July 24, 2011
OT18A Matthew 14:13-21
This week, Wal-Mart announced it’s plans to open a grocery store in Somerville that would rival Whole Food’s offerings of healthy gourmet foods AND prices. It will be called, Wal-Mart Market.
Seriously?
Walmart Market?
In liberal, progressive, independent business friendly, eco-conscious Somerville?
Seriously,
I really have no idea what a Somervillian response to a Walmart Market might be. It sort of sounds like an oxymoron to me personally, after visiting the Super Walmart in my home town in the upper-midwest--the grocery part was full of NON local produce, every brand of frozen pizza and dry breakfast cereal in the world. Walmart doesn’t symbolize health or wholeness or organic in my mind. But that’s just me.
Today, on first glance, the parables that Jesus spouts off sound like a stream of choices on how to perceive the realm of God. All the same, but just different labels--inexpensive, simple, and clear---a sort of Wal-Mart smorgasbord of choices--choose the brand that works for you and go with it.
But really, these five parables describing God’s kin-dom are more like the fruit of the labor represented in a farmer’s market. Harvested in real time, each parable describes the multi-valent depth of God’s love--rich in taste, in touch, and each with its own integrity and reality. There is no choice--all of the similes point to a different aspect to the earthy, hidden mystery of God, which is always surprising in its depth and simplicity.
Let’s review them, shall we?
The kingdom of heaven is like..
a mustard seed.
leaven in flour.
a treasure hidden in a field.
a priceless pearl.
a net that catches all kinds of fish.
All of these parables use images familiar and common to a first century audience of peasant farmers, Jewish rabbis, and fisherfolk. Jesus uses these images to turn upside down any preconceived notions or beliefs about God’s reign--making the kingdom of God accesible to all--clean, unclean, Jew, Gentile, rich, poor....
Simple, right?
Not so much.
In the first place, the idea of the “kingdom of heaven?” is complicated. It’s not exactly a place that one goes to after death--you know, with St. Peter and the pearly gates and all. Rather, when Jesus uses this term, he is more talking about what God’s reign on earth might be like---a sort of heaven on earth, if you will.
Another way to think of it would be is if God’s love,
or Love itself were the rule of the world.
Love reigning would mean that
There would be no unspeakable violence wrought, like the hell that was unleashed in Norway on Friday, by a sick person who blew up bombs and shot innocent children swimming for their lives....
There would be no young lives lost in war, there would be no more hurt or sickness or anguish.
but that sounds like Utopia. I’m not so sure that Jesus was trying to describe a utopian vision.
Perhaps, what Jesus means is that even though
unspeakable violence and horror might still happen, God’s love can rule in the midst of it. In fact, God’s kingdom, in these images, seems to exist, in spite of what seems insurmountable, controlling, overwhelming, evident, dominating, strong.
Hidden, but in plain view.
God’s kingdom--it’s small like a seed, and grows like a weed....and becomes a tree that birds can nest in. (Can you see the farmers laughing at this? Who would sow a weed in a garden? How could it grow into a useful tree? This image almost mocks the mighty Cedar Trees of Lebanon in the OT that were a symbol of the hope and strength of Israel---
However, many native plants are considered weeds, but recently I saw a native garden of black eyed susans, white daisies, purple coneflowers, and prairie grass that was not only stunning, but environmentally healthy and strong....)
God’s love---It’s unholy, like leavened bread, (Unleavened bread was holy--a symbol of the passover, and God’s liberating love for the Israelites in captivity. Leavening was considered impure, something developed in the dark, a sort of fungus, associated with everyday profane life....and the parable’s implied comparison of God to a baker-woman was the complete opposite of pure male priest of Levi However, what a hopeful image of God’s love--that it can thrive even in the most unholy of places.)
God’s realm--is hidden, and found accidentally. It’s an unexpected treasure, so compelling and complete it’s almost too good to be true--so you hide it at first until you can no longer stand it, and then, you are willing to give it your all, because how can you not? Remember falling in love with something---your beloved, or perhaps your vocation? Thinking to yourself, “This is too good to be true. I am going to keep it to myself for awhile, just in case its not real.” Someone described finding Eliot this way--she felt like she should keep dating, but knew that she had fallen in love after being here a couple of times.
God’s love can be found, like a pearl of great value...ah, the proverbial search for meaning. What a perfect image for the 21st century context in which we live, isn’t it? We seek, we long, we hope for meaning and relevance and resonance.
And yet, God’s love is not selective, like a catch of fish in a net. A fisher’s net hauls in all kinds of fish--from the wanted and desired to that which is thrown overboard.
This was a radical concept in the first century---as it is now.
God’s love is not. selective.
What Jesus is saying here is:
Sinner--you are loved.
Saint--you are loved.
Crazy terrorist right wing Christian--you are loved.
Pompous self righteous politician--you are loved.
Scheming con-artist on the street--you are loved.
Tiny new born gorgeous baby boy--you are loved.
Ancient curmudgeon--you are loved.
Cynic? Skeptic? --you are loved.
Believer, achiever--you are loved.
You are loved...
because You. Are.
and nothing, nothing, nothing
will ever separate you from Divine Love.
Nothing.
sigh.
I will admit it.
The past ten days,
at my childhood home,
were challenging.
One parent frazzled by selling, buying, packing, sorting, worrying...
One parent incapacitated and reluctant about change,
Another parent disappointed by how little time we spent together,
and the last parent, well...there is always one that pushes my buttons.
There were also my own emotions as I tore apart the house in which I grew up,
sifting through memories--good and bad and in between...
discovering old secrets hidden in photographs and objects,
and even finding buried treasures.
I wondered, more than once,
where is God’s reign in this poignant, stressful, life experience?
Where did I see God’s love,
in spite of the frightened frailness and forgetfulness of my aging parents?
in spite of in the tears and frustration of me not being able to do it all, and be all for everyone?
Where was God’s love hidden? Where was that love that paves a way through life’s wilderness?
I stumbled upon it,
in my father’s kiss good-bye,
and in the wet eyes of my mother....
I found it in the kindness of Pastor Muriel,
who not only provided excellent pastoral care for my parents, but also in the little things she did, like pick up dinner, and making up my mother’s bed, because she was too sick to put the clean sheets on herself.
I found Love planted in my laughter of finding a report that I wrote in 8th grade that described the horrors of Confirmation Bible Camp and my secret desire to become a fashion designer when I grew up.
God’s love was present in all of the unholy, unrealized and unanswered questions and worries and hopes and fears of week...
Yes, it was and IS that inseparable Love of God that is promised in Romans 8.
hidden in all of that,
Sisters and brothers.
God’s love is hidden and unholy and not selective.
Thank God.
It is tucked away in the corners of our lives...
and when we are searching,
or when we are most needing it and just stumble upon it, it is there.
It’s small and mighty, and can spread like a weed.
May we all have arms and hearts to embrace this Reign of Love...
but if we don’t, won’t, or cant’
it doesn’t matter,
because our God,
will never, ever let us go. Nothing ever can separate us from this Divine Love.
Even though it is hidden, it is in plain view.
Amen.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
Occupy!
Isaiah 35:1-7
Matthew 22:15-22
It’s a phenomenon.
It’s a movement.
It’s an expression.
It’s huge.
It’s global.
It’s Occupy.
And it has spread like wildfire--even in this past week, this movement has burgeoned off the charts, creating protests and marches and sit-ins in places like Jackson, Mississippi, Halifax, Nova Scotia, Rome, Italy, and even Australia.
They are crying out and beating drums, they are sharing food and sleeping in tents, they are young and old, unemployed and working, they are students and labor unions and war veterans--in other words, they are people from every walk of life. They call themselves the 99% per centers, and they are dogged and determined in their protest against social and economic inequality, corporate greed, and the influence of corporate money and lobbyists on government, and much more. There is no single organizer, or even political message...but it is clear, what started as a small thing on Wall Street on September 17 has struck a chord in our collective consciousness.
And if you want to know more about the actual experience, I invite you to join Ellen and Brendan, two young people deeply involved in the movement, in the forum after worship. Both of them have spent a lot of time there, and I can’t wait to hear more--here is a tidbit---the movement is so diverse and willing to bind together in spite of differences, that even the anarchists, well, agreed not to anarchize !?!
What has piqued my interest besides the actual movement is the fact that at first--mostly, this movement consisted of a majority of beautiful people of the generation that Ellen and Brendan are a part of: Generation Y, Echo Boomers, the Millennial’s--the 20-30 something cadre of adult Americans.
And let me tell you--these 20-30 some-things, in spite of not being assured of jobs--let alone meaningful work after college, in spite of huge student loan debt, in spite of the world they have inherited, are powerful. Look at what they started! So inspirational, that our own Ginny Robinson, started an Occupy Newton movement in order to support the courage of the protestors downtown. Listen to the ad that was in the Tab this week.
(read ad)
The idea of Occupy has taken fire. In fact, it’s taken off in offices and blogs and beyond. For example, on the RevGalBlogPal blog, Monday was declared “Occupy RevGals! What do you want to say?,” which invited readers to post what they would like to stand up for.
We are sitting here, in Occupy Sanctuary, Occupy Church--
What is it that you are praying for, hoping for, listening for?
Occupy.
It’s an interesting concept, no?
The definition of Occupy is:
1. to live or be established in (a house, flat, office, etc.)
2. to keep busy or engrossed; engage the attention of
3. to take up (a certain amount of time or space)
4. to take and hold possession of, esp as a demonstration “students occupied the college buildings or a country is occupied by force.”
5. to fill or hold (as in an office.)
Engage. Engross. To take up space. To hold.
As in, I hope that the Spirit of God is holding us this morning, filling this worship space, engaging our imagination and senses.
Occupy.
Ancient Israel suffered not only occupation but diaspora. Israel was occupied by the Babylonians, and the Babylonians decided to relocate the most powerful, the most talented Israelites from Jerusalem to Babylon, to diffuse and dilute the voice of the Israelites. It worked. Many of them assimilated into the culture, forming the first practices of Judaism that are the root of many modern rituals and practices in today’s Jewish congregations.
So, in spite of being displaced, the homes and hearts of the Israelite people were occupied by domination, and they were crying out for freedom. (At least, some of them felt that way, but that’s another story.)
Enter in the Persian conqueror Cyrus.
He was pretty successful in overthrowing the Babylonians, actually pretty much the entire area of what we know today as the Middle East. That means he also had Jerusalem, under his realm.
What is astonishing is that in our text today,
The God of Israel appoints him the savior, the anointed one, the messiah, of Israel.
This, for all intents and purposes, was really quite outrageous.
He not only was a foreigner and a conqueror, he was also NOT one of the Chosen People.
In fact,Cyrus wasn’t even aware of the God of Israel, and yet, the Lord of Hosts calls Cyrus as God’s own:
For the sake of my servant Jacob, and Israel my chosen, I call you by your name, I surname you, though you do not know me. (Isaiah 35)
Don’t you just love it? God choosing the most unlikely of saviors for God’s chosen people. Just when you think you have this God thing figured out, more mystery emerges--at least that is what I imagine was the response of the ancients.
For me, too. I am daily surprised by the Mystery of God. She shows up in the unlikeliest places, teaching me grace and humility through those people and places that are perceived as unholy, mundane, and dismissible.
Seriously,
I see a lot of the Holy Spirit’s movement in the Occupy Wall Street movement.
These protestors have started a national--even global conversation about our country’s priorities and values--about jobs, budgets, wars, greed. We will see, if we haven’t already, images and hear things from the demonstrators which will offend us, and some will inspire us. We will hear demands we agree with and some that we don’t.
But mostly, this movement is about what we care about as Christians--
caring for the poor, the homeless, those in need, and those in crisis.
They are calling for Justice. For hope. For blessing.
They are finding unity in diversity.
They are leading towards a bit of heaven on earth, for all.
Maybe this movement is like Cyrus--
It’s being called forth by the Divine,
even if it isn’t a “religious” movement.
Have you ever heard the saying, “Sometimes the best Christians are those who aren’t?”
Listen to these words from Brendan Curran’s sermon last week, where he describes his impressions of Dewey Square:
I watched somewhat astonished as the rather spontaneously formed crowd developed a process of communication where everyone’s voice and values were heard. There didn’t seem to be a rush in making demands but rather an emphasis on not emulating the behavior of the structures they protest. The crowds of hundreds together agreed on a statement of radical inclusivity to all different peoples and unanimously voted to share food with the areas homeless people. They even set up an area for free clothes distribution. Soldiers coming back from Iraq started a medical tent, others formed a food tent, a media tent, an arts and culture committee, and the Christians, the Buddhists, the Jewish people, the Muslims, The Pagans, the Hindus, the Zoroastrians, and everyone else formed space to create an open meditation and prayer space.
I was amazed to see a constant flow of food, medicines, and clothes pour in from farmers markets, and surrounding businesses to feed the group of afflicted and/or concerned individuals who had gathered there. One of the many conversations I eavesdropped on was between two young white men and two young black women talking together appreciating how only a generation ago one groups’ parents was throwing rocks at the others’ school bus but now they find themselves together talking about their shared concerns...they held signs that said, “We are the 99%,” and, “Blessed are the poor!
I think the people occupying Dewey Square might be trying to empower us to name false idols and to embody compassion in our neighborhood. They have reminded me that we must not be embarrassed by Love. We can let our lights shine before one another and that when we do this together we see more and more clearly the face of the living God who goes before us who came that we might have life and have it abundantly.Sounds a little like the realm of God, doesn’t it? To me, it does.
But there is more. There are those of us who are not called to protest, who cannot make signs and march. For some, it’s just not our thing. How is God calling us? How is God calling you to bring forth justice and Light?
I think the concept of “occupy” might help us discern.
What does it mean to dwell, to live, to engage, for you?
Sometimes, I think, we tend to either overstuff our lives with so much that we don’t really occupy our lives. We live for the next moment, the next meeting, the next thing, so much that we forget where we are and whose we are, and why we are doing what we are doing. We forget that we have a voice, that we too, are anointed by God.
My favorite image of the Occupy movement is a snapshot of a woman in the fast wilderness of Alaska, posing with her three dogs. Her sign said,
“Find your Space. Occupy It. “
Sisters and brothers,
I challenge you today--
To not be embarrassed by Love.
To let your Lights shine.
To find your space--
and Occupy it.
Amen.
Matthew 22:15-22
It’s a phenomenon.
It’s a movement.
It’s an expression.
It’s huge.
It’s global.
It’s Occupy.
And it has spread like wildfire--even in this past week, this movement has burgeoned off the charts, creating protests and marches and sit-ins in places like Jackson, Mississippi, Halifax, Nova Scotia, Rome, Italy, and even Australia.
They are crying out and beating drums, they are sharing food and sleeping in tents, they are young and old, unemployed and working, they are students and labor unions and war veterans--in other words, they are people from every walk of life. They call themselves the 99% per centers, and they are dogged and determined in their protest against social and economic inequality, corporate greed, and the influence of corporate money and lobbyists on government, and much more. There is no single organizer, or even political message...but it is clear, what started as a small thing on Wall Street on September 17 has struck a chord in our collective consciousness.
And if you want to know more about the actual experience, I invite you to join Ellen and Brendan, two young people deeply involved in the movement, in the forum after worship. Both of them have spent a lot of time there, and I can’t wait to hear more--here is a tidbit---the movement is so diverse and willing to bind together in spite of differences, that even the anarchists, well, agreed not to anarchize !?!
What has piqued my interest besides the actual movement is the fact that at first--mostly, this movement consisted of a majority of beautiful people of the generation that Ellen and Brendan are a part of: Generation Y, Echo Boomers, the Millennial’s--the 20-30 something cadre of adult Americans.
And let me tell you--these 20-30 some-things, in spite of not being assured of jobs--let alone meaningful work after college, in spite of huge student loan debt, in spite of the world they have inherited, are powerful. Look at what they started! So inspirational, that our own Ginny Robinson, started an Occupy Newton movement in order to support the courage of the protestors downtown. Listen to the ad that was in the Tab this week.
(read ad)
The idea of Occupy has taken fire. In fact, it’s taken off in offices and blogs and beyond. For example, on the RevGalBlogPal blog, Monday was declared “Occupy RevGals! What do you want to say?,” which invited readers to post what they would like to stand up for.
We are sitting here, in Occupy Sanctuary, Occupy Church--
What is it that you are praying for, hoping for, listening for?
Occupy.
It’s an interesting concept, no?
The definition of Occupy is:
1. to live or be established in (a house, flat, office, etc.)
2. to keep busy or engrossed; engage the attention of
3. to take up (a certain amount of time or space)
4. to take and hold possession of, esp as a demonstration “students occupied the college buildings or a country is occupied by force.”
5. to fill or hold (as in an office.)
Engage. Engross. To take up space. To hold.
As in, I hope that the Spirit of God is holding us this morning, filling this worship space, engaging our imagination and senses.
Occupy.
Ancient Israel suffered not only occupation but diaspora. Israel was occupied by the Babylonians, and the Babylonians decided to relocate the most powerful, the most talented Israelites from Jerusalem to Babylon, to diffuse and dilute the voice of the Israelites. It worked. Many of them assimilated into the culture, forming the first practices of Judaism that are the root of many modern rituals and practices in today’s Jewish congregations.
So, in spite of being displaced, the homes and hearts of the Israelite people were occupied by domination, and they were crying out for freedom. (At least, some of them felt that way, but that’s another story.)
Enter in the Persian conqueror Cyrus.
He was pretty successful in overthrowing the Babylonians, actually pretty much the entire area of what we know today as the Middle East. That means he also had Jerusalem, under his realm.
What is astonishing is that in our text today,
The God of Israel appoints him the savior, the anointed one, the messiah, of Israel.
This, for all intents and purposes, was really quite outrageous.
He not only was a foreigner and a conqueror, he was also NOT one of the Chosen People.
In fact,Cyrus wasn’t even aware of the God of Israel, and yet, the Lord of Hosts calls Cyrus as God’s own:
For the sake of my servant Jacob, and Israel my chosen, I call you by your name, I surname you, though you do not know me. (Isaiah 35)
Don’t you just love it? God choosing the most unlikely of saviors for God’s chosen people. Just when you think you have this God thing figured out, more mystery emerges--at least that is what I imagine was the response of the ancients.
For me, too. I am daily surprised by the Mystery of God. She shows up in the unlikeliest places, teaching me grace and humility through those people and places that are perceived as unholy, mundane, and dismissible.
Seriously,
I see a lot of the Holy Spirit’s movement in the Occupy Wall Street movement.
These protestors have started a national--even global conversation about our country’s priorities and values--about jobs, budgets, wars, greed. We will see, if we haven’t already, images and hear things from the demonstrators which will offend us, and some will inspire us. We will hear demands we agree with and some that we don’t.
But mostly, this movement is about what we care about as Christians--
caring for the poor, the homeless, those in need, and those in crisis.
They are calling for Justice. For hope. For blessing.
They are finding unity in diversity.
They are leading towards a bit of heaven on earth, for all.
Maybe this movement is like Cyrus--
It’s being called forth by the Divine,
even if it isn’t a “religious” movement.
Have you ever heard the saying, “Sometimes the best Christians are those who aren’t?”
Listen to these words from Brendan Curran’s sermon last week, where he describes his impressions of Dewey Square:
I watched somewhat astonished as the rather spontaneously formed crowd developed a process of communication where everyone’s voice and values were heard. There didn’t seem to be a rush in making demands but rather an emphasis on not emulating the behavior of the structures they protest. The crowds of hundreds together agreed on a statement of radical inclusivity to all different peoples and unanimously voted to share food with the areas homeless people. They even set up an area for free clothes distribution. Soldiers coming back from Iraq started a medical tent, others formed a food tent, a media tent, an arts and culture committee, and the Christians, the Buddhists, the Jewish people, the Muslims, The Pagans, the Hindus, the Zoroastrians, and everyone else formed space to create an open meditation and prayer space.
I was amazed to see a constant flow of food, medicines, and clothes pour in from farmers markets, and surrounding businesses to feed the group of afflicted and/or concerned individuals who had gathered there. One of the many conversations I eavesdropped on was between two young white men and two young black women talking together appreciating how only a generation ago one groups’ parents was throwing rocks at the others’ school bus but now they find themselves together talking about their shared concerns...they held signs that said, “We are the 99%,” and, “Blessed are the poor!
I think the people occupying Dewey Square might be trying to empower us to name false idols and to embody compassion in our neighborhood. They have reminded me that we must not be embarrassed by Love. We can let our lights shine before one another and that when we do this together we see more and more clearly the face of the living God who goes before us who came that we might have life and have it abundantly.Sounds a little like the realm of God, doesn’t it? To me, it does.
But there is more. There are those of us who are not called to protest, who cannot make signs and march. For some, it’s just not our thing. How is God calling us? How is God calling you to bring forth justice and Light?
I think the concept of “occupy” might help us discern.
What does it mean to dwell, to live, to engage, for you?
Sometimes, I think, we tend to either overstuff our lives with so much that we don’t really occupy our lives. We live for the next moment, the next meeting, the next thing, so much that we forget where we are and whose we are, and why we are doing what we are doing. We forget that we have a voice, that we too, are anointed by God.
My favorite image of the Occupy movement is a snapshot of a woman in the fast wilderness of Alaska, posing with her three dogs. Her sign said,
“Find your Space. Occupy It. “
Sisters and brothers,
I challenge you today--
To not be embarrassed by Love.
To let your Lights shine.
To find your space--
and Occupy it.
Amen.
Speak!
Speak!
Pentecost, 2011
When I was in college, I was in the women's choir, and we took a singing trip to Scandinavia. We sang in Baptist churches all over Sweden, Norway, and Denmark. Although I was of Scandinavian heritage, I didn't speak any a word of Swedish or Norwegian or Dutch--except for the names of food: Lefse: Norwegian soft tacos. Lutefisk. mmmm, you don't want to know, except for it has to do with a gelatinous white fish that slides down your throat. Krumkake--Norwegian thin cannoli shells. I was not unlike the rest of my sister singers. We had one chaperone that came along as our interpreter---but one woman for 60 students, well....we were pretty much on our own.
This wouldn't have been a big deal, except we stayed with families in each community where we sang--two or three singers to a home. It was quite the experience. In Stockholm, a man took us to his house out in the suburbs, sat us down on the couch, opened up a map, pointed to where the house was, and where the nearest transit was. He was speaking Swedish, and we were answering in English. After our enlightening and completely unclear conversation, he got up, and left the house. It took us awhile to piece together that he and his family were on holiday, and he was going back to the country to vacation. We were on our own, for the evening, and navigating back to the tour bus in the morning. Of course, we didn’t sleep, because of course we really believed that an axe murderer would return and chop us into a million pieces, and then, when morning came, we struggled with our luggage (back in the day before wheels, I might add) through the neighborhoods looking for a bus stop that would lead us to a train that would take us back to the city. This family trusted us....and we weren’t sure about trusting them.
We didn’t speak the same language...
And then there was our tour guide, who told us he bought a swede yacket. I thought it sounded so local and we asked him what it was. “A swede yacket,” he said, you know. Puzzled, we shook our heads. He kept repeating “swede yacket” and making motions like this; (make motions). Finally, I realized, he was telling us he bought a SUEDE JACKET. We spoke the same language, but our understanding was limited.
This happens all the time, doesn’t it?
Take for instance, the language of Christianity.
Is there really a central language we all agree upon?
I would say no.
There is the voice of Christianity in the media that usually isn’t something I want to admit I am a part of, especially when the Christian message is one of exclusion and smug self righteousness.
Yesterday, I was so proud to be a Christian marching in the Boston Pride Parade, singing with all of our UCC churches, “We will, we will Love You.....UCC! We will, we will love you....UCC!”
But even then, there was that Christian man with his signs by city hall, calling for repentance for the abominations of homosexuality; or even more disheartening, the cancellation of a Welcome service, at St. Cecilia’s Catholic parish in the South End, by the archdiocese because of protests from other church members outside of the parish.
I worry that we don’t all speak the language of Love.
Which to me, is central to our Story, don’t you think?
So, it is with great respect and resonation that we hear the account of Pentecost in Acts. For the disciples, it was the Feast of Shavuot, or the "Feast of Oaths." It was a festival remembering the covenants God made with Noah after the flood, Abraham and the Israelites about a new homeland, and Moses on Mt. Sinai. It was a time to remember God's faithfulness.
For fifty days prior to Pentecost, the followers of Jesus gathered. They were waiting, wondering, reflecting...on what to do. They were of the same mind, and Luke described the entrance of the Spirit of a rushing violent wind....
Filling the entire house....
No space escaped it’s occupation....
It was felt...
and not seen...
until the wind morphed into a fiery image that sat upon each member
giving them to speak in distinct foreign languages, that were recognizable to all....
The festival attendees were astounded, because they recognized the persons who spoke in their various languages to be Galileans. The Spirit embodied the familiar languages so that the incarnation of the Holy Spirit was real--and understood.
It’s fascinating, don’t you think, that the first act of God’s Spirit at Pentecost honors the diversity and individuality of the believers? Devout males, Jews and proselytes, from every nation, and who had traveled from Africa, Rome, and Asia hear this group of disciples speaking to them about the mighty acts of God in their own languages. Even at this Spirit-event, there was not agreement in how to interpret it. Some were skeptical, translating all of the babble as a result of a mid-day drinking binge. Peter powerfully claims that the event is a fulfillment of prophetic texts in Joel. There wasn’t a uniform interpretation, and this is important. We need to remember that our God-talk is as diverse as our tongues. Our language about God--is not synonymous WITH God.
Pentecost reveals a God that has no prerequisite or expectation for uniformity. God’s Spirit, in its fullness, unbridled and unrestricted, desires to sit on and to speak through individuals, and communities. (1)
This is good news, I believe. Because it means that God indeed works in mysterious ways, and even though I love my church, my congregation, and am pretty sure all of the time we have the message of Jesus spot on; well, it doesn’t mean that God’s spirit isn’t moving in the Southern Baptist Church, or isn’t touching the T.V. minister that seems to have questionable ethics about spending money but actually her message is meaningful to people I know. I may shudder, but I am reminded, that God is God, and I am not.
Who knows? Maybe we will all be united one day? No one will be more surprised than me or you---except for maybe them.
But here is the catch. Just because we remember that the Spirit is wild and doesn’t demand a uniform message, we are, as disciples, are called to Speak. No one is off the hook--all the disciples were gifted with a language.
It seems to me, that some disciples out there are louder than others. And yet, we, here at Eliot and in our denomination have the most amazing message, of love, of hope, of resonating with the world that so desperately needs it.
And, we have to speak loudly--in Massachusetts, only 11 percent of people attend religious services. So the only exposure they get to Christianity is what is in popular culture and the media. Our message is different, and we have to get it out there--with our bodies, with our hands, with our resources, with our lives, and yes, with our voices. There are many ways to do this--and with courage, we can make a difference in this 21st century we live in. In some ways, the church has become a minority--which in some ways is incredibly refreshing and exciting. How is the spirit breathing new life into us? How is the fire moving our courage? What language will we speak? What is it that we want those who are searching to know?
I want them to know that church is a zoo. There is incredible diversity among us. There is no party line--but we are bound together in love. You look around, and see no diversity, well....let me tell you:
“We are gay, straight, transgender, bi-gender, republican, democrat, Republican, Democrat, Independent, organizing freaks, humanoids who prefer less structure, people who love gardening, people who hate gardening, vegetarians, meat and potato folk, Methodist background, Catholic background, Lutheran background, Baptist background, Presbyterian background, atheists, agnostics, English majors, Math majors, geeks, cooks, rich, poor, middle class, beach bums, mountain lovers, homebodies, remote control controllers, do it yourselfers, have trouble changing a light bulbers, young, old, very young, golfers, haters of golf discussions, criminal record, lucky hasn’t been caught, parents, teenagers, grandparents, children, infants, Androiders, Blackberries, Apple crazies, chocoholics, singers, please don't do more than lip syncers, writers, readers, pray-ers, movers, like to shake you-ers, You are you. I am me. And, by some miracle, by some strange glue we are church. We are woven together in love, or woven together as we try to love.”(2)
And that is our language we speak. Amen.
1. This and the previous two paragraphs are paraphrased or direct quotes from Dr. Mitzi Smith’s reflection at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?lect_date=6/12/2011
2. Paraphrased from Dr. Chris Ayers at http://liberallectionaryresources.com/Pentecost%20Year%20A.html
Pentecost, 2011
When I was in college, I was in the women's choir, and we took a singing trip to Scandinavia. We sang in Baptist churches all over Sweden, Norway, and Denmark. Although I was of Scandinavian heritage, I didn't speak any a word of Swedish or Norwegian or Dutch--except for the names of food: Lefse: Norwegian soft tacos. Lutefisk. mmmm, you don't want to know, except for it has to do with a gelatinous white fish that slides down your throat. Krumkake--Norwegian thin cannoli shells. I was not unlike the rest of my sister singers. We had one chaperone that came along as our interpreter---but one woman for 60 students, well....we were pretty much on our own.
This wouldn't have been a big deal, except we stayed with families in each community where we sang--two or three singers to a home. It was quite the experience. In Stockholm, a man took us to his house out in the suburbs, sat us down on the couch, opened up a map, pointed to where the house was, and where the nearest transit was. He was speaking Swedish, and we were answering in English. After our enlightening and completely unclear conversation, he got up, and left the house. It took us awhile to piece together that he and his family were on holiday, and he was going back to the country to vacation. We were on our own, for the evening, and navigating back to the tour bus in the morning. Of course, we didn’t sleep, because of course we really believed that an axe murderer would return and chop us into a million pieces, and then, when morning came, we struggled with our luggage (back in the day before wheels, I might add) through the neighborhoods looking for a bus stop that would lead us to a train that would take us back to the city. This family trusted us....and we weren’t sure about trusting them.
We didn’t speak the same language...
And then there was our tour guide, who told us he bought a swede yacket. I thought it sounded so local and we asked him what it was. “A swede yacket,” he said, you know. Puzzled, we shook our heads. He kept repeating “swede yacket” and making motions like this; (make motions). Finally, I realized, he was telling us he bought a SUEDE JACKET. We spoke the same language, but our understanding was limited.
This happens all the time, doesn’t it?
Take for instance, the language of Christianity.
Is there really a central language we all agree upon?
I would say no.
There is the voice of Christianity in the media that usually isn’t something I want to admit I am a part of, especially when the Christian message is one of exclusion and smug self righteousness.
Yesterday, I was so proud to be a Christian marching in the Boston Pride Parade, singing with all of our UCC churches, “We will, we will Love You.....UCC! We will, we will love you....UCC!”
But even then, there was that Christian man with his signs by city hall, calling for repentance for the abominations of homosexuality; or even more disheartening, the cancellation of a Welcome service, at St. Cecilia’s Catholic parish in the South End, by the archdiocese because of protests from other church members outside of the parish.
I worry that we don’t all speak the language of Love.
Which to me, is central to our Story, don’t you think?
So, it is with great respect and resonation that we hear the account of Pentecost in Acts. For the disciples, it was the Feast of Shavuot, or the "Feast of Oaths." It was a festival remembering the covenants God made with Noah after the flood, Abraham and the Israelites about a new homeland, and Moses on Mt. Sinai. It was a time to remember God's faithfulness.
For fifty days prior to Pentecost, the followers of Jesus gathered. They were waiting, wondering, reflecting...on what to do. They were of the same mind, and Luke described the entrance of the Spirit of a rushing violent wind....
Filling the entire house....
No space escaped it’s occupation....
It was felt...
and not seen...
until the wind morphed into a fiery image that sat upon each member
giving them to speak in distinct foreign languages, that were recognizable to all....
The festival attendees were astounded, because they recognized the persons who spoke in their various languages to be Galileans. The Spirit embodied the familiar languages so that the incarnation of the Holy Spirit was real--and understood.
It’s fascinating, don’t you think, that the first act of God’s Spirit at Pentecost honors the diversity and individuality of the believers? Devout males, Jews and proselytes, from every nation, and who had traveled from Africa, Rome, and Asia hear this group of disciples speaking to them about the mighty acts of God in their own languages. Even at this Spirit-event, there was not agreement in how to interpret it. Some were skeptical, translating all of the babble as a result of a mid-day drinking binge. Peter powerfully claims that the event is a fulfillment of prophetic texts in Joel. There wasn’t a uniform interpretation, and this is important. We need to remember that our God-talk is as diverse as our tongues. Our language about God--is not synonymous WITH God.
Pentecost reveals a God that has no prerequisite or expectation for uniformity. God’s Spirit, in its fullness, unbridled and unrestricted, desires to sit on and to speak through individuals, and communities. (1)
This is good news, I believe. Because it means that God indeed works in mysterious ways, and even though I love my church, my congregation, and am pretty sure all of the time we have the message of Jesus spot on; well, it doesn’t mean that God’s spirit isn’t moving in the Southern Baptist Church, or isn’t touching the T.V. minister that seems to have questionable ethics about spending money but actually her message is meaningful to people I know. I may shudder, but I am reminded, that God is God, and I am not.
Who knows? Maybe we will all be united one day? No one will be more surprised than me or you---except for maybe them.
But here is the catch. Just because we remember that the Spirit is wild and doesn’t demand a uniform message, we are, as disciples, are called to Speak. No one is off the hook--all the disciples were gifted with a language.
It seems to me, that some disciples out there are louder than others. And yet, we, here at Eliot and in our denomination have the most amazing message, of love, of hope, of resonating with the world that so desperately needs it.
And, we have to speak loudly--in Massachusetts, only 11 percent of people attend religious services. So the only exposure they get to Christianity is what is in popular culture and the media. Our message is different, and we have to get it out there--with our bodies, with our hands, with our resources, with our lives, and yes, with our voices. There are many ways to do this--and with courage, we can make a difference in this 21st century we live in. In some ways, the church has become a minority--which in some ways is incredibly refreshing and exciting. How is the spirit breathing new life into us? How is the fire moving our courage? What language will we speak? What is it that we want those who are searching to know?
I want them to know that church is a zoo. There is incredible diversity among us. There is no party line--but we are bound together in love. You look around, and see no diversity, well....let me tell you:
“We are gay, straight, transgender, bi-gender, republican, democrat, Republican, Democrat, Independent, organizing freaks, humanoids who prefer less structure, people who love gardening, people who hate gardening, vegetarians, meat and potato folk, Methodist background, Catholic background, Lutheran background, Baptist background, Presbyterian background, atheists, agnostics, English majors, Math majors, geeks, cooks, rich, poor, middle class, beach bums, mountain lovers, homebodies, remote control controllers, do it yourselfers, have trouble changing a light bulbers, young, old, very young, golfers, haters of golf discussions, criminal record, lucky hasn’t been caught, parents, teenagers, grandparents, children, infants, Androiders, Blackberries, Apple crazies, chocoholics, singers, please don't do more than lip syncers, writers, readers, pray-ers, movers, like to shake you-ers, You are you. I am me. And, by some miracle, by some strange glue we are church. We are woven together in love, or woven together as we try to love.”(2)
And that is our language we speak. Amen.
1. This and the previous two paragraphs are paraphrased or direct quotes from Dr. Mitzi Smith’s reflection at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?lect_date=6/12/2011
2. Paraphrased from Dr. Chris Ayers at http://liberallectionaryresources.com/Pentecost%20Year%20A.html
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep
July 2010
Luke 11:2-4
I learned to pray at a very young age.
I remember my sister and I laying feet to feet in the twin bed,
And praying with my mom…
“Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
God Bless…
Momma
Dad
Kari
Gramma and Granpa Miller
Gramma and Granpa Lee…
Even as I got a little older, and my mom stopped tucking us in at nights, I would still pray this prayer. At one point, I was terrified of dead bodies under my bed, so the prayer calmed me. If something was indeed under the bed, and killed me, at least I had covered my bases with God about my soul. It was a good prayer.
My grandmother prayed, too, every night. When we spent the night with her, after she would settle us on the pullout couch, she would go to her bedroom right off the living room, and leave the door cracked. In her nightgown, she would get on her knees and fold her hands and pray the Lord’s Prayer. She didn’t go to church much, but she did pray.
Prayer. Do you pray? What is prayer, anyway?
Do you go to sleep every night after you say your prayers, like I did as a child? Or first thing in the morning? I met someone once who confessed that he said the Lord’s Prayer every day in the shower. It was the time he would remember to pray? Maybe you are one of those people who just manage the days with “Please help me” and “Thank You”.
Excellent prayers.
How do you pray? The disciples were very curious about Jesus’ way of praying. They knew that Jesus, their teacher had a completely different way of knowing G-D than they had been brought up in their synagogue. They noticed that Jesus had this habit of praying—wherever, and whenever
They can’t stand it any more. Teach us to how to pray, Rabbi…teach us. And so, Jesus, tells them how—by giving them words that have become known to us as “The Lord’s Prayer.” Luke’s version is the shortest, but you get the gist.
Now. I learned the Lord’s Prayer, just like many of you, in my childhood, by saying it in church every Sunday. But as I got closer to God, as an adolescent, I didn’t find any meaning in those words—as a prayer, anyway.
I wanted to TALK to God. I had a lot to say.
So, I started to journal my prayers, and I would spill my heart out.
Pages of thoughts, of wonderings, of asking for forgiveness, and to be led into the journey that was God’s will for me. I fell out of habit of praying the Lord’s prayer, as I forged my way through college, and doing youth ministry.
I taught the young people I worked with about prayer—prayer was from the heart, it was talking to God, it was about being in relationship with God. Prayers are not something one recites.
I ignored the Lord’s prayer for years, for the most part.
Imagine my chagrin then, in my first call, where, like here at Eliot, the congregation prayed the Lord’s Prayer at the end of the prayers of the people.
I told my colleague—I can do this, but I can’t call God exclusively father. Nope. I am going to pray, Our Mother and Father in heaven, or pray, Our God in Heaven. I also was NOT going to say “kingdom” either. It was patriarchal, and defined a world where power was hierarchical. Nope, I believed in the KIN-dom of God, where all participate in equal and loving relationships. To his credit, my colleague was fine with that.
Mr. Ken, who was 95 years old, and gave his life to missionary work overseas, was not. This really troubled him. He called my colleague to complain, who told him to talk to me. He did. I listened, and as a fresh out of seminary feminist know it all pastor, I just said, “I respect that you think that Jesus wanted us to call God literally Father, but to me, God is not a Father…and for people who have had abusive relationships with their fathers, or have been oppressed by patriarchy, the word is meaningless. I think it is important to have descriptive language for God, and especially in the Lord’s Prayer, we ought to widen the options.” I suspect, also, that I was a bit smug in my response.
Then, 9.11 happened. In all of its horror and tragedy.
Do you remember, though, the story of Lisa Jefferson, who was a Verizon supervisor, who took a call from one of the passengers on US Airways Flight 93—the one where the passegers tried to take over the plane? The passenger’s name was Todd Beamer. They spoke for a little bit, and then they prayed together—they prayed together The Lord’s Prayer, and Psalm 23.
And everything changed for me.
You see, the Lord’s Prayer meant something to two strangers, that could miraculously say it together, as a source of comfort and strength, before the passengers revolted….
Mrs. Jefferson and Mr. Beamer, recited those words….
Our Father…
Who art in heaven…
Because, for both of them, it was a legacy, something they had learned in church, or from their parents, and in a time of great need, they had words…words imprinted on their minds and hearts
That came to them
In a time of unusual and terrifying need.
And then I got it. Sometimes, we just need words…to mumble…because we might not have words otherwise…or ways to connect with the saving love of God.
I don’t know if Jesus meant that we should only pray the Lord’s prayer…
And I really don’t think he cared if we used the exact words the biblical writers used…
But the prayer embodies so much about the spiritual journey, the closeness to God that Jesus emphasized in his teachings.
What is the point of prayer, then? What good is it?
Jesus says, Ask, and it shall be given. Seek and you will find. Knock, and the door shall be opened to you.
And we pray…for ourselves, for others. But rarely, if you have noticed, are people cured. We all lament at Angela’s cancer, and her heroic battle with it. But she hasn’t of yet, been cured. Prayer doesn’t cure mental illness, or even a common cold. (Sarah Miles, Jesus Freak) We ask questions, like, “why did I get cancer?” “why did God do this to me?” He is such a great person, why did this happen? Doesn’t God hear our prayers? Why doesn’t God answer them?
Sara Miles, author and director of The Food Pantry and Ministry at St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco, argues that prayer is not about a “cure”, but about healing. She writes:
Prayer can’t cure. All prayer can do is heal, because healing comes embedded in relationship, and prayer is one of the deepest forms of relationship—with God and with other people. And through relationship, there can be healing in the absence of cure.
This is the work that Jesus gives his followers. It isn’t about turning ordinary humans into miracle workers who say magic words over a sufferer and restore the sick to perfect health. The power and the responsibility Jesus gives all of us are more frightening. We are, he says, to know the truth, and from that ground enter into new relationships of healing….
And real healing, means, more than anything, follow in the truth: and thus a call to change and conversion.” (ibid)
Miles reminds us that Jesus always asks the desperate people, “Do you want to be well”…because healing can hurt. It sometimes means separation from your old identity into something new—do you want to be well more than you want to stay the same?”
These are hard questions…
And thus we pray…
By asking, seeking, and knocking….
Not for cures and fixes,
But for healing.
Not for fixing…
But asking God, your Abba, your Amma, the one who knows you inside out,
To change you,
To become closer to who you are created to be.
So really, the Lord’s prayer….and even my childhood prayer, are dangerous, aren’t they?
They shouldn’t be treated flippantly, or something that we just say because that’s what we do.
They are real…
They draw us into relationship,
Into seeing Jesus in each other, and in ourselves, especially when it is the most inconvenient or hard.
Does prayer work? Is there a point?
Only if we are serious….
And ready…
For miracles of healing that will surprise and scare and lead us,
At the same time.
If you dare,
I invite you to pray slowly with me now, in your hearts, as I pray the Lord’s Prayer….
Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
Forgive us our sins
as we forgive those who sin against us.
Save us from the time of trial
and deliver us from evil.
[For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours
now and for ever.] Amen.
July 2010
Luke 11:2-4
I learned to pray at a very young age.
I remember my sister and I laying feet to feet in the twin bed,
And praying with my mom…
“Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
God Bless…
Momma
Dad
Kari
Gramma and Granpa Miller
Gramma and Granpa Lee…
Even as I got a little older, and my mom stopped tucking us in at nights, I would still pray this prayer. At one point, I was terrified of dead bodies under my bed, so the prayer calmed me. If something was indeed under the bed, and killed me, at least I had covered my bases with God about my soul. It was a good prayer.
My grandmother prayed, too, every night. When we spent the night with her, after she would settle us on the pullout couch, she would go to her bedroom right off the living room, and leave the door cracked. In her nightgown, she would get on her knees and fold her hands and pray the Lord’s Prayer. She didn’t go to church much, but she did pray.
Prayer. Do you pray? What is prayer, anyway?
Do you go to sleep every night after you say your prayers, like I did as a child? Or first thing in the morning? I met someone once who confessed that he said the Lord’s Prayer every day in the shower. It was the time he would remember to pray? Maybe you are one of those people who just manage the days with “Please help me” and “Thank You”.
Excellent prayers.
How do you pray? The disciples were very curious about Jesus’ way of praying. They knew that Jesus, their teacher had a completely different way of knowing G-D than they had been brought up in their synagogue. They noticed that Jesus had this habit of praying—wherever, and whenever
They can’t stand it any more. Teach us to how to pray, Rabbi…teach us. And so, Jesus, tells them how—by giving them words that have become known to us as “The Lord’s Prayer.” Luke’s version is the shortest, but you get the gist.
Now. I learned the Lord’s Prayer, just like many of you, in my childhood, by saying it in church every Sunday. But as I got closer to God, as an adolescent, I didn’t find any meaning in those words—as a prayer, anyway.
I wanted to TALK to God. I had a lot to say.
So, I started to journal my prayers, and I would spill my heart out.
Pages of thoughts, of wonderings, of asking for forgiveness, and to be led into the journey that was God’s will for me. I fell out of habit of praying the Lord’s prayer, as I forged my way through college, and doing youth ministry.
I taught the young people I worked with about prayer—prayer was from the heart, it was talking to God, it was about being in relationship with God. Prayers are not something one recites.
I ignored the Lord’s prayer for years, for the most part.
Imagine my chagrin then, in my first call, where, like here at Eliot, the congregation prayed the Lord’s Prayer at the end of the prayers of the people.
I told my colleague—I can do this, but I can’t call God exclusively father. Nope. I am going to pray, Our Mother and Father in heaven, or pray, Our God in Heaven. I also was NOT going to say “kingdom” either. It was patriarchal, and defined a world where power was hierarchical. Nope, I believed in the KIN-dom of God, where all participate in equal and loving relationships. To his credit, my colleague was fine with that.
Mr. Ken, who was 95 years old, and gave his life to missionary work overseas, was not. This really troubled him. He called my colleague to complain, who told him to talk to me. He did. I listened, and as a fresh out of seminary feminist know it all pastor, I just said, “I respect that you think that Jesus wanted us to call God literally Father, but to me, God is not a Father…and for people who have had abusive relationships with their fathers, or have been oppressed by patriarchy, the word is meaningless. I think it is important to have descriptive language for God, and especially in the Lord’s Prayer, we ought to widen the options.” I suspect, also, that I was a bit smug in my response.
Then, 9.11 happened. In all of its horror and tragedy.
Do you remember, though, the story of Lisa Jefferson, who was a Verizon supervisor, who took a call from one of the passengers on US Airways Flight 93—the one where the passegers tried to take over the plane? The passenger’s name was Todd Beamer. They spoke for a little bit, and then they prayed together—they prayed together The Lord’s Prayer, and Psalm 23.
And everything changed for me.
You see, the Lord’s Prayer meant something to two strangers, that could miraculously say it together, as a source of comfort and strength, before the passengers revolted….
Mrs. Jefferson and Mr. Beamer, recited those words….
Our Father…
Who art in heaven…
Because, for both of them, it was a legacy, something they had learned in church, or from their parents, and in a time of great need, they had words…words imprinted on their minds and hearts
That came to them
In a time of unusual and terrifying need.
And then I got it. Sometimes, we just need words…to mumble…because we might not have words otherwise…or ways to connect with the saving love of God.
I don’t know if Jesus meant that we should only pray the Lord’s prayer…
And I really don’t think he cared if we used the exact words the biblical writers used…
But the prayer embodies so much about the spiritual journey, the closeness to God that Jesus emphasized in his teachings.
What is the point of prayer, then? What good is it?
Jesus says, Ask, and it shall be given. Seek and you will find. Knock, and the door shall be opened to you.
And we pray…for ourselves, for others. But rarely, if you have noticed, are people cured. We all lament at Angela’s cancer, and her heroic battle with it. But she hasn’t of yet, been cured. Prayer doesn’t cure mental illness, or even a common cold. (Sarah Miles, Jesus Freak) We ask questions, like, “why did I get cancer?” “why did God do this to me?” He is such a great person, why did this happen? Doesn’t God hear our prayers? Why doesn’t God answer them?
Sara Miles, author and director of The Food Pantry and Ministry at St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco, argues that prayer is not about a “cure”, but about healing. She writes:
Prayer can’t cure. All prayer can do is heal, because healing comes embedded in relationship, and prayer is one of the deepest forms of relationship—with God and with other people. And through relationship, there can be healing in the absence of cure.
This is the work that Jesus gives his followers. It isn’t about turning ordinary humans into miracle workers who say magic words over a sufferer and restore the sick to perfect health. The power and the responsibility Jesus gives all of us are more frightening. We are, he says, to know the truth, and from that ground enter into new relationships of healing….
And real healing, means, more than anything, follow in the truth: and thus a call to change and conversion.” (ibid)
Miles reminds us that Jesus always asks the desperate people, “Do you want to be well”…because healing can hurt. It sometimes means separation from your old identity into something new—do you want to be well more than you want to stay the same?”
These are hard questions…
And thus we pray…
By asking, seeking, and knocking….
Not for cures and fixes,
But for healing.
Not for fixing…
But asking God, your Abba, your Amma, the one who knows you inside out,
To change you,
To become closer to who you are created to be.
So really, the Lord’s prayer….and even my childhood prayer, are dangerous, aren’t they?
They shouldn’t be treated flippantly, or something that we just say because that’s what we do.
They are real…
They draw us into relationship,
Into seeing Jesus in each other, and in ourselves, especially when it is the most inconvenient or hard.
Does prayer work? Is there a point?
Only if we are serious….
And ready…
For miracles of healing that will surprise and scare and lead us,
At the same time.
If you dare,
I invite you to pray slowly with me now, in your hearts, as I pray the Lord’s Prayer….
Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
Forgive us our sins
as we forgive those who sin against us.
Save us from the time of trial
and deliver us from evil.
[For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours
now and for ever.] Amen.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Living Clay
Living Clay
Jeremiah 14: 1-11
September 5, 2010
In the fall of 2005,
I was in a transition—transitioning my ordination status from PCUSA to UCC, and working half-time at a new church start that paid me for ¼ time. I didn’t know where life would lead, but I really loved what I was doing with the congregation. So, I had to find another source of income.
So, I went back to school!
The first question I asked myself was what could I do that would be flexible, enjoyable, and I could be good at?
I thought to myself, “I enjoy being with people, and counseling. That would be a very practical professional degree.”
However, I kept thinking,
“hmmm, but I also love being in a pottery studio…”
Although I had only dabbled in working with clay, the times that I did, I became lost and content in it.
So, I enrolled in a degree program in to become a professional potter, learning the trade of production pottery. (Which I might add was the least practical of the two choices—for a myriad of reasons).
It wasn’t easy.
The first semester was challenging—and the sixty page syllabus was daunting. I was to learn all the properties of clay, the physics and calculations of glaze recipes, plus make 60 cylinders, 52 mugs with pulled handles, in matching sets of 4, 20 lidded forms (as in casseroles), o thirty bowls—with different pounds of clay from 1-5, where some would nest, as in mixing bowls, and twenty plates….all on a potter’s wheel.
Mind you, at that point, I wasn’t even very good at centering, which is taking the ball of clay, and holding it on the wheel, with pressure that would show the lump completely balanced in its distribution. If the beginning lump is not balanced, it is very difficult to open and begin pulling up walls that are even and strong. Suffice it to say, I had to try many times over to produce my quota of pots. As overwhelming as this was, it was also entrancing and exhilarating.
As the wheel spun and I churned out pots, I learned about the nature of clay.
Clay is a living substance. It isn’t a passive lump of wet dirt. Throwing involves respect, it involves a certain posture on the part of the potter, to be balanced within and sitting in the correct balanced position, as well as getting used to the nature of each clay body, whether it is high fire stoneware (lots of functional pottery is made from this, as it lasts long and is strong), low fire terra cotta (think garden pots and tiles) and the holy grail of Porcelain. Porcelain, although the strongest of clay (there is a reason your toilet is made from porcelain), can be worked almost paper thin—but it is difficult to manage. A completely skilled potter may feel like a beginner when working with porcelain.
Making pottery, whether functional or decorative, is a co-creative process between the potter and the clay. Even when you get to know the clay body inside and out, when you can throw a bowl or plate in your sleep, in each instance of creation, something new emerges; a certain nuance comes up, around the shape, the clay, and even yourself. There is nothing boring in throwing a million mugs, either. Each time a potter sits down with a lump of clay, she never really knows how it will unfold into being exactly, in spite of her intention.
So, this metaphor of God being a potter in Jeremiah makes complete sense to me.
You see, the passage is all about change, and choice, and being alive.
Listen to verse 6 again.
6Can I not do with you, O house of Israel, just as this potter has done? says the LORD. Just like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.
This verse is gorgeous, isn’t it? God is trying to help Israel, God’s chosen people, to understand that they are not finished. They are like clay in the hand of the potter, yet to be realized into being, yet to be fully created with the intentions that God has for them. They are yet to become. However, there is a hint, in the following verses, that the clay is not passive in the hands of the potter, and neither is Israel passive in the hands of God.
7At one moment I may declare concerning a nation or a kingdom, that I will pluck up and break down and destroy it, 8but if that nation, concerning which I have spoken, turns from its evil, I will change my mind about the disaster that I intended to bring on it. 9And at another moment I may declare concerning a nation or a kingdom that I will build and plant it, 10but if it does evil in my sight, not listening to my voice, then I will change my mind about the good that I had intended to do to it.
On first take, we might think these words frame God as a capricious deity. They describe a Divine one that will destroy if a people do not listen to God. I don’t think this is the message. In fact, I think the prophecy is, as most prophecy is, about the nature of the hearers of the prophecy, rather than only about the divine nature of God. The message here is that God’s intentions for a people can change according to how a people will respond to the intentions of God.
Will Israel respond to the purpose that God intends for them—to truly be the chosen people of God, that will trust God, and keep the covenant? Will Israel choose, rather, to ignore that intention, and turn from God, and to other gods or cultures surrounding them?
Isn’t it beautiful to think that God is free to respond to human decision, and has the capability of changing the divine mind, instead of making a decree and holding it so. Human decisions matter to God. There is a relationship here, God is saying. You are clay, you are living clay, and you can respond to my shaping, or not. I can choose to throw you away—but I won’t. I will simply reshape you, as the potter does in the potter’s house. Note—the potter in this passage doesn’t discard the clay, never to be used again. No. The potter responds to the clay, is ever present.
In other words, God responds to us. God’s good intention for us is life, and wholeness. If we choose something other, God will respond—perhaps re-shaping us into different beings.
This passage has so much to say to us, today, as a smaller congregation in the 21st century—as well as for each of us personally.
As a congregation faced with budget issues, growth issues, we might get scared a little bit. The future might seem a little uncertain as we move into the processes of ensuring the vitality of Eliot in the future. What we give, plus revenue from building rentals and the endowment, do not cover our costs. This is a reality. However, this is another reality—God has not stopped calling us to be the good news in this neighborhood. We are called to touch a need in the community, and not simply be Eliot, for ourselves, as we always have been. Because we aren’t, we are different, and the world in which we are a church is different—even from 20 years ago.
I heard an interesting analogy this week—the difference being a bib church or an apron church. A bib church says “feed me”. An apron church is one that serves others. Which do we want to be?
Our decision matters to God. This is why it is important for us to commit to the difficult and arduous task of truly thinking through what Eliot’s direction, as God’s community, is to go. Did you know that 88% of congregations are bib congregations?
But it is hard—it is hard to be an apron church. We are Christians in a post-Christian culture. Most people don’t go to church. We live in a time where specificity about belief in God is not important—what people are looking for are to be fed, to find hope, to find a trusting community, and to make a difference in the world—in spite of being busier than ever. More so, many people are suspect of Christianity, if they know anything about it. And sometimes, Christians have an insider language that is difficult for a newcomer to interpret—especially when that newcomer really has never participated in a congregation before.
An apron church is ready for change, for growth, for commitment to the gospel and need in the community in which it lives, and beyond. An apron church calls forth relationships that are real and deep and vulnerable. An apron church has a purpose and a love, especially for those who have been disenfranchised and forgotten.
How we move into ensuring that our beloved community is vital in the future will require hard work, and discernment. Discernment requires listening to our hearts, and to the good news of the gospel. The decisions we make will matter to God. God’s intention for us is life--to fully be who we are called to be—a church that serves widely—nurturing ourselves and serving the world. We are indeed living clay. Are we willing to be re-shaped by God to live into God’s intentions? Because whatever our future is, it will require reshaping. This we know is true.
Similarly, this is true for each of us, in our relationships to the Divine. We may not believe as our parents did, or as we ourselves did long ago. We might have questions, doubts, even fears. We change. We grow. We take two steps forward, and one step back.
But God’s intent is for each of us to be a vessel, balanced and open to being the Light of the world. It’s scary—because our decision to live into God’s intentions for us makes us vulnerable. It requires giving over, being willing to be shaped into what God sees us…with all of who we are. Like clay, we are alive. We are in relationship with the potter….as the potter shapes us, we can speak to the potter, to become a beautiful, functional, gorgeous vessel of the divine.
What about it?
Shall we be living clay together?
Amen.
Jeremiah 14: 1-11
September 5, 2010
In the fall of 2005,
I was in a transition—transitioning my ordination status from PCUSA to UCC, and working half-time at a new church start that paid me for ¼ time. I didn’t know where life would lead, but I really loved what I was doing with the congregation. So, I had to find another source of income.
So, I went back to school!
The first question I asked myself was what could I do that would be flexible, enjoyable, and I could be good at?
I thought to myself, “I enjoy being with people, and counseling. That would be a very practical professional degree.”
However, I kept thinking,
“hmmm, but I also love being in a pottery studio…”
Although I had only dabbled in working with clay, the times that I did, I became lost and content in it.
So, I enrolled in a degree program in to become a professional potter, learning the trade of production pottery. (Which I might add was the least practical of the two choices—for a myriad of reasons).
It wasn’t easy.
The first semester was challenging—and the sixty page syllabus was daunting. I was to learn all the properties of clay, the physics and calculations of glaze recipes, plus make 60 cylinders, 52 mugs with pulled handles, in matching sets of 4, 20 lidded forms (as in casseroles), o thirty bowls—with different pounds of clay from 1-5, where some would nest, as in mixing bowls, and twenty plates….all on a potter’s wheel.
Mind you, at that point, I wasn’t even very good at centering, which is taking the ball of clay, and holding it on the wheel, with pressure that would show the lump completely balanced in its distribution. If the beginning lump is not balanced, it is very difficult to open and begin pulling up walls that are even and strong. Suffice it to say, I had to try many times over to produce my quota of pots. As overwhelming as this was, it was also entrancing and exhilarating.
As the wheel spun and I churned out pots, I learned about the nature of clay.
Clay is a living substance. It isn’t a passive lump of wet dirt. Throwing involves respect, it involves a certain posture on the part of the potter, to be balanced within and sitting in the correct balanced position, as well as getting used to the nature of each clay body, whether it is high fire stoneware (lots of functional pottery is made from this, as it lasts long and is strong), low fire terra cotta (think garden pots and tiles) and the holy grail of Porcelain. Porcelain, although the strongest of clay (there is a reason your toilet is made from porcelain), can be worked almost paper thin—but it is difficult to manage. A completely skilled potter may feel like a beginner when working with porcelain.
Making pottery, whether functional or decorative, is a co-creative process between the potter and the clay. Even when you get to know the clay body inside and out, when you can throw a bowl or plate in your sleep, in each instance of creation, something new emerges; a certain nuance comes up, around the shape, the clay, and even yourself. There is nothing boring in throwing a million mugs, either. Each time a potter sits down with a lump of clay, she never really knows how it will unfold into being exactly, in spite of her intention.
So, this metaphor of God being a potter in Jeremiah makes complete sense to me.
You see, the passage is all about change, and choice, and being alive.
Listen to verse 6 again.
6Can I not do with you, O house of Israel, just as this potter has done? says the LORD. Just like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.
This verse is gorgeous, isn’t it? God is trying to help Israel, God’s chosen people, to understand that they are not finished. They are like clay in the hand of the potter, yet to be realized into being, yet to be fully created with the intentions that God has for them. They are yet to become. However, there is a hint, in the following verses, that the clay is not passive in the hands of the potter, and neither is Israel passive in the hands of God.
7At one moment I may declare concerning a nation or a kingdom, that I will pluck up and break down and destroy it, 8but if that nation, concerning which I have spoken, turns from its evil, I will change my mind about the disaster that I intended to bring on it. 9And at another moment I may declare concerning a nation or a kingdom that I will build and plant it, 10but if it does evil in my sight, not listening to my voice, then I will change my mind about the good that I had intended to do to it.
On first take, we might think these words frame God as a capricious deity. They describe a Divine one that will destroy if a people do not listen to God. I don’t think this is the message. In fact, I think the prophecy is, as most prophecy is, about the nature of the hearers of the prophecy, rather than only about the divine nature of God. The message here is that God’s intentions for a people can change according to how a people will respond to the intentions of God.
Will Israel respond to the purpose that God intends for them—to truly be the chosen people of God, that will trust God, and keep the covenant? Will Israel choose, rather, to ignore that intention, and turn from God, and to other gods or cultures surrounding them?
Isn’t it beautiful to think that God is free to respond to human decision, and has the capability of changing the divine mind, instead of making a decree and holding it so. Human decisions matter to God. There is a relationship here, God is saying. You are clay, you are living clay, and you can respond to my shaping, or not. I can choose to throw you away—but I won’t. I will simply reshape you, as the potter does in the potter’s house. Note—the potter in this passage doesn’t discard the clay, never to be used again. No. The potter responds to the clay, is ever present.
In other words, God responds to us. God’s good intention for us is life, and wholeness. If we choose something other, God will respond—perhaps re-shaping us into different beings.
This passage has so much to say to us, today, as a smaller congregation in the 21st century—as well as for each of us personally.
As a congregation faced with budget issues, growth issues, we might get scared a little bit. The future might seem a little uncertain as we move into the processes of ensuring the vitality of Eliot in the future. What we give, plus revenue from building rentals and the endowment, do not cover our costs. This is a reality. However, this is another reality—God has not stopped calling us to be the good news in this neighborhood. We are called to touch a need in the community, and not simply be Eliot, for ourselves, as we always have been. Because we aren’t, we are different, and the world in which we are a church is different—even from 20 years ago.
I heard an interesting analogy this week—the difference being a bib church or an apron church. A bib church says “feed me”. An apron church is one that serves others. Which do we want to be?
Our decision matters to God. This is why it is important for us to commit to the difficult and arduous task of truly thinking through what Eliot’s direction, as God’s community, is to go. Did you know that 88% of congregations are bib congregations?
But it is hard—it is hard to be an apron church. We are Christians in a post-Christian culture. Most people don’t go to church. We live in a time where specificity about belief in God is not important—what people are looking for are to be fed, to find hope, to find a trusting community, and to make a difference in the world—in spite of being busier than ever. More so, many people are suspect of Christianity, if they know anything about it. And sometimes, Christians have an insider language that is difficult for a newcomer to interpret—especially when that newcomer really has never participated in a congregation before.
An apron church is ready for change, for growth, for commitment to the gospel and need in the community in which it lives, and beyond. An apron church calls forth relationships that are real and deep and vulnerable. An apron church has a purpose and a love, especially for those who have been disenfranchised and forgotten.
How we move into ensuring that our beloved community is vital in the future will require hard work, and discernment. Discernment requires listening to our hearts, and to the good news of the gospel. The decisions we make will matter to God. God’s intention for us is life--to fully be who we are called to be—a church that serves widely—nurturing ourselves and serving the world. We are indeed living clay. Are we willing to be re-shaped by God to live into God’s intentions? Because whatever our future is, it will require reshaping. This we know is true.
Similarly, this is true for each of us, in our relationships to the Divine. We may not believe as our parents did, or as we ourselves did long ago. We might have questions, doubts, even fears. We change. We grow. We take two steps forward, and one step back.
But God’s intent is for each of us to be a vessel, balanced and open to being the Light of the world. It’s scary—because our decision to live into God’s intentions for us makes us vulnerable. It requires giving over, being willing to be shaped into what God sees us…with all of who we are. Like clay, we are alive. We are in relationship with the potter….as the potter shapes us, we can speak to the potter, to become a beautiful, functional, gorgeous vessel of the divine.
What about it?
Shall we be living clay together?
Amen.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Balance
Isaiah 58:9-14
9Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, 10if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday. 11The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. 12Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.
Luke 13:10-17
10Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. 11And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. 12When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” 13When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. 14But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day.” 15But the Lord answered him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? 16And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?” 17When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.
Balance
August 23, 2010
Eliot Church of Newton
Earlier in the summer, I did something to hurt my lower back. I am not sure what—I simply laid down for a Sunday nap, and when I woke up I could hardly move. There was excruciating pain like I have never experienced. Hobbling around the house just made me wince, and so, I made an appointment to see my doctor, first thing on Monday morning. The consult with my doctor revealed that I probably had a smooshed disc (huh?). She gave me some pain pills, and a sheet of exercises to do, and to call her if the pain didn’t subside.
The exercises actually helped, and I realized they were yoga poses. So when a former colleague of Liz’ opened a new yoga studio right here in Newton, a couple of weeks ago, I decided to sign up.
Now. Let me say this. I am not exactly built for yoga.
Suffice it to say that I am clearly the beginner in the class.
And, my teacher really likes to work on balance. You know—standing on one leg, stretching the other out “into the wall” and bending it towards you waist so you can grab your toes and stand perfectly still for what feels like hours, without falling.
The first class I cracked myself up, falling every time she said lift one leg….soon, not only was I the beginner, but quickly paving the way to becoming the class clown. I thought I might get better with more classes, but it seems that sense of balance, is well,…unbalanced. I spoke to my teacher after class…and she said that she likes to work on balance, perhaps to a fault. As a metaphor for life…it’s important to pay attention to. I have some work to do, it seems.
This concept of balance something hidden in our texts today.
It is the Sabbath. Jesus is teaching in the synagogue, and as he is speaking, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a woman. Bent over. The word translates not just “bent” or “bent over,” but a better translation would be “bent together” or “bent within." This is a woman who "is bent in on herself" (Jana Childers, http://www.csec.org/csec/sermon/childers_4816.htm). She has done nothing to cause her illness, and can do nothing to help herself, except, for perhaps, put herself in the path of Jesus(Jan Richardson, Painted Prayerbook, 8.20.2010).
Jesus is moved by this woman, and so calls her over, and heals her by laying hands on her. He lays hands on her. Immediately the synagogue leader is irritated with Jesus, chastises the crowd, saying there are six days to be cured—show up on those days. Not the Sabbath. The Sabbath has rules. It has balance.
Don’t you want to say, “whaaaaaaaat???”
This guy is so clueless!
But really, can you blame him?
Here is Jesus, a total renegade,
A guest teacher in HIS synagogue, and Jesus is NOT
FOLLOWING. THE. RULES.
I don’t think the synagogue leader was a bad person, he just was tightly bound to the letter of the rule of Sabbath.
Which gave permission for some actions, and not for others.
It would be like a guest preacher, walking into Eliot, and instead of following the order of worship, she just chucks the bulletin, and asks you,
What is it that you are needing today?
What can I give you? How about if we decide to have a Quaker meeting?
It would upset our equilibrium, don’t you think?
It’s interesting, too, that in the text, the synagogue leader doesn’t chastise Jesus the rule-breaker, he chastises the gathered community, over and over “You people know better. There are six days to be healed. Come on those days. Not on the Sabbath.”
It is clear his balance is toppled. He can’t fuss at Jesus, but he will fuss at those he leads.
But, for Jesus, there is always the moment—for whatever it brings. He is so balanced, within, and without, that he can read the world and match it with what he knows is true.
Balance.
In the zone.
Harmony.
Balance, in winemaking means the degree which all the attributes of a wine are in harmony, with none either too prominent or deficient.
Everything working together.
Balance.
You see, Jesus got that the Sabbath was essential,
a time out for God, for rest and reflection…
But that when someone walks in your vision and is completely out of balance,
Twisted inward,
In pain, in acceptance of that pain,
Then “Jesus has to challenge those present to consider what sabbath really means: that in its fullness, the laws regarding sabbath are designed not just for rest but for release from all that keeps us in bondage” (Richardson).
Rest, and freedom…for all.
So, I have been considering balance—not just physically so I can stand on one foot, but spiritually. Here is an example.
What do you do when you walk down the street, and encounter someone who is asking for money? Perhaps someone who is homeless, or injured, or whatever?
My personal rule is that I don’t give money. I don’t want to support someone’s crack habit, or addiction to alcohol—or get ripped off.
Frequently, here, at Eliot, a man comes,
Looking for a gift card to Stop and Shop, or Whole Foods,
which we keep in the office.
At a Newton Clergy Association meeting, we realized that this same person was hitting all of us up. Regularly. So, we have worked on a plan to manage people like him, so that they don’t suck up all our resources, so that when a true emergency arises, we will have the means to help. It’s not a bad plan. It has balance.
Yesterday, early in the morning, I happened to be in Davis Square in Somerville, to grab my early morning venti iced coffee, unsweetened, and light ice.
I walked by a man, obviously homeless, who asked me for help. I said no. He asked me to buy him a coffee, cuz his cup was empty. I said no. I didn’t trust him, I knew he was playing me, and I was irritated because he was challenging my rule. No money given on the street. Not healthy.
But you know, I was out of balance. I wasn’t seeing the whole picture.
There are rules. And then there is compassion, that defies all rules. Wholeness, freedom.
I stood in line for my coffee with my $5 dollar bill. I should get him a coffee. That would be my best choice, to control how my offering would be used.
But who am I to judge how someone spends a few dollars?
Certainly $3 for an iced coffee is worthy of judgement.
My equilibrium was challenged…and I knew I had to break my own rule in this instance, to listen to what I felt on the inside, meeting the need on the outside. I was working on standing on one leg in my heart.
I took my $2 in change, and went back outside, and handed it over,
Knowing that he might pocket whatever I gave him not for coffee, not for food, but for drugs or alcohol.
I handed him the change.
Because, it really it’s just a couple of bucks.
He is a human being with a story, with a life, perhaps bent in and hurting.
But I couldn’t heal him.
But I can offer a bit of relief, and compassion.
(caveat here: this doesn’t mean I will always hand over the money when someone asks….)
You see, balance is about breaking the rules when compassion and love demand something different.
Jesus calls us…
To seeing the world,
To seeing others,
Differently.
Jesus calls us…
To see ourselves differently.
We have so, so much power, with what little we have.
It is integral that we learn,
How to balance,
How to have the equilibrium with in,
To stand on one foot if we need to,
To break really well informed rules and standards and morals,
For the sake of helping another being
In the name of compassion and love and wholeness.
Balance.
Where do you need balance today?
Amen.
9Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, 10if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday. 11The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. 12Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.
Luke 13:10-17
10Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. 11And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. 12When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” 13When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. 14But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day.” 15But the Lord answered him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? 16And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?” 17When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.
Balance
August 23, 2010
Eliot Church of Newton
Earlier in the summer, I did something to hurt my lower back. I am not sure what—I simply laid down for a Sunday nap, and when I woke up I could hardly move. There was excruciating pain like I have never experienced. Hobbling around the house just made me wince, and so, I made an appointment to see my doctor, first thing on Monday morning. The consult with my doctor revealed that I probably had a smooshed disc (huh?). She gave me some pain pills, and a sheet of exercises to do, and to call her if the pain didn’t subside.
The exercises actually helped, and I realized they were yoga poses. So when a former colleague of Liz’ opened a new yoga studio right here in Newton, a couple of weeks ago, I decided to sign up.
Now. Let me say this. I am not exactly built for yoga.
Suffice it to say that I am clearly the beginner in the class.
And, my teacher really likes to work on balance. You know—standing on one leg, stretching the other out “into the wall” and bending it towards you waist so you can grab your toes and stand perfectly still for what feels like hours, without falling.
The first class I cracked myself up, falling every time she said lift one leg….soon, not only was I the beginner, but quickly paving the way to becoming the class clown. I thought I might get better with more classes, but it seems that sense of balance, is well,…unbalanced. I spoke to my teacher after class…and she said that she likes to work on balance, perhaps to a fault. As a metaphor for life…it’s important to pay attention to. I have some work to do, it seems.
This concept of balance something hidden in our texts today.
It is the Sabbath. Jesus is teaching in the synagogue, and as he is speaking, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a woman. Bent over. The word translates not just “bent” or “bent over,” but a better translation would be “bent together” or “bent within." This is a woman who "is bent in on herself" (Jana Childers, http://www.csec.org/csec/sermon/childers_4816.htm). She has done nothing to cause her illness, and can do nothing to help herself, except, for perhaps, put herself in the path of Jesus(Jan Richardson, Painted Prayerbook, 8.20.2010).
Jesus is moved by this woman, and so calls her over, and heals her by laying hands on her. He lays hands on her. Immediately the synagogue leader is irritated with Jesus, chastises the crowd, saying there are six days to be cured—show up on those days. Not the Sabbath. The Sabbath has rules. It has balance.
Don’t you want to say, “whaaaaaaaat???”
This guy is so clueless!
But really, can you blame him?
Here is Jesus, a total renegade,
A guest teacher in HIS synagogue, and Jesus is NOT
FOLLOWING. THE. RULES.
I don’t think the synagogue leader was a bad person, he just was tightly bound to the letter of the rule of Sabbath.
Which gave permission for some actions, and not for others.
It would be like a guest preacher, walking into Eliot, and instead of following the order of worship, she just chucks the bulletin, and asks you,
What is it that you are needing today?
What can I give you? How about if we decide to have a Quaker meeting?
It would upset our equilibrium, don’t you think?
It’s interesting, too, that in the text, the synagogue leader doesn’t chastise Jesus the rule-breaker, he chastises the gathered community, over and over “You people know better. There are six days to be healed. Come on those days. Not on the Sabbath.”
It is clear his balance is toppled. He can’t fuss at Jesus, but he will fuss at those he leads.
But, for Jesus, there is always the moment—for whatever it brings. He is so balanced, within, and without, that he can read the world and match it with what he knows is true.
Balance.
In the zone.
Harmony.
Balance, in winemaking means the degree which all the attributes of a wine are in harmony, with none either too prominent or deficient.
Everything working together.
Balance.
You see, Jesus got that the Sabbath was essential,
a time out for God, for rest and reflection…
But that when someone walks in your vision and is completely out of balance,
Twisted inward,
In pain, in acceptance of that pain,
Then “Jesus has to challenge those present to consider what sabbath really means: that in its fullness, the laws regarding sabbath are designed not just for rest but for release from all that keeps us in bondage” (Richardson).
Rest, and freedom…for all.
So, I have been considering balance—not just physically so I can stand on one foot, but spiritually. Here is an example.
What do you do when you walk down the street, and encounter someone who is asking for money? Perhaps someone who is homeless, or injured, or whatever?
My personal rule is that I don’t give money. I don’t want to support someone’s crack habit, or addiction to alcohol—or get ripped off.
Frequently, here, at Eliot, a man comes,
Looking for a gift card to Stop and Shop, or Whole Foods,
which we keep in the office.
At a Newton Clergy Association meeting, we realized that this same person was hitting all of us up. Regularly. So, we have worked on a plan to manage people like him, so that they don’t suck up all our resources, so that when a true emergency arises, we will have the means to help. It’s not a bad plan. It has balance.
Yesterday, early in the morning, I happened to be in Davis Square in Somerville, to grab my early morning venti iced coffee, unsweetened, and light ice.
I walked by a man, obviously homeless, who asked me for help. I said no. He asked me to buy him a coffee, cuz his cup was empty. I said no. I didn’t trust him, I knew he was playing me, and I was irritated because he was challenging my rule. No money given on the street. Not healthy.
But you know, I was out of balance. I wasn’t seeing the whole picture.
There are rules. And then there is compassion, that defies all rules. Wholeness, freedom.
I stood in line for my coffee with my $5 dollar bill. I should get him a coffee. That would be my best choice, to control how my offering would be used.
But who am I to judge how someone spends a few dollars?
Certainly $3 for an iced coffee is worthy of judgement.
My equilibrium was challenged…and I knew I had to break my own rule in this instance, to listen to what I felt on the inside, meeting the need on the outside. I was working on standing on one leg in my heart.
I took my $2 in change, and went back outside, and handed it over,
Knowing that he might pocket whatever I gave him not for coffee, not for food, but for drugs or alcohol.
I handed him the change.
Because, it really it’s just a couple of bucks.
He is a human being with a story, with a life, perhaps bent in and hurting.
But I couldn’t heal him.
But I can offer a bit of relief, and compassion.
(caveat here: this doesn’t mean I will always hand over the money when someone asks….)
You see, balance is about breaking the rules when compassion and love demand something different.
Jesus calls us…
To seeing the world,
To seeing others,
Differently.
Jesus calls us…
To see ourselves differently.
We have so, so much power, with what little we have.
It is integral that we learn,
How to balance,
How to have the equilibrium with in,
To stand on one foot if we need to,
To break really well informed rules and standards and morals,
For the sake of helping another being
In the name of compassion and love and wholeness.
Balance.
Where do you need balance today?
Amen.
God-Bearer
There were two lectionary choices for today (the lectionary being a three y ear cycle of scripture readings from the OT, P, G, and E to be used in worship.) The first, the regular reading for ordinary time, and the other for, “ The Assumption of the Virgin Mary into Heaven.” I thought to myself, why go with ordinary when one can go with the Queen of Heaven? And so, our text today is the Magnificat, Mary’s response to her aunt Elizabeth when Elizabeth declares her blessed among women, and blessed be the fruit of her womb.
Luke 1:46-53
And Mary said,
'My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for God has looked with favor on the lowliness of God's servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is God's name.
God's mercy is for those who fear God
from generation to generation.
God has shown strength with God's arm;
and has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
God has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
God has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.'"
God-Bearer
Rev. Karla Miller August 18, 2010 Eliot Church of Newton
Recently, I have had a surge of protestant clergy friends tell me how much they secretly adore Mary, the Mother of God, which has piqued my interest, as well. As a child, I was always a little jealous that my Catholic friends could pray to her, but Pastor Melheim told us confirmation kids we couldn’t have ANY thing to do with saints let alone praying to tham. “Lutherans use the DIRECT hotline to God”, he would rant.
Back in the days when Christianity was still being—orthodox-ied, there were some arguments about how to deal with Mary, stemming from how they were understanding Jesus. In 431, The Coucil of Ephesus decreed that since Jesus was both fully God and fully human, Mary must be understood as “Theotokos” , meaningly literally God-birther, affirming the fullness of the incarnation of God. Some just wanted to call her Christotokos, bearer of Christ, but the Council refuted that.
Theotokos—God bearer.
Isn’t that beautiful? Giving birth to God?
But what kind of birth was it? Throughout the ages of western Christendom, Mary, the mother of God has been a model of piety, of humble submissiveness to Divine Plan, an “obedient, desexualized, merciful mother and beautiful virgin that is projected into heaven as the eternal feminine.’ The perfect woman. What we sister believers should strive for.
I don’t like this model of Mary, and I don’t think it is true to her story
Look at the story of the annunciation in Luke 1. Mary is “much perplexed” (read: troubled, seriously concerned) about the angel Gabriel’s news that she will bear a child that reign in a kingdom with no end, she asks one fairly direct question —“ how can this be, since I am a virgin”….implying, that she and her betrothed, Joseph, are not, well…you know, sexually active. (IF you buy the fact that the Greek word used here actually meant “virgin” as we know it, rather than “Young woman” which was the word in Isaiah 7:14, which this whole prophecy of Gabriel’s is from). Gabriel adroitly assures her that the power of the most HIGH (that’s God) will overshadow her and the Holy Spirit will come upon her and protect her…..which is empowering, but doesn’t answer the most question at hand. However, Mary doesn’t press the point. The assurance of God is enough. She responds “Here am I the servant of the Lord—let it be to me according to your word.”
A “model believer”, indeed. But there is more to this story, I feel certain.
But notice one thing. Does Gabriel promise divine seed to implant in her womb? No! His promises of the Holy overshadowing and protecting Mary is a “figurative way of speaking about the child’s special relation to God, and NOT implying the absence of human paternity” Might I add here that the infancy narratives of Matthew and Luke were oral traditions—possibly women’s stories that circulated long before the writers redacted them into their gospels. Some scholars posit that both Luke and Matthew inherited illegitimacy traditions about Jesus’ paternity within those narratives, which have been muted and silenced in the texts we have today?
And I have the sense that Mary’s story is mystery and miracle….
And I have to say, the idea of a virgin birth, immaculate conception sanitizes her story, because the miracle has no real purpose but for the ancient church fathers to subordinate women, to deny the creative process, and to prove that Jesus was divine.
The story is dehumanized.
Which totally defeats the main point of Christianity---
The divine becoming one with us, beoming human?
I want you to notice something with me. Look at the text in Luke one. Do you notice the literal space in between the story of the annunciation, and the story of the magnificat?
This space actually occurs in the earliest manuscripts of Luke.
Before the space, the annunciation. After the space, the magnificat.
What has happened? We don’t know the story of conception. We are not privy to what happens to Mary, in `between the visit from Gabriel, and the visit to Aunt Elizabeth. What has happened?
She is 12 or 13 or 14 years old.
She has become pregnant.
Who has done this to her?
Magic?
Did she have a lover, Joseph?
Did someone do wrong to her?
We don’t know.
All we know is that she is running to her aunt, and maybe remembering, vaguely….this visit…this promise.. of overshadowing…of empowerment…of the divine….
Being pregnant out of wedlock typically would mean stoning, or death,
But clinging to that shred of divine visitation…
She is greeted with blessing from her cousin…
And…
Oh.
Maybe…
However this child was conceived…there is a sense that the birth will be blessed…
And that the mother of this child will be blessed…because…she remembers the promise of protection and Mary is empowered…
Mary decided to go for it. She decided to risk it.
This is the model believer.
Defying cultural expectations and norms.
Daring the law to punish her.
She puts it all out there.
Because the fact is….
The story is stronger---and more miraculous—
Without a virgin birth…
It’s a story against the odds,
It’s the song she sings defiantly that ….
The lowly will be raised up,
That the so called dominant powers will be brought down off their thrones,
That the hungry will be fed…that the proud and mighty will be scattered…
Mary’s song…
From the very breath in her lungs
Is one of hope against hope…
Against all the odds….
And when we hear her agonizing screams in the travailing of birth,
her panting breath and the clutching at the arms of Joseph and the crying out in undescribable pain….and sweat…
We know….
This Mary is no quiet, submissive one.
She is gritty and hopeful…
She is…as Elisabeth Shussler Fiorenza writes…
“The young pregnant woman, living in occupied territory and struggling against victimization and for survival and dignity”
It is she who offers the possibilities for a different understanding of Jesus and the divine…
And this is in part,
What Mary of Nazareth offers to us today….
In the most shadowy of times, she offers hope against hope….
And in spite of fear of death and domination and discrimination and disempowerment,
angels whisper in our ears to tell us,
Each of us…
That we participate in the bringing forth of God in a broken world, from our broken lives…
“What you bear will be special and blessed,
What you bring forth will be touched by the divine, and will be a light to the world…what is conceived within will be blessed in its birth…”
The mystic Meister Eckhart wrote, “We are all mothers of God, for God is needing to be born in the world every day”
We, like Mary, must participate with God in the redemption of the world….
We must give birth to the life we are living now,
in these days….
And …if we get that what we bring forth is the very presence of the divine…
If you felt that what ever you gave birth to was God…if you knew that you were the mother of God today….
How holy would our days be…
Then how holy would our work be…
How holy would your family be…
Oh, how holy might our worlds be…
If we truly believed
That we could bear God in this world.
What about you?
Are you a God-bearer?
How?
Amen.
Luke 1:46-53
And Mary said,
'My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for God has looked with favor on the lowliness of God's servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is God's name.
God's mercy is for those who fear God
from generation to generation.
God has shown strength with God's arm;
and has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
God has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
God has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.'"
God-Bearer
Rev. Karla Miller August 18, 2010 Eliot Church of Newton
Recently, I have had a surge of protestant clergy friends tell me how much they secretly adore Mary, the Mother of God, which has piqued my interest, as well. As a child, I was always a little jealous that my Catholic friends could pray to her, but Pastor Melheim told us confirmation kids we couldn’t have ANY thing to do with saints let alone praying to tham. “Lutherans use the DIRECT hotline to God”, he would rant.
Back in the days when Christianity was still being—orthodox-ied, there were some arguments about how to deal with Mary, stemming from how they were understanding Jesus. In 431, The Coucil of Ephesus decreed that since Jesus was both fully God and fully human, Mary must be understood as “Theotokos” , meaningly literally God-birther, affirming the fullness of the incarnation of God. Some just wanted to call her Christotokos, bearer of Christ, but the Council refuted that.
Theotokos—God bearer.
Isn’t that beautiful? Giving birth to God?
But what kind of birth was it? Throughout the ages of western Christendom, Mary, the mother of God has been a model of piety, of humble submissiveness to Divine Plan, an “obedient, desexualized, merciful mother and beautiful virgin that is projected into heaven as the eternal feminine.’ The perfect woman. What we sister believers should strive for.
I don’t like this model of Mary, and I don’t think it is true to her story
Look at the story of the annunciation in Luke 1. Mary is “much perplexed” (read: troubled, seriously concerned) about the angel Gabriel’s news that she will bear a child that reign in a kingdom with no end, she asks one fairly direct question —“ how can this be, since I am a virgin”….implying, that she and her betrothed, Joseph, are not, well…you know, sexually active. (IF you buy the fact that the Greek word used here actually meant “virgin” as we know it, rather than “Young woman” which was the word in Isaiah 7:14, which this whole prophecy of Gabriel’s is from). Gabriel adroitly assures her that the power of the most HIGH (that’s God) will overshadow her and the Holy Spirit will come upon her and protect her…..which is empowering, but doesn’t answer the most question at hand. However, Mary doesn’t press the point. The assurance of God is enough. She responds “Here am I the servant of the Lord—let it be to me according to your word.”
A “model believer”, indeed. But there is more to this story, I feel certain.
But notice one thing. Does Gabriel promise divine seed to implant in her womb? No! His promises of the Holy overshadowing and protecting Mary is a “figurative way of speaking about the child’s special relation to God, and NOT implying the absence of human paternity” Might I add here that the infancy narratives of Matthew and Luke were oral traditions—possibly women’s stories that circulated long before the writers redacted them into their gospels. Some scholars posit that both Luke and Matthew inherited illegitimacy traditions about Jesus’ paternity within those narratives, which have been muted and silenced in the texts we have today?
And I have the sense that Mary’s story is mystery and miracle….
And I have to say, the idea of a virgin birth, immaculate conception sanitizes her story, because the miracle has no real purpose but for the ancient church fathers to subordinate women, to deny the creative process, and to prove that Jesus was divine.
The story is dehumanized.
Which totally defeats the main point of Christianity---
The divine becoming one with us, beoming human?
I want you to notice something with me. Look at the text in Luke one. Do you notice the literal space in between the story of the annunciation, and the story of the magnificat?
This space actually occurs in the earliest manuscripts of Luke.
Before the space, the annunciation. After the space, the magnificat.
What has happened? We don’t know the story of conception. We are not privy to what happens to Mary, in `between the visit from Gabriel, and the visit to Aunt Elizabeth. What has happened?
She is 12 or 13 or 14 years old.
She has become pregnant.
Who has done this to her?
Magic?
Did she have a lover, Joseph?
Did someone do wrong to her?
We don’t know.
All we know is that she is running to her aunt, and maybe remembering, vaguely….this visit…this promise.. of overshadowing…of empowerment…of the divine….
Being pregnant out of wedlock typically would mean stoning, or death,
But clinging to that shred of divine visitation…
She is greeted with blessing from her cousin…
And…
Oh.
Maybe…
However this child was conceived…there is a sense that the birth will be blessed…
And that the mother of this child will be blessed…because…she remembers the promise of protection and Mary is empowered…
Mary decided to go for it. She decided to risk it.
This is the model believer.
Defying cultural expectations and norms.
Daring the law to punish her.
She puts it all out there.
Because the fact is….
The story is stronger---and more miraculous—
Without a virgin birth…
It’s a story against the odds,
It’s the song she sings defiantly that ….
The lowly will be raised up,
That the so called dominant powers will be brought down off their thrones,
That the hungry will be fed…that the proud and mighty will be scattered…
Mary’s song…
From the very breath in her lungs
Is one of hope against hope…
Against all the odds….
And when we hear her agonizing screams in the travailing of birth,
her panting breath and the clutching at the arms of Joseph and the crying out in undescribable pain….and sweat…
We know….
This Mary is no quiet, submissive one.
She is gritty and hopeful…
She is…as Elisabeth Shussler Fiorenza writes…
“The young pregnant woman, living in occupied territory and struggling against victimization and for survival and dignity”
It is she who offers the possibilities for a different understanding of Jesus and the divine…
And this is in part,
What Mary of Nazareth offers to us today….
In the most shadowy of times, she offers hope against hope….
And in spite of fear of death and domination and discrimination and disempowerment,
angels whisper in our ears to tell us,
Each of us…
That we participate in the bringing forth of God in a broken world, from our broken lives…
“What you bear will be special and blessed,
What you bring forth will be touched by the divine, and will be a light to the world…what is conceived within will be blessed in its birth…”
The mystic Meister Eckhart wrote, “We are all mothers of God, for God is needing to be born in the world every day”
We, like Mary, must participate with God in the redemption of the world….
We must give birth to the life we are living now,
in these days….
And …if we get that what we bring forth is the very presence of the divine…
If you felt that what ever you gave birth to was God…if you knew that you were the mother of God today….
How holy would our days be…
Then how holy would our work be…
How holy would your family be…
Oh, how holy might our worlds be…
If we truly believed
That we could bear God in this world.
What about you?
Are you a God-bearer?
How?
Amen.
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