind of connection, and fruit bearing is the activity of a Christian who is “plugged in” to the radically life changing grace and love that we find in the person of Jesus Christ.
Christ causes us to live outside ourselves. Christ calls us to sacrifice for others, to confess our sins and to turn around on a new course. Christ calls us to live according to a new law—the law of Love. Seperated from this Vine, we shrivel up in the dry depravity of self-centeredness. We whither in the wasteland of want. Covenant making is public declaration—it calls our attention to our own connectedness. We serve God both individually and together as one body. We are fed spiritual food individually and as one body. We bear fruit individually and as one body. We make a covenant both individually and as one body. Making a covenant is an audible, visual, experiential reminder that we are indeed connected to the vine, and therefore SHOULD bear fruit.
As Wesley wrote, “I do here willingly put my neck under your yoke, to carry your burden. All your laws are holy, just, and good. I therefore take them as the rule for my words, thoughts, and actions, prominsing that I will strive to order my whole life according to your direction, and not allow myself to neglect anything I know to be my duty.” Keep in mind that Jesus says that his yoke is easy, and his burden is light. This isn’t because Jesus calls us all to “easy and honorable service.” This isn’t because taking on Jesus’ yoke is simply about “making good life choices and being happy.” Christ’s yoke is easy and his burden is light because God lifts us up and propels us forward with the Holy Spirit to advance the Kingdom of God when we give ourselves to him. We aren’t on our own—through covenant, God vows to be on our side. And unlike us, God never abandons this Holy covenant. Thanks be to God!
The Covenant service can be read here
I was thinking the other day about an article I read in the Christian Century a couple years ago. The article was about a poll that was conducted nationwide regarding teenagers and belief. Perhaps surprisingly, Most Teens learn beliefs from parents! But most parents don’t feel competent in transferring beliefs.
Religious traditions understand themselves as presenting a truth revealed by a holy and almighty God who calls human beings from a self-centered focus to a life of serving God and neighbor….but most teens and probably most parents too think
religion is to help them make good life choices and be happy.
This focus of beliefs is what the poll conductors ended up terming “Moralistic Theraputic Deism,” moralistic in terms of being rule and ethic based, therapeutic in the sense that the point is to make you feel good about living life, and Deistic in the sense of the theological worldview that many of our founding fathers had—God created the world, but then kind of stepped back and didn’t do anything to influence the world. God is not active in the world other than in how the natural consequences of his original creative act have panned out throughout space and time.
Why we don’t affirm Moralistic Theraputic Deism:
We have a much richer, more theologically deep religion, and the distintinctive elements of it are the unique parts of the revelation—we could come up with “be happy and feel good about oneself” without a revelation from God. Furthermore, we don’t believe that God is satisfied with “being happy and feeling good about oneself.” It’s not that God wants us to feel worthless and bad about ourselves, but God wants us for us a happiness that sometimes defies our worldly sense of happiness. The old saying goes, “God loves us just as we are, and loves us too much to leave us that way.”
Wesley wrote in the covenant oath that we will take today, “Christ has many services to be done. Some are more easy and honorable, others are more difficult and disgraceful. Some are suitable to our inclinations and interests, others are contrary to both. In some ways we may please Christ and please ourselves. But then there are other works where we cannot please Christ except by denying ourselves.”
I believe we are what the book of Revelation calls “lukewarm” if and when we all believe Christ has called all of us to “easy and honorable” service for Christ. When you respond to Christ’s call to “follow me,” and then the path you walk is never among and with the poor or sick or outcast, then perhaps you’ve sleepwalked off the road of discipleship. Perhaps the calling you responded to wasn’t Christ’s, but the prophet of “moralistic, therapeutic, Deism.”
In our expression of Christianity, we believe there is a moment of being “saved,” but we believe the process of salvation involves a continual outpouring of grace propelling us toward a higher plane of living and loving.
A covenant is an expression of living into a higher plane of trust and commitment. At first glance a covenant looks a lot like a contract because it is an agreement. One way of looking at it would be turning over our own will freely to the will of God. Certainly, later in the covenant service, you will all say the words, “I renounce my own will, and take your will as my law.” However, I believe a better way of thinking about it would be making a formal commitment in the presence of God and our community to consistently strive for the Vision and Goals we find expressed by God in the Scriptures.
At the end of the covenant service, we will also all say together, “O mighty God, you have now become my Covenant Friend, and I, through your infinite grace, have become your covenant servant.”
As Jesus proclaims in the Gospel, by acknowledging our connection to the life giving vine—which is Christ himself, we will bear much fruit. A covenant is this kind of connection, and fruit bearing is the activity of a Christian who is “plugged in” to the radically life changing grace and love that we find in the person of Jesus Christ.
Christ causes us to live outside ourselves. Christ calls us to sacrifice for others, to confess our sins and to turn around on a new course. Christ calls us to live according to a new law—the law of Love. Seperated from this Vine, we shrivel up in the dry depravity of self-centeredness. We whither in the wasteland of want. Covenant making is public declaration—it calls our attention to our own connectedness. We serve God both individually and together as one body. We are fed spiritual food individually and as one body. We bear fruit individually and as one body. We make a covenant both individually and as one body. Making a covenant is an audible, visual, experiential reminder that we are indeed connected to the vine, and therefore SHOULD bear fruit.
As Wesley wrote, “I do here willingly put my neck under your yoke, to carry your burden. All your laws are holy, just, and good. I therefore take them as the rule for my words, thoughts, and actions, prominsing that I will strive to order my whole life according to your direction, and not allow myself to neglect anything I know to be my duty.” Keep in mind that Jesus says that his yoke is easy, and his burden is light. This isn’t because Jesus calls us all to “easy and honorable service.” This isn’t because taking on Jesus’ yoke is simply about “making good life choices and being happy.” Christ’s yoke is easy and his burden is light because God lifts us up and propels us forward with the Holy Spirit to advance the Kingdom of God when we give ourselves to him. We aren’t on our own—through covenant, God vows to be on our side. And unlike us, God never abandons this Holy covenant. Thanks be to God!
The Covenant service can be read here
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Paintball this Sunday!
Hey paintball fans--this Sunday is our day. It will be good weather to shoot at each other with little plastic balls of paint. If you want to go, make sure you check out all the information in the newsletter. You'll need $15 and an ounce of courage. Here's a link to the place we're going: Go there and print out a waiver form and if you're under 18, get a parent or guardian signiture. We'll leave at 1:30 and return by 6pm. See you there!
Pastor's reading list
With all the travelling I've been doing lately, I've been listening to a lot of audio books. Those, along with the books I'm reading the old fashioned way, have often contained little sections that I have read and then thought, "wow, I'd love to share that and discuss that with a group from the church!" The problem is that we already have a book study scheduled to begin this Sunday (on the book of Exodus) and there are only a certain number of days in the week when you and I are available to do that kind of thing. So here's the deal. From now on, you'll be able to access "my library" on the sidebar under "Pastor's reading list." You can click there, which will take you to a website called "Library Thing," where you can share your comments on "my profile" or just start a conversation with others on the world wide web who also have read that book. It's a way to have a book group without really having a book group. Get it?
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Epiphany Sermon, Jan. 6, 2008
Isaiah 60: 1-6
Matthew 2: 1-12
I begin the sermon by showing a photo of some friends of ours, and the picture is folded in half where you can only see them and not Lara and me. They look like your average folks. Then when I unfold the picture you see that they are giants. The woman is about half a foot taller than me (I’m 5’10’’), and the guy is a foot taller than me. Lara is standing next to me, and the female friend is about a foot taller than her. Your perspective is re-oriented.
I’ve always enjoyed mind tricks and optical illusions. I have a pack of playing cards that has all sorts of patterns and pictures that play a trick on you. Do you remember those posters they used to sell at the mall that had some patterns that if you stared at them long enough, if you focused on staring “through the poster” it would suddenly shift into three dimensions, and you could see a hidden picture within it? If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go here and here.
I think I’ve always liked these things because they involve a realization that our perspective can be shifted, it can be altered. One of my favorite “movie moments” is in Dead Poet’s Society where Robin Williams, playing an inspiring teacher at a prep school, convinces his strait laced students to stand up on top of their desks and look at their classroom from that perspective, and thus see their education in a new, more invested way. Toward the end of the movie, I always get chills when the students collectively show their respect and admiration for their teacher by standing on their desks and shouting, “O Captain, my captain!”
Today we heard a story that Matthew tells to make it plain that gentiles are to be included in this revolution the God of Israel is beginning in a manger. The gentile magi saw a star that alerted them to the birth of a new king. They had no doubt heard of the famous star that legend said appeared when Alexander the Great was born some 300 years previous. In their worldview, the stars were living beings, even gods, who observed the world and gave signs to the people on earth.
Astrology was not a problem to the people of the ancient world, in fact it was not a problem to the church for a majority of the church’s history. It was simply accepted that the “heaven’s proclaim the glory of God” in ways that could be studied and read. Jesus himself says in Luke’s gospel that “there shall be signs in the sun and the moon and the stars.” Luke 21 Perhaps if we still lived in a world without electricity, we’d still have more of a natural wonderment when it comes to the stars above us.
Last year we all tried to smell the frankencinse and myrrh and get our senses engaged in an experience of wonder. That’s a change in perspective. We usually live so tangled up in what goes on inside our heads that we forget what it is like to smell something deeply. An encounter with the living God is something that charges us up, body and soul.
So these Magi are Matthew’s way of saying that we’re included too. Gentiles played a part in the unfolding of this story from the start. And these Magi have their world altered, their perspective changed, just like all who encounter the living Christ.
According to the text, when they followed the star, the Magi were seeking “a child that has been born king of the Jews.” When they arrived in Bethlehem, “they were overwhelmed with joy.” I think they were filled with such joy because they had not just found “a king,” but “THE King.” They had turned from star-gazers into sun-gazers, Son-gazers, and responded by offering gifts that legend says made possible the Holy family’s flight and refuge in Egypt. Their epiphany was that this was a much more important pilgrimage than they had perhaps at first realized.
I’m interested in the “overwhelming joy” that Matthew reports these Magi experiencing. Haven’t you had those kinds of moments in your life when things just came into focus for you? Perhaps you had a great sense of joy and belonging and peace and connection. You felt at home in yourself. Have you had those types of experiences? We sometimes call them “Epiphanies,” because this experience usually involves some sort of new thought or feeling that is brought to light to us. Epiphany means “a sudden realization or comprehension of the essence or meaning of something or someone.”
I hope that this time of worship, when we come to the chancel and receive the communion meal can be a time of epiphany for you. This journey to the altar is symbolic of us joining the magi on their pilgrimage. Just like God gives the invitation to the uninitiated magi, practitioners of a different religion, we make the invitation to this table open to all who are here and searching.
When the magi finally find the house of Mary and Joseph and Jesus, Matthew tells us they are “filled with overwhelming joy.” They are wrapped up in the experience of being in the presence of a mystery. Perhaps it wasn’t what they were expecting. Perhaps they had expected to find this child king in a palace, or in a temple. But they found him in humble dwellings. Likewise, it might not naturally occur to us that we can find the God of our creation in a piece of bread and a sip of Welch’s grape juice, but we may be surprised!
So at this time, I ask that you prepare your hearts to experience the overwhelming joy of the epiphany that Jesus Christ is here with us in this very moment. Come to this table as the wise men came to Bethlehem, expecting to meet the king and pay their tribute and homage. Come to this table with the hope that our perspective can be changed and we can strike out on a new road.
Matthew 2: 1-12
I begin the sermon by showing a photo of some friends of ours, and the picture is folded in half where you can only see them and not Lara and me. They look like your average folks. Then when I unfold the picture you see that they are giants. The woman is about half a foot taller than me (I’m 5’10’’), and the guy is a foot taller than me. Lara is standing next to me, and the female friend is about a foot taller than her. Your perspective is re-oriented.
I’ve always enjoyed mind tricks and optical illusions. I have a pack of playing cards that has all sorts of patterns and pictures that play a trick on you. Do you remember those posters they used to sell at the mall that had some patterns that if you stared at them long enough, if you focused on staring “through the poster” it would suddenly shift into three dimensions, and you could see a hidden picture within it? If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go here and here.
I think I’ve always liked these things because they involve a realization that our perspective can be shifted, it can be altered. One of my favorite “movie moments” is in Dead Poet’s Society where Robin Williams, playing an inspiring teacher at a prep school, convinces his strait laced students to stand up on top of their desks and look at their classroom from that perspective, and thus see their education in a new, more invested way. Toward the end of the movie, I always get chills when the students collectively show their respect and admiration for their teacher by standing on their desks and shouting, “O Captain, my captain!”
Today we heard a story that Matthew tells to make it plain that gentiles are to be included in this revolution the God of Israel is beginning in a manger. The gentile magi saw a star that alerted them to the birth of a new king. They had no doubt heard of the famous star that legend said appeared when Alexander the Great was born some 300 years previous. In their worldview, the stars were living beings, even gods, who observed the world and gave signs to the people on earth.
Astrology was not a problem to the people of the ancient world, in fact it was not a problem to the church for a majority of the church’s history. It was simply accepted that the “heaven’s proclaim the glory of God” in ways that could be studied and read. Jesus himself says in Luke’s gospel that “there shall be signs in the sun and the moon and the stars.” Luke 21 Perhaps if we still lived in a world without electricity, we’d still have more of a natural wonderment when it comes to the stars above us.
Last year we all tried to smell the frankencinse and myrrh and get our senses engaged in an experience of wonder. That’s a change in perspective. We usually live so tangled up in what goes on inside our heads that we forget what it is like to smell something deeply. An encounter with the living God is something that charges us up, body and soul.
So these Magi are Matthew’s way of saying that we’re included too. Gentiles played a part in the unfolding of this story from the start. And these Magi have their world altered, their perspective changed, just like all who encounter the living Christ.
According to the text, when they followed the star, the Magi were seeking “a child that has been born king of the Jews.” When they arrived in Bethlehem, “they were overwhelmed with joy.” I think they were filled with such joy because they had not just found “a king,” but “THE King.” They had turned from star-gazers into sun-gazers, Son-gazers, and responded by offering gifts that legend says made possible the Holy family’s flight and refuge in Egypt. Their epiphany was that this was a much more important pilgrimage than they had perhaps at first realized.
I’m interested in the “overwhelming joy” that Matthew reports these Magi experiencing. Haven’t you had those kinds of moments in your life when things just came into focus for you? Perhaps you had a great sense of joy and belonging and peace and connection. You felt at home in yourself. Have you had those types of experiences? We sometimes call them “Epiphanies,” because this experience usually involves some sort of new thought or feeling that is brought to light to us. Epiphany means “a sudden realization or comprehension of the essence or meaning of something or someone.”
I hope that this time of worship, when we come to the chancel and receive the communion meal can be a time of epiphany for you. This journey to the altar is symbolic of us joining the magi on their pilgrimage. Just like God gives the invitation to the uninitiated magi, practitioners of a different religion, we make the invitation to this table open to all who are here and searching.
When the magi finally find the house of Mary and Joseph and Jesus, Matthew tells us they are “filled with overwhelming joy.” They are wrapped up in the experience of being in the presence of a mystery. Perhaps it wasn’t what they were expecting. Perhaps they had expected to find this child king in a palace, or in a temple. But they found him in humble dwellings. Likewise, it might not naturally occur to us that we can find the God of our creation in a piece of bread and a sip of Welch’s grape juice, but we may be surprised!
So at this time, I ask that you prepare your hearts to experience the overwhelming joy of the epiphany that Jesus Christ is here with us in this very moment. Come to this table as the wise men came to Bethlehem, expecting to meet the king and pay their tribute and homage. Come to this table with the hope that our perspective can be changed and we can strike out on a new road.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Christ our Refuge and Refugee
Scriptures:
Isaiah 63: 7-9
Matthew 2: 13-23
Once again, in today’s scripture, Matthew lets us in on one of Joseph’s angelic dreams. Once again, the angel gives Joseph information that will save Jesus. Once again, Matthew gives testimony to God’s vulnerable power.
Herod, who was the Jewish Roman appointee over Israel, was infamous for his cruelty and suspicion. The Jewish historian Josephus records that Herod's later years were full of attempts to defend his throne against the Jewish Hasmoneans, the descendants of the Maccabees. In the final years of his reign his three eldest sons were killed on suspicion of plotting to seize Herod's throne. Earlier in his reign he eliminated all the prominent Hasmoneans. He had an elaborate network of spies, and he often executed people for real or imagined conspiracies against his throne. Josephus even talks about a plan, never carried out, to have all the Jewish nobility slaughtered at the time of his own death to ensure that everyone would be mourning at his death
However, Matthew’s account of the plot to slaughter the innocent boys under two years of age in Bethlehem is not recorded in Josephus or other historical records. population statisticians estimate that the “slaughter of the innocents” probably took the lives of around 20 children: By historical standards, not enough to recount.
So, with God’s warning, Mary and Joseph take their little baby out of Israel and into a land where their ancestors had before been subject to another paranoid plot by a Pharoah to thin out the population of Hebrew slaves by killing the infants because they were becoming too numerous and threatened his authority.
Matthew’s story also begins the commonalities with the Exodus narrative of Moses, also born under the threat of a tyrannical ruler executing children for fear of being overthrown. Matthew is the only gospel writer to show Mary and Joseph taking Jesus into Egypt, further highlighting the similarities between Moses leading his people out of bondage and Jesus leading the world out of bondage to sin and death.
Though I do my best to relate to Jesus and let him relate to me through our commonly shared humanity, I cannot claim to be a refugee like he was. Just because I have at points in my life “run away from my problems” doesn’t make me a refugee, and Jesus never ran away from his problems. But there are many in this world for whom today’s scripture reading provides a special touchstone of connection to their own lives.
Through scouting around on the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees website, I learned that the total number of "people of concern" in the world stood at 21 million at the end of 2005. By the close of 2006 it was 33 million, the most dramatic one year increase in memory.
Hundreds of thousands of people became newly displaced in Columbia, Iraq, Lebanon, Sri-Lanka and Timor. Increased data-gathering in other nations such as the Cote d'Ivoire, Congo and Uganda increased the numbers dramatically. Even North America experienced dramatic rises in internally displaced persons as a result of Hurricane Katrina.
The point is that we now have a world that is increasingly "on the move" against its will. I hope that “hearing the numbers” in the context of today’s scripture reading gives you a stronger sense of connection with this issue than would normally be the case when hearing statistics of “millions of people.” Those of us who deny the issue or consider it unimportant remind me of the lazy person condemned in Prov. 24:33, "A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest.."
One of the issues of justice that I have covenanted to work on through our covenant discipleship group has been to appeal to our national representatives in Congress to take a more diligent approach in facilitating the resettlement of Iraqi refugees displaced by our war in that country. The “land of opportunity” that we call home has been less enthusiastic about receiving refugees than we have been creating them. There are currently around 2.5 million internally displaced people in Iraq, meaning they have either lost their homes to destruction, or have been evacuated, but have not left the country of Iraq, and there are another approximately 1.5 million refugees in the neighboring countries of Syria and Jordan.
Of the comparatively small number who are actually processed as asylum seekers by the UN and submitted to industrialized countries for processing, this year the USA was given almost 15,000 applications, and as of Dec. 1st has only accepted around 2400. 2.5 internally displaced people in Iraq, and we absorb .1% of the load. I think we can do better, I think our representatives can do something about it, so I let them know that. We are currently being out-hospitalitized by the notoriously open-armed Swedes, who received almost half of the asylum seekers in 2007.
And so our savior shares this in common not with us, but with those Iraqis, Haitians, Lebanese, and Eritreans. How do our actions cause the Son of Man and sons of men to seek shelter? How does our callous disregard for and disinterest in the actions and inactions of our super-powerful empire of a culture contribute to the life of the little Sudanese baby who goes to sleep each night in the dirt in a refugee camp in Chad?
What about the little girls who pass the hours not going to school or talking on the phone, but standing in line waiting for their daily rations at an internally displaced person’s camp in Iraq? “The foxes have their holes, and the birds have their nests, but the son of man has no place to lay his head and rest.”
The Good news for us is that God doesn’t judge us for having things easy. God doesn’t judge us for being born into fortunate circumstances just because his own son was born into such desperation. But God does judge us for sitting in the lap of luxury and doing nothing for those who are sitting in squalor. We are the goats whom Matthew tells us are turned away at the judgment seat when Christ says to us, 'Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 42 For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.' 44 "They also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?' 45 "He will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.' 46 "Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life."
God, being incarnate in the life of a little boy who had to be whisked away into hiding, was a refugee, but through the sharing of a human life also became our ultimate refuge. We can take comfort in God because we know God has been though it. And we can offer our sisters and brothers who are hurting comfort by assuring them that Christ walks with them. God has experienced the hardships of life, and usually more so than we. So when we seek refuge in God, it is not in some distant Deity: it is in a shared experience.
Isaiah says that “It was no messenger or angel but his presence that saved them; in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; he lifted them up and carried them all the days of old.” God doesn’t redeem or love or pity from a pedestal. It is his “presence” that saves us.
And it is his presence in the least of those among us where we will find salvation. Through the giving of our lives, or the giving of some portion of our lives, to the alleviation of suffering in the world, Christ presents us with the salvation from the damnation of believing the word revolves around us.
While Christ is a refugee, and because Christ is a refugee, he is also a refuge. He is an embodiment of God’s empathy. He cannot offer us refuge in the form of protection from the world. Belief in him will not keep you from getting into a car wreck or suffering from cancer, but he can offer refuge in the way of a loving embrace, a held hand as we face our days and trials. His name is Immanuel, God is with us. Amen
Isaiah 63: 7-9
Matthew 2: 13-23
Once again, in today’s scripture, Matthew lets us in on one of Joseph’s angelic dreams. Once again, the angel gives Joseph information that will save Jesus. Once again, Matthew gives testimony to God’s vulnerable power.
Herod, who was the Jewish Roman appointee over Israel, was infamous for his cruelty and suspicion. The Jewish historian Josephus records that Herod's later years were full of attempts to defend his throne against the Jewish Hasmoneans, the descendants of the Maccabees. In the final years of his reign his three eldest sons were killed on suspicion of plotting to seize Herod's throne. Earlier in his reign he eliminated all the prominent Hasmoneans. He had an elaborate network of spies, and he often executed people for real or imagined conspiracies against his throne. Josephus even talks about a plan, never carried out, to have all the Jewish nobility slaughtered at the time of his own death to ensure that everyone would be mourning at his death
However, Matthew’s account of the plot to slaughter the innocent boys under two years of age in Bethlehem is not recorded in Josephus or other historical records. population statisticians estimate that the “slaughter of the innocents” probably took the lives of around 20 children: By historical standards, not enough to recount.
So, with God’s warning, Mary and Joseph take their little baby out of Israel and into a land where their ancestors had before been subject to another paranoid plot by a Pharoah to thin out the population of Hebrew slaves by killing the infants because they were becoming too numerous and threatened his authority.
Matthew’s story also begins the commonalities with the Exodus narrative of Moses, also born under the threat of a tyrannical ruler executing children for fear of being overthrown. Matthew is the only gospel writer to show Mary and Joseph taking Jesus into Egypt, further highlighting the similarities between Moses leading his people out of bondage and Jesus leading the world out of bondage to sin and death.
Though I do my best to relate to Jesus and let him relate to me through our commonly shared humanity, I cannot claim to be a refugee like he was. Just because I have at points in my life “run away from my problems” doesn’t make me a refugee, and Jesus never ran away from his problems. But there are many in this world for whom today’s scripture reading provides a special touchstone of connection to their own lives.
Through scouting around on the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees website, I learned that the total number of "people of concern" in the world stood at 21 million at the end of 2005. By the close of 2006 it was 33 million, the most dramatic one year increase in memory.
Hundreds of thousands of people became newly displaced in Columbia, Iraq, Lebanon, Sri-Lanka and Timor. Increased data-gathering in other nations such as the Cote d'Ivoire, Congo and Uganda increased the numbers dramatically. Even North America experienced dramatic rises in internally displaced persons as a result of Hurricane Katrina.
The point is that we now have a world that is increasingly "on the move" against its will. I hope that “hearing the numbers” in the context of today’s scripture reading gives you a stronger sense of connection with this issue than would normally be the case when hearing statistics of “millions of people.” Those of us who deny the issue or consider it unimportant remind me of the lazy person condemned in Prov. 24:33, "A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest.."
One of the issues of justice that I have covenanted to work on through our covenant discipleship group has been to appeal to our national representatives in Congress to take a more diligent approach in facilitating the resettlement of Iraqi refugees displaced by our war in that country. The “land of opportunity” that we call home has been less enthusiastic about receiving refugees than we have been creating them. There are currently around 2.5 million internally displaced people in Iraq, meaning they have either lost their homes to destruction, or have been evacuated, but have not left the country of Iraq, and there are another approximately 1.5 million refugees in the neighboring countries of Syria and Jordan.
Of the comparatively small number who are actually processed as asylum seekers by the UN and submitted to industrialized countries for processing, this year the USA was given almost 15,000 applications, and as of Dec. 1st has only accepted around 2400. 2.5 internally displaced people in Iraq, and we absorb .1% of the load. I think we can do better, I think our representatives can do something about it, so I let them know that. We are currently being out-hospitalitized by the notoriously open-armed Swedes, who received almost half of the asylum seekers in 2007.
And so our savior shares this in common not with us, but with those Iraqis, Haitians, Lebanese, and Eritreans. How do our actions cause the Son of Man and sons of men to seek shelter? How does our callous disregard for and disinterest in the actions and inactions of our super-powerful empire of a culture contribute to the life of the little Sudanese baby who goes to sleep each night in the dirt in a refugee camp in Chad?
What about the little girls who pass the hours not going to school or talking on the phone, but standing in line waiting for their daily rations at an internally displaced person’s camp in Iraq? “The foxes have their holes, and the birds have their nests, but the son of man has no place to lay his head and rest.”
The Good news for us is that God doesn’t judge us for having things easy. God doesn’t judge us for being born into fortunate circumstances just because his own son was born into such desperation. But God does judge us for sitting in the lap of luxury and doing nothing for those who are sitting in squalor. We are the goats whom Matthew tells us are turned away at the judgment seat when Christ says to us, 'Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 42 For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.' 44 "They also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?' 45 "He will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.' 46 "Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life."
God, being incarnate in the life of a little boy who had to be whisked away into hiding, was a refugee, but through the sharing of a human life also became our ultimate refuge. We can take comfort in God because we know God has been though it. And we can offer our sisters and brothers who are hurting comfort by assuring them that Christ walks with them. God has experienced the hardships of life, and usually more so than we. So when we seek refuge in God, it is not in some distant Deity: it is in a shared experience.
Isaiah says that “It was no messenger or angel but his presence that saved them; in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; he lifted them up and carried them all the days of old.” God doesn’t redeem or love or pity from a pedestal. It is his “presence” that saves us.
And it is his presence in the least of those among us where we will find salvation. Through the giving of our lives, or the giving of some portion of our lives, to the alleviation of suffering in the world, Christ presents us with the salvation from the damnation of believing the word revolves around us.
While Christ is a refugee, and because Christ is a refugee, he is also a refuge. He is an embodiment of God’s empathy. He cannot offer us refuge in the form of protection from the world. Belief in him will not keep you from getting into a car wreck or suffering from cancer, but he can offer refuge in the way of a loving embrace, a held hand as we face our days and trials. His name is Immanuel, God is with us. Amen
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Advent 4 Sermon: Vulnerable Power
Sermon Texts:
Deuteronomy 22: 13-30
Matthew 1: 18-25
I like word games. I sometimes get on the internet and play scrabble with people from all around the world. That’s fun. I also love a game called “Boggle” where you shake up this game-board that has all these dice with letters on each side, an then you try to make words out of the die that are touching each other.
Another of my favorites is called “Balderdash,” where you are given a word that you most likely don’t know, and then you make up a definition that you think will convince other people. You submit your definition for the word along with all the other players in the game, and the real definition is read too. The object is to try and guess for the right definition, and make other people vote for yours.
One game that kind of gets the engine in my mind working for sermon writing is free association. I read a word, and then I write down all the words or images that come to my mind when I hear that word.
When playing “free association” with the word “power,” or even more specifically “the power to conquer sin,” I can’t help myself but think of things like “triumphant,” “strength,” “overwhelming,” “defeating.” I may think of images like a “Mighty Wind,” or “an Empty Tomb,” or the “Fourth Horseman.” In my own mind, the word “Power” may be associated with a million other words and never attract the word “vulnerable.” “The Power to Conquer sin” might take on various costumes without ever reaching the image of a baby’s hand reaching out of a straw filled manger.
So this is how we know this idea comes from the mind of God and not from the mind of mankind. It just doesn’t correlate for us. It isn’t natural. It is non-sense. Power is the ability to have no vulnerability, right? A newborn baby can’t even conquer the art of standing on two feet, much less conquering sin.
Such things just don’t spring out of a creative author’s imagination, they are too counter-cultural and counter intuitive. So, we read this story in Matthew and in Luke with wonder and awe and mystery. Some have discounted the stories as factual accounts of history, but it matters not. Whether or not they are factual, they are true!
Never has such power been so vulnerable at any time in history as what we witness in this passage of scripture. Though it wasn’t what the lectionary prescribed for today, I wanted us to all hear Deuteronomy 22 so that we would all know just how vulnerable the Christ child was!
This Power is so vulnerable, All it would have taken for it to not have come into being would have been for one person to shut her heart to the prompting of the Spirit. It would have only taken one man closing his mind to the possibilities presented to him in a dream. If instead he had thought of those laws prescribed by Deuteronomy and said to himself, “It was only a dream, this is what the law requires.” How many of us act on what comes to us in our dreams, anyway?
This sin conquering power that is embodied in this little child might have not even made it to the world if Joseph had of followed the letter of the law found in Deuteronomy. Our Lord, the conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, the lamb who takes away the sin of the world, might have been stoned to death in the womb, along with his mother, Mary in the doorway of his grandfather’s house. But this vulnerable power prevailed!
Matthew describes Joseph as a “righteous” man. By “righteous” he means that Joseph lives by the Law. He is a just man. Yet, Matthew shows Joseph balancing the words of the law with what the Spirit stirs in his heart, he portrays Joseph opting for compassion over strict adherence. What does the Lord require of us?
The New Interpreter’s Bible Suggests:
As modern hearers of this story, we’re struck by the similarity between Joseph’s quandary and their own. We want to “do the right thing,” and we believe that somehow it is revealed in the Bible. We may belong to a church that claims to accept the Bible as the norm for its faith and practice and, yet, sense that the “Christian thing to do” does not follow the letter of the Bible.
There are some biblical commands that many churches, in all good conscience and with reverence for the Bible as the Word of God, simply do not obey. This is not only in such matters as the washing of feet (John 13:12-17) and holy kisses (1 Cor 16:20), but in more basic directions concerning divorce (Mark 10:2-12) and household structure and lines of authority (1 Pet 3:1-6).
Matthew writes for the same kind of church. As Jewish Christians who had always reverenced the Law, they sometimes found themselves torn between strict adherence to the letter of the Torah and the supreme demand of love to which their new faith called them (22:39-40). If they neglected the Law, they were accused by others, and perhaps by themselves, of rejecting Bible and tradition as the “unrighteous.”
But Joseph is pictured as “righteous,” even though he had decided to act out of care for another person’s dignity rather than strictly adhere to the Law. As it turned out, Joseph did not have to carry through on his decision, but the point is made: Matthew wants to instruct his church in being “righteous” (just, committed to justice) in a way that respects both the Law of the Bible and the Christian orientation to love, even if it seems to violate the Law.
Thus Joseph stands, at the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel, as a model of what Matthew hopes for all disciples—indeed, for each reader of the Gospel. Joseph is already facing the “you-have-heard-that-it-was-said- but-I-say-to-you” tension that will be displayed in the Sermon on the Mount (5:21-48)—the tension between the prevailing understanding of God’s commandments and the new thing that God is doing in Jesus.
By Joseph’s decision to obey the startling and unexpected command of God, he is already living the heart of the law and not its letter, already living out the new and higher righteousness of the kingdom (5:20). In a difficult moral situation, he attends to the voice of God, and he is willing to set aside his previous understanding of God’s will in favor of this word from the living and saving God.
Truth be told, the rabbinic tradition had mitigated this portion of the Law by the time Mary and Joseph were faced with their respective decisions. The teachers of Law had decided that Deut. 22 was a bit harsh, and it was already uncommon to find people adhering strictly to these tenants, but still—the Power of God incarnate came into some pretty precarious circumstances, nonetheless.
The mysterious and earth changing power that is brought to life in this story about a boy coming into the world in precarious circumstances is a revelation to us about our God: who show’s forgiveness in a Father’s embrace, who takes flight in something like a gentle dove, in one whose power is through suffering, death, and finally resurrection.
God’s power is shown in our lives when we love our enemies, when we turn the other cheek to those who wrong us, and when we help those who are dire straits. The power of our God takes place in humble human lives and loves, and in this way we are part of this manger story.
Likewise, Joseph’s choice to follow his heart over the letter of the law is an example of power in vulnerability, because he is making himself vulnerable to the possibility is doing a “new thing,” instead of just “sticking to the ‘gameplan.’” The law is solid, it is cornerstone of Joseph’s culture, and yet Joseph opts for another path. He’s going out on the limb that God is communicating to him, an ordinary carpenter. He’s willing to trust the angel’s message in a dream: that the unknown baby his fiancé is carrying will save his people from their sins. And instead of distancing himself from such a crazy circumstance, he embraces that vulnerable power.
The vulnerable power becomes a boy, and Joseph teaches him and raises him. That vulnerable power grows into a man who teaches and loves and forgives his people. He walks up a mountain with a beam on his back and nails that vulnerable power up on a cross. And through this vulnerable power he saves his people from their sins, and lives up to his name: Immanuel, Jesus, God is with Us! This is how God is with us!
Amen
Deuteronomy 22: 13-30
Matthew 1: 18-25
I like word games. I sometimes get on the internet and play scrabble with people from all around the world. That’s fun. I also love a game called “Boggle” where you shake up this game-board that has all these dice with letters on each side, an then you try to make words out of the die that are touching each other.
Another of my favorites is called “Balderdash,” where you are given a word that you most likely don’t know, and then you make up a definition that you think will convince other people. You submit your definition for the word along with all the other players in the game, and the real definition is read too. The object is to try and guess for the right definition, and make other people vote for yours.
One game that kind of gets the engine in my mind working for sermon writing is free association. I read a word, and then I write down all the words or images that come to my mind when I hear that word.
When playing “free association” with the word “power,” or even more specifically “the power to conquer sin,” I can’t help myself but think of things like “triumphant,” “strength,” “overwhelming,” “defeating.” I may think of images like a “Mighty Wind,” or “an Empty Tomb,” or the “Fourth Horseman.” In my own mind, the word “Power” may be associated with a million other words and never attract the word “vulnerable.” “The Power to Conquer sin” might take on various costumes without ever reaching the image of a baby’s hand reaching out of a straw filled manger.
So this is how we know this idea comes from the mind of God and not from the mind of mankind. It just doesn’t correlate for us. It isn’t natural. It is non-sense. Power is the ability to have no vulnerability, right? A newborn baby can’t even conquer the art of standing on two feet, much less conquering sin.
Such things just don’t spring out of a creative author’s imagination, they are too counter-cultural and counter intuitive. So, we read this story in Matthew and in Luke with wonder and awe and mystery. Some have discounted the stories as factual accounts of history, but it matters not. Whether or not they are factual, they are true!
Never has such power been so vulnerable at any time in history as what we witness in this passage of scripture. Though it wasn’t what the lectionary prescribed for today, I wanted us to all hear Deuteronomy 22 so that we would all know just how vulnerable the Christ child was!
This Power is so vulnerable, All it would have taken for it to not have come into being would have been for one person to shut her heart to the prompting of the Spirit. It would have only taken one man closing his mind to the possibilities presented to him in a dream. If instead he had thought of those laws prescribed by Deuteronomy and said to himself, “It was only a dream, this is what the law requires.” How many of us act on what comes to us in our dreams, anyway?
This sin conquering power that is embodied in this little child might have not even made it to the world if Joseph had of followed the letter of the law found in Deuteronomy. Our Lord, the conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, the lamb who takes away the sin of the world, might have been stoned to death in the womb, along with his mother, Mary in the doorway of his grandfather’s house. But this vulnerable power prevailed!
Matthew describes Joseph as a “righteous” man. By “righteous” he means that Joseph lives by the Law. He is a just man. Yet, Matthew shows Joseph balancing the words of the law with what the Spirit stirs in his heart, he portrays Joseph opting for compassion over strict adherence. What does the Lord require of us?
The New Interpreter’s Bible Suggests:
As modern hearers of this story, we’re struck by the similarity between Joseph’s quandary and their own. We want to “do the right thing,” and we believe that somehow it is revealed in the Bible. We may belong to a church that claims to accept the Bible as the norm for its faith and practice and, yet, sense that the “Christian thing to do” does not follow the letter of the Bible.
There are some biblical commands that many churches, in all good conscience and with reverence for the Bible as the Word of God, simply do not obey. This is not only in such matters as the washing of feet (John 13:12-17) and holy kisses (1 Cor 16:20), but in more basic directions concerning divorce (Mark 10:2-12) and household structure and lines of authority (1 Pet 3:1-6).
Matthew writes for the same kind of church. As Jewish Christians who had always reverenced the Law, they sometimes found themselves torn between strict adherence to the letter of the Torah and the supreme demand of love to which their new faith called them (22:39-40). If they neglected the Law, they were accused by others, and perhaps by themselves, of rejecting Bible and tradition as the “unrighteous.”
But Joseph is pictured as “righteous,” even though he had decided to act out of care for another person’s dignity rather than strictly adhere to the Law. As it turned out, Joseph did not have to carry through on his decision, but the point is made: Matthew wants to instruct his church in being “righteous” (just, committed to justice) in a way that respects both the Law of the Bible and the Christian orientation to love, even if it seems to violate the Law.
Thus Joseph stands, at the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel, as a model of what Matthew hopes for all disciples—indeed, for each reader of the Gospel. Joseph is already facing the “you-have-heard-that-it-was-said- but-I-say-to-you” tension that will be displayed in the Sermon on the Mount (5:21-48)—the tension between the prevailing understanding of God’s commandments and the new thing that God is doing in Jesus.
By Joseph’s decision to obey the startling and unexpected command of God, he is already living the heart of the law and not its letter, already living out the new and higher righteousness of the kingdom (5:20). In a difficult moral situation, he attends to the voice of God, and he is willing to set aside his previous understanding of God’s will in favor of this word from the living and saving God.
Truth be told, the rabbinic tradition had mitigated this portion of the Law by the time Mary and Joseph were faced with their respective decisions. The teachers of Law had decided that Deut. 22 was a bit harsh, and it was already uncommon to find people adhering strictly to these tenants, but still—the Power of God incarnate came into some pretty precarious circumstances, nonetheless.
The mysterious and earth changing power that is brought to life in this story about a boy coming into the world in precarious circumstances is a revelation to us about our God: who show’s forgiveness in a Father’s embrace, who takes flight in something like a gentle dove, in one whose power is through suffering, death, and finally resurrection.
God’s power is shown in our lives when we love our enemies, when we turn the other cheek to those who wrong us, and when we help those who are dire straits. The power of our God takes place in humble human lives and loves, and in this way we are part of this manger story.
Likewise, Joseph’s choice to follow his heart over the letter of the law is an example of power in vulnerability, because he is making himself vulnerable to the possibility is doing a “new thing,” instead of just “sticking to the ‘gameplan.’” The law is solid, it is cornerstone of Joseph’s culture, and yet Joseph opts for another path. He’s going out on the limb that God is communicating to him, an ordinary carpenter. He’s willing to trust the angel’s message in a dream: that the unknown baby his fiancé is carrying will save his people from their sins. And instead of distancing himself from such a crazy circumstance, he embraces that vulnerable power.
The vulnerable power becomes a boy, and Joseph teaches him and raises him. That vulnerable power grows into a man who teaches and loves and forgives his people. He walks up a mountain with a beam on his back and nails that vulnerable power up on a cross. And through this vulnerable power he saves his people from their sins, and lives up to his name: Immanuel, Jesus, God is with Us! This is how God is with us!
Amen
Monday, December 17, 2007
Advent 3 Sermon: Shall we wait for another?
Sermon Texts:
Isaiah 35: 1-10
Matthew 11: 2-11
What do we expect from our Messiah?
Though it may have felt weird, there is a reason we sang “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” followed by “Lo, How a Rose e’er blooming” this morning. I wanted us to have a tangible experience of these shifting expectations the followers of God have always had about our messiah.
The triumphal “glory of the coming of the Lord;” who “is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;” and who “hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword; his truth is marching on” clashes, both tonally and thematically with the “Flower, whose fragrance tender with sweetness fills the air, dispelling in glorious splendor the darkness everywhere.” We can’t just gloss over these unmet expectations for the messiah, especially when today’s passage from Matthew reminds us that John the Baptist himself wondered—“Was I mistaken? Is this the guy we’ve been waiting for?”
We didn’t spend much time on the first half of Isaiah’s prophecy about the Messiah last week, other than to say that the qualities of human behavior that are exhibited by the branch from the stump of Jesse (a metaphorical way of saying the Messiah would come from the line of David, who was Jesse’s son.) was “unnatural behavior,” and that sometimes our call as Christians is to behave in very unnatural ways. Since, after all, violence, vengeance, fear, and self-preservation are fairly natural things.
We didn’t really focus in on things in Isaiah’s prediction that this Messiah would “strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.” We also kind of skipped over Matthew’s account of John the Baptist, where he is inspired by this text in his ushering in of the Messianic age, saying
“Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. 11“I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 12His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”
You can’t blame all the Jews who took a look at Jesus, and thought: “nice guy, but not the Messiah.” You can’t blame them because Jesus wasn’t doing the things that the Messiah was prophesied to do. This was even a bone of contention later on when the first generation of Christians were trying to persuade the Jews that Jesus was the Messiah, even though he didn’t accomplish what the scriptures said he would.
The Second Coming of Christ was an idea developed throughout the beginnings of Christianity to help explain to the Jews how Jesus could be the Messiah, accomplish some of the tasks foretold by Isaiah and the like, and then return later (what they all expected to be in their lifetime) and accomplish the other things, such as destroying the wicked, reigning in majesty, expelling the invaders, etc.
But in the midst of Jesus’ first appearance, John, who had heralded his appearance at the Jordan, and had knelt before his feet, claiming to be unworthy to baptize him. This same John is growing somewhat impatient.
Leah Goodwin, of the Swedenborgian Chapel in Cambridge, MA writes,
Isaiah 35: 1-10
Matthew 11: 2-11
What do we expect from our Messiah?
Though it may have felt weird, there is a reason we sang “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” followed by “Lo, How a Rose e’er blooming” this morning. I wanted us to have a tangible experience of these shifting expectations the followers of God have always had about our messiah.
The triumphal “glory of the coming of the Lord;” who “is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;” and who “hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword; his truth is marching on” clashes, both tonally and thematically with the “Flower, whose fragrance tender with sweetness fills the air, dispelling in glorious splendor the darkness everywhere.” We can’t just gloss over these unmet expectations for the messiah, especially when today’s passage from Matthew reminds us that John the Baptist himself wondered—“Was I mistaken? Is this the guy we’ve been waiting for?”
We didn’t spend much time on the first half of Isaiah’s prophecy about the Messiah last week, other than to say that the qualities of human behavior that are exhibited by the branch from the stump of Jesse (a metaphorical way of saying the Messiah would come from the line of David, who was Jesse’s son.) was “unnatural behavior,” and that sometimes our call as Christians is to behave in very unnatural ways. Since, after all, violence, vengeance, fear, and self-preservation are fairly natural things.
We didn’t really focus in on things in Isaiah’s prediction that this Messiah would “strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.” We also kind of skipped over Matthew’s account of John the Baptist, where he is inspired by this text in his ushering in of the Messianic age, saying
“Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. 11“I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 12His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”
You can’t blame all the Jews who took a look at Jesus, and thought: “nice guy, but not the Messiah.” You can’t blame them because Jesus wasn’t doing the things that the Messiah was prophesied to do. This was even a bone of contention later on when the first generation of Christians were trying to persuade the Jews that Jesus was the Messiah, even though he didn’t accomplish what the scriptures said he would.
The Second Coming of Christ was an idea developed throughout the beginnings of Christianity to help explain to the Jews how Jesus could be the Messiah, accomplish some of the tasks foretold by Isaiah and the like, and then return later (what they all expected to be in their lifetime) and accomplish the other things, such as destroying the wicked, reigning in majesty, expelling the invaders, etc.
But in the midst of Jesus’ first appearance, John, who had heralded his appearance at the Jordan, and had knelt before his feet, claiming to be unworthy to baptize him. This same John is growing somewhat impatient.
Leah Goodwin, of the Swedenborgian Chapel in Cambridge, MA writes,
John knows exactly who Jesus is. According to the story about Mary
visiting Elizabeth, John’s mother, while they were both in the womb, John knows
the very sound of Mary’s voice, even from the darkness of his own mother’s
belly. John knows, even before he or Jesus has a name, that this other fetus is
the anointed one, the Messiah. And knowing that, despite the cramped quarters,
he quite clearly expresses his joy with what must have been, for Elizabeth, a
startling lurch.
But times change, and the experiences of life complicate
what once seemed so clear. In this morning’s Gospel reading we find John the
Baptist, the great messenger of God’s coming reign, the prophet of the
wilderness, in a dark enclosure vastly different from the safety of his mother’s
womb.
We find him in prison - though, ironically, still in the wilderness,
for he is imprisoned, according to other sources, in the dungeon of Herod’s
wilderness palace at Machaerus. And this time, news of Jesus’ work in the world
does not have John leaping for joy. Jesus’ lordship, at least as far as John
sees it, is not quite so self-evident as it used to be.
Matthew writes, “When
John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing…” What Matthew might as well
have written is “when John heard what the Messiah was NOT doing,” because as far
as he was concerned Jesus was not sticking to the script. Healing, liberation,
good news, all right, but let’s get down to some apocalyptic business. Where was
the smiting? Where was the ax lying at the root of the trees about which John
had warned his disciples? Where was the unquenchable fire?
And so John, from
prison, sends his own disciples to inquire about the matter. “Are you the one
who is to come, or shall we look for another?” they are told to ask.
The
question is a bit shocking, if you think about it. How can John, of all people,
John who baptized Jesus all unwilling because he thought Jesus should baptize
HIM - how can John question whether Jesus is “the one who is to
come?”
Actually, it’s a legitimate question. Jesus was not the only person
claiming to be the Messiah, the “Anointed One,” running around in first-century
Palestine. He was also not the only folk healer, not the only social justice
speaker, not the only imparter of secret knowledge in the region, either. And
John, remember, is in prison, which does not immediately seem an appropriate
place for the Messiah’s forerunner and relative.
So, the question presents
itself: “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” Thus
confronted, Jesus uses the words of Isaiah, as well as a matter-of-fact call
upon empirical evidence, to answer. “Go and tell John what you hear and see,” he
says to the Baptizer’s messengers. “The blind receive their sight, the lame
walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the poor have good news brought to them.”
Actually, yes, Jesus seems to say, look for another. Or rather, look at me
another way. Shift your perspective. No, my ways are not precisely as John
prophesied - but look around you. Quit ruminating about the missing winnowing
fork and the disappointingly absent unquenchable fire and the ax which is so
conspicuously NOT laid at the root of the tree. Wake up! What do you hear? What
do you see?
What John's disciples had heard was the Sermon on the Mount,
with its message of forgiveness, generosity, gentleness of spirit, heavenly
reward, and God’s care. What they had seen consisted of ten miracles, which
Matthew depicts as having been accomplished with an endearing mixture of
tenderness and authority. What they had not heard was a good dose of smiting, or
separating wheat from chaff.
Meanwhile, Jesus has the wherewithal to hold
the work of his own ministry alongside Isaiah’s promises of restoration and
healing. He specifically claims compassion as the sign of Messiahship. Jesus’
deeds reveal that the kingdom of God is already at work - already present and
spread out among the people whose lives are changed by his deeds. Jesus,
clearly, is not precisely the Messiah that John expected. “One who is more
powerful than John” has indeed arrived -- but his power is different, and
unexpected, and not altogether satisfying to John, John who is in prison, John
who will die an awful death, John who is not convinced that healing infirmities
alone is going to redeem Israel.
John the Baptist struggled to square his
vision of the Messiah with the reality of Jesus -- and he had every reason to.
We struggle, too. This struggle, in fact, is what the season of Advent calls us
toward. Advent is a reminder to us to let God out of the box, to let go of our
preconceptions about who this Messiah should be, to release our grasp on just
what we think our salvation should look like and where the Lord is going to lead
us in our soul’s journey.
Advent is a time in which we are called,
individually and communally, to open our eyes to the kingdom which we claim to
believe is already spread out among us. It is a time, I suggest, in which it is
worth asking this question: Shall I follow the living Lord, or shall I simply
follow my notion of who the Lord should be?
For Jesus is saying to us what
he says to John: “I did not come for titles, or to collect my kingly dues. I
came to bring life to the dead. Do not ask me who I am - look, instead, at the
life I am stirring inside of you.” The Lord abides within us, is present in
every level of our existence from inmost soul to the tips of our fingers. And he
wants to heal us. He desires that we be whole. The Lord awaits his chance at
advent within us, and he will never leave us. There is, after all, no need to
look for another.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Dec. 9 Sermon, An Un-natural peace
Sermon Texts:
Matthew 3: 1-12
Isaiah 11: 1-10
“And a little child shall lead them….” This is perhaps one of our favorite images of the Kingdom of God—the Peaceable Kingdom. Isaiah casts his vision of what the world could be like, what the world will be like, when the Messiah comes. He uses the first few verses of our reading to describe the traits of the Messiah, then he spends the last few verses describing how the whole creation will respond to the leadership of the Messiah. It’s a beautiful vision, and one that has certainly made an imprint on our collective imaginations.
In this painting, made in 1820 by Edward Hicks, you see what is described by Isaiah, but you also see in the background the circumstances that caused this Quaker artist to portray such a thing. Here over the shoulders of the animals living in harmony, we see William Penn and the Indians arriving at a treaty for the settlement of Pennsylvania, which was accomplished in one of the more humane arrangements of the British colonies. Hicks painting is the perfect example of American optimism, a trait that would characterize us as a nation for the next century and beyond.
In this next portrayal of the peaceable kingdom, by John August Swanson, a contemporary artist, you see the focus of the painting on the child leading the animals, and the vivid colors and depth of the painting conveys especially well for me the wonder and mystery that is embedded in this scripture by Isaiah. So, because this is the image that I always see when I read this text, I’ll leave it here for you to focus on too as we delve into this prophecy a little more.
One of the first records that I owned was the Michael Jackson “Thriller” album. I remember being entranced with the fold out picture of Michael in his white suit, lounging on the floor, and then perched up on his knee was a Tiger cub. I used to envy Michael Jackson’s personal zoo of wild animals, all tamed and willing to play around with him.
One thing that strikes me about this passage from Isaiah, what jumps out to us all at first, is the bit about the animals co-existing peaceably, without any need to kill and devour each other. It is perhaps most striking because it is so un-natural.
But, perhaps peace is un-natural. When we are attacked, it is fairly instinctual for us to fight back, and yet, Jesus tells us “when someone slaps your face, offer the other cheek also.” Isaiah re-organizes the food chain in his vision of the kingdom. Babies are free to stick their hands into snake dens without any fear of being bitten. Cattle and lions munch straw together. Though this may be an ideal for Isaiah, I don’t think it would be for the fans and producers of “Animal Planet.” Seems like boring television to me!
Isaiah hits something on the head though when he reverses the natural order of things in this portrayal of the kingdom. He is symbolizing that many of those traits that come instinctually to us, war, reprisal, vengeance, violence, will be transcended with the coming of the Messiah. We will receive a new birth into a new world where humans have no fear of violence and bloodshed because the creation will be restored to its original blueprints.
In Genesis, Isaiah no doubt noticed that the Garden of Eden didn’t contain any predatory behavior. He probably read in Genesis 1:30, "Also, to every beast of the earth, to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, in which there is life, I have given every green herb for food"; and it was so.” And so Isaiah probably believed that a restoration to the natural order of things meant that creation didn’t inflict pain and suffering on itself in the quest for nourishment. The wolf lays with the lamb! The lion and the ox eat side by side?! The leopard and the kid?! What un-natural behavior! These are carnivores acting counter to their instincts. Or, are they transformed creatures? Are they “new creations” as Paul calls Christians in his second letter to the Corinthians, chapter 5?
Isaiah also portrays some other un-natural behavior displayed by this “root of Jesse.” He says this leader will “not judge by what his eyes see, or by what his ears hear, but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth.” Hmm. That doesn’t seem very natural either. Maybe Isaiah is cluing us into the seismic changes this kind of socio-economic change would have on the world by also speaking about the animal kingdom. If we expect that this kind of generosity and charity shown toward those who are poor and meek will just “naturally” come about as our society becomes more enlightened and compassionate, we are sorely mistaken.
Someone will always step in to stamp out the progress of the poor. There will always be those who view the power of the powerful resting on the firm foundation of the meekness of the meek. We must strive for the justice and peace of the world, but it won’t come if we discard God and prayer for technology and rationality. Technology and rationality are wonderful things, they are gifts of the living God, but when we abandon our hope and our faith in the power and grace of God for the solid and seemingly substantial power of technology and rationality, we are on a fool’s errand.
Isaiah told of the Messiah bearing the “Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of council and might.” These virtues don’t come naturally to us. They must be bestowed on us by our creator. They are as unnatural to us as straw is to a lion. Yet, they are virtues we have the capacity for when we walk in the light of God. They are qualities that can change the world for the better through us if we open our minds and hearts to the fire of the Spirit.
So, how can we mirror this un-natural proclamation in our lives? First of all, we can pray consistently and regularly for the Spirit’s guidance, especially when it comes to acting on the behalf of justice for the poor and the meek. If we think we will just “naturally” arrive at a passion for helping those in need, we will probably go through our whole lives without ever helping those who are less fortunate. It isn’t natural for us to show concern for and expend our time and resources helping those who are on the down and out. If Darwin is right, and natural selection of the fittest is the evolution of ours and all other species, then it is far from natural for those of us of power to be concerned with the well-being of the poor and meek.
It is God’s pervasive and persuasive compassion that spills over into our own hearts and souls that stirs compassion in us, not some kind of natural response to suffering. The natural response to suffering is to turn our backs on it and run away. But God has made us more than simple slaves to our instinct. Even when our gut sometimes says “turn away,” and “run away,” our God speaks to us through our hearts and says “turn not thy face from me,” “abide here with me.”
We need God’s inspiration to be God’s people and servants in the world. It’s not just going to come to us because we find our rear end in a pew a couple Sundays a month. We need to be on our knees praying for God to mold us and make us the instruments of this branch of Jesse. We need to put to use those gifts which we call “fruit of the Spirit,” which spring from this very branch. We need to follow our Master’s lead in not judging by what we see and hear, but instead on the guidance of God.
If we want the peace that is pictured in these beautiful verses of Isaiah, then we need to recognize that peace isn’t accomplished without justice. If we want peace, we must pray and work for justice. This isn’t just a socio-economic reality. If you want peace in your family, then you must address the difficult things that we might rather sweep under the rug. If you want peace within yourself, then you must rectify the wrongs you may have wrought on yourself. For some this may come in the act of forgiving yourself. For others, it may come in holding yourself accountable for some buried sin.
Another way that we can open our hearts and minds to the life changing Spirit who makes us “supernatural,” is by consciously gravitating to the opposite of the way we “normally” or “naturally” do things. We bury ourselves in the comforting pillows of what comes “naturally” to us sometimes to the extent that we muffle out the voice of the Spirit. This season, As a way to prepare for the Christ child who turns the world upside down, try turning your own world upside down in little ways.
Do you more naturally seek comfort in the fellowship of others? Try withdrawing from others so that the Spirit can speak to you in the silence. Do you more often retreat from the world when the going gets tough? Look for solace in conversation or in the vibrancy of being surrounded by others.
Do you cherish the image that some may have of you as one who “tells it like it is,” or “always speaks his mind?” Try being more indirect. Are you one who shrinks from giving your opinion? Try speaking up.
Are you one who takes the initiative all the time? Try restraining your power. Or, perhaps you feel more comfortable “following the leader.” Maybe it is time for you to step out on a new path and lead people in a new direction.
I’m not saying this to discredit your self-understanding. I’m suggesting this as an exercise that may bring us to greater self-understanding. What we may think of as our “natural” inclination, our instinct, may simply be a barrier to the Spirit’s movement through us. Our Bible is full of stories of people who were asked by God to do things that made them very uncomfortable—for God to achieve justice and peace on this earth, it is going to take us behaving in ways that seem very unnatural. So don’t let your faith be lulled to sleep with the false notion that God will never ask you to do something that you’re not comfortable with. Sometimes grace strips us of the natural, and clothes us with something mysterious and supernatural!
Matthew 3: 1-12
Isaiah 11: 1-10
“And a little child shall lead them….” This is perhaps one of our favorite images of the Kingdom of God—the Peaceable Kingdom. Isaiah casts his vision of what the world could be like, what the world will be like, when the Messiah comes. He uses the first few verses of our reading to describe the traits of the Messiah, then he spends the last few verses describing how the whole creation will respond to the leadership of the Messiah. It’s a beautiful vision, and one that has certainly made an imprint on our collective imaginations.
In this painting, made in 1820 by Edward Hicks, you see what is described by Isaiah, but you also see in the background the circumstances that caused this Quaker artist to portray such a thing. Here over the shoulders of the animals living in harmony, we see William Penn and the Indians arriving at a treaty for the settlement of Pennsylvania, which was accomplished in one of the more humane arrangements of the British colonies. Hicks painting is the perfect example of American optimism, a trait that would characterize us as a nation for the next century and beyond.
In this next portrayal of the peaceable kingdom, by John August Swanson, a contemporary artist, you see the focus of the painting on the child leading the animals, and the vivid colors and depth of the painting conveys especially well for me the wonder and mystery that is embedded in this scripture by Isaiah. So, because this is the image that I always see when I read this text, I’ll leave it here for you to focus on too as we delve into this prophecy a little more.
One of the first records that I owned was the Michael Jackson “Thriller” album. I remember being entranced with the fold out picture of Michael in his white suit, lounging on the floor, and then perched up on his knee was a Tiger cub. I used to envy Michael Jackson’s personal zoo of wild animals, all tamed and willing to play around with him.
One thing that strikes me about this passage from Isaiah, what jumps out to us all at first, is the bit about the animals co-existing peaceably, without any need to kill and devour each other. It is perhaps most striking because it is so un-natural.
But, perhaps peace is un-natural. When we are attacked, it is fairly instinctual for us to fight back, and yet, Jesus tells us “when someone slaps your face, offer the other cheek also.” Isaiah re-organizes the food chain in his vision of the kingdom. Babies are free to stick their hands into snake dens without any fear of being bitten. Cattle and lions munch straw together. Though this may be an ideal for Isaiah, I don’t think it would be for the fans and producers of “Animal Planet.” Seems like boring television to me!
Isaiah hits something on the head though when he reverses the natural order of things in this portrayal of the kingdom. He is symbolizing that many of those traits that come instinctually to us, war, reprisal, vengeance, violence, will be transcended with the coming of the Messiah. We will receive a new birth into a new world where humans have no fear of violence and bloodshed because the creation will be restored to its original blueprints.
In Genesis, Isaiah no doubt noticed that the Garden of Eden didn’t contain any predatory behavior. He probably read in Genesis 1:30, "Also, to every beast of the earth, to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, in which there is life, I have given every green herb for food"; and it was so.” And so Isaiah probably believed that a restoration to the natural order of things meant that creation didn’t inflict pain and suffering on itself in the quest for nourishment. The wolf lays with the lamb! The lion and the ox eat side by side?! The leopard and the kid?! What un-natural behavior! These are carnivores acting counter to their instincts. Or, are they transformed creatures? Are they “new creations” as Paul calls Christians in his second letter to the Corinthians, chapter 5?
Isaiah also portrays some other un-natural behavior displayed by this “root of Jesse.” He says this leader will “not judge by what his eyes see, or by what his ears hear, but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth.” Hmm. That doesn’t seem very natural either. Maybe Isaiah is cluing us into the seismic changes this kind of socio-economic change would have on the world by also speaking about the animal kingdom. If we expect that this kind of generosity and charity shown toward those who are poor and meek will just “naturally” come about as our society becomes more enlightened and compassionate, we are sorely mistaken.
Someone will always step in to stamp out the progress of the poor. There will always be those who view the power of the powerful resting on the firm foundation of the meekness of the meek. We must strive for the justice and peace of the world, but it won’t come if we discard God and prayer for technology and rationality. Technology and rationality are wonderful things, they are gifts of the living God, but when we abandon our hope and our faith in the power and grace of God for the solid and seemingly substantial power of technology and rationality, we are on a fool’s errand.
Isaiah told of the Messiah bearing the “Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of council and might.” These virtues don’t come naturally to us. They must be bestowed on us by our creator. They are as unnatural to us as straw is to a lion. Yet, they are virtues we have the capacity for when we walk in the light of God. They are qualities that can change the world for the better through us if we open our minds and hearts to the fire of the Spirit.
So, how can we mirror this un-natural proclamation in our lives? First of all, we can pray consistently and regularly for the Spirit’s guidance, especially when it comes to acting on the behalf of justice for the poor and the meek. If we think we will just “naturally” arrive at a passion for helping those in need, we will probably go through our whole lives without ever helping those who are less fortunate. It isn’t natural for us to show concern for and expend our time and resources helping those who are on the down and out. If Darwin is right, and natural selection of the fittest is the evolution of ours and all other species, then it is far from natural for those of us of power to be concerned with the well-being of the poor and meek.
It is God’s pervasive and persuasive compassion that spills over into our own hearts and souls that stirs compassion in us, not some kind of natural response to suffering. The natural response to suffering is to turn our backs on it and run away. But God has made us more than simple slaves to our instinct. Even when our gut sometimes says “turn away,” and “run away,” our God speaks to us through our hearts and says “turn not thy face from me,” “abide here with me.”
We need God’s inspiration to be God’s people and servants in the world. It’s not just going to come to us because we find our rear end in a pew a couple Sundays a month. We need to be on our knees praying for God to mold us and make us the instruments of this branch of Jesse. We need to put to use those gifts which we call “fruit of the Spirit,” which spring from this very branch. We need to follow our Master’s lead in not judging by what we see and hear, but instead on the guidance of God.
If we want the peace that is pictured in these beautiful verses of Isaiah, then we need to recognize that peace isn’t accomplished without justice. If we want peace, we must pray and work for justice. This isn’t just a socio-economic reality. If you want peace in your family, then you must address the difficult things that we might rather sweep under the rug. If you want peace within yourself, then you must rectify the wrongs you may have wrought on yourself. For some this may come in the act of forgiving yourself. For others, it may come in holding yourself accountable for some buried sin.
Another way that we can open our hearts and minds to the life changing Spirit who makes us “supernatural,” is by consciously gravitating to the opposite of the way we “normally” or “naturally” do things. We bury ourselves in the comforting pillows of what comes “naturally” to us sometimes to the extent that we muffle out the voice of the Spirit. This season, As a way to prepare for the Christ child who turns the world upside down, try turning your own world upside down in little ways.
Do you more naturally seek comfort in the fellowship of others? Try withdrawing from others so that the Spirit can speak to you in the silence. Do you more often retreat from the world when the going gets tough? Look for solace in conversation or in the vibrancy of being surrounded by others.
Do you cherish the image that some may have of you as one who “tells it like it is,” or “always speaks his mind?” Try being more indirect. Are you one who shrinks from giving your opinion? Try speaking up.
Are you one who takes the initiative all the time? Try restraining your power. Or, perhaps you feel more comfortable “following the leader.” Maybe it is time for you to step out on a new path and lead people in a new direction.
I’m not saying this to discredit your self-understanding. I’m suggesting this as an exercise that may bring us to greater self-understanding. What we may think of as our “natural” inclination, our instinct, may simply be a barrier to the Spirit’s movement through us. Our Bible is full of stories of people who were asked by God to do things that made them very uncomfortable—for God to achieve justice and peace on this earth, it is going to take us behaving in ways that seem very unnatural. So don’t let your faith be lulled to sleep with the false notion that God will never ask you to do something that you’re not comfortable with. Sometimes grace strips us of the natural, and clothes us with something mysterious and supernatural!
Monday, December 03, 2007
Dec. 2 Homily
We had the hanging of the greens service, and a communion service, so our homily was a little shorter than usual. Following is the call to worship during which we decorated our sanctuary for Advent, the scriptures, then the homily.
How shall we prepare this house for the coming of the King?
With branches of cedar, the tree of royalty.
Sing 211 “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” vs. 1 as cedars are placed.
How shall we prepare this house for the coming of the eternal Christ?
With garlands and a tree of fir and pine, whose leaves are ever living, ever green.
Sing 211, vs. 2 as garlands are placed
How shall we prepare this house for the coming of our Savior?
With wreaths of holly and ivy, telling of his passion, death, and resurrection.
Sing 211, vs. 5 as wreaths and holly are placed
How shall we prepare our hearts for the coming of the Son of God?
By hearing again the words of the scriptures, and focusing on the Word made flesh.
Sing 211, vs. 6 as Bible and nativity are lifted up.
For God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved.
Glory to God in the highest!
Sing 211, vs. 7
There's an advent candle devotion, if you have an advent wreath at home, in the middle of your upper room devotional booklet, or at Upper Rooom
Scriptures:
Isaiah 2: 1-5
Romans 13: 11-14
What time is it? Well, pastor: it’s Dec. 2, and with all this stuff we’ve done this morning, if you don’t know what time it is, and we still have communion to go after this, then I’d say we have a problem! You know that I sometimes forget my watch, and have to borrow one of the choir member’s so I can make sure everything is moving along smoothly here.
But what if I were to answer that question, “what time is it,” with something like: Well, the night is far gone, and the day is near! It looks fairly light out there, doesn’t it? Perhaps you’d think I was having a meltdown right here in the pulpit. Well—I’ll risk that and repeat Paul’s words of hope and focus to us: because even though he was writing this 2000 years ago, Paul knew what time it was then, and he would tell us the same thing this morning if we could put him in a time machine. He’d say: “You know what time it is! How it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep! For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers.”
All of this pageantry this morning is to remind us of what time it is, because sometimes we go through this season like we are asleep. These green symbols of our faith, full of meaning and beauty, are to help us wake up to the presence of the Christ child who comes into our life sometimes as unexpectedly as he came into the world. So, we’d better be awake and ready to receive the gift. You probably remember you or your children waking up on Christmas morning just as the sun peeked over the horizon, ready to open all the new gifts under the tree. Paul wants us to live with that kind of enthusiasm in our daily existence. Why? Because it is sunrise. The son has Risen, and the gift of the resurrection awaits us.
How do we prepare ourselves for such a thing? I remember as a kid on Christmas morning, my parents always made us wait in the hallway while dad got the video camera ready to film us walking into the living room, and mom would make sure Santa hadn’t left anything undone or without a tag on it. Likewise, we Christians are in something of a “holding pattern.” We’re awaiting the coming of the kingdom, and Paul tells us to get ready by living like it is already here. Like it is already daytime. We should lay aside the darkness and put on the armor of light. We can approach life like we are already resurrected, because in a very real way we already are!
But as Bob Dylan sang in “Meet me in the Morning,” “They say the darkest hour, is right before the dawn.” Sometimes the “waiting is the hardest part.” (I could go on.) When the night is far gone, and the day is near, that is sometimes the hardest time to see clearly. This is why Paul recommends we put on the light of Christ now—so others can see the resurrection life and follow us to Mt. Zion.
Isaiah proclaims that all the nations will one day come streaming in by the multitudes like a parade of salvation coming to hear their instructions. Isaiah tells us what the Lord will do—He’ll beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. The world will be peaceful and harmonious. We can give testimony to this vision by living lives of peace in the here and now. This is what it means to learn God’s ways and walk in God’s path. That is what Paul is talking about: living honorably as in the day, not caving into the spiritual violence of drunkenness, debauchery, licentiousness, quarreling, and jealousy.
What time is it? The night is far gone, and the day is near! Salvation is closer to us now than the day we became believers. Let us put on Christ by taking in Christ. Let us turn our back to the darkness through repentance for our sin. Let us face the coming day, which we live for and celebrate in the elements of this table: the table of communion, the table of light!
Scriptures:
How shall we prepare this house for the coming of the King?
With branches of cedar, the tree of royalty.
Sing 211 “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” vs. 1 as cedars are placed.
How shall we prepare this house for the coming of the eternal Christ?
With garlands and a tree of fir and pine, whose leaves are ever living, ever green.
Sing 211, vs. 2 as garlands are placed
How shall we prepare this house for the coming of our Savior?
With wreaths of holly and ivy, telling of his passion, death, and resurrection.
Sing 211, vs. 5 as wreaths and holly are placed
How shall we prepare our hearts for the coming of the Son of God?
By hearing again the words of the scriptures, and focusing on the Word made flesh.
Sing 211, vs. 6 as Bible and nativity are lifted up.
For God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved.
Glory to God in the highest!
Sing 211, vs. 7
There's an advent candle devotion, if you have an advent wreath at home, in the middle of your upper room devotional booklet, or at Upper Rooom
Scriptures:
Isaiah 2: 1-5
Romans 13: 11-14
What time is it? Well, pastor: it’s Dec. 2, and with all this stuff we’ve done this morning, if you don’t know what time it is, and we still have communion to go after this, then I’d say we have a problem! You know that I sometimes forget my watch, and have to borrow one of the choir member’s so I can make sure everything is moving along smoothly here.
But what if I were to answer that question, “what time is it,” with something like: Well, the night is far gone, and the day is near! It looks fairly light out there, doesn’t it? Perhaps you’d think I was having a meltdown right here in the pulpit. Well—I’ll risk that and repeat Paul’s words of hope and focus to us: because even though he was writing this 2000 years ago, Paul knew what time it was then, and he would tell us the same thing this morning if we could put him in a time machine. He’d say: “You know what time it is! How it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep! For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers.”
All of this pageantry this morning is to remind us of what time it is, because sometimes we go through this season like we are asleep. These green symbols of our faith, full of meaning and beauty, are to help us wake up to the presence of the Christ child who comes into our life sometimes as unexpectedly as he came into the world. So, we’d better be awake and ready to receive the gift. You probably remember you or your children waking up on Christmas morning just as the sun peeked over the horizon, ready to open all the new gifts under the tree. Paul wants us to live with that kind of enthusiasm in our daily existence. Why? Because it is sunrise. The son has Risen, and the gift of the resurrection awaits us.
How do we prepare ourselves for such a thing? I remember as a kid on Christmas morning, my parents always made us wait in the hallway while dad got the video camera ready to film us walking into the living room, and mom would make sure Santa hadn’t left anything undone or without a tag on it. Likewise, we Christians are in something of a “holding pattern.” We’re awaiting the coming of the kingdom, and Paul tells us to get ready by living like it is already here. Like it is already daytime. We should lay aside the darkness and put on the armor of light. We can approach life like we are already resurrected, because in a very real way we already are!
But as Bob Dylan sang in “Meet me in the Morning,” “They say the darkest hour, is right before the dawn.” Sometimes the “waiting is the hardest part.” (I could go on.) When the night is far gone, and the day is near, that is sometimes the hardest time to see clearly. This is why Paul recommends we put on the light of Christ now—so others can see the resurrection life and follow us to Mt. Zion.
Isaiah proclaims that all the nations will one day come streaming in by the multitudes like a parade of salvation coming to hear their instructions. Isaiah tells us what the Lord will do—He’ll beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. The world will be peaceful and harmonious. We can give testimony to this vision by living lives of peace in the here and now. This is what it means to learn God’s ways and walk in God’s path. That is what Paul is talking about: living honorably as in the day, not caving into the spiritual violence of drunkenness, debauchery, licentiousness, quarreling, and jealousy.
What time is it? The night is far gone, and the day is near! Salvation is closer to us now than the day we became believers. Let us put on Christ by taking in Christ. Let us turn our back to the darkness through repentance for our sin. Let us face the coming day, which we live for and celebrate in the elements of this table: the table of communion, the table of light!
Scriptures:
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Ed Wingfield Concert this Saturday
Saturday, December 1st at 7pm, we will host Pastor Ed Wingfield as a musical guest as he share with us gospel selections and some Christmas hymns. Ed is related to the Moshier family of our church and area, is a Baptist minister, and has a beautiful voice. Please come and enjoy his gift!
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Nov. 18 Sermon: The Proper Attire
Philippeans 4: 4-9
Matthew 22: 1-14
Sometimes the Good News sounds fine and dandy until Jesus tweaks the story just a little bit. We have come to expect the Kingdom of God to include the last and the least. This is a familiar refrain in the stories of Jesus. It makes us feel really good about ourselves since we have claimed the invitation, and are on the inside. Today’s lesson follows the general rule to Kingdom parables. That is, until the end—when we perk our ears up and wonder if we had accidentally fallen asleep and made up the ending.
The King sends out the messengers to tell of the wedding banquet for his son. If we interpret the story as Matthew’s followers probably did, we hear in the symbols the familiar setup. God is the King, and the Good News of Christ is the Banquet for his son. The messengers are the prophets who have been sent by God to his people—to spread the news of the coming of Christ. The people refuse, and so the King, feeling somewhat rebuffed, sends out the messengers again, in order that they have sufficient notice of the announcement. This time they kill the messenger/prophets, which is a common accusation of Jesus against the people of Israel, especially in Matthew. Think for instance of Matthew 23: 37, where upon arriving at Jerusalem for the first time in his ministry, Jesus utters the famous phrase, “"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”
Matthew was writing his gospel in the midst of the downfall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Temple by the Romans in 70AD, and he believed this was a punishment for the people of Jerusalem’s unbelief. This aspect of the story is different from the perhaps more familiar version of the story in Luke 14:15-24 where the King is simply rebuffed by the townspeople and therefore sends invitations to the people in the highways and the hedges.
Also unique to Matthew’s version of this parable is the King’s response to the wedding guest who is not properly dressed. This being so unique, it caught my eye and became the focus of my preparations for today’s sermon.
Why in the world would Jesus tell us that God cares about what clothes we show up to the banquet in? Doesn’t Jesus usually tell us that God accepts us no matter who we are or what kind of mess we usually show up to the banquet of his Grace in? Doesn’t this seem to chafe against our common understanding of the Gospel? What could this possibly symbolize, that could justify the King telling his servants to “bind this man hand and foot, and cast him into the outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth?” Matthew clearly thinks there is something more to the Christian life than just “showing up” to the invitation. Contrary to the Jesus of our popular conceptualization, Matthew tells of him reporting that “many are called, but few are chosen.”
So what do we do with this text? Do we move it over to the category of scriptures that may have had some use at some point, but clearly don’t belong in our repertoire of favorite scriptures for “making disciples.” After all, how many “Matthew 22:14” posters have you seen at football games. Perhaps this scripture just belongs with the Psalms about bashing babies’ heads against the rocks, or the Levitical laws about selling your son or daughter into slavery for misbehaving. Or perhaps we should try and parse out what it may be saying to us behind all the rough veneer.
Perhaps instead of always focusing on why we are accepted to the party, we should pay attention to what kind of attire we are wearing.
The Bible speaks quite frequently about clothing. In the Genesis story, we are told that God made “garments out of skin” for Adam and Eve after they ate of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Joseph draws the jealous rage of his brothers for wearing the “many colored coat” that his father gave him. Jesus is said to have worn a seamless robe that the soldiers gambled for at the foot of his cross. A woman was also healed by touching his garment.
So what about these wedding robes that seem so important to the host of the banquet? In this story, the “wedding robe” is a symbol of something. Isaiah 61:10 tells us about “garments of salvation, and robes of righteousness.” In 1st Thessalonians, Paul tells us to put on the breastplate of faith and love, and the helmet of hope and salvation. What is it that a wedding robe symbolizes anyway? This is a symbol that has been somewhat lost to us because we no longer observe the practice of wedding robes. A wedding robe was given by the host to all who attended the banquet in order to “level the playing field.”
Weddings weren’t an opportunity for the wealthy guests to show off their wealth and the poor guests to feel bad about their shabby attire. The host of the wedding provided beautiful robes so that everyone in attendance would be focused on the joy of the festivities instead of who had what. Viewed through this lens, the person who took off his wedding robe is trying to draw attention to himself. He is accepting the generosity of the host, but he is trying to do so on his own terms.
I believe today’s epistle lesson fits quite nicely with today’s Gospel lesson. Paul repeats over and over again in his letter to Phillipi to “Rejoice in the Lord, Always.” As I’ve mentioned before, this is Paul’s happiest letter, and it is written from a prison cell. Paul has tapped into the well of Christ in a way that he is now overflowing with the peace and love. He declares that this joyful exuberance surpasses all understanding, yet it guards our hearts and minds.
At the beginning of today’s reading, he pleads with two women, Euodia and Syntyche, to put their disagreement behind them and “be of the same mind.” Perhaps Paul is familiar with the “wrong attire” and is assuring his fellow banquet guests of the proper attire. Perhaps we can also hear Paul beckoning us toward the life of the light today. Perhaps when we let grudges over hurt feelings or petty jealousies stand in the way of joyful fellowship, we are wearing the wrong attire for God’s banquet! Perhaps when we allow our disagreements about the particularities to blind us to the larger truth of God’s grace, we are wearing the wrong attire to God’s banquet! Perhaps when we infect our church family with spite against someone we have a personal disagreement with, we are wearing the wrong attire to God’s banquet!
Christian friends: showing up to the banquet with an invitation in hand is a wonderful first step to accepting God’s grace. We as Wesleyans however, believe that grace continues to grow and bloom and bear fruit in our lives through the miracle of “sanctifying grace.” This is the art of living lives of personal and social holiness to be a joyful witness to the world about God’s grace and salvation. It is basically “donning our wedding robes” for the entire banquet, not taking them off after we’ve made it through the door. The idea that “many are called, but few are chosen” is Jesus’ way of telling us that the work of salvation continues in our life even after we’ve accepted the invitation.
Church membership means we are accountable to one another, and we have the privilege to be so. It is about choosing a life of reconciliation and love over gossip and grudge matches. Sisters and brothers, I will tell you as Paul told the church at Philippi, if there are two of you who are harboring feelings against each other, please put away your ill feelings for the sake of the Gospel! Paul tells us to “be of the same mind.” This mind is the mind of Christ, and Paul assures us that “we can do all things through Christ who gives us strength.”
Did you know that in the early church, when converts to the faith were being baptized, they removed all their clothing and went down into the water, then after being baptized in the name of the Trinity, they walked up out of the baptismal chamber, stomped on their old clothing, and were given new bright white robes?
The act symbolized shedding the constraints of this world and even participating in the death of Christ. The waters were entered naked to symbolize our rebirth into the Kingdom Life. The new white clothing clebrated the purity of Christ that Christians were then privileged to put on and wear with joy and righteousness. New Christians stomped on their old clothing as a symbol of rejecting the sin they had left behind on the other side of the baptismal waters.
We are invited to a great feast - a wedding feast. Let us not make light of the invitation and refuse to come. We are not required to provide our own gowns and tuxedos. It is not up to us to fashion our own garments. Instead, we are to look to God, who saw to the needs of Adam and Eve, who covered their shame, and made them to shine like the sun. We have a tailor of awesome reputation, one who, quite literally, fashions the stars and clothes the lilies of the field. In giving us Christ Jesus, God fashions for us a garment of great praise, a robe of eternal worth. We ought not be so proud as to insist on clothing ourselves, but rather humble our hearts, put on love, and clothe ourselves with Christ!
Matthew 22: 1-14
Sometimes the Good News sounds fine and dandy until Jesus tweaks the story just a little bit. We have come to expect the Kingdom of God to include the last and the least. This is a familiar refrain in the stories of Jesus. It makes us feel really good about ourselves since we have claimed the invitation, and are on the inside. Today’s lesson follows the general rule to Kingdom parables. That is, until the end—when we perk our ears up and wonder if we had accidentally fallen asleep and made up the ending.
The King sends out the messengers to tell of the wedding banquet for his son. If we interpret the story as Matthew’s followers probably did, we hear in the symbols the familiar setup. God is the King, and the Good News of Christ is the Banquet for his son. The messengers are the prophets who have been sent by God to his people—to spread the news of the coming of Christ. The people refuse, and so the King, feeling somewhat rebuffed, sends out the messengers again, in order that they have sufficient notice of the announcement. This time they kill the messenger/prophets, which is a common accusation of Jesus against the people of Israel, especially in Matthew. Think for instance of Matthew 23: 37, where upon arriving at Jerusalem for the first time in his ministry, Jesus utters the famous phrase, “"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”
Matthew was writing his gospel in the midst of the downfall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Temple by the Romans in 70AD, and he believed this was a punishment for the people of Jerusalem’s unbelief. This aspect of the story is different from the perhaps more familiar version of the story in Luke 14:15-24 where the King is simply rebuffed by the townspeople and therefore sends invitations to the people in the highways and the hedges.
Also unique to Matthew’s version of this parable is the King’s response to the wedding guest who is not properly dressed. This being so unique, it caught my eye and became the focus of my preparations for today’s sermon.
Why in the world would Jesus tell us that God cares about what clothes we show up to the banquet in? Doesn’t Jesus usually tell us that God accepts us no matter who we are or what kind of mess we usually show up to the banquet of his Grace in? Doesn’t this seem to chafe against our common understanding of the Gospel? What could this possibly symbolize, that could justify the King telling his servants to “bind this man hand and foot, and cast him into the outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth?” Matthew clearly thinks there is something more to the Christian life than just “showing up” to the invitation. Contrary to the Jesus of our popular conceptualization, Matthew tells of him reporting that “many are called, but few are chosen.”
So what do we do with this text? Do we move it over to the category of scriptures that may have had some use at some point, but clearly don’t belong in our repertoire of favorite scriptures for “making disciples.” After all, how many “Matthew 22:14” posters have you seen at football games. Perhaps this scripture just belongs with the Psalms about bashing babies’ heads against the rocks, or the Levitical laws about selling your son or daughter into slavery for misbehaving. Or perhaps we should try and parse out what it may be saying to us behind all the rough veneer.
Perhaps instead of always focusing on why we are accepted to the party, we should pay attention to what kind of attire we are wearing.
The Bible speaks quite frequently about clothing. In the Genesis story, we are told that God made “garments out of skin” for Adam and Eve after they ate of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Joseph draws the jealous rage of his brothers for wearing the “many colored coat” that his father gave him. Jesus is said to have worn a seamless robe that the soldiers gambled for at the foot of his cross. A woman was also healed by touching his garment.
So what about these wedding robes that seem so important to the host of the banquet? In this story, the “wedding robe” is a symbol of something. Isaiah 61:10 tells us about “garments of salvation, and robes of righteousness.” In 1st Thessalonians, Paul tells us to put on the breastplate of faith and love, and the helmet of hope and salvation. What is it that a wedding robe symbolizes anyway? This is a symbol that has been somewhat lost to us because we no longer observe the practice of wedding robes. A wedding robe was given by the host to all who attended the banquet in order to “level the playing field.”
Weddings weren’t an opportunity for the wealthy guests to show off their wealth and the poor guests to feel bad about their shabby attire. The host of the wedding provided beautiful robes so that everyone in attendance would be focused on the joy of the festivities instead of who had what. Viewed through this lens, the person who took off his wedding robe is trying to draw attention to himself. He is accepting the generosity of the host, but he is trying to do so on his own terms.
I believe today’s epistle lesson fits quite nicely with today’s Gospel lesson. Paul repeats over and over again in his letter to Phillipi to “Rejoice in the Lord, Always.” As I’ve mentioned before, this is Paul’s happiest letter, and it is written from a prison cell. Paul has tapped into the well of Christ in a way that he is now overflowing with the peace and love. He declares that this joyful exuberance surpasses all understanding, yet it guards our hearts and minds.
At the beginning of today’s reading, he pleads with two women, Euodia and Syntyche, to put their disagreement behind them and “be of the same mind.” Perhaps Paul is familiar with the “wrong attire” and is assuring his fellow banquet guests of the proper attire. Perhaps we can also hear Paul beckoning us toward the life of the light today. Perhaps when we let grudges over hurt feelings or petty jealousies stand in the way of joyful fellowship, we are wearing the wrong attire for God’s banquet! Perhaps when we allow our disagreements about the particularities to blind us to the larger truth of God’s grace, we are wearing the wrong attire to God’s banquet! Perhaps when we infect our church family with spite against someone we have a personal disagreement with, we are wearing the wrong attire to God’s banquet!
Christian friends: showing up to the banquet with an invitation in hand is a wonderful first step to accepting God’s grace. We as Wesleyans however, believe that grace continues to grow and bloom and bear fruit in our lives through the miracle of “sanctifying grace.” This is the art of living lives of personal and social holiness to be a joyful witness to the world about God’s grace and salvation. It is basically “donning our wedding robes” for the entire banquet, not taking them off after we’ve made it through the door. The idea that “many are called, but few are chosen” is Jesus’ way of telling us that the work of salvation continues in our life even after we’ve accepted the invitation.
Church membership means we are accountable to one another, and we have the privilege to be so. It is about choosing a life of reconciliation and love over gossip and grudge matches. Sisters and brothers, I will tell you as Paul told the church at Philippi, if there are two of you who are harboring feelings against each other, please put away your ill feelings for the sake of the Gospel! Paul tells us to “be of the same mind.” This mind is the mind of Christ, and Paul assures us that “we can do all things through Christ who gives us strength.”
Did you know that in the early church, when converts to the faith were being baptized, they removed all their clothing and went down into the water, then after being baptized in the name of the Trinity, they walked up out of the baptismal chamber, stomped on their old clothing, and were given new bright white robes?
The act symbolized shedding the constraints of this world and even participating in the death of Christ. The waters were entered naked to symbolize our rebirth into the Kingdom Life. The new white clothing clebrated the purity of Christ that Christians were then privileged to put on and wear with joy and righteousness. New Christians stomped on their old clothing as a symbol of rejecting the sin they had left behind on the other side of the baptismal waters.
We are invited to a great feast - a wedding feast. Let us not make light of the invitation and refuse to come. We are not required to provide our own gowns and tuxedos. It is not up to us to fashion our own garments. Instead, we are to look to God, who saw to the needs of Adam and Eve, who covered their shame, and made them to shine like the sun. We have a tailor of awesome reputation, one who, quite literally, fashions the stars and clothes the lilies of the field. In giving us Christ Jesus, God fashions for us a garment of great praise, a robe of eternal worth. We ought not be so proud as to insist on clothing ourselves, but rather humble our hearts, put on love, and clothe ourselves with Christ!
Monday, November 12, 2007
Our Biblical "Hair" itage
At youth on Sunday, we read different Bible passages, and then interpreted them with hair style.
The tower of Babel
Samson and Delila
"I am the vine, you are the branches"
Paul shipwrecked (the entire can of mouse is in my hair)
The burning bush
The parting of the red sea.
The line from Song of Solomon, "Your hair is like a flock of goats."
The tower of Babel
Samson and Delila
"I am the vine, you are the branches"
Paul shipwrecked (the entire can of mouse is in my hair)
The burning bush
The parting of the red sea.
The line from Song of Solomon, "Your hair is like a flock of goats."
Workin' hard for their money.
These images are from a few weeks ago, but I just found my camera in the box of rags that I was using to clean the bars we were using for the shelves. Thanks to all the men who helped put our new shelves together for the storage shed!
Sunday, November 11, 2007
11/11/07 Sermon, "Ye shall be changed"
Sermon Texts:
1 Cor. 15: 51-58
Luke 20: 27-38
The Harvest of Life
I’m sure we’ve all been noticing it in the past week. The seasons have changed; we are being enchanted by the colorful spectacle of the fall. I wrote in a little meditation for the experiential worship service a few weeks ago that the colors of fall are one of the most effective evangelists of the natural world. Do you have favorite places to go during the fall? If you’ve never been, I’d recommend the mountains just east of Poteau, on the Queen Willomena highway. It is truly beautiful there.
God’s creation gives us a grand finale of celebration before the leaves fall to the ground and decompose. One day the nutrients that they generate seeps into the very roots of the tree from which they once sprang forth. Do you think the leaves lament their separation from the tree of life? As the chlorophyll drains from them, as their ability to nurture the tree drains, they seem to celebrate to me! The marvelous colors we see in the fall are a testament to the mystery Paul writes about to the Corinthians---“We shall be changed, in the twinkling of an eye—we shall not die, but instead we shall live.”
I read a magazine article about the cellular process of apoptosis. Has anyone heard that word before? In Greek it means “falling leaves” and is a reference to the continuous process of death within life, as natural and necessary as leaves falling from the trees in autumn. During the past 20 years or so, the scientific world has realized that the process of death is a part of every moment. Each day, millions of cells are dying in our bodies, allowing physiological balance and the movement of life within us. We are only 6 weeks in the womb when our cells begin to die, through the process of apoptosis. Our fingers are webbed together, and through the voluntary death of cells in that web membrane between our fingers, our hands take shape with these miraculous little digits that we call “fingers.”
In adult life, the right balance between living and dying cells means harmony and health, while disturbances in this balance are the basis of every chronic disease. Cancer is the failure of cells to die through the natural process of apoptosis. A particular and crucial role of death within life is found in the immune system, where bacteria fighting cells armed with sophisticated biological weapons actually self destruct after releasing their “weapons.” The increased or decreased rate of apoptosis lets the body know if it needs to be on high defensive alert (with fever, cough, sneezing, etc), or if the rate of apoptosis decreases, the body knows that the invading bacteria has been dealt with.
Life and the end of life are such mysteries! We cease to breathe, our brains stop generating electricity, our heart stops pumping the blood through our circulatory system that delivers our breath to our cells. Yet Paul tells us that the mystery is that we do not really die at all. Our perishable body puts on imperishability, our lives become something more than we are quite aware of. Perhaps like cells which undergo “apoptosis,” our life and death contributes to some whole, some greater birth, which we can’t comprehend.
Last week we lifted up the names of our beloved family members and friends who have passed from this world to something we can never know until we get there.
At a preaching workshop I attended years ago, the presenter had a favorite phrase. He’d say, “Preaching the gospel is hard, because we’re standing six feet above contradiction.” Deep in the back of our minds we have some awareness of it—we don’t spend much time thinking about it until it looms at our door like the picture of the “grim reaper,” but our lives come to an end and our bodies are put in the ground or incinerated. What we know of ourselves ceases to be in existence.
Is the Good News that has been passed down from 2000 years ago any match for the cold, hard reality of death? When it comes down to it, do these ideas we subscribe to, these beliefs we keep in our hearts—do they rise to the challenge when we are laying on our death beds? A very wise Indian philosopher named Krishnamurti said, “IF one can find out what the full meaning of living is, the totality of living, the wholeness of living, then one is capable of understanding the wholeness of death. But one usually enquires into the meaning of death without enquiring into the meaning of life.” Normally we are in denial about our mortality. This is not to say that we believe we won’t physically die—we know with our intellects that we will—but the reality doesn’t enter our interior life, our feeling, and our being. The process of death is so uncomfortable that we avoid thinking about it.
Paul tells us that we are resurrected in a new life in a new form. As the harvest of our fields leads to the complex foods we create, our newly created lives will be in the service of God in ways which we can not imagine any more than a grape could comprehend its place in a glass of wine, or a grain of wheat its place in a loaf of bread.
Leon Trotsky, a father of the Russian socialist revolution, said “We only die when we fail to take root in others.” Jesus Christ took root in others, and continues to take root in our lives today, 2000 years after he lived on earth. It is through his “taking root in others” that we believe he continues to live to this day. Through his holy spirit, he continues to live and participate in our joys, our sorrows, our fears, our triumphs, and our salvation. We cannot escape him—he is as inevitable as death. In fact, Christ is more powerful than death, and through his victory through death and resurrection, he takes us on his back to eternal life.
Life and death are woven together in an intricate design. We celebrate death as a part of life, giving birth to a greater whole. We believe death is not the final chapter, but instead the end of the prologue. We celebrate the lives who have gone before us because we believe that in the remembering, in the celebration—their life carries on.
Jesus said in today’s scripture that those ancestors of the faith that Moses knew and recounted at the burning bush were “alive to God.” We hear that our earthly relationships and ways of relating to one another are transcended in the life to come. This is why, when we give ourselves to one another in Christian marriage, the priest blessing that marriage asks each person, “till death do you part.”
Our covenant with one another is bounded by our earthly lives, but our covenant with God is everlasting, and through our covenant with God, we know that we become truly living beings: alive to God and alive to one another. We are alive in a way that can never die. Though this may be reassuring to us on an ultimate level, it may be jarring or shocking to us on a worldly level. We’re used to thinking about our relationships with one another as something that defines us and gives us life. Well, perhaps this difficulty with the passage begs us to dig a little deeper here.
Jesus tells the Sadducees that the cultural and relational structures of "this age" are superfluous in "that age." The notion of marriage to the Sadducees pertains to procreating and giving an everlasting future to men and women through the lives of their children, (because to them, by a reading of the first 5 books of the Bible, that was the only route to immortality, was through the perpetual remembrance of your family line. That is why we see so many genaeologies in the Bible, and that is why the bible commanded a man to marry his brother’s widow.) The Sadducees meant to juxtapose the cultural realities of marriage with the idea of the resurrection to show that resurrection is absurd. Jesus takes their juxtaposition and turns it. In the reality of resurrection, he says, it's your cultural idea of marriage that's absurd.”
In this age of death, the focus is on having children. But for "those who are considered worthy of a place in that age," the focus is on being children, "children of God . . . children of the resurrection." In that age where all are children of God, there is no need for having children or having a partner. The having of people, one by the other, will be finished. All relationships will be equalized, all relationships transfigured.
However, To conclude from this that cherished intimacies on earth will be discontinued in the resurrection has no warrant in the text. A central part of our faith is that at God’s very basic nature, God is 3 in 1. God is a being who is relational in nature. The three persons of the Trinity, probably best portrayed by this icon, are constantly in fellowship.
Friendship and love are elemental to God’s revelation of himself. So, instead of being concerned that those whom we are united within friendship and family in this life will “cease to be connected to us” in the life to come, we should instead look forward to our relationships blooming into a transcendent love—one that surpasses what we have experienced in this life. As Charles Wesley writes in the hymn we will sing together today, “Come, let us join our friends above who have obtained the prize, and on the eagle wings of love to joys celestial rise. Let saints on earth unite to sing with those to glory gone, for all the servants of our King in earth and heaven are one.” I hope that you don’t read this passage and fear that those people who have taken root in us and whom we have taken root in will cease to be connected to us. In the life to come we will see that those interwoven roots, those connections we have made during our lives in this gift of life are more deeply and wonderfully intricate than we can possibly see right now.
This is what we can count on from a God who is Love. Death is overcome, our love is perfected, and we are changed into a new reality.
“Oh what fellowship, Oh what joy Divine, Leaning on the Everlasting Arms.”
1 Cor. 15: 51-58
Luke 20: 27-38
The Harvest of Life
I’m sure we’ve all been noticing it in the past week. The seasons have changed; we are being enchanted by the colorful spectacle of the fall. I wrote in a little meditation for the experiential worship service a few weeks ago that the colors of fall are one of the most effective evangelists of the natural world. Do you have favorite places to go during the fall? If you’ve never been, I’d recommend the mountains just east of Poteau, on the Queen Willomena highway. It is truly beautiful there.
God’s creation gives us a grand finale of celebration before the leaves fall to the ground and decompose. One day the nutrients that they generate seeps into the very roots of the tree from which they once sprang forth. Do you think the leaves lament their separation from the tree of life? As the chlorophyll drains from them, as their ability to nurture the tree drains, they seem to celebrate to me! The marvelous colors we see in the fall are a testament to the mystery Paul writes about to the Corinthians---“We shall be changed, in the twinkling of an eye—we shall not die, but instead we shall live.”
I read a magazine article about the cellular process of apoptosis. Has anyone heard that word before? In Greek it means “falling leaves” and is a reference to the continuous process of death within life, as natural and necessary as leaves falling from the trees in autumn. During the past 20 years or so, the scientific world has realized that the process of death is a part of every moment. Each day, millions of cells are dying in our bodies, allowing physiological balance and the movement of life within us. We are only 6 weeks in the womb when our cells begin to die, through the process of apoptosis. Our fingers are webbed together, and through the voluntary death of cells in that web membrane between our fingers, our hands take shape with these miraculous little digits that we call “fingers.”
In adult life, the right balance between living and dying cells means harmony and health, while disturbances in this balance are the basis of every chronic disease. Cancer is the failure of cells to die through the natural process of apoptosis. A particular and crucial role of death within life is found in the immune system, where bacteria fighting cells armed with sophisticated biological weapons actually self destruct after releasing their “weapons.” The increased or decreased rate of apoptosis lets the body know if it needs to be on high defensive alert (with fever, cough, sneezing, etc), or if the rate of apoptosis decreases, the body knows that the invading bacteria has been dealt with.
Life and the end of life are such mysteries! We cease to breathe, our brains stop generating electricity, our heart stops pumping the blood through our circulatory system that delivers our breath to our cells. Yet Paul tells us that the mystery is that we do not really die at all. Our perishable body puts on imperishability, our lives become something more than we are quite aware of. Perhaps like cells which undergo “apoptosis,” our life and death contributes to some whole, some greater birth, which we can’t comprehend.
Last week we lifted up the names of our beloved family members and friends who have passed from this world to something we can never know until we get there.
At a preaching workshop I attended years ago, the presenter had a favorite phrase. He’d say, “Preaching the gospel is hard, because we’re standing six feet above contradiction.” Deep in the back of our minds we have some awareness of it—we don’t spend much time thinking about it until it looms at our door like the picture of the “grim reaper,” but our lives come to an end and our bodies are put in the ground or incinerated. What we know of ourselves ceases to be in existence.
Is the Good News that has been passed down from 2000 years ago any match for the cold, hard reality of death? When it comes down to it, do these ideas we subscribe to, these beliefs we keep in our hearts—do they rise to the challenge when we are laying on our death beds? A very wise Indian philosopher named Krishnamurti said, “IF one can find out what the full meaning of living is, the totality of living, the wholeness of living, then one is capable of understanding the wholeness of death. But one usually enquires into the meaning of death without enquiring into the meaning of life.” Normally we are in denial about our mortality. This is not to say that we believe we won’t physically die—we know with our intellects that we will—but the reality doesn’t enter our interior life, our feeling, and our being. The process of death is so uncomfortable that we avoid thinking about it.
Paul tells us that we are resurrected in a new life in a new form. As the harvest of our fields leads to the complex foods we create, our newly created lives will be in the service of God in ways which we can not imagine any more than a grape could comprehend its place in a glass of wine, or a grain of wheat its place in a loaf of bread.
Leon Trotsky, a father of the Russian socialist revolution, said “We only die when we fail to take root in others.” Jesus Christ took root in others, and continues to take root in our lives today, 2000 years after he lived on earth. It is through his “taking root in others” that we believe he continues to live to this day. Through his holy spirit, he continues to live and participate in our joys, our sorrows, our fears, our triumphs, and our salvation. We cannot escape him—he is as inevitable as death. In fact, Christ is more powerful than death, and through his victory through death and resurrection, he takes us on his back to eternal life.
Life and death are woven together in an intricate design. We celebrate death as a part of life, giving birth to a greater whole. We believe death is not the final chapter, but instead the end of the prologue. We celebrate the lives who have gone before us because we believe that in the remembering, in the celebration—their life carries on.
Jesus said in today’s scripture that those ancestors of the faith that Moses knew and recounted at the burning bush were “alive to God.” We hear that our earthly relationships and ways of relating to one another are transcended in the life to come. This is why, when we give ourselves to one another in Christian marriage, the priest blessing that marriage asks each person, “till death do you part.”
Our covenant with one another is bounded by our earthly lives, but our covenant with God is everlasting, and through our covenant with God, we know that we become truly living beings: alive to God and alive to one another. We are alive in a way that can never die. Though this may be reassuring to us on an ultimate level, it may be jarring or shocking to us on a worldly level. We’re used to thinking about our relationships with one another as something that defines us and gives us life. Well, perhaps this difficulty with the passage begs us to dig a little deeper here.
Jesus tells the Sadducees that the cultural and relational structures of "this age" are superfluous in "that age." The notion of marriage to the Sadducees pertains to procreating and giving an everlasting future to men and women through the lives of their children, (because to them, by a reading of the first 5 books of the Bible, that was the only route to immortality, was through the perpetual remembrance of your family line. That is why we see so many genaeologies in the Bible, and that is why the bible commanded a man to marry his brother’s widow.) The Sadducees meant to juxtapose the cultural realities of marriage with the idea of the resurrection to show that resurrection is absurd. Jesus takes their juxtaposition and turns it. In the reality of resurrection, he says, it's your cultural idea of marriage that's absurd.”
In this age of death, the focus is on having children. But for "those who are considered worthy of a place in that age," the focus is on being children, "children of God . . . children of the resurrection." In that age where all are children of God, there is no need for having children or having a partner. The having of people, one by the other, will be finished. All relationships will be equalized, all relationships transfigured.
However, To conclude from this that cherished intimacies on earth will be discontinued in the resurrection has no warrant in the text. A central part of our faith is that at God’s very basic nature, God is 3 in 1. God is a being who is relational in nature. The three persons of the Trinity, probably best portrayed by this icon, are constantly in fellowship.
Friendship and love are elemental to God’s revelation of himself. So, instead of being concerned that those whom we are united within friendship and family in this life will “cease to be connected to us” in the life to come, we should instead look forward to our relationships blooming into a transcendent love—one that surpasses what we have experienced in this life. As Charles Wesley writes in the hymn we will sing together today, “Come, let us join our friends above who have obtained the prize, and on the eagle wings of love to joys celestial rise. Let saints on earth unite to sing with those to glory gone, for all the servants of our King in earth and heaven are one.” I hope that you don’t read this passage and fear that those people who have taken root in us and whom we have taken root in will cease to be connected to us. In the life to come we will see that those interwoven roots, those connections we have made during our lives in this gift of life are more deeply and wonderfully intricate than we can possibly see right now.
This is what we can count on from a God who is Love. Death is overcome, our love is perfected, and we are changed into a new reality.
“Oh what fellowship, Oh what joy Divine, Leaning on the Everlasting Arms.”
Monday, November 05, 2007
All Saints Day Homily: "She Went on"
We lifted up the following people who have "Gone on" during our All Saint's Day Great Thanksgiving, if you would like to add the name of a loved one, click the comment tab below and we can have a sort of "virtual All Saint's remembrance"
Jerry Holland
Dixie Standifer
Esther Moore
Genevieve Ledbetter
Grace Lemon
James Lemon
Nelly Admire
Latricia Phillips
Johnny Shock
Ruth Garrison
Deanna McAlister
Barbara Luttmer
Soldiers and Casualties of war during the past year.
The homily was based on the following Texts:
Romans 6: 3-11
Hebrews 11:1- 12:1-3
She went on….
I’m not quite sure I’ve heard this phrase in this part of the country, but in Arkansas and other parts of the south, this is a way to refer to those who die. We also say, “pass away.” I’ve always been intrigued by the way we speak about death. The word “dead” just has so much finality, it has a muffling effect, it seems. I do think it is appropriate to use the word in a theological sense, but perhaps the words “pass away,” or “went on” communicate better our understanding of death that has been shaped by our religious perspective.
We believe that our departed have “passed away,” and have “gone on to glory,” and thus, death is as much a beginning to celebrate as it is an end to mourn. Because this life is not all that God has in store for us, we live on in a way that our mind cannot quite comprehend, but in a way that God has assured us will bring us great joy. We are born, we live life, we die, and then by the miracle of resurrection, we shall live again. This is an aspect of our faith life that sustains many through trials and hardships, through pain and illness, and so it deserves our focus for at least one day out of the year—and judging by how often this congregation chooses the hymn “When we all get to heaven,” when you are given the chance, I’d bet that this aspect of our faith life is pretty important to you.
On this day, we give thanks for the individuals in our midst who have “gone on” to the great cloud of witnesses. That is a Biblical term that we use to define who the dead have now become to us, the living. They are a cloud of witnesses who surround us, encourage us, and speak to us in a way that is not necessarily detectable to the five senses of this earthly body, but instead to our Heavenly spirits.
Whenever we think of the word “saint,” we most likely have several mental images come to mind. We may think of some of the famous saints of the past, like St. Nicholas or St. Francis. Perhaps we think of ourselves? For me, hearing the word “saint” brings to mind the words from the Anglican communion liturgy, when the saints are weekly lifted up and blessed with the words, “may light perpetual shine upon them.” I don’t know why I like these words as much as I do, but it aptly describes for me the experience of being in the presence of God.
Today I want to speak a little bit about someone many of us think of as a saint, though she has not yet made it through the official “process” of being declared a saint by the Roman Catholic church, still when many of us hear the word “saint” we think of Mother Theresa, who spent the majority of her life working for and among the poor in India.
Though she seems to be universally loved and appreciated by Catholics and Protestants alike, she has been in the news lately because some of her writings have surfaced that may cause some to take pause.
Basically, in a book that recently came out called “Come be my Light,” those whom she came to for pastoral care and corresponded with over the decades have revealed that she felt a deep and abiding emptiness when it came to the experience of God. She privately referred to Jesus as “the absent one,” and wrote about the hardships of “keeping up appearances” while the world watched. What is shocking is that the onset of these feelings of emptiness came immediately after she obtained the patronage and blessing of the church to begin a new order of women dedicated to the service of the poor in India. She felt God pull her toward realizing the goal of beginning a ministry, and then after she had gotten there, it is as if God disappeared from her life entirely.
This darkness did not abate. She didn’t “get through it.” She stayed in it until she died. This is a heartbreaking realization for us, and yet it is also hopeful. It is heartbreaking because those of us who may experience an absence of God’s presence in our lives may take note and assume that it will never get better for us, especially because it never got better for Theresa. It is hopeful for us, because even after 60 years of the felt absence of God, Theresa “went on” with the charge she was given. She stayed faithful to the truth that God cared for the poor and wretched, and that her love for them was showing his love to them, even if she did not experience it herself.
She was willing to stand by her commitments and finish the course that was set before her because that is what she had heard Christ call her to do. Perhaps these revelations about the absence of a felt sustaining presence are a testament to us about the importance of the unequivocal call of God on our lives. Perhaps we privilege the “experience of feeling” too much in our society and need to understand that God stakes a claim on us whether or not we feel “moved” to be a good Christian, or come to church, or give to the poor.
Maybe, especially when the experience of giving to or helping the poor leaves us feeling drained or unsatisfied or even used—perhaps Theresa’s witness to us is that…it does not really matter how it makes us feel---when God calls us to action, we should give it our all to respond as faithful servants of our master!
So, Theresa “went on” with her calling and now she continues to “go on” to us as a member of this “cloud of witnesses.” And those others whom we will name today who have “went on” in the past year to the great cloud of witnesses also push us to “go on,” in our own witness of Christ in the world. As the author of Hebrews has said, “they have died, but by their faith they still speak.”
Listen! Do you hear them speaking? If you can’t hear their voices, then listen with your hearts. If you can’t honor them with your words, then honor our God with the words of your actions. We are called to make complete their faith—let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us—with our eyes firmly fixed on Jesus. And may we pay tribute to those recent additions to the “great cloud of witnesses” who encourage us to “go on” living for Christ no matter what difficulties face us. And in this way, we too shall “go on” in the life of the community of faith after we have “went on” ourselves.
Jerry Holland
Dixie Standifer
Esther Moore
Genevieve Ledbetter
Grace Lemon
James Lemon
Nelly Admire
Latricia Phillips
Johnny Shock
Ruth Garrison
Deanna McAlister
Barbara Luttmer
Soldiers and Casualties of war during the past year.
The homily was based on the following Texts:
Romans 6: 3-11
Hebrews 11:1- 12:1-3
She went on….
I’m not quite sure I’ve heard this phrase in this part of the country, but in Arkansas and other parts of the south, this is a way to refer to those who die. We also say, “pass away.” I’ve always been intrigued by the way we speak about death. The word “dead” just has so much finality, it has a muffling effect, it seems. I do think it is appropriate to use the word in a theological sense, but perhaps the words “pass away,” or “went on” communicate better our understanding of death that has been shaped by our religious perspective.
We believe that our departed have “passed away,” and have “gone on to glory,” and thus, death is as much a beginning to celebrate as it is an end to mourn. Because this life is not all that God has in store for us, we live on in a way that our mind cannot quite comprehend, but in a way that God has assured us will bring us great joy. We are born, we live life, we die, and then by the miracle of resurrection, we shall live again. This is an aspect of our faith life that sustains many through trials and hardships, through pain and illness, and so it deserves our focus for at least one day out of the year—and judging by how often this congregation chooses the hymn “When we all get to heaven,” when you are given the chance, I’d bet that this aspect of our faith life is pretty important to you.
On this day, we give thanks for the individuals in our midst who have “gone on” to the great cloud of witnesses. That is a Biblical term that we use to define who the dead have now become to us, the living. They are a cloud of witnesses who surround us, encourage us, and speak to us in a way that is not necessarily detectable to the five senses of this earthly body, but instead to our Heavenly spirits.
Whenever we think of the word “saint,” we most likely have several mental images come to mind. We may think of some of the famous saints of the past, like St. Nicholas or St. Francis. Perhaps we think of ourselves? For me, hearing the word “saint” brings to mind the words from the Anglican communion liturgy, when the saints are weekly lifted up and blessed with the words, “may light perpetual shine upon them.” I don’t know why I like these words as much as I do, but it aptly describes for me the experience of being in the presence of God.
Today I want to speak a little bit about someone many of us think of as a saint, though she has not yet made it through the official “process” of being declared a saint by the Roman Catholic church, still when many of us hear the word “saint” we think of Mother Theresa, who spent the majority of her life working for and among the poor in India.
Though she seems to be universally loved and appreciated by Catholics and Protestants alike, she has been in the news lately because some of her writings have surfaced that may cause some to take pause.
Basically, in a book that recently came out called “Come be my Light,” those whom she came to for pastoral care and corresponded with over the decades have revealed that she felt a deep and abiding emptiness when it came to the experience of God. She privately referred to Jesus as “the absent one,” and wrote about the hardships of “keeping up appearances” while the world watched. What is shocking is that the onset of these feelings of emptiness came immediately after she obtained the patronage and blessing of the church to begin a new order of women dedicated to the service of the poor in India. She felt God pull her toward realizing the goal of beginning a ministry, and then after she had gotten there, it is as if God disappeared from her life entirely.
This darkness did not abate. She didn’t “get through it.” She stayed in it until she died. This is a heartbreaking realization for us, and yet it is also hopeful. It is heartbreaking because those of us who may experience an absence of God’s presence in our lives may take note and assume that it will never get better for us, especially because it never got better for Theresa. It is hopeful for us, because even after 60 years of the felt absence of God, Theresa “went on” with the charge she was given. She stayed faithful to the truth that God cared for the poor and wretched, and that her love for them was showing his love to them, even if she did not experience it herself.
She was willing to stand by her commitments and finish the course that was set before her because that is what she had heard Christ call her to do. Perhaps these revelations about the absence of a felt sustaining presence are a testament to us about the importance of the unequivocal call of God on our lives. Perhaps we privilege the “experience of feeling” too much in our society and need to understand that God stakes a claim on us whether or not we feel “moved” to be a good Christian, or come to church, or give to the poor.
Maybe, especially when the experience of giving to or helping the poor leaves us feeling drained or unsatisfied or even used—perhaps Theresa’s witness to us is that…it does not really matter how it makes us feel---when God calls us to action, we should give it our all to respond as faithful servants of our master!
So, Theresa “went on” with her calling and now she continues to “go on” to us as a member of this “cloud of witnesses.” And those others whom we will name today who have “went on” in the past year to the great cloud of witnesses also push us to “go on,” in our own witness of Christ in the world. As the author of Hebrews has said, “they have died, but by their faith they still speak.”
Listen! Do you hear them speaking? If you can’t hear their voices, then listen with your hearts. If you can’t honor them with your words, then honor our God with the words of your actions. We are called to make complete their faith—let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us—with our eyes firmly fixed on Jesus. And may we pay tribute to those recent additions to the “great cloud of witnesses” who encourage us to “go on” living for Christ no matter what difficulties face us. And in this way, we too shall “go on” in the life of the community of faith after we have “went on” ourselves.
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