Bread and Stones

Bread and Stones

John 6:1-21

Rev. Karla Miller   July 29, 2012    

Eliot Church of Newton

Sand and stones and pebbles, 

Beaches and wise ones,

A picnic of bread and fish 

A terrifying storm on the water, 

And a question, 

What is satisfying to you in your life?f

Is that what fills it, 

Or is it filled with tiny grains of sand? 

This is where we find ourselves, today. 

On a beach, with Patrick* pondering our lives, 

And  on another beach, with Jesus, and the crowds, 

And a oh so too familiar gospel story 

About the feeding of the 5,000 men plus more women and children

With a boy’s lunch of five loaves of bread and a couple of dried fish. 

I remember once meeting with a confirmand, and talking about her concepts of who Christ was. 

She said that Jesus was magic, because who else could turn so little food into a feast for thousands? 

It had to be magic.  

I gently asked a few questions, “What if this story was about people letting go, and sharing what they had, because of Jesus example, because of the little boy?  I wonder what that would mean about Jesus?”

She looked at me in horror and basically said, “but that’s so ordinary.  Jesus wasn’t ordinary.  Jesus could do anything.”

And I thought to myself, 

Well, she is right about Jesus not being ordinary, and let it go, because really, all I can do is sow seeds, right? Plus, the whole sharing thing came naturally to this child, so that really wasn’t all that revolutionary to her.  

That being said, in spite of this story’s familiarity, 

It is anything BUT ordinary. 

Picture the scene, if you will. 

Crowds have followed Jesus across the Sea of Galilee,

Because they witnessed healing in his presence.  

The crowds are the common folk, oppressed by Roman domination, and are at the bottom rung of the economic and social ladders. 

They follow Jesus and his disciples  up the mountainside, 

And then Jesus stops,

And wonders, where will these crowds get food?

He sensed their hunger, 

Their need…

Phillip, the treasurer of the disciples, notes that not even six months wages would be enough to feed a crowd so large. 

Phillips’s answer blows open this story, which is so much more than sweet Sunday School Story.  His comment makes us realize that this story is about bread--a symbol of basic need; and economics--what could be afforded, especially for those outside the circle of power and privilege and excess.  

Jesus was concerned for the basic needs of these people, who had so little, but hungered for the fullness of life.  

So he commences with the supposed miracle--as one writer notes, “if it is a miracle it is of the most deflated kind.”  (Rachel Mann,

http://www.politicaltheology.com/blog/politics-breaking-bread-trinity-8-john-61-21/ )

There is no magic, no special mystical words--(my apologies to my former confirmand)

Simply, he takes the bread and fish, gives thanks, and shares.  

Did you hear that?   He took what was there, said thank-you, and gives it away. 

People are fed as much as they need, 

a staggering amount of people,mind you.

Imagine,

what little there was at the beginning, but it ended up being enough, in fact,more than enough, with leftovers for tomorrow! 

Don’t you love that Jesus tells them to gather up the fragments? In spite of the fact that the fragments were broken, they still were good and nourishing, and Jesus didn’t want them to be left behind. 

We are invited to gather up the fragments, for nothing that matters, that which feeds us, should be lost.  We tend to lose what matters, because in these days, our society is caught in a “famine of excess, no matter what we eat or use, nothing seems to satisfy us for long and so we continue to try to fill ourselves.”  (Mann) And what we end up in our jars of life is too much sand, and not enough large stones, of what matters. 

I finished reading this week a biography of Catherine the Great, the 18th century empress of Russia (and the last woman ruler of that country).   Her road to the throne was rocky, and precarious,  and in spite of her ambition, it wasn’t a sure thing that she would ever become the empress, and she suffered betrayal, deceit, and horrible treatment at the hands of her mother-in-law and her husband.    She finally became empress, after a hostile take-over of her husbands rule as emperor. (It’s a very long story).  Once she held the throne, she filled her courts with lush and imperial excesses, rewarding her supporters, building palaces encrusted with jewels, etc.   She was a learned woman--a scholar of the Enlightenment, with a special penchant for Voltaire.   

She was also complicated--for she wanted to reform Russia regarding the many serfs that were owned by nobility, the church, and the state, in order to give them freedom.  

A noble cause which never came to fruition.   

She also waged wars,

built cities, 

amassed a huge european art collection of Rembrandts and Rubens--

She had it all. 

Except for one thing.  

The love of partner.  

She had all of these affairs with men, called the “favorites”, but never did they live up to her simple expectations to be a companion, a friend, a confidant.  Some of the relationships were incredibly co-dependent, 

and this strong woman, acclaimed in all the western world, 

would fall to pieces over the shallow relationships with her lovers.

You see, her jar was filled with sand first, 

and there was no room for what mattered.  

I felt so sad at the end of the story. 

It’s really important to be sustained by what matters, rather than by accessories and acquisitions. 

Back to the text. 

After all of the people are fed, 

Jesus goes off to pray alone on the mountainside, to feed himself, and also to avoid those in the crowd that wanted him to be king.  

It doesn’t say what the disciples are doing, but the next thing we know, they are piled in a boat to go to the other side of the lake. 

Don’t you wonder why the heck they didn’t wait for Jesus?  Why did they leave him?  

It is as if, in spite of being fed by Divine presence earlier in the day, they have forgotten what is important.  It doesn’t seem to occur to them to go and look for Jesus before they leave.  

But, Jesus didn’t forget them.  Jesus shows up, in spite of the fact that one would think by now that the doofy disciples would know what matters.   

We all are doofy sometimes.  We forget.  We drag jars of sand around, abandoning all attempts to fit in what is important, because we just can’t save ourselves.  

And that’s where our faith comes in, our community, and the Divine.  To remind us of what is sustaining--so that when we find ourselves in the storms of life, we will have the fragments of what is more than enough and filling--the Bread of Life. 

3

Which circles back to the stones in the jar, because the stones in the jar are the greatest gifts of the Bread of Life to you—that which sustains and gives life and is life. 

May your jar be filled with big stones.

Amen. 

*Adult Children's Time  given by Patrick O’Reilly.  

(**The #### represents improvisation on the piano)

I was walking on a beach when I saw this young man ####

I said hello and saw that he had a pile of stones – big ones and small ones, so I asked what he was making

“Well the stones are LIFE” he replied ####

OK – at this point I know I should just keep walking  but I say – “What?” ###

“Come closer” he invited.  ###

The man had a few bowls in front of him. He took some large stones and said – “The large stones represent the important things in your life. Family, faith, caring and loving others.” And he put the large stones in one of the jars.####

“Looks kind of full” I said.

“Look again”– and he took the smaller stones and they dribbled among the large stones. ####  “The small stones represent things in your life that are of lesser importance.”

“That kind of fills it up”, I said.

He held up his hand, which was filled with sand, and I watched it fill in the spaces between the stones.####

“The sand represents the unimportant things in life” -####

As I was thinking about this, he showed me a jar that was mostly filled with sand – he said, this is what happens when you fill your life with things that are unimportant. And as he tried to put in the large stones, he said, “You cannot fit in the things are are really important. But it is so easy to fill your life with sand, isn't it?

Now, which represents your life?? ####

Abide

John 15:1-8

1 "I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. 2 He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. 3 You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. 4 Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. 5 I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. 6 Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. 7 If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. 8 My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.

Abide

May 2012

It’s spring.  

We have had a little rain, and now trees are turning that glorious green that only spring brings.   

And it’s time, for those of us who adore gardening to get on the gloves, pull out the  tools, and get to work.  For those with less of a love affair of gardening, well, even lawns need to mowed--if we have lawns. 

So, our text today, likening our relationship to the Divine with the image of a vineyard, is timely.  We are the branches, and Jesus, is the vine, that nourishes.   God, as  Vineyard Keeper, makes sure that fruit comes forth from the vineyard by keeping things shaped and tidy with Godly Pruners.      

Let’s talk about those pruning shears, shall we?      

When we first moved to our home in Medford, I was so excited because there is a  Japanese Maple Tree in our front yard--I love Japanese Maples, and wanted to care for it properly.  After a little research, I learned that proper pruning was essential for their shaping.   

Keep in mind,  this tree is a regular Japanese Maple, and is quite a large choice for the half a postage stamp sized front yard we had.  So, my mission at first, was to keep it small and trimmed and beautiful.  Like a life-size bonsai tree, except it’s not a bonsai....

The first couple of years, I pruned back the branches in the spring...trying to keep it from stretching out its arms to back, over the front porch, or stretching it’s arms to each size, reaching over our front walk way, and the neighbor’s driveway, and reaching out front, into the street....while trying to keep it from growing up.  

The results, have not been pretty. I may have overpruned.  

It’s a bit lopsided,

and wonky, and scraggly.

There are others in my family who love the pruning shears.  One time, I came home to my beloved who sheepishly admitted to over-enjoying the pruning shears on a lovely forsythia bush that had been a little wild.

It had been sheared to a nubbin. 

Take away?  

Know how to use those pruning shears.   

In our story, it appears that Divine Vineyard Keeper loves the pruning shears--

cutting away branches that bear no fruit, 

pruning those do bear fruit so they might bear more fruit. 

I have a friend that doesn’t care for this text, and I can understand why.  The image of pruning seems to demanding perfection and performance, and completely results driven.  What about those poor branches that aren’t producing fruit--to think they are just cut off and cast away into the fire doesn’t seem all that loving, does it?  It “feels” more like the survival of the fittest in the vineyard of Christian Discipleship. I don’t know about you, but most of the time, I am just happy to be hanging on to the vine, not even close to thinking about bearing fruit.  And God is going to clip me off the vine? 

It certainly isn’t comfortable news, is it?  However, the point of a vineyard is not to look pretty, the point is to bear fruit.  

How many of you like to grow tomatoes?   I remember the first year I grew my own tomatoes--in a pot on my deck.  My step-father, the Tomato King, taught me to pinch off all of the “suckers”--the branches without any blooms on them.  I carefully pruned away the suckers, so the branches with little flowers would receive more nourishment, and grow stronger and bear much fruit.  I had tomatoes coming out of my ears!  It was fantastic!  

All this is to say, a little pruning is a good thing.  Because if we, as branches, were left in charge of bearing fruit without a little help from the Divine Gardener, there might not be so much fruit.  Thank goodness it’s not up to us.  It’s up to God...and the Vine, that nourishes the branches.   

In fact, according to this text, all we are to do as branches is to abide.   

Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. 5 I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.   

What good news is this?  We are being given permission--no not permission, but the directive, to Abide.  It’ not up to us to produce,

to grow, to bear fruit--

Our role as branches is to simply abide, live in the vine, as the vine lives in us.

Abide. 

Dwell. 

Literally, to tarry.  When is the last time you simply just tarried--

just sat an extra few minutes, and lingered in a moment of being-ness?

Sometimes, tarrying is a relief.  

Actually, I would say 99.9 percent of the time, it’s a great thing. 

However, I need to remind you about the nature of grapevines.  They get all tangled and messy and wild.  And you aren’t the only branch on the vine.   By using the grapevine as a metaphor for community, Jesus reminds us that we are all tangled up with each other and God.  It can be a mess of interconnectedness that isn’t always--or is rarely perfect.   We are dependent, of God and others...and there is not an option of independence, but interdependence.  We need each other, we need God, to be fruitful.   (Nadja Bolz-Weber, The Hardest Question Blog, May 6, 2012) 

Sometimes, it’s hard to tarry when the branch next to you is irritating you.  Sometimes, it’s difficult to stick around the grapevine when other branches don’t communicate that well with you.  Sometimes it’s laborious to wait peacefully when you feel like you have failed, or haven’t had the right kind of time to give to being a branch in the vineyard.   Sometimes it’s painfully arduous to be in community when there are too many questions or not enough questions or when it seems that only a couple of branches are doing all of the work, or when there aren’t enough volunteers to teach Sunday School or be Greeters or.....

and frankly, when a crisis hits, it’s not your Yoga Teacher that is going to show up at your door with a casserole and helping hands.  It’s your sisters and brothers on the vine that will, 

no matter how much of a tangle and mess we are.

And for now, for today, all we need to do is Abide. Stay put. 

Dwell. Live within Love, as Love lives within us. 

So today, 

I invite you to tarry a little while in your community, this church. 

Linger as we share God’s feast together in community. 

Have a little more coffee or juice.  

And abide in the wildness and wideness of Love, 

Manifest here today,

in all of those branches sitting with you in those pews today. 

Abide in the tangle and joy. 

Amen. 

Really?? (An Easter Sermon)

Our Gospel story today leaves us wondering and wanting for more because  Mark’s account of the resurrection, well, has no resurrection and no alleluias.  It leaves us standing at an empty tomb, with no one around, with no ending. 

Mark 16:1-8

When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him.²And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb.³They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?”⁴When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back.⁵As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed.⁶But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him.⁷But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.”⁸So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

Really?

Easter B  April 8 2012

On Saturday Night Live (a comedy show on, yes, late Saturday nights) there is a segment where they parody “world news”.  Recently, Kermit the Frog hosted the news with the regular host, Seth Meyers, in a segment called, “REALLY?”

Imagine that I am  Seth Meyers, the host, sitting at a news desk with Kermit the Frog-Earl, will you help me.   

Seth:  On Thursday Congress rejected new USDA guidelines in school lunches that would increase  fresh fruits and vegetables in school cafeterias.  In fact, they declared that the tomato paste in school cafeteria pizza counts makes pizza count as a vegetable.  This brings us to our next segment that we call “Really?!!”

Really congress, now pizza is a vegetable?   

Please, Cafeteria pizza  barely classifies as real pizza.  It’s  as nutritional as the  plate it’s served on!   I mean really?

And if pizza is a vegetable now? , does that make broccoli penicillin?

Kermit:  REALLY?  And if pizza is a vegetable, what is a fruit salad?   Twizzlers and Grape Soda?  Really. Really?

S:   Pretty soon eating french fries will classify as taking French Class!

K:  Really.   

S:  For what it’s worth, the tomato paste  is only 31% tomatoes.  The other ingredients are potassium sorbate citric acid, tricalcium phosphate

K:  That’s not a vegetable, that’s a chemistry Quiz!  I mean REALLY??

S:  ReallY?

K:  It’s your job, congress to look out for children!  I mean, really!

S:  In fact, food corporations spend millions each year lobbying against tighter nutritional guidelines so in this case, you are a PUPPET of the food industry! (no offense, Kermit)

K:  Oh, no that’s o.k., none taken.  Besides I am not a puppet, I am a muppet.   

S: Huh, what’s the difference? 

K: Well, a puppet is actually controlled by person, where I am an actual talking frog!

S: Oh! Really?  

K:  Really. 

S:  Really??

K: Really!

Really?  Re ally???  Really--a word with many sentiments, wouldn’t you say?  

And when I read this account of the resurrection in Mark, it’s exactly how I respond.  Really Mark?  Couldn’t you have thrown in a glimpse of the risen Christ somewhere?  Why did you just leave us hanging, like a dangling participle?  Really. 

In fact, dear church, if you  look in your pew bibles on page      , you will see that we aren’t the only ones uncomfortable with the silence.  Later, people added endings to this gospel--you can see it starting at “verse 9” there in the italics.  My bible says, “Endings added later.” Really, Mark, you must have known the ending--how did you know the tomb was empty?    Maybe Mark actually wrote the end, but the papryrus he was writing burned up in the cooking fire.  Who knows?   Or, maybe....maybe Mark wanted to end this story just the way he did--with no ending.  

Really?  

Think about it.  The way Mark’s gospel ends invites us to stare at  the empty tomb, just like Mary Magdalene, Salome, and Mary, the mother of Jesus.   They didn’t see Jesus, and neither have we.  They didn’t touch Jesus’ hands, or the hem of his garment, and neither have we.  We are in the same place these women were that very first Easter--with an empty tomb, and a choice on how to respond.  They are our “silent sisters” (Beyond Fear and Faith, Barbara Lundblad at Odyssey Networkshttp://odysseynetworks.org/news/onscripture-the-bible-mark-16-1-8-page-2), one with us in deciding how to finish the story.  

And, really, Mary Magdalene, Salome, and Mother Mary can be our guides in how we do tell the story, in the context of our own lives (Lundblad).   They flee from the tomb, seized in terror and amazement.   Literally, in quaking and ecstasy.  We know they told their story, because we wouldn’t know it without their telling.  However, how they gave testimony was framed by their experience at the empty tomb--quaking, trembling (was that because of hope beyond hope?  fear? )  and ecstasy (joy beyond joy  that Love abides?)

Really--to me, it sounds like they were scared witless at the impossible possibility that Love and justice and hope won over domination, death, and injustice.   

Sisters and brothers, when was the last time you were ecstatic about the possibility of Love overcoming all?  

Really--I am serious.  

Sometimes, I think, as God’s people, we stand at the empty tomb with question marks, or boredom, or literalness.  We pay our respects to  in this fantastical story of a Risen Christ, walking through walls to visit with the disciples...and we forget the sheer power of what it all means.  We walk away from the empty tomb, unchanged, and get on with with.   Christ has risen. Hallelujah.  So what? 

Let’s pause.  Isn’t this sanctuary beautiful?  Don’t you love singing “Christ the Lord has risen again?”  Do you have a sense of the joy of this day? 

The joy is present because the tomb is empty.  The empty tomb proclaims that Love will always live, will rise above, again and again and again.  It makes me tremble when I really think about it.  I understand  why Salome and Mary and Mary ran away from the empty tomb--because there was nothing there, so they ran back to their lives with the hope that change was possible.  Really!

Sisters and brothers, we die a million deaths everyday.  We crucify others--intentionally, and by mistake.  We experience the suffering of the cross.

   I die at the fact that still, in this society, that black children are murdered, “walking black”, and that parents have to have the “talk” with their black sons.  I despair when I watch the news.   I die when I hear that one day, just a month ago, on February 8, a colleagues sister was a 32 year old healthy pregnant  woman, and the next day, on February 9, because of an errant driver and a car accident, became a parapalegic, whose baby was saved, but faces financial ruin and places her family at risk because our system does not have affordable health care.  I die because God is nowhere to be found, and I die because I am tired of the suffering, the loss, the pain. It’s all futile ad hopeless. 

Really, don’t you know what I mean?  

But then, as many deaths as there are, there are twice that many resurrections, possibilities wrought by empty tombs.

We could be ecstatic with the profoundness of resurrection.  

Really!

Flowers bloom. 

My spouse accepts my apology. 

People raise money to provide a state of the art wheel chair. 

Someone says “I love You”

A stranger offers you a smile. 

Your friend, who is dying, still wants birthday cake with candles.  

In spite of white privilege and stupidity, people rally and protest.

Love is born.  Love dies, because of fear and domination. 

But then Love rallies.   

And Love is resurrected.  

That doesn’t mean that you are required to be happy and because everything is fixed and figured out. 

The fact that Love wins means that even the most wounded of us can tremble at the possibility of hope, in spite of the struggles and sufferings of life.  We don't know all of what that means; we don't have to. We can be afraid, confused, and even grieving. We don’t have to be stronger or happier or wise than we are to finish the unfinished story in Mark.   (Janine Goodwin, read the whole sermon here http://feministheology.blogspot.com/2012/04/easter-its-more-than-happy.html) 

Really. 

You know this.  

How do you know that love lives?  That Love has risen?  That Love will come again?  

How will you bear witness? How will you tell the rest of the Story? 

Really?  

Then let me hear a Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!

Again?  Hallelelujah!

Yes. REALLY!!!

Humble Pie

Humble Pie
Proper 26, Year A, October 3o

Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples, 2“The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat; 3therefore, do whatever they teach you and follow it; but do not do as they do, for they do not practice what they teach. 4They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them. 5They do all their deeds to be seen by others; for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long. 6They love to have the place of honor at banquets and the best seats in the synagogues, 7and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have people call them rabbi. 8But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all students. 9And call no one your father on earth, for you have one Father—the one in heaven. 10Nor are you to be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Messiah. 11The greatest among you will be your servant. 12All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted. (Matthew 23:1-12)


This week, in Sacred Conversations, our discussion about faith and practice morphed into a discussion about driving in Boston. There was a lot to be said about that topic, as you might know. After our meeting, I vowed to be a better Christian while in the car. That lasted about day, when someone cut me off on the pike and pounded on my horn and yelled to no one, “What Makes You More Entitled than ME?????”

Clearly, I forgot about my vow. And the fact that everyone else on the road is also a beloved child of God. Sigh. Time to chew on a little humble pie.

Sometimes, my dearly beloved thinks that I am a “know it all.” Granted, I do KNOW a lot, but it appears I am not always right. We often will get into these, arguments, errr, conversations, over something we remember differently, and usually end up betting who is correct. I always bet a pair of shoes. However, I am often over-confident and zealous in my righteousness, which renders me less than lovable to Liz, not to mention, at times hurtful. A slice of “humble pie”1 is usually in order.

Eating humble pie, if you aren’t familiar with the phrase, simply means, taking some time out to be humble, to not lift yourself up as superior over all, but rather, focus on what it means to be humble.

Humble. The root of humble comes from “humus” or the earth. So to be humble, in my opinion, is to remember our primeval origins--we come from the soil. (Not that I am saying we need to treat ourselves like “dirt”). We are adamah--the literal translation of “Adam” in hebrew is “adamah” or earth creature.

It is from the earth, the humus, that our Creator shaped and formed us, in God’s image,in beauty, in simplicity, in pure lush love. Humility--it doesn’t mean becoming a doormat. Rather, it means, remembering our very essence as part of the whole creation of God.

Which, all too often, we forget--that we are part of the whole, a strand in the web, a thread in the tapestry. Isolated, we are just that--a strand without identity, a part without a place, separated, isolated, alone.

And when that becomes our truth, then, yes, we have to hunker into ourselves, and start to self-aggrandize, become entitled, tuck ourselves into a silo and be the holder of All Knowledge, because to be wrong is to be vulnerable and susceptible. Well, at least for me.

In today’s text, I am not sure what is going on internally with the Pharisees and Scribes. I am not sure where they lost their way on being a beloved child of God. But Jesus is very clear in pointing out their hubris, their empty practices of faith, so much so that he calls the crowds and the disciples to follow what they say, but not what they do--”They do not practice what they preach”.

In fact, Jesus accuses the Pharisees of placing a heavy burden on the shoulders of others that they aren’t willing to lift themselves. What is that burden? The yoke, or burden is the Law, the Torah--symbolizing the kingdom of heaven as compared to the kingdom of this world.

The Pharisees had the point of the Law all mixed up. When the Law was given to Moses, to pass on to the people, the people knew they were the chosen ones of God. They knew they belonged to God. The point of the Torah, which more accurately means “instruction” rather than a list of rules that cannot be broken, was to help God’s people to live into their wholeness as a community, and to be a source of understanding justice.

Unfortunately, the Pharisees had twisted the law around so that the only way one could be a child of God was to follow the rules, as they saw fit. The irony in keeping the Law is that, for a Law-keeper to be righteous, many others must not keep the Law themselves. A righteous man, for example, must be a man, not a woman. He must abstain from everything that my cause him to be unclean. He can’t have contact with blood, which is impossible for women during menstruation. Midwives delivered babies and were made unclean because childbirth is a bloody process for the attendants as well as for the labouring mother.

A righteous man must not handle uncooked meat, yet he must also eat meat on the Sabbath, which requires others to handle the meat and cook it for him. Handling cured leather is lawful, but raw skin is not. Therefore, someone else must skin the hides from animals and cure it. The list goes on and on.

The point is that to be righteous before the Law requires ensuring that others have no opportunity to be similarly righteous. The division between Law-keepers and Law-breakers is profound and ultimately results in the oppression of the very people upon whom the Law-keeper relies for his righteous status.

Practicing the Law, in the ways the Pharisees set forth, does not set everyone free, in other words.
In other gospels, Jesus chides the Pharisees for getting caught up in the minutiae of the Law so much so that they overlook the purpose of the law, which is to ensure justice among all people. The Law, then, should not set some people above others, creating distinct classes in society, yet this is exactly how the Pharisees and religious leaders have interpreted it.

Hence, Jesus serves up some humble pie, capping off this text with these words: The greatest among you will be your servant. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.

It’s clear that Jesus is calling the religious authorities out of their hypocrisy. His criticisms are all about the ways religion can morph into something that is more about elevating ourselves, than about what we can do for God or our neighbor. Basically, he is saying, “it’s not all about you.” It’s about us loving God and our neighbor with all we have and with all we are.
I am pretty sure that none of you are here today to show off how pious and exalted you are--where in the 21st century, going to “church” is not part of the collective norm. In fact, I would bet that most of you show up here on Sunday mornings because you want to be better people and more whole. Which is a very good thing.

Where that can be dangerous, I think, is when church becomes “all about me”--what do I get out of it, how can I grow, what is meaningful for me....and forgetting that being in Christian community is really, learning how to love God and our neighbors--and then actually DOING it.

Yes, this place called Church is about growing in faith, and practicing that faith so that justice becomes real for all. And sometimes that results in putting what “I want” on the back burner to be thoughtful of what is good for the whole. It’s really not all about “us” or “me”, but about how we can be peace and love and welcome to the corner of the world in which we live.

As a child, I remember making mud pies with much relish and mess and joy. They were humble, these pies, and yet so much fun--each one different, and all made of the same stuff. I like to think that when we live in humility, we really are remembering that the ground of our being is being held in the hands of the One who created each of us, in her image, all from the same stuff, all beloved children of God, full of light and love and welcome.

And that humble pie, well, it isn’t all that bad then, is it?
Amen.

Another Road

Another Road
Sunday, January 8 2012 EpiphanyB Matthew 2:1-12



It was July 1985.

My new used previously owned by a little old lady who never drove it Buick Skylark was packed with all of my earthly belongings, including my guitar, my favorite books, a few clothes, and picture albums. And then, I just drove away, across North Dakota, through Minnesota, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, Georgia into Florida, and across the state to the Atlantic coast to my first job ever as a college graduate. And I made it without a cell phone or GPS, which now when I think upon this, is a wonder of all wonders.

And looking back, I am amazed. What was I thinking? A midwestern 20 year old moving about as far away as I could from family and friends and anything familiar. However, in spite of being naive and clueless, I knew that I was being pulled, pulled, yes even guided to this particular job as a youth minister in a Presbyterian Church--even though I was Lutheran, even though I didn’t know what grits were and even though I really had a very hard time understanding people when they spoke with thick Southern drawls. My boss was aloof, (but kind)...even though I had no idea how to be a youth minister in a church (I never even had gone to youth group before) except for some volunteer work in a youth organization in college.

And yet, I think that journey to that foreign land of Florida where it was hot and muggy all of the time, and people were crazy about Gators and Seminole football, and where people actually ATE gator tail and boiled peanuts and pickled pigs feet, well, that journey was to a sort of Bethlehem...a place that changed everything and shaped me. God pulled me there, to that city of live oaks dripping with spanish moss filled with chiggers...I followed a hunch, and it was transformative. Oh my, and once I landed there, there were so many guiding stars that led me on different journeys, on other roads....and my faith was formed and deepened and opened, and somehow, circuitously and over time, that journey finds me here, in this moment...

What about you?
What sorts of roads have you traveled that led you into something that changed you more than you ever thought? How did you get here, today, to this moment? How is it that you find yourself in this place in your life, where being at worship with a Beloved Community, being in faithful relationship in a Christian community matters to you? In short, how has grace lured you here, to this space and time in your life?

Some of you are here because of guiding stars in your lives, and some of you have followed hunches or your guts. Some of you know that God called you here. Some of you maybe have no idea how you got to this place in your life, but you are grateful to be here. Or not. Some of you have been lured to this place by bands of heavenly angels (like the shepherds in Luke’s gospel) ,and some of you in this place in your life because of a weird anomaly, a blip in the sky, (like the Wise Ones).

You see, friends, this is, in part, what the Epiphany story is all about. It’s about Journey, about seeking, about finding, about asking others where you might find, and being on a journey together. It’s about God, being willing to do pretty much anything to be in touch with us--for God wishes to be known, and will pretty much do what it takes so that we might brush up against God’s mystery and be transformed by it. (Crimson Rambler, blogpost, 1.7.12)

Indeed, Epiphany becomes a celebration about God’s revelation to unexpected people-- like the Wise ones from the east.

In antiquity,
these foreigners from the East were NOT models of religious piety.
They were magicians, fortune tellers, star-gazers, astrologers. Heretics. They didn’t worship the Right God. They were the wrong race, the wrong religion, the wrong denomination. They don’t know how to really worship--as in Jewish practices, or Greek practices of the day. The gifts they gave, although lovely, were actually elements used in their magic. In fact, these Magi would have been, much better models of unbelief and false trust, rather than models of faith. And yet, Matthew, makes them the heros of one of the first stories in his book about Jesus the Christ.

Again, dare I say it? Epiphany is a celebration of God’s revelation to unexpected people--magi and shepherd, to outcasts and enemies and those on the margin. Not necessarily to the elite, the powerful, the most religious, the most holy. It’s about God, not appearing in power or spreadsheets or business practices or the most qualified and gifted, but appearing, intuitively, to the least, the lost, and the broken. The most vulnerable. (Bruce Epperly)--and yes, even to us, sitting in these pews, the seekers and the skeptics and cynics and believers. Why? Because God--because Love-- wishes to be known.

Do you have any idea how revolutionary this is?
How incredibly extravagant, no holds barred, risky this is?

So what does this Epiphany message whisper to us, an unruly and tame bunch of New England Congregationalists, struggling to balance a budget, to offer welcome, to be a presence, to love one another, to love the least of these?

It calls to us to look at the Magi, and what it meant to them to to find God’s presence in that stable--they were overwhelmed with Joy, so much so that they fell to their knees with awestruck humility. Meeting the Christ sent them home by another way--a new way, a different way.

The Epiphany message whispers to us that we ought to follow our guts, look for God’s leading in tiny signs and in unexpected voices, so that we might might be transformed by Love. When have we last “risked” with no holds bars so that others (the fringe) might know they are beloved? When have we dared to make a bold decision that might backfire, or might not? When have we listened to our collective intuition, or something as silly as a guiding star?

Dear ones, YOU are in an interim, transitional, liminal place. An Epiphany place, if you will. You are full of God’s grace and love, and yet you are being called to new directions as a church. You are asking defining questions about who you are uniquely called to serve, you are discerning different ways of being in ministry together. You love the journey you have been on, and you love the ‘Eliot Way’ and your fierce independence. And yet, no matter how you got here, there will be other roads to travel as you seek to be God’s people in the 21st century.

But the best thing about this Epiphany, is that God will do what it takes to show us the way--with hosts of angels and a sky full of guiding stars.

Our lives are filled with journeys, sisters and brothers.
Stop for a moment, again, and think about the journeys that have shaped and formed you, the journeys that have brought you to your knees in gratitude and sheer wonder, the journeys that have made you go in different directions and new roads...think about all of the guiding stars and angels that have lead you....

It is the same for our Church, for we are the church. We can look on our past, and marvel at the guiding stars of our past.
The risk-takers that built this building in 1957.
The risk-takers that made bold decisions to become Open and Affirming.
The risk takers that back in 1845 decided to actually become a new Christian Community.
We are full of sacred journeys...
which I would argue is really the point.

There is a new church start congregation whose final words of their covenant I find are incredibly resonant for the 21st century:

In our faithful sojourning

We do not walk alone.
God is present with us.

We have not yet arrived.
God continues to beckon.

We seek no destination. The sacred journey is our home. (UPUCC Covenant)

May our life together continue to be one of new roads and sacred journeys. Amen.

Wait
Advent 1B
Isaiah 64:1-9, Matthew 13: 13-27



One of my favorite books from my childhood is Ramona the Pest. Remember her?
She had the doll with blue hair named Chevrolet (because she loved the word), a big sister named Beezus, and a best friend named Howie. When she first went to kindergarten, her beautiful, sweet teacher, Miss Binney, told Ramona to “sit here for the present”...and Ramona, not very good at waiting, would not budge from her seat, because if she didn’t, she would receive the present. She tried to imagine how the present would be wrapped--with curly ribbons? a big fat bow? Would the wrapping paper be shiny?
What would the present be?
A new doll, a friend for Chevrolet?

It was hard, this waiting. Ramona had scraggly hair, and one of her classmates, Susan, had blond shiny curls that Ramona was dying to tug to see if they would spring back, like a real spring. It was hard to resist, but she noticed that Miss Binney did not promise any one else a present, so she was going to sit tight. The class went outside for recess, and Ramona stayed in her seat, because she wasn’t budging until she got the present. When Miss Binney saw her glued to her chair, she asked Ramona about it.
“I am waiting for the present”
Miss Binney was confused.
Then she realized that Ramona had mis-understood. She tried to explain to Ramona that “for the present” really meant, “for now”.
Poor Ramona.
She tried hard to forgive Miss Binney, since it was her first kindergarten class,
but she was devastated.
She had sat so still, and waited, for nothing.

Has that ever happened to you? Waiting for nothing?
I am not great at waiting myself.
Waiting makes me anxious.
It’s not that I am necessarily an impatient person, but rather, I am the kind of person who needs resolution.
So, I don’t wait around. I am the kind of person that opens Christmas presents early, and can’t wait for others to open my gifts.

I think the outcome of the waiting for me is the crux of the issue. What if what I anticipate, like Ramona, turns out to be nothing? What if my beloved DOESNT think the gift if perfect? I want to know, now.

I have to hand it Ramona, however. Even though waiting was hard for her, she clearly actively waited. She dreamed about the many possibilities of that present. She remained in the tension between the present, and the future, full of an anticipation and wonder. Waiting, is an Art.

Today, we begin a new church year, and a new season, of Advent.
And we, are called to Wait.
Advent gives us the space, and the time to wait with intention for the miracle of Christmas, to happen all over again.

But this isn’t easy, when the stuff of daily life urges, presses us toward the resolution of our waiting. Our commercial culture shouts at us to MAKE Christmas happen. Black Friday yells at us to shop and get a good bargain; Buy Local Saturday stills tells us to go out and shop, Cyber Monday tells us to get online and browse and buy.... Even if we don’t participate in any of these shopping extravaganzas, it’s still hard to avoid the noise of it. Half my newspaper on Thursday was advertisements. It was hard not to notice them.

I am lured, though, by the marketing schemes--hurry up, decorate, wrap gifts, write all the bulletins--get it all done now, so Christmas can happen on my own terms.

And there is the crux of the matter. No matter how hard I might try, I can’t make Christmas happen. God makes Christmas happen.

Advent is the art of waiting for God to show up.
Advent is the time where, in spite of everything else, we are invited to wonder,
and to search for a renewed hope in the simple crazy story of god stealing into our world through the laboring cries of an unwed mother.

Advent is a time of lament, even. Our reading from the prophet Isaiah reveals the ancients crying out to God to rip open the heavens and make the mountains tremble before their adversaries. This is post-exilic Israel, when God’s people were no longer under Babylonian rule, and were invited to return home, to Jerusalem, by their new dominators, the Persians. As it turned out, after years and years and years of waiting, going home wasn’t all that easy. There was tension and unrest, within the community and against the community. There was a terrible reality of the absence of God.

Tear open the heavens, the cries heave forth!

And even in the cry for God to break through the skies, there is confession. “We sinned, our iniquities, like the wind, take us away...” Waiting for God requires a bit of self-reflection.

It’s a bit gloomy, I realize, this text from the ancients.
Yet, in some ways, it gives shape to the distance between now---and the unknown future where we trust that God will break into our world. It provides the setting for why we might actually NEED God...
Christmas is a long way away, and where is God now?
Where is God, when the economy crumbling,
and people pepper spray others in Wal-Mart so they might get the last x-box?
Where is God, when my cancer returns bigger than before,
or when the polar bears are drowning because of climate change,
my God, where are you?
Tear open the heavens, God,
and save them,
give them relief,
light in the darkness,
hope in the hopeless.
We know you can tear those heavens apart...
We know that we aren’t always perfect,
and yet, o God,
Remember us.
Remember us,
Your people.

Indeed, in our Advent waiting, time of listening to the stories of our heart, to come to terms with our own shabby selves, where we turn away from God, and yet still want God. Advent is a time where we recognize, in spite of our questions and cries to an absent God, we still claim to be God’s beloved. “We are the clay, you are the potter, we are the work of your hands, we are ALL your people...”

So we pray, we pray for God to tear open the heavens, because the world needs a kiss of heaven, and yet in Advent, we give over the temptation to make God show up in our image of how we think God should show up.

Our gospel reminds us of this very fact.

Our Mark passage is a piece of a longer text in which Jesus has described a time of terrible suffering and persecution and war. It is “apocalyptic” literature, meaning that the current events and political situations are interpreted cosmically. The setting for those hearing these words from Mark would have lived through the siege of Jerusalem which ended the Jewish Roman war of 66-70CE. These Jews and Christians Jews were expecting God to tear open the heavens, and provide a Messiah, a great warrrior who would lead them to freedom from Roman domination. They expected that God would fight the war with them, and for them.

But Jesus says otherwise. It is AFTER, after the suffering is when I will return. War is not the means by which God’s intentions for fullness of life will come about. Jesus will not exercise power like the world, nor will the world change with conventional tools and tactics...
Keep Awake...
because I will come most unexpectedly...

That’s the hardest part of waiting, don’t you think?
Staying alert, staying open, setting aside your expectations, so when God does show up, we might recognize Her, instead of feeling like we waiting for nothing...

Advent.
Have any of you ever had an Advent Calendar? They come in all shapes and sizes.
I like the ones that look little house, and there are lots of doors on it, one for each day of Advent. Behind each door, there is a surprise--either a question or candy or a Bible verse---that leads one deeper into the wonder of waiting and anticipating God coming to us...
Today,
We have opened the first door,
and behind it,
we are reminded to wait....
To wait like the ancients of Israel,
Knowing our shortfalls and yet being bold enough to demand God to show up and kiss us with heaven...
And to wait like the first century Christians,
Awake and open to the unexpected,
and of course,
to wait like Ramona, a child on her first day of kindergarten,
full of dreams and wonder and imagination
for the many ways God might be born into our world, again, this year.
Amen.




                     

On The Loose

“On the Loose!”

Epiphany 6B January 2012

1 Corinthians 9:24-27
Do you not know that in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win it. 25Athletes exercise self-control in all things; they do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable one. 26So I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air; 27but I punish my body and enslave it, so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified.

Mark 1: 40-45
40 A leper* came to him begging him, and kneeling* he said to him, ‘If you choose, you can make me clean.’ 41Moved with pity,* Jesus* stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, ‘I do choose. Be made clean!’ 42Immediately the leprosy* left him, and he was made clean. 43After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, 44saying to him, ‘See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.’ 45But he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus* could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out in the country; and people came to him from every quarter.

On the Loose!


When I was teaching, my room was directly down the hall from the science lab. Since the science teacher was all about hands on teaching, her 5th and 6th grade classroom was filled with all kinds of, well, interesting creature. There were several guinea pigs, a snake or two, fish of all kinds, a pair of hamsters named Lunch and Snack, herds of mice, rabbits, and more. The children loved caring for these animals, and earning the opportunity to hold them during the school day.
It was not rare for an animal to break out of a cage--or sneak out of a crate that was inadvertently left open by an absent minded child. The whole hallway would be alerted by excited children and a worried teacher with a phrase like, “Lunch is on the loose! Watch out for him!” Being a little bit skittish about tiny furry rodents running loose, I kept on high alert.

On the loose! It’s kind of exciting to be on the loose ourselves, isn’t it? It’s the opposite of being leashed. When was the last time you were “on the loose?”

Was it a weekend getaway? Or maybe a giant shoe sale? Prowling around an antique store for no reason at all except for the sheer fun of it? Planning a no holds barred surprise for someone? Engaging with an activity with all of your passion and energy and joy and commitment?

On the loose.

Let me tell you this--Jesus is totally on the loose in Mark. After he is baptized, he goes into the wilderness for 40 days, comes back, calls a bunch of fishermen to follow him, throws out a demon in the synagogue, healed Simon’s mother-in-law, becomes instantly popular with the sick and demon-possessed, disappears to the wilderness to pray, travels through out Galilee as a healer, and then breaks all social boundaries and religious boundaries by TOUCHING a leper and choosing to heal him.
This is all in the first chapter of Mark. We could subtitle the chapter: Jesus Unleashed. But let’s slow down for a minute, and explore our text frame by frame. In doing so, we might encouraged to let loose more in our faith, and be bold in our calling.

First frame:
A leper* came to him begging him, and kneeling* he said to him, ‘If you choose, you can make me clean.
What a way to approach the Holy. This leper, who is at the bottom of the social order, the one outside of any religious acceptableness, approaches the Holy, and believes--no , knows that the holy has the power to help him, and offers the holy the chance to do so.

I don’t think I ever have approached God in this way, but it’s something to think about. The leper approaches with confidence, and knowledge,and humbleness that is not groveling.

I am wondering, how do you approach the Holy? When you have a situation, a need? Do you believe the Holy is there? Do you believe in the connection?

Recently, someone I know, who was unemployed and searching, said to me:
"Finally, I just said, God, I know you have a place for me. I am tired of trying too hard to figure it out. I trust you. You know me. Just lead me." And you know? She lived much more calmly once she surrendered control. Eventually, she found a job. In the meantime, she experienced a kind of freedom that comes from letting go of that which you have no control.

Frame Two:
41Moved with pity,* Jesus* stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, ‘I do choose. Be made clean!’

Scholarship has made much of the phrase, “moved with pity”  It can be translated as pity/compassion, or as anger. Literally, Jesus looked at the man, he ‘snorted like a war horse.’

Now that’s some kind of anger.  It’s deeply rooted, instinctive even.  As perhaps it must have been. I think both translations work--
Why couldn’t Jesus have had pity on the man who was suffering so and also be angry at a world that so labels and isolates and excludes those struck down by such ailments?  More than that, why couldn’t Jesus also be angry with a religious system which declared such a one as this utterly cut off from the love and care of God?

For that’s what it had come to be, of course.  Those who contracted this disease were forced to live with others similarly afflicted --- away from the stuff of normal life in community --- their families, their friends, their occupations, and yes, their places of worship.  The way it lived out, particularly in that time and place, it would have appeared that they were even abandoned by God.

Notice that Jesus does not talk with the man about repentance, but has pity and touches the man saying, “I do choose. Be made clean!”  (Mk. 1:41)  I venture that Jesus simply didn’t see anything unclean, sinful or deficient in this man with leprosy.  Unlike the prevailing attitude of his day, Jesus did not see illness as punishment from God.  Some things are simply misfortune, not judgment.  Bad things happen to good people.  The rain falls on the just and the unjust alike.  We wish that Jesus was around to reverse every misfortune, but God loves us in the midst of all things. .
 
The attitude that misfortune is the result of sin or punishment from God still prevails today.  In the rhetoric of presidential primaries, those who are poor are talked about much like lepers.  Candidates have said, “I don’t to make  black people’s live better by giving them someone else’s money, I want to help them earn their money, so they can go out and provide for themselves and their families.”  What if they held some of these debates with the 40% of Americans on food stamps who actually have jobs, but the low wage environment doesn’t guarantee a decent living that puts food on the table. We do not have over 8% unemployment and hunger in America because people are lazy, but because there are not enough decent jobs.
I wonder, who are the other “lepers” in our society?


Frame 3
43After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, 44saying to him, ‘See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.’ 45But he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus* could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out in the country; and people came to him from every quarter.

The former leper is on the loose!!! You might wonder why indeed Jesus tells the healed one that he needs to go to the priest and make the offering for his healing. Some speculate that Jesus was trying to ease the leper’s re-entry into society. If the priest acknowledges the healing, then the leper can go anywhere , talk to anyone, no restrictions at all. The leper, overjoyed, just begins to testify as to what happened. Why did he need the stamp of approval from the very institution that declared him unclean and outcast for so many years? His experience showed him that what he really needed was not social inclusion in an exclusive context, but instead an experience of the living God.

There is a You-Tube video that has been on the loose in the interwebs the past few weeks that has been a topic of great discussion in clergy settings. It features a young hip hop performance artist sharing a poem entitled, “Why I love Jesus but hate Religion”

The poet eschews religion for missing the point, for church being dead and ineffective, while at the same time professing a deep relationship with the living Christ. His message is convicting and freeing for many--you can tell by the 18 million viewings of the poem, and the scores of lively debate found in the comments sections that are underneath the video.

Religious professionals, as you can imagine, are threatened by this young person’s words that are striking a deep chord among the You-Tube youth generation. They assert that one can’t have Jesus without community, without the Church, without religion. Religion provides structure and holds people accountable to morals and mercy and justice. I do not disagree with these assertions.

However, the passion in the poet’s eyes and the sincerity of his art makes me pause. How are we different today that the religious institutions of antiquity that shunned the diseased? We all know that mainline denominations are on a decline, even the coolest of them all, our own United Church of Christ. How is it that the message of inclusion, of boundless love, of wholeness, of new life isn’t reaching the missing generations in our pews? Why isn’t it sticking?

I suspect it has something to do that the church--and we, as members of the church, --have forgotten in many ways how to be on the loose--free, risky, and unleashed in our message and unbridled in our living out the justice and love that we ourselves have experience, and that we are called to offer.

Three questions:
How have you experienced wholeness and healing through being part of God’s Church?

How can we be more “on the loose?”

May we be unbridled and courageous and unleashed in our dreaming and in our scheming.

Amen