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REV.DR. PAUL LEON RAMSEY
1 Samuel 3:1-10, (11-20)
3:1 Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the LORD under Eli. The word of the LORD was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.3:2 At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room;3:3 the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the LORD, where the ark of God was.3:4 Then the LORD called, "Samuel! Samuel!" and he said, "Here I am!"3:5 and ran to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." But he said, "I did not call; lie down again." So he went and lay down.3:6 The LORD called again, "Samuel!" Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." But he said, "I did not call, my son; lie down again."3:7 Now Samuel did not yet know the LORD, and the word of the LORD had not yet been revealed to him.3:8 The LORD called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." Then Eli perceived that the LORD was calling the boy.3:9 Therefore Eli said to Samuel, "Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, 'Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.'" So Samuel went and lay down in his place.3:10 Now the LORD came and stood there, calling as before, "Samuel! Samuel!" And Samuel said, "Speak, for your servant is listening."3:11 Then the LORD said to Samuel, "See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle.3:12 On that day I will fulfill against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end.3:13 For I have told him that I am about to punish his house forever, for the iniquity that he knew, because his sons were blaspheming God, and he did not restrain them.3:14 Therefore I swear to the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli's house shall not be expiated by sacrifice or offering forever."3:15 Samuel lay there until morning; then he opened the doors of the house of the LORD. Samuel was afraid to tell the vision to Eli.
3:16 But Eli called Samuel and said, "Samuel, my son." He said, "Here I am."3:17 Eli said, "What was it that he told you? Do not hide it from me. May God do so to you and more also, if you hide anything from me of all that he told you."3:18 So Samuel told him everything and hid nothing from him. Then he said, "It is the LORD; let him do what seems good to him."3:19 As Samuel grew up, the LORD was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground.3:20 And all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of the LORD.

The lesson of this passage may be one of the most difficult to learn. We may think that the toughest thing to learn is a new language, advanced mathematics, or some sort of physical activity like snowboarding. However, as tough as all of these things are to pick up, I think that the lesson Eli is teaching young Samuel is even tougher. Eli is teaching his protege to listen. Learning to listen is tough stuff, because it means that we have to be still, take a breath, be quiet, and let someone else take over the reigns. As Eli teaches young Samuel to listen to God he is giving him the keys to wisdom and true greatness.

We are so busy with so much noise and chatter we never take time to participate in the stillness God needs to get a word in. We are surrounded by people at home, work, school, after work, after school, and on the weekends. When we aren’t surrounded by people at home we make sure to have the television on or the radio in the car. When we aren’t listening to the noise of the T.V. or the radio we create inaudible noise in our heads from the silent screams of websites we Google or have bookmarked at the top and side of our home screens. We are in the habit of occupying our ears, minds, and lives with enough noise that we never have a chance for the stillness that God needs to get a word in. We have so much self created and incidental noise in our lives there is not a chance in the world that we can ever hear the whispers of God.

Soren Kierkegaard, one of the wisest Christians once said, "As my prayer became more attentive and inward I had less and less to say. I finally became completely silent. I started to listen which is even further removed from speaking. I first thought that praying entailed speaking. I then learned that praying is hearing, not merely being silent. This is how it is, to pray does not mean to listen to oneself speaking. Prayer involves becoming silent, and being silent, and waiting until God is heard." We talk a lot about a lot of good things. We talk about justice, forgiveness, patience, love, peace, joy, hope, service, honesty, and a multitude of other honorable qualities. But, if we aren’t taking time to listen to the voice of the one who made us and who wants to make us better, we don’t really stand a chance of truly incorporating these honorable qualities in our substance of character and spirit.

The young Samuel grew to be the fount and foundation of wisdom for ancient Israel because he continued to practice the lessons he learned from Eli about listening to God. One of the foundational founts of wisdom for us as twenty first century Americans is the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Like Samuel: “the LORD was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground.” It is easy for us to marvel at his courage and be mesmerized by his words, but the power behind his words, work, and wisdom comes from a practice we should all choose to practice and emulate. King regularly took a Day of Silence to pray, plan, and listen. The busier he became, the more he needed the solitude and silence of stillness. King took time to listen to himself and God in order to be inspired to speak and act. Before he became the voice of liberation and justice for the world, he listened for the soft still voice of God, and like Samuel, Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Speak, Lord, for our servant is listening.”

I spent some time last week reading one of Rev. King’s last sermons. The sermon entitled “The Drum Major Instinct” has become the subject of conversation over the past several months because it is misquoted and misrepresented at the new MLK memorial. Even worse, his sermon is misquoted and misrepresented in stone. The sermon is a brilliant one and an insightful glimpse into the psyche and spiritual life of Rev. King. In it one can listen to King’s internal struggle with ego, faithfulness, love of things, desire for attention, and fear of death. He calls this desire of attention and validation “The Drum Major Instinct.” It is the desire human beings have to be the center of attention and an instinct that King struggled to overcome. In the sermon you can hear the competing noises of King’s life. You can hear his temptation for vengeance against his jailers, critics, and others who spewed hate upon him. You can hear how he is tempted to retreat and retire to a more peaceful place and sit on a swing with his two children. You can hear all of these thing, but you can also hear that the dominant noise in his life is the soft still voice of his creator whispering for him to keep marching, keep preaching, and keep letting peace win. As you read King’s sermons, you can hear that in the midst of all the noise, he sought the stillness, and listened to the voice of God calling him forward to what Martin King obviously sensed was a call to die. At the end of this sermon, King gives instructions to those who might wish to eulogize him after his death. Speaking of his funeral he said: “I’d like somebody to mention that day, that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to give his life serving others. I’d like for somebody to say that day, that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to love somebody. I want you to say that day, that I tried to be right on the war question. I want you to be able to say that day, that I did try to feed the hungry. And I want you to be able to say, on that day, that I did try, in my life, to clothe those who were naked. I want you to say, on that day, that I did try, in my life, to visit those who were in prison. I want you to say that I tried to love and serve humanity.” Now, some one did say those things about Rev. King at his funeral, and we know that in saying those things he was speaking the truth, and we also know that the reasons these thing were true was that before Rev. King spoke, served, worked, or was willing to die, Martin Luther King, Jr., was first willing to listen to the soft still voice of God.

Luke 2:1-20
2In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3All went to their own towns to be registered. 4Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
8 In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over
their flock by night. 9Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.’ 13And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,
14‘Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favours!’
15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to
one another, ‘Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.’ 16So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; 18and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

This is the toughest sermon to preach each year. What makes it so tough is that all of you know the story very well. I am sure that you can empathize. Most of you have tried to tell an old familiar family story around the table at Thanksgiving or Christmas only to have other family members fill in the details so voraciously that the story never really gets told. You start to tell a story about the time your father’s car broke down on the way to grandma and grandpa’s house for Christmas. It is a story that you love, because it looked like your family might be stranded in the snow and cold away from your grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins for Christmas, until an older man and his wife pulled over, offered a ride, and then piled all six of you into their station wagon, driving a half hour out of their way so that your family could share Christmas at grandma and grandpas. You love this story and wanted to tell it to all of your nephews and nieces. You love to tell this story, because your punch line is that the sweet older man and his wife just might have been Santa and Mrs. Claus. However, at the family table you never get close to the punch line. As you begin to tell the story, your younger brother wonders if it was the tan Buick or the brown Chevy. Your older sister then claims that you never had a brown Chevy it was tan, it was the Buick that was brown. Your older brother then chimes in that there was never a brown Buick, it was a dark green Dodge, and he should know because he had to drive that “hunk of junk” to prom. Of course, your loud-mouthed brother-in-law who wasn’t even there starts talking about the paint codes of the various Dodge and Plymouth mid-1970 models. Now, your heart-warming Christmas story stalls like the tan/brown/dark green Buick, Chevy, Dodge that broke down on the side of the road that snowy Christmas thirty years ago.

Familiar stories often get stalled in and by the details. We have heard the Christmas story so often that we no longer hear it, we no longer marvel in it, it’s just a story to be dissected, dismissed, or made into . The story no longer has the substance of meaning, it is no longer grounded in the events, it is either stripped completely, or adorned with so many ornaments, bells, and wrapping paper that we don’t really bother with it anymore. If we are honest the Christmas story has lost its meaning for some of us. For some others, the ornamental details of the story have high-jacked the crux of the story. We get caught up in the manger, shepherds, wise men, inn keeper, and silent night; choosing the comfort of sentimentality over the trans-formative truths of the Christmas story.

So now we’ve established what makes this sermon to tough to preach, now that we have all been divided into teams of cynics and sentimentalists with a few of us still undecided on which team we want to be on, we have actually run out of time. I have solved my own dilemma by drawing out my introduction so long that I don’t really have time for a Christmas homily cynical or sentimental. Merry Christmas to all and to all...alright, alright...alright...I give in to the incessant clamoring of the crowd...I don’t want you to have to beg anymore...I’ll give you cynics and sentimentalists a short sermon...or at least a few questions to challenge your stance on the Christmas story.

I’ll start with the sentimentalists. I’ll start with the ones who like their mangers clean, the ones who want their barns sanitary, and their birthing rooms quiet. Why don’t we try to let the sounds of a crying baby break into the peace of our silent night? Why don’t we let the screams and cries of a poor and terrified teenaged mother fill your perfectly ordered creche? Why not allow for the full humanity of this perfectly divine scene? The text invites us to “come and see”. We are invited to look for more, to hear and see the story fresh, unencumbered by the ornaments that have us hung up on mere sentimentality. Any of us who have ever been close to a labor room “know it isn’t all meek and mild”, and anyone who has ever worked on a farm, or even visited a barn knows that they don’t smell like holiday potpourri. Why not let some of the grit of Jesus birth fill in the details of your nativity scene? If we let our sentimental guard down for just a minute “God might whisper something to us that deep down we know already but are afraid to admit, even to ourselves: these lives we've so carefully created, this world we work so hard to manage, are beautiful, precious, and wonderful ... but also vulnerable, fragile, and ultimately insufficient.” So why not put away our perfect order and let the scary loud birth of the one who came to disrupt our the comfort of our lives...disrupt the comfort of our lives?

Now to the cynics, this one will be shorter, because I know you are almost finished listening. My question to you is this: if there is any chance, if there’s the slightest chance, that this story will make our lives, will make our world, better, why not believe? Why not believe, if even only a little?
Genesis 50:15-21
50:15 Realizing that their father was dead, Joseph's brothers said, "What if Joseph still bears a grudge against us and pays us back in full for all the wrong that we did to him?"
50:16 So they approached Joseph, saying, "Your father gave this instruction before he died,
50:17 'Say to Joseph: I beg you, forgive the crime of your brothers and the wrong they did in harming you.' Now therefore please forgive the crime of the servants of the God of your father." Joseph wept when they spoke to him.
50:18 Then his brothers also wept, fell down before him, and said, "We are here as your slaves."
50:19 But Joseph said to them, "Do not be afraid! Am I in the place of God?
50:20 Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today.
50:21 So have no fear; I myself will provide for you and your little ones." In this way he reassured them, speaking kindly to them.
Matthew 18:21-35
18:21 Then Peter came and said to him, "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?"
18:22 Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.
18:23 "For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves.
18:24 When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him;
18:25 and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made.
18:26 So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, 'Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.'
18:27 And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt.
18:28 But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, 'Pay what you owe.'
18:29 Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, 'Have patience with me, and I will pay you.'
18:30 But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt.
18:31 When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place.
18:32 Then his lord summoned him and said to him, 'You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me.
18:33 Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?'
18:34 And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt.
18:35 So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart."

After the disaster that was last week’s sermon, many of us are happy that the lectionary led us back to Joseph. The setting is just after Jacob’s death. Joseph’s ten half brothers are terrified that Joseph will finally repay them for the evil that they committed against him years before. You remember? Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery after he had come out to flaunt his colorful coat to them as they toiled in the hot Middle-Eastern desert heat. His brothers were sons of slaves and a consolation prize and their father had never let any of them think otherwise. Joseph was the favored one who Jacob and his soul mate Rachel had waited and hoped for. So when Joseph came out to spy on his brothers’ work ethic, tattle on them, and share with them dreams of them someday bowing down to them, his brothers decided to get rid of him once and for all. Nine of them wanted to leave him for dead. Judah convinced them to get something for him. So they sold him to some passing gypsies. Now, I know we have covered this ground before. Joseph goes from slavery to sovereignty. He becomes the right hand man of Pharaoh, and once the drought and famine ravage Canaan Jacob and his sons are forced to go to Egypt to beg for food. After a few chapters of cloak and veil, Joseph reveals himself to his brothers. There are a few hugging and weeping episodes, especially between Jacob and his son he had always believed dead. In the scene we visit this morning, we can see that Joseph’s brothers have not completely bought in to the fullness of their fidelity with Joseph; they are unsure of the realness of their reconciliation. Joseph has all the power. He holds all the cards, and they believe that much of the compassion he has shown them is on behalf of their dad. Now that their father has passed, they are worried that their little brother, who holds the keys to unlock the Egyptian army against them, may not be as forgiving and forgetful as he appears.

If you have been reading Genesis and Exodus in your spare time, you will see that there is a fair amount of humor in this particular passage. His brothers “approached Joseph, saying, "Your father gave this instruction before he died,
50:17 'Say to Joseph: I beg you, forgive the crime of your brothers and the wrong they did in harming you.' Now therefore please forgive the crime of the servants of the God of your father." Joseph wept when they spoke to him.
50:18 Then his brothers also wept, fell down before him, and said, "We are here as your slaves." What makes this funny is that in the chapter before this one, Jacob lay on his deathbed giving his last words to each of his sons. In this comical episode, Jacob tells one son that he will “no longer excel.” Two others were told that their offspring would be divided and scattered. One of his best compliments was to Issachar who was told that he was a “strong donkey.” As he lay on his deathbed Jacob was not any more gracious than he had been throughout his life. I doubt that Jacob was worried about how well his favored son would treat his other not so favorite sons. As his brothers grovel for his mercy, Joseph responds to them as a brother who loves them. 50:19 "Do not be afraid! Am I in the place of God?
50:20 Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today.
50:21 So have no fear; I myself will provide for you and your little ones." In this way he reassured them, speaking kindly to them.

Joseph does not seem to have vengeance in him. This is difficult for some of us to imagine. Many of us long for the opportunity to have the one or ones who have wronged us most, grovel at our feet. We would love to tell the one forced to ask for our forgiveness no. We would love to be in a position of power and to be able to measure out some vengeance on those who had hurt and wronged us most. It is the way of the world. An eye for an eye is the way our judicial system is set up. In our country and in most countries, cultures, and civilizations the punishment is supposed to fit the crime and we often attempt to mete out this type of justice in our personal lives as well. When someone wrongs us, slights us, or embarrasses us we try to make sure that they get what is coming to them. This is the way of the world. However, it isn’t the way of Joseph or Jesus Christ. For Joseph, kinship is more important than payback. For Jesus, forgiveness is a perpetual way of being, something that we should do over and over and over and over again. For Jesus, seventy times is not a number but a way of being.

On this tenth anniversary of the September 11th terrorist attacks, we have to acknowledge what Walter Wink calls "the myth of redemptive violence," the idea that violence saves. We have proven that retribution doesn’t feel as good as we thought it would. The celebrations of Bin-Laden’s death have a muted echo just months after his death. The costs of two wars aimed at exacting some sort of revenge for the 9/11 attacks have had crippling effects on our economy and psyche, so much so that these wars and the loss of life associated with them no longer stir us emotionally and are no longer on the front pages of our papers or the forefront of our minds. I am not trying to make a huge political point, but I am trying to point out that we are living proof that violence is not redemptive. An eye-for-an-eye taken to its logical conclusion leaves two parties blind and little else.

The sweetness of revenge is a fallacy. Revenge is messy and always leaves us robbed of our dignity and core character. So what do we do? Do we choose to listen to the prevailing voices who tell us to make them pay? Or, do we listen to Jesus who tells us to forgive and forgive and forgive and forgive and forgive? As we stand in Joseph’s shoes, do we choose to embrace kinship or hold on to each and every wrong committed against us?

Peace always begins with a choice. You may wonder how your life has gotten so far off what you intended, or how a particular relationship has gotten so far off track. Choosing forgiveness always puts us in a positive space and place. Choosing to let go of a grudge brings peace. Retribution brings another wrong that needs to be righted. Which cycle do you want to ride?

Amen.

Luke 24:13-35
24:13 Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem,
24:14 and talking with each other about all these things that had happened.
24:15 While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them,
24:16 but their eyes were kept from recognizing him.
24:17 And he said to them, "What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?" They stood still, looking sad.
24:18 Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, "Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?"
24:19 He asked them, "What things?" They replied, "The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people,
24:20 and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him.
24:21 But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place.
24:22 Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning,
24:23 and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive.
24:24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him."
24:25 Then he said to them, "Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared!
24:26 Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?"
24:27 Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.
24:28 As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on.
24:29 But they urged him strongly, saying, "Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over." So he went in to stay with them.
24:30 When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them.
24:31 Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight.
24:32 They said to each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?"
24:33 That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together.
24:34 They were saying, "The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!"
24:35 Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

Last week, a good percentage of us gathered downstairs in the Pine Room as Mark Nelson led us through a discussion on Christian art. The conversation and presentation culminated in the masterpieces of Caravaggio, the master who painted the painting on the cover of this week’s bulletin and last week’s. As Mark taught us last week, Caravaggio was the genius of the Baroque era who painted large scale scenes with hyper-realism. Most of his greatest works depict dramatic biblical stories, usually with overwhelming physical wounds. Last week our bulletin cover showed Thomas with his hand on the inside of the wound in Jesus’ side, you may also remember the grotesque painting of David holding up the just severed, blood dripping head of Goliath. This painting, The Supper at Emmaus, is not violent, but is no less dramatic than the others. It has a small cast, tells a riveting story, and includes the common everyday actions of eating at a table. Supper at Emmaus captures Caravaggio’s profound talent. As one theologian and art critic puts it, “Not only are the participants of the story and the still life of the table rendered equally with impeccable technique but the attitude of the apostles as they react to Christ is an emotional and remarkable interpretation.” (Clemow)

In our lesson last week, Mark taught us a term called tenebrism, which in art is characterized by very strong contrasts between light and dark, these are bold contrasts that affect the whole composition. One of the reasons we love the masters of this technique, is that tenebrism heightens the drama, and brings the main subjects into the foreground, highlighting a sense of mystery. Caravaggio’s masterful use of tenebrism allows us a deeper spiritual access to the words of the story. We are able to capture more than just a literal interpretation of this sacred event; we are invited guests to the table at the Supper at Emmaus. As we read the story and imagine this event, we can feel the dark fog of grief enveloping this pair of Jesus’ disciples. This cloud of grief is so dark that they cannot recognize Jesus in their midst, even as they walk with him and talk with him about him. There vocation has been following Jesus, and now they have lost their vocation, they have lost their reason for living. Caravaggio uses this darkness in the background to move the dramatic spotlight onto the amazing moment that Jesus’ followers realize they are in the presence of their resurrected master.

When I asked Mark about his impression of this painting, he mentioned the artist’s use of light and darkness and also the incredible use of foreshortening. Foreshortening is an optical illusion. Mark says that it very challenging to paint with foreshortening (I will take his word for it). The artist uses it for perspective and for realism in portraying a figure. The object or limb is angled towards the viewer. Caravaggio uses foreshortening in this painting magnificently. He has compressed the space to the point that it is intimate, almost claustrophobic. The apostle on the right has thrust his arms out from his sides. The arm closest to the viewer seems to thrust right into our faces (imagine that you are standing in front of this painting with the life-sized characters illuminated at eye level). There is also, Jesus’ outstretched arm. He is reaching to bless the meal. His gesture of blessing is familiar to the apostles. The intimacy of this scene makes his gesture of blessing for us as well. The resurrected Christ is reaching out to us, too. Caravaggio has included us. The arms of the apostle and Jesus, have pulled us into the scene. “We are no longer merely viewers of this scene but seated at the table with the apostles and Jesus! We are now part of the action.”
We are guests at the table at the very moment the apostles recognize Jesus. We are witnesses to their surprise and fear. Their master died a week ago and now here he is, in the flesh, sitting with them, sitting with us, sharing a meal. From the looks of surprise and fear and their faces you can imagine the multitude of emotions that they are going through. Now that they realize it is Jesus with them, they have to be replaying all of the words they had spoken on the road with him. “I hope I didn’t say any cuss words, or make any disparaging remarks about him.” We are at the table. We are the fourth person sitting there. We are challenged to recognize Jesus. We are part of this moment of wonderment and are forced to take in all of our thoughts and emotions along with our fellow diners. Our other table mate is leaping from his chair. Is he going to run? Is he going to run away or is he going to run to get the others to tell them what he has seen? Maybe he is leaping from his chair to grab Jesus and make his presence with us full and real.

The art critic I mentioned earlier talks about the importance of the servant in the picture. “He doesn’t know the whole story. He has not seen the ‘light’ and therefore he is in the shadow. His position in the composition is crucial. The diagonal that is formed by the servant, Jesus, and the apostle with the outstretched arms divides the painting. In art diagonal lines give drama to the painting. It is more active than horizontal or vertical lines. The diagonal formed by the figure does not cut the picture plane in half, it is off center and nothing goes corner to corner.” To add to the tension is the bowl of fruit that has been jostled by the commotion of the event. Will it fall? We wait and hold our breath.

I wonder if one of the reasons they didn’t recognize Jesus is because he shaved his beard. We can tell it is Jesus by his robe and his gestures, but the beard signifies age and authority. Why has Caravaggio painted Jesus without a beard? Jesus is robust, human, and healthy-looking. He looks different than we saw him last week as he appeared to Thomas. He is clean-shaven with no nail holes in his hands. “There is no sign of the trauma (and death) that he has recently experienced.” He has moved from the darkness of suffering and death all the way to the light of life. “He has been restored to health, wholeness and youth.”

As we sit at the table with the resurrected Jesus, we must feel the moment. It is easy to pour over all of the obvious questions and all of the things that defy reason, but, before we reason the moment away, let us experience the moment of the meal -- where the resurrected Christ is. Sitting right here with us.

Colossians 3:1-4
3:1 So if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.
3:2 Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth,
3:3 for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.
3:4 When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory.

I am sure that all of us have witnessed the 21st Century equivalent of the one-man band. For those of you who are too young to remember, I will give you a quick run down. A one-man band is a musician who plays a number of musical instruments simultaneously using their hands, feet, limbs, and various mechanical contraptions. The simplest type of "one-man band" — a singer accompanying themselves on acoustic guitar and harmonica mounted in a metal "harp rack" below the mouth— is often used by buskers. More complicated setups may include wind instruments strapped around the neck, a large bass drum mounted on the musician's back with a beater which is connected to a footpedal, cymbals strapped between the knees or triggered by a pedal mechanism, Tambourines and maracas tied to the limbs, and a stringed instrument strapped over the shoulders (e.g., a banjo, ukulele or guitar). When many of us Denver kids were little, a one-man band was not an uncommon sight at a birthday party at the old Soda Straw, or Farrell’s in Cinderella City. The one-man band was a fun novelty, a great birthday party act, and a nice diversion at a carnival or fair. I am not completely sure why the one-man band phenomena has faded, but we can probably surmise that the main reason is when you have seen a one-man band once or twice, you probably don’t need to see one again. The secondary cause of the demise would have to be that learning to be a one-man band has to be extraordinarily difficult, and if all you are doing is performing at kids’ birthdays, you might as well cut your training time in half and learn how to make dachshunds out of balloons. You may remember me opening this Easter sermon with the sentence: “I am sure that all of us have witnessed the 21st Century equivalent of the one-man band.” I could have gone directly to what I meant by that, but I decided to throw in a lengthy explanation of the one-man band. Don’t worry. There is no extra-charge. I threw the one-man band stuff in for free. What I would call the 21st Century equivalent is the woman driving next to you on Hampden, driving 15 miles over the speed limit, texting on her cell phone, drinking a cup of coffee, and smoking a cigarette. This driving one-woman band will occasionally add to her circus act to look at the road or check her make-up, and the real virtuosos have mastered this balancing act by driving a stick shift. As these one-woman bands pass us, we are always grateful that their vehicle is no longer a direct threat to us. Of course, we hope that she doesn’t hurt herself or anyone else in an accident, but we silently hope that she spills scalding hot coffee in her lap, or accidentally sexts an inappropriate message to her grandma.

The sad thing about most of us is that we live our lives like a 21st Century one-man band. What I mean is, we have one thing to do, to focus on the transcendent things of life, and instead of focusing on it and doing it well, we preoccupy ourselves with dozens of other tasks, making sure that none of them are performed efficiently. We have so much going on in our lives that, like the one-man band, we usually make more noise than music, and, like the distracted driver, we often forget where we are going. As post-Easter Christians, the Apostle Paul has instructions for us on how we might re-focus ourselves, so that we might become better drivers, more accomplished musicians, and (dropping the analogies) better at living. He says, “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” The apostle implores us to drop all of the unnecessary distractions of life and focus on the things that last and are transcendent. The beauty of the Apostle’s words are that he also offers practical ways for us to do this. In the verses that follow, he tells us how to focus on things that are above, and how to live a life of such focus. He says that if we want to live like post-Easter Christians, with our lives pointed towards new-life, creativity, balance, and harmony, we must put to death all of the things that are distracting us. Like the bumper sticker that tells the one-woman band driver to “Hang Up And Drive”, the Apostle Paul tells us to “put to death our greed, anger, malice, and mean language.” He says that since we are clothed by the love of the risen Christ, we need to strip away our old self, and cloth ourselves with the new self, which is being constantly renewed in the image of its creator. The Apostle then describes what this new clothing looks like, Paul says: “As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other, just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were call in the one body. And be thankful.” He goes on to describe this thankfulness, saying “with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God.”

Stripping away all of our un-productive layers and putting on the good things of God will help us live with a song in our hearts. As we put to death all of the aspects of our lives that are distracting us we will start living the lives God means for us to live. Like the driver who needs to put down her phone, coffee, cigarette, and foundation brush and the musician who needs to put down his ukulele and kazoo, we need to put away all of the extraneous activity and energy in our lives that are keeping us from being focused and healthy human beings.

(with a wink) By the way, to all of you women’s libbers out there, I am not chauvinistic about women drivers. It was just easier to add the foundation brush to the whole analogy than to have an obviously superior male driver using an electric shaver.

Easter is here! Today is the day to start living with the fullness and focus we know we need to, to be our best selves. Today is the day to put away all of the distracting habits, meanness, lies, anger, hatred, laziness, and jealousy. Today is the day we get focused, clothe ourselves in the risen Christ, and put on grace, mercy, loveliness, humility, and kindness. Today is the day! Today is the day!
Matthew 4:1-11
4:1 Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.
4:2 He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished.
4:3 The tempter came and said to him, "If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread."
4:4 But he answered, "It is written, 'One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.'"
4:5 Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple,
4:6 saying to him, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, 'He will command his angels concerning you,' and 'On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.'"
4:7 Jesus said to him, "Again it is written, 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'"
4:8 Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor;
4:9 and he said to him, "All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me."
4:10 Jesus said to him, "Away with you, Satan! for it is written, 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'"
4:11 Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

“The devil made me do it” was a phrase made popular by Flip Wilson during the sixties and seventies. It was his funny take on the idea that somehow we are not to blame for our own actions. All of us have used this excuse in one way or another. You may say. “I don’t know what got into me,” or, “I say stuff that I shouldn’t before I’ve had my morning coffee”, and, “I’m just in a bad mood.” In our house the most common way of abdicating responsibility is “Lucy hit me first” and “Grace told me to.”

The devil made me do it attitude is one that all of us adopt from time to time, but the concept that a power outside of our control can manipulate us at will is dangerous. This limits not only our responsibility, but also our freedom. I have no interest in denying the existence of Satan or the existence of a transcendent evil dimension. With all of the evil in the world, it serves no purpose to push against the presence of a destructive force at work in the universe. However, I believe it is more healthy to focus on the chaos we create in our lives with our own negative choices and actions than to attribute evil to a force outside of ourselves or a decision beyond our personal control.

The devil made me do it, and “she hit me first” is a self-protective attitude that helps shield us from really looking at why we do wrong. We are often unwilling to look at the dark side of our own personality. Instead of looking at ourselves, we project upon others the actions we won’t take responsibility for. “The dark side of our personality is not necessarily evil, but a splinter personality of the unconscious that is made up of the contents in ourselves that we repress because we find them unacceptable.” We are dumbfounded, disgusted, and angered by the greed, violence, lack of respect, laziness, inferiority, egotism, and entitlement displayed by others, but, we won’t acknowledge these attitudes and actions in ourselves.

Lent is the time to stop passing the buck. It is our time in the wilderness to look at ourselves in the mirror and be honest about our unhealthy tendencies and unloving behavior. If we continue to be unwilling and unable to acknowledge our weaknesses and say to ourselves, “This is who I am, and this is what I am capable of doing and thinking,” eventually, we will be unable to ignore the bad things that we have done. We will suffer from fractured relationships, undesirable habits and addictions, damaging family secrets, and a fear of real intimacy with ourselves and others.

This type of self-honesty and reflection does not happen over night; thankfully, we have forty days. We have roughly ten percent of the year to examine our priorities, actions, and justifications that hinder us from being the authentic people that God would have us be. If you want to get a head start on this process and cut through some of the time wasting procrastination techniques we all get so good at when it comes to the tough work of spiritual growth, here is my best tip for you: Listen to the wisdom of Carl Jung. Whatever gets you the most annoyed, angry, or flustered about someone else, is probably the quality in yourself that needs the most attention. The next time you feel like yelling at someone because he or she is so controlling, take some time to think about your own insatiable desire to control. Pause before you sarcastically respond to a loved one about his being overly critical or greedy. Take some time to jot down the things about other people that really annoy you, and I guarantee you will find a good list of things to start giving up or working on during Lent. What I am really trying to say is that all of us are going to have to stop blaming the devil, Lucy, our colleagues at work, and all of the idiot drivers on the road, and start spending more time being honest with ourselves. We have thirty-six more days in Lent. How will we use them?

Matthew 5:1-12
5:1 When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him.
5:2 Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:
5:3 "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
5:4 "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
5:5 "Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
5:6 "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
5:7 "Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
5:8 "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
5:9 "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
5:10 "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
5:11 "Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.
5:12 Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

You may be able to picture the scene. The dozen followers of Jesus have quickly turned into dozens, then hundreds, and we know that soon there will be thousands -- at least 5000. I must confess that I really can’t picture this scene without replaying the scene from “Monty Python’s Life of Brian”. The premise of the movie is that a young man in Galilee living during Jesus’ time happens to be the spitting image of Jesus and inadvertently becomes a messianic figure himself. They movie is thought provoking, irreverent, and hilarious. In my favorite scene, Brian is among a small group of people standing at the very back of the crowd during the the Sermon on the Mount. They struggle to hear the sermon.
What did he say?
I think it was “Blessed are the cheesemakers.”
Aha, what’s so special about the cheesemakers?
Well, obviously it’s not meant to be taken literally; it refers to any makers of all dairy products.

The last verses of Matthew chapter nine describe the beginnings of his ministry and set the scene for how the “Jesus Movement” was taking shape. “Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, demoniacs, epileptics, and paralytics, and he cured them. And great crowds followed him from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea, and from beyond the Jordan.” One can understand how the folks from the countryside, villages, and arid outlying areas around Jerusalem would be curious about this strange man, one of their own, who was saying and doing things that no one had ever heard of before. This was the beginning of a revolution, and they had never seen a revolution before. They had never met a revolutionary before. Now the believers, doubters, and skeptics of this profound man and his message were scrambling to get to where he was to hear what he would say next.

For many of us, this message is not so profound. It isn’t that we don’t believe the lessons of the beatitudes. It’s just that we have grown up knowing that God blesses the hungry, the meek, the isolated, the oppressed, the merciful, and the peacemakers. We have come to believe that God is present in the lives of the poor and the the kingdom of God reigns in all of us. We live our lives assuming that God is with us and with everyone else as well. Our faith pre-supposes God’s love and much of what we do each Sunday is a celebration of God’s love.

The folks who were moving en mass towards Jesus and his message did not share our pre-supposition. They were poor people who were living during a time that said that riches were a sign of God’s favor. They were meek, hungry, thirsty, and mournful, and believed that God was with the proud, fat, full, and happy. Jesus was covering the countryside with the message that God was with them and God’s blessings were upon them. No wonder they wanted to hear what he had to say. No wonder they wanted to see what this wonder-maker might do next.

The peaceful revolution of Christ began because Jesus was sharing the news that God was living in and with the people of Galilee. These poor, meek, and hungry folks had been convinced that God was nowhere near them. God was in the temple in Jerusalem. The House of the Holy was a 70 mile pilgrimage away, and the folks in Galilee would never be invited guests to that residence. This is what made Jesus’ message so radical; this is why Jesus was causing such an amazing sea change throughout this desert region.

If nothing else, this is a great historical account of downtrodden people being empowered by a message of purpose and hope, a story of the beginnings of a peaceful revolution. However, the transcendent message of “blessed are” is more than just good news for the ancient Galileans. It is the living word of God’s good news today and everyday. I say this because I am a witness to the good news being received by people today, some 2000 years after Jesus uttered his blessed ares.

I know that some of you once believed that God wasn’t for you and you may have thought that you were not for God. Some of you may believe these sentiments to be true in the present tense. Many of you have come to slowly accept the love and activity of God as you participated in this particular Christian community. Others of us experienced the presence of God in the closeness of the church we grew up in or as a child with our family. It may be that Mayflower is a place that we are dipping our toes in the water of God’s blessings. Whatever the case for each of us, for some reason of another, most of us believe that we are blessed, or at least, we are moving in that direction. The idea that we are among the blessed is a wonderful realization. It is good news for us. However, this good news can easily become a sense of entitlement of God’s blessing if we don’t not actively share that good news. The fact is that hundreds of our neighbors do not believe that they are among God’s blessed. Many of our friends, neighbors, and relatives are much like the curious, the downtrodden, meek, hungry, thirsty, isolated, and pure in heart who flocked to Jesus for the Sermon on the Mount. They see our church building the same way most of us see a VFW or Mason’s Lodge. They see our church as a closed club for members who have been exclusively vetted for membership. For those of us who have experienced the warmth of Christian community in churches, this statement may seem ludicrous, but, I know that it is true. I know it is true because I have seen the expression on the faces of our neighbors as we invited them to our First Sunday “Meal for All.” Some of these folks politely take our written invitation and move towards the food bank, others, look you in the eye, a bit astonished by the concept. Still others, have asked directly if it is okay if they attend our worship service. The saddest part of this conversation is that when they are told enthusiastically that they are more than welcome to join us for worship, these folks are more than surprised. In more in depth chats with some of our neighbors, I am learning about a gulf that they see between church folks, and others. They see themselves as outsiders of the God club. They do not believe that they are welcome or that our doors are always open to them. As we invite are neighbors into our building, into our sanctuary, and around our tables, we become emissaries of the Good News of God’s blessings on the downtrodden, forgotten, isolated, lonely, angry, hungry, thirsty, oppressed, unemployed, hopeless, pure in heart, persecuted, mournful, peacemakers, cheese makers, and all the makers of all dairy products. I believe that sharing this good news is the business we are supposed to be about. All of the other business we will discuss downstairs a bit later should feed our primary role as good news sharers. Blessed are you, blessed are they, blessed are us.

Psalm 40:1-11
40:1 I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry.
40:2 He drew me up from the desolate pit, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.
40:3 He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the LORD.
40:4 Happy are those who make the LORD their trust, who do not turn to the proud, to those who go astray after false gods.
40:5 You have multiplied, O LORD my God, your wondrous deeds and your thoughts toward us; none can compare with you. Were I to proclaim and tell of them, they would be more than can be counted.
40:6 Sacrifice and offering you do not desire, but you have given me an open ear. Burnt offering and sin offering you have not required.
40:7 Then I said, "Here I am; in the scroll of the book it is written of me.
40:8 I delight to do your will, O my God; your law is within my heart."
40:9 I have told the glad news of deliverance in the great congregation; see, I have not restrained my lips, as you know, O LORD.
40:10 I have not hidden your saving help within my heart, I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation; I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness from the great congregation.
40:11 Do not, O LORD, withhold your mercy from me; let your steadfast love and your faithfulness keep me safe forever.
This may be the second most familiar Psalm to a lot of people in my generation. Of course, the twenty-third Psalm is the most universally recognized and quoted Psalm, but for many of us of Generation X, Psalm 40 is second. The reason for this Psalm’s popularity has much more to do with popular culture than it does any type of biblical curiosity or theological longing. Almost 30 years ago, a group of Irish musicians in their early twenties, had just finished recording the ninth song of their third album. The record company had rented them a specific amount of time at the Windmill Lane Studios in Dublin, and that time was rapidly coming to an end. To fulfill their contract, they needed ten songs for the album. They only had nine. It was just past 6:00 am. Their long night had turned to morning. There was another band in the hallway waiting to start their session at seven. They needed a new song, and they needed it in a hurry. The band’s lead vocalist and lyricist, a 22-year old known as Bono, needed inspiration. He opened his Bible and looked at the page in front of him. He began to carefully read Psalm 40, our lectionary passage this morning. With the psalmist’s words echoing in his head, the new song, and the last track, simply titled “40”, was born. U2’s bassist, Adam Clayton, had already left the studio. So the Edge switched from bass to guitar as the now three-man-band rushed to record the song that Bono had written in just ten minutes. In a 1987 concert, Bono said, “We wrote this song in about ten minutes, we recorded it in about ten minutes, we mixed it in about ten minutes and we played it, then, for another ten minutes and that's nothing to do with why it's called '40’.” With this song in “the can”, U2 had completed their third album, “War.” This was the album that began their ascension into the stratosphere of rock and roll. “War” was their first gold album and moved U2 into a different category than their previous early 80’s New Wave peers like Echo and the Bunnymen, and Siouxsie and the Banshees. U2 was no longer just another British New Wave band. The message of War and its closing track “40” was political. These four young men, had grown up and were living in the cloud of violence that enveloped Northern Ireland, and the album expressed their outrage at the flaming conflict. It also decried the escalating arms race of the Cold War and the spitting contents of the superpowers that held the whole world in fear that their battle of egos might bring the mass destruction of nuclear war upon us all. This album is full of the anger and fear that many of us shared as young people in the early eighties. However, with all of the fear and anger captured in this album, it is not held captive by hopelessness. The cry of the album echoes the longing of the psalmist; in the midst of despair they urge solidarity and action. As they close the album with “40”, the young Irish rockers make the statement that they believe God is going to give them something new, that God is doing something new in the world and with the world.

For years, U2 would end their concerts with “40”. Some of you may remember the powerful experience of standing shoulder to shoulder with thousands of others singing the chorus to “40”. “How long to sing this song? How long to sing this song? How long, how long, how long, how long to sing this song?” As the audience would sing, Bono would hold the microphone out to us. The band would stop, and the chorus of thousands would grow louder and louder as an acapella plea to the forces beyond our control, “How long, how long, to sing this song?” Then Bono and the band would answer with the faithful fervor of the psalmist, knowing that God would put a new song in his mouth. “I will sing, sing a new song. I will sing, sing a new song.” It was a powerful, transcendent, communal worship experience that made many of us believe that God was going to do something new in the world and the we could be actors in the new thing that God was doing.

As I read this psalm and remembered this song, I was brought to tears. I thought about how full of passion and idealism all of us were as we stood together singing “How long?” together in arenas and amphitheaters. I thought about how little things had really changed, about the wars and injustices that had started and continued since the time in the 80’s when we longed for the old way to end. I thought about how much destruction and war had taken place since the psalmist sang his new song three thousand years ago. I cried as I thought about how much I once believed the world would change, and for how little it really had. In my sorrow for what wasn’t and isn’t, I joined in despair with the psalmist and cried aloud for the new song I had once believed was imminent. Part of the grief that I was experiencing was for the idealistic optimism I have lost over the past three decades, the years since I had first longed for a new song. I must admit, that I am still an optimist and an idealist. I must admit, that I still sing the new song God put on my mouth and in my heart years ago. But, my sorrow is for the dirges that I must sing as well. My longing for God’s new song is for it to drown out the dirges, and overwhelm all of the noise of gunfire, babies’ cries, venomous arguments, political posturing, and hateful bigotry. It is easy to get overcome by the noise of our world’s travesties and tragedies. It is easy to only hear the never ending news cycle of war, abuse, murder, and massacre that we allow to invade our homes and cars via Internet, radio, and television. It is easy to stop longing for a new song, as the same old song plays on a continuous loop in our lives.

As I mourned my innocence lost, and my choices to let the sounds of our world’s sorrow overtake me, I was uplifted by the one who had helped me long for a new song in the first place. Bono is an uplifting human being. Few people in history have used their prominence, wealth, and celebrity to change the world to the extent that he has. It would have been impossible to predict thirty years ago, that the post-punk rocker, rooster mulleted, angry young man would have truly begun singing a new song. Since their recording of War, U2 has sold more records than any other rock band in the world. Bono has become one of the most recognizable faces on earth. The image of Bono in his rock star shades standing next to world leaders to advocate for the poor and peace has become familiar. He has been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize three times and has become the face and voice of Amnesty International, an organization dedicated to preventing and ending grave abuses of human rights and to demanding justice for those whose rights have been violated. He helped establish the ONE campaign, an effort he helped form to help the agencies and ministries that serve the poorest of the poor throughout the world, and Jubilee 2000, an international coalition movement in over 40 countries that called for cancellation of third world debt by the year 2000. He has also helped captain various efforts to address the AIDS epidemic in Africa. Bono has refused to stop singing the new song that God put on his mouth. He has been undeterred by the dirges and has continued singing even as he takes on seemingly hopeless causes and situations. It seems that the young singer in Dublin truly accepted God’s new song and began to sing it with a passion and vigor that caught the world’s attention. Bono will not be silenced. He is determined to sing a new song, he will sing a new song. Will we?
Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19
72:1 Give the king your justice, O God, and your righteousness to a king's son.72:2 May he judge your people with righteousness, and your poor with justice.72:3 May the mountains yield prosperity for the people, and the hills, in righteousness.72:4 May he defend the cause of the poor of the people, give deliverance to the needy, and crush the oppressor.
72:5 May he live while the sun endures, and as long as the moon, throughout all generations.72:6 May he be like rain that falls on the mown grass, like showers that water the earth.72:7 In his days may righteousness flourish and peace abound, until the moon is no more.72:18 Blessed be the LORD, the God of Israel, who alone does wondrous things.72:19 Blessed be his glorious name forever; may his glory fill the whole earth. Amen and Amen.

The powerful and depressing documentary about America’s failing public school system “Waiting for Superman” begins with footage of George Reeves’ television Superman in black and white. As Superman flies from one successful rescue to the next, the voice of Geoffrey Canada recalls a bitter memory from his childhood. “One of the saddest days of my life was when my mother told me ‘Superman’ did not exist,” the educational reformer Canada recalls. “She thought I was crying because it’s like Santa Claus is not real. I was crying because no one was coming with enough power to save us.” Mr. Canada, who was born and raised by a single mother in the tough South Bronx, hoped for rescue from the “abandoned houses, crime, violence, and an all-encompassing sense of chaos and disorder.” When his mother spilled the beans about the false hope of waiting for Superman to provide that rescue, Geoffrey Canada seems to have decided to perform the job himself. He rose from the chaos of his childhood to get his Bachelor’s degree from Bowdoin College and a Master’s degree in education from Harvard. If Canada is not Superman, “he must be a close relative. Those who have seen this documentary or have read Paul Tough’s book, “Whatever It Takes: Geoffrey Canada’s Quest to Change Harlem and America,” will know that the 97-block Harlem Children’s Zone, which he founded and runs, (NYT 9-23-10) has become one of the most amazing success stories in recent American history. This success came from Geoffrey Canada’s diligence, drive, vision, and the ability to convince others to invest in his vision. This success came when Canada stopped waiting for Superman and developed a rescue plan for himself and countless others.

The people of Israel knew all about chaos, disorder, and hopelessness. They had been trampled in war and were being suffocated by oppression after war. Peace seemed impossible. Their songs and poetry pleaded for justice. Their children were starving while the selfish tyrants were throwing away food. The bad guys were winning and the good guys were losing hope. They longed for rescue; they were waiting for Superman, praying for a king, a Messiah who would make all things right. So they came to worship and sang Psalm 72:

Give the gift of wisdom to the king, O God,
May he judge your people rightly,
stand up for the poor,
help the children of the needy,
and come down hard on cruel people.
May the king outlast the sun, outlive the moon—age after age after age.
Let righteousness burst into blossom
and peace abound until the moon fades to nothing.

Long live the king!
Bring him gold from Sheba.
Offer unceasing prayers to him,
bless him from morning to night.
May he never be forgotten,
his fame shine on like sunshine.
May all godless people join his circle of blessing
and bless the One who blessed them.
Blessed God,
the one and only wonder-working God!
All earth sparkles with God’s glory.
Amen and amen.

“The Israelites longed for a Messiah. In the midst of despair, they found hope in the one who was to come. God’s hope was born in Jesus Christ, God’s incarnation, who taught us to love everyone, who died on the cross to reveal God’s grace, and who was raised on the third day to show us that hope is more powerful than death.” (Brett Younger) However, our Advent waiting only becomes hopeful when we become hope and stop waiting for someone else to provide the hopeless a rescue. The waiting of Advent is not passive; it is a preparation. In our preparation for the Christ, we do not wait for hope, peace, joy, and love. We become those qualities and share their goodness. We are not just communing together to moan our plight or the plight of the helpless. God sent and is sending the Messiah to model for us how to be courageous actors of hope, peace, love, and joy. God has joined us together in community and communion to empower us to aid the powerless. We are church so that we may be bolder in community, that we might be emboldened to bring hope to the hopeless, peace to those who suffer unrest, joy to the downcast, and love to those who face ambivalence, mere tolerance, or hate. As we embrace the character of hope, peace, joy, and love ourselves, we spread these qualities abundantly to others. This spreading happens as we sing praises, purchase clothes and toys for our underserved neighbors, knit hats and mittens, speak up for those who are marginalized or bullied, read with kids at Bishop, share food, time and energy with those in need, forgive family members for seemingly unforgivable actions, forgive ourselves for being fallible, and being kind to people who don’t necessarily deserve it. We prepare ourselves and the world for the coming Prince of Peace when we become agents of that peace, hope, love, and joy. We don’t just wait for the rescue Superman or a Messiah; we become that rescue. Being spiritual means acting on the fruits of Christ’s spirit. Being church means doing the work that Christ has modeled for us. We can’t just wait for hope, peace, joy, and love. We must do them. We must become them.
Amen and Amen.
Matthew 24:36-44
24:36 "But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.
24:37 For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man.
24:38 For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark,
24:39 and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man.
24:40 Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left.
24:41 Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left.
24:42 Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.
24:43 But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into.
24:44 Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.

Before we get started, I want to give credit to an essay I read by Thomas G. Long, one of the greatest preachers and teacher of preachers living today. I say this to give credit where it is due, and because I don’t want to cite him in awkward intervals throughout the sermon.1
The Advent Season is a balancing act. Every store we enter tells us that Christmas is here. Every time we open the newspaper, and turn on the radio or television, we are told that it is Christmas. Then, we come to church and our liturgy tells us that it is Advent, and reminds us that we are waiting for the Christmas event. Advent is about waiting for the coming of Christ and preparing for the second coming. Even as everything around us tells us that the Christmas season is here, even as we hang the greens, and wrap the presents, we still must balance ourselves for the weeks of waiting in Advent.
Passages like our gospel message this morning make achieving our balance a bit more difficult. When we read passages like the one this morning, many of us immediately shut down. We don’t think or don’t like to think about end times or of the return of the Son of Man coming like a thief in the night. This is not the stuff for us post-moderns, who grew up or lived with the much less scary notion of “Imagine, there’s no heaven. It’s easy if you try. No hell below us, above us only sky. Imagine all the people. Living for today. You may say I’m a dreamer. But I’m not the only one. I someday you’ll join us. And the world will live as one.” John Lennon’s vision of living for today is much more inspiring to us than the apocalyptic, eschatological, don’t know-when-the-world-might-end vision of Matthew’s gospel.

There are many reasons that most of us prefer John Lennon’s vision. One of them is that as thinking people in the twenty-first century, we don’t see the end-of-the-world predictions of the Bible as literal truths or as a comforting balm. We are more nuanced in our biblical interpretation and more universally accepting of people of other faiths and people who claim no faith than the people who first claimed hope from Matthew’s gospel. We have had the benefit of studying other religions comparatively and seeing that there are more similarities than differences. Unlike many pre-critical Christians, we have been able to see that the Bible was written as a continuing story of a people and a God who continues speaking today. This means that even as we know more, even as we become more enlightened, we are merely continuing players in God’s unfolding history with humanity. It is tempting to assume that the apocalyptic poetry of Matthew’s gospel is better left in antiquity. It is tempting to let all of the talk of Christ’s return and all talk of the end of times go silent. Why talk about something that we don’t understand? Why ponder questions we can never answer?
The late great George Carlin used to express astonishment over the call-in opinion polls on television networks like CNN and Fox. There is a debatable hot-button question posed and people are invited to phone in and vote their views. “Did you ever notice,” Carlin said, “there’s always, like 18 percent who vote ‘I don’t know’? It costs a dollar to make those calls, and their voting I don’t know?” Carlin imagined some guy seeing the question of the day on the TV screen and saying to his wife, “Honey, give me that phone!” He dials the number then shouts into the receiver “I don’t know!” and then proudly says to his wife, “Sometimes you have to stand up for what you believe you’re not sure about.” Carlin went on to speculate that these same people probably call 1-900 phone sex numbers for $3.00 a minute to say, “I’m not in the mood.”
In some ways we are like these people. We don’t know what God has in store for us. We don’t know what will happen to us after death. We don’t know what the future holds. So why speculate? Why waste our time picking up the phone or preaching a sermon about something we don’t know? Why not continue to look to the past where Jesus teaches us such powerful lessons about how to live powerfully peaceful lives? Why not concentrate our focus on the present where we can feel the power of God’s spirit calling us to community? Why? Because the hope for the past and hope for the present is only made meaningful in God’s promises for complete renewal and reconciliation in the fast coming future. A future that we cannot know.
Not knowing can be the remedy that we need for our apathetic faith. If our faith is oriented towards a future that we cannot know rather than a past and present we are pretty sure of, God’s action becomes the most important part of the equation. Our knowledge is no longer the most prized commodity. We can no longer settle into a malaise that comes with faithful and intellectual surety. Not knowing leads us to a faithful curiosity and a life full of anticipation. It can lead to a hopefulness that full knowledge never offers.
As we enter the Advent we see the wrapping paper. The wrapping is full of pictures we know very well: manger scenes, wise men, shepherds, and angels. There is a comfort to this knowledge; it is well-worn, and comes every year. But, Advent isn’t just about the wrappings. It is also about what is inside the box. It is also about a present that holds the future. It is also about the future that God has in store for us that we can only live into and only wait anxiously for. Advent is about the hope that comes from believing that God has great things coming for us, things that will amaze us when we open God’s present of the future.
1. Imagine There's No Heaven:
The Loss of Eschatology in American Preaching*
Thomas G. Long
Candler School of Theology, Emory University, Atlanta, Georgia
Journal of Preachers, Advent 2006
In our 9:00, First Sunday Conversation we talked about the epidemic of anti-gay bullying. In that conversation we read and referenced an article by Cody Sanders from the online magazine Religion Dispatches. Here is a link to the article: http://www.religiondispatches.org/archive/sexandgender/3479/why_anti-gay...
I have pasted the full text of the article after my sermon. The following link is the article from the New York Times I also referenced:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/07/us/07bully.html?_r=1&hp=&pagewanted=all

Psalm 98
98:1 O sing to the LORD a new song, for he has done marvelous things. His right hand and his holy arm have gotten him victory.
98:2 The LORD has made known his victory; he has revealed his vindication in the sight of the nations.
98:3 He has remembered his steadfast love and faithfulness to the house of Israel. All the ends of the earth have seen the victory of our God. 98:4 Make a joyful noise to the LORD, all the earth; break forth into joyous song and sing praises.
98:5 Sing praises to the LORD with the lyre, with the lyre and the sound of melody.
98:6 With trumpets and the sound of the horn make a joyful noise before the King, the LORD.
98:7 Let the sea roar, and all that fills it; the world and those who live in it.
98:8 Let the floods clap their hands; let the hills sing together for joy
98:9 at the presence of the LORD, for he is coming to judge the earth. He will judge the world with righteousness, and the peoples with equity.

I must confess, something about this type of Psalm rubs me the wrong way. It is beautiful. It is lyrical. It is vivid. It is celebratory. But...it is also pejorative. The lyre is playing praise to the Lord with a chorus of trumpets, while the sea roars, the floods clap their hands, and the hills sing together for joy. It is a cosmic song of victorious joy. The psalmist is echoing the people of Israel’s joy as they have returned to their homeland after generations of exile. This psalm is a victors’ song. Most victors’ songs share these components. Listen to the lyrics of almost any school song. The school fight song that colleges sing after a triumph on the field. These are full of triumph, and illustrative of the rolling hills or roaring seas that surround the particular campus. This psalm is a rally cry for the winners, and like most victor’s anthems, carries a discouraging flip side for the losers.

I am a great optimist. So why do I bring up such a pessimistic point about a praise psalm? This psalm has such a wholesome core. Why would anyone want to focus on the flip side? Maybe, for me, it is because I have been on the losing end of as many games as I have won. Maybe, it is because during my one year of college football, my teammates and I had to listen to the victory song of the opposing team nine times, while we only got to sing our song once. Or, maybe it is because none of my favorite teams will be singing anything but dirges in the coming months. Whatever the reason, the concept of “Our God as an awesome God” in pejorative comparison to “their” God, has grown pretty tiresome for me. It could be that I am still not over the insane meanness of our nation’s campaign season. As I read this psalm, “I picture the Israelites rejoicing after their deliverance from Egypt and their safe crossing of the Red Sea. As they stand on the shore praising God the deliverer, across the water the wives and mothers of the drowned Egyptian soldiers grieve the loss of their loved ones. Does ‘our God is awesome’ praise require a drowned Egyptian? Is our gain inevitably another person’s loss?” David Steele

A few weeks ago, our family went to the ball fields on Ruby Hill to watch our nephew Jackson play flag football. Jackson’s team is from a neighborhood near City Park. They happened to be playing a team from La Familia Rec Center, which is only a few blocks from our home. We knew several of the boys on the La Familia team; they are schoolmates of Grace and Lucy. They are boys that I often throw the football with at school drop-off and pick-up. The parents from both teams were standing near each other on the sidelines. We knew many of the parents from both teams. As the game went on, one could see that the teams were evenly matched, and like most nine-year-old games, there were two boys on each team that really stood out. At one point, right at the sideline near the parents, a boy from Jackson’s team, attempting to grab the ballcarrier’s flag, accidentally tackled the other boy. As the two boys jumped up and ran back to the respective huddles, one of the dads from the La Familia team bellowed: “Did you see that? Did you see that? That boy tripped Tommy on purpose. He just stuck his leg out and tripped him on purpose.” Every other parent, including his wife, looked at the loud dad incredulously and shook their heads. One dad, standing next to him, whom I know well, said with matter-of-fact, “He did not do that on purpose.” The loud dad would not buckle. “That kid tripped Tommy on purpose. There are some dirty boys on that team. Some really dirty boys.” As he bellowed, I became agitated. I didn’t like the fact that he was making a scene at the expense of some nine year old boys. I was also aware of the fact that every other parent was within his earshot, and we all know that little league squabbles can escalate instantly. I was also aware that the phenotype of Jackson’s team was different than the other team, and the loud dad’s comments could have easily been interpreted as racially charged. He began to bellow some more and I interjected with a short sermon, free of charge. He didn’t even have to sit through a stewardship reflection. As I preached, the loud dad shrugged and stepped away from me slowly. Of course, my short sermon did little good and was probably just as obnoxious as his bellowing. Hopefully, the gist of my sermon will echo back to me as I stand on the sidelines of Grace, Lucy, and Park’s games in the future. I have wondered about that moment since it happened. Do we always have to have an opponent? Do we always have to villainize the competition? Does our faith have to be like our sports and politics? I don’t think so. I don’t believe so.

I believe that God can be God without being ours only. I believe that we can praise God while others do so in a different way, in a different church, in a mosque, and in a synagogue. I also believe that releasing our ownership of God can create a new kind of freedom for us. We don’t always have to be right, and people in disagreement with us don’t always have to be wrong. We can praise God without rubbing in our God’s awesomeness. We don’t have to have a drowning Egyptian to have a praise worthy God. It is letting go of this general attitude about ourselves, God, and others that will allow the life-giving spirit to breathe through us. To call us to our better selves when we want to differentiate ourselves and point out the ways someone is different from us, rather than looking for the ways we are the same, and for bridges to peace. Fostering this type of openness is one way that we can begin addressing the type of hatred, bigotry, and bullying that grows from subtle attitudes of superiority. The creator of all that is deserves to be praised. I am just hoping that the way we praise God doesn’t drown everyone else out in the process. Amen.

Why Anti-Gay Bullying is a Theological Issue
And the moral imperative of anti-bullying preaching, teaching, and activism
By CODY J. SANDERS , Religion Dispatches Magazine, October 2, 2010

When I heard about the death of 15-year-old Billy Lucas early in September, I was terribly saddened. It is a tragedy when a young person completes suicide in the aftermath of daily torment and harassment. After this, I sat in stunned silence in front of my computer screen as news stories continued to appear about the suicides of 13-year-old Asher Brown, 18-year-old Tyler Clementi, 13-year-old Seth Walsh, and 19-year-old Raymond Chase. Today, it is very clear to me that profound sadness and stunned silence is no longer a suitable, appropriate, or adequate response.

From Lamentation to Indignation
My sadness began to change into something different with each successive news story about another gay teen hanging himself, shooting himself, or jumping off a bridge. As I saw the faces of these young victims and imagined the family and friends left to cope with the chaos created by their suicides, my lamentation began to morph into an indignant fury.
My indignation grew as I shifted my gaze from the individual acts of suicide to the contexts in which these suicides are set. Suicide happens for numerous reasons. Some seek relief from enduring physical and psychological pain that seems infinitely unrelenting and others after severe bouts of depression. These teens, however, were not seeking relief from some persistent, internal state of depression or physical illness. The pain they faced had an external source: the cruel, unremitting, merciless pounding of daily humiliation, taunting, harassment, and violence.
And all of this pain visited upon these young lives because of one thing they had in common: they were not heterosexual.
These suicides are not acts of “escape,” or a “cop-out” from facing life. When LGBT people resort to suicide, they are responding to far more than the pain of a few individual insults or humiliating occurrences. When LGBT people commit suicide it is an extreme act of resistance to an oppressive and unjust reality in which every LGBT person is always and everywhere at risk of becoming the target of violence solely because of sexual orientation or gender identity. They are acts of resistance to a perceived reality in which a lifetime of violence and abuse seems utterly unavoidable.
The landscape upon which LGBT teen suicide is set calls for far more than our sympathy and sadness. There are times in which it is important to be guided to action by our anger. This is one of those times.

From Interpersonal Violence to Group Subjugation
Our response to bullying is a response to violence. Beyond the inflicting of individual pain, violence against lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people has effects far beyond the individual target. This is what Iris Marion Young terms “systematic violence” in her famous “Five Faces of Oppression.” It is a violence of instrumentality—violence with the effect of keeping an entire group subjugated and in a state of oppression.
Young argues, “Members of some groups live with the knowledge that they must fear random, unprovoked attacks on their persons or property, which have no motive but to damage, humiliate, or destroy the person”.* The only thing one must do to become victimized is to be a member of a particular group (e.g. to be gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender). We must widen our perspective from individual acts of bullying and violence to the instrumental purpose these serve in subjugating LGBT people to particular religious and cultural ideologies in which reality is defined from a strictly heterosexual perspective—and gay and lesbian people become non-persons.
As more churches and denominations ordain gay and lesbian clergy, more gay and lesbian people are featured in media, and more medical, psychological and psychotherapeutic organizations reject notions of the pathological in sexual minorities, dominant religious and cultural ideology is in a state of crisis. It is no longer an unquestioned assumption that heterosexual experience represents the definition of reality for all people. The power to define reality for the masses is at stake and this power comes with all manner of political and ideological implications. Thus, there is a vested interest on the part of the religious and political right in keeping LGBT persons silent and subjugated.
Whereas political rallying on issues like same-sex marriage and the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell serve to maintain some ground on the preservation of anti-gay cultural ideology, the intermittent reinforcement of violent attack is an even better tool to ensure the silence (and suicide) of LGBT people and their subjugation to the closet.
While a majority of LGBT people may avoid ever becoming the victim of a violence, none will be able to avoid the psychic terror that is visited upon LGBT people with each reminder that this world is one in which people are maimed and killed because of their sexual and gender identities. It is this psychic terror that makes life so difficult for many LGBT people. It is this psychic terror that does the heavy lifting of instrumental, systematic violence. It intends to silence and to destroy from within.
While most of us will never be physically attacked by another human being, all of us know we are targets.

A Theology of Anti-Gay Bullying
Anti-gay bullying is a theological issue because it has a theological base. I find it difficult to believe that even those among us with a vibrant imagination can muster the creative energy to picture a reality in which anti-gay violence and bullying exist without the anti-gay religious messages that support them.
These messages come in many forms, degrees of virulence, and volumes of expression. The most insidious forms, however, are not those from groups like Westboro Baptist Church. Most people quickly dismiss this fanaticism as the red-faced ranting of a fringe religious leader and his small band of followers.
More difficult to address are the myriad ways in which everyday churches that do a lot of good in the world also perpetuate theologies that undergird and legitimate instrumental violence. The simplistic, black and white lines that are drawn between conceptions of good and evil make it all-too-easy to apply these dualisms to groups of people. When theologies leave no room for ambiguity, mystery and uncertainty, it becomes very easy to identify an “us” (good, heterosexual) versus a “them” (evil, gay).
Additionally, hierarchical conceptions of value and worth are implicit in many of our theological notions. Needless to say, value and worth are not distributed equally in these hierarchies. God is at the top, (white, heterosexual) men come soon after and all those less valued by the culture (women, children, LGBT people, the poor, racial minorities, etc.) fall somewhere down below. And it all makes perfect sense if you support it with a few appropriately (mis)quoted verses from the Bible.
With dualistic conceptions of good and evil and hierarchical notions of value and worth, it becomes easy to know who it is okay to hate or to bully or, seemingly more benignly, to ignore. And no institutions have done more to create and perpetuate the public disapproval of gay and lesbian people than churches.
If anti-gay bullying has, at any level, an embodied undercurrent of tacit theological legitimation, then we simply cannot circumvent our responsibility to provide a clear, decisive, theological response. Aside from its theological base, anti-gay bullying is a theological issue because it calls for acts of solidarity on behalf of the vulnerable and justice on behalf of the oppressed.
But this imperative to respond reminds us that the most dangerous form of theological message comes in the subtlest of forms: silence.

The Longer We Wait, the More Young People Die
There is already a strong religious presence in the debate around anti-bullying education in schools. Unfortunately, it is not a friendly voice for LGBT teens. There is also no lack of rhetoric on sexuality stemming from theological sources. But the loudest voices are not the voices of affirmation and embrace. In a recent article, I urged churches that rest comfortably in a tacitly welcoming or pseudo-affirming position to come out and publicly proclaim their places of worship as truly welcoming and affirming sanctuaries for people of diverse sexual orientations and gender identities.
I cannot count the number of times I have heard well-meaning, good-hearted people respond to this appeal, saying, “Things are a lot better for gay people today than they were several years (or decades) ago. In time, our society (or churches) will come around on this issue.” To these friends and others, I must say, “It’s time.” For Lucas, Brown, Clementi, Walsh, and Chase the time is up. For these teens and the myriad other bisexual, transgender, lesbian and gay youth lost to suicide, the waiting game hasn’t worked so well.
As simply as I can state the matter: The longer we wait to respond, the more young people die.
If this were a hostage situation, we would have dispatched the SWAT team by now. And in many ways, it is. Our children and teenagers are being held hostage by a religious and political rhetoric that strives to maintain the status quo of anti-gay heterosexist normativity. The messages of Focus on the Family and other organizations actively strive to leave the most vulnerable among us exposed to continuous attack. The good news is that we don’t need a SWAT team. We just need quality education on sexuality and gender identity in our schools and more faithful and courageous preaching and teaching in our churches.
Catholic theologian M. Shawn Copeland offers profound words to any individuals and churches seeking to wash their hands of this issue. She states,
If my sister or brother is not at the table, we are not the flesh of Christ. If my sister’s mark of sexuality must be obscured, if my brother’s mark of race must be disguised, if my sister’s mark of culture must be repressed, then we are not the flesh of Christ. For, it is through and in Christ’s own flesh that the ‘other’ is my sister, is my brother; indeed, the ‘other’ is me…
If anti-gay bullying is a theological issue, perhaps what is called for is a creative theological response. A theological response that challenges the systematic violence that upholds an oppressive religious and cultural ideology will not be a response through which we can hedge our bets. It will be a full-bodied, wholehearted giving of ourselves to the repair of the flesh of Christ divided by injustice and systematic exclusion.
Ministers who remain in comfortable silence on sexuality must speak out. Churches that have silently embraced gay and lesbian members for years must publically hang the welcome banner. How long will we continue to limit and qualify our messages of acceptance, inclusion and embrace for the most vulnerable in order to maintain the comfort of those in our communities of faith who are well-served by the status quo?
In the current climate, equivocating messages of affirmation are overpowered by the religious rhetoric of hatred. Silence only serves to support the toleration of bullying, violence, and exclusion. In the face of what has already become the common occurrence of LGBT teen suicide, how long can we wait to respond?

*Young, Justice and the Politics of Difference. p. 61
**Copeland, Enfleshing Freedom. p. 82
Cody J. Sanders is a Baptist minister and Ph.D. student in Pastoral Theology and Counseling at Brite Divinity School in Fort Worth, TX. Cody was a Fellow in the inaugural class of the Human Rights CampaignSummer Institute for Religious and Theological Study and is a participant in the Beyond Apologeticssymposium on sexual identity, pastoral theology, and pastoral practice.Luke 18:9-14
18:9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt:
18:10 "Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.
18:11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, 'God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.
18:12 I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.'
18:13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner!'
18:14 I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted."

About once a week, many weeks, I stand in a circle with six to ten other folks and pray. Several you have shared the experience that I will soon describe. It is the circle, that Johnny Davis of His Hands Christian Ministries, invites folks into before they leave the food and clothing bank housed in our church basement. Every Tuesday and Wednesday, His Hands is open from 10:00 a.m.-2:00 p.m. Clients come through the double-doors on the north-side of our church building walk downstairs, and check-in at a table where a volunteer types their name into a computer to look at a record of the clients’ visits. Clients can come twice a month. Upon check-in, they are given a ticket that they take to the back of the room. They hand the ticket to a volunteer and are given a grocery bag generously filled with dry and canned goods. They are then able to get bread, produce, and clothing if they need it. Before they leave, Johnny invites everyone in the large room to circle up, join hands, and pray. A small minority pretends not to hear him, but most of the clients and volunteers accept Johnny’s invitation. The circle is full of Highlands Ranch housewives who come weekly to volunteer their time and energy, retired folks there to do the same, Spanish speaking women wearing Molly Maid and McDonalds uniforms, homeless men and women wearing clothes they got from His Hands, and newly unemployed folks who are obviously wondering how they came to need a food bank. There are others, but this is the usual picture of the His Hands prayer circle which happens every half-hour or so when the ministry is open. Johnny invites folks to share their joys and concerns. It is a humbling experience. People without a job or home enthusiastically share the joy of a small job raking leaves, and the fact that there is lunch meat in the bags today. An older woman wants to pray about her daughter who is interviewing for a server job at a local restaurant. A homeless man (who is a client and a regular volunteer), smiles with pride about his recent visit to Ft. Collins to see his son and his new grandbaby. A young woman cries as she shares in broken English that her husband has lost his job, and that she is grateful for the help that Johnny and Susie are giving her family. A distinguished looking volunteer is moved by the young woman’s vulnerability, and thanks the group for allowing him to be here. “I’d like to thank God for this moment,” he says, sniffling to fight back the tears. A few others share joys, and then Johnny says in his slow Texas drawl, “Thanks ya’ll, let’s pray!” His prayer is straightforward, simple, and heartfelt. It is always sincere and moves me to tears without fail. It is a moment that I am sure the Holy Spirit is present, and it is a moment that she joins us together as the Unlikely Church of the Food Bank. The reason I know that the Holy Spirit is present is that the divisions which usually present barriers to us are momentarily invisible. There is no difference between any of us in the circle. Color of skin, gender, sexuality, social-status, primary language, bank account, home, lack of home, job, lack of job, theological stances, political leanings, and every other societal partiality vanishes. It is a moment when all of us in the circle are merely human beings sharing our celebrations and sorrow with our creator. It is pure, and it is beautiful. “For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted."

Luke 17:5-10
17:5 The apostles said to the Lord, "Increase our faith!"
17:6 The Lord replied, "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you.
17:7 "Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, 'Come here at once and take your place at the table'?
17:8 Would you not rather say to him, 'Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink'?
17:9 Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded?
17:10 So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, 'We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!'"

The best teachers aren’t always the smartest people. Usually a great professor is one who grew to love her subject by working over the details arduously and step by step growing to love her discipline. Great teachers are usually not the ones who came about their knowledge easily. A person who reaches the point of being able to teach is intelligent and disciplined, but usually the Einsteins of a particular field are not the most effective teachers. I don’t say this to belittle the smarts of anyone; I’m no Paul Tillich myself (Paul Tillich was the Albert Einstein of Theology). What I am saying is that it is difficult for a genius to get the point across to the rest of us who aren’t. The concepts come quickly to them. They are at Z while the rest of us are still toiling at B. Most great teachers have wrestled with each step along the way and are thus able to explain to their students the wrestling match involved with mastering the subject.

There haven’t been many great players who are also great coaches. Magic Johnson, Wayne Gretzky, and Diego Maradona are three of the greatest players in their respective sports. Another thing that Magic, the Great One, and El Rey have in common (other than their hyperbolic nicknames) is that each of them were colossal failures as coaches. Each of them saw the court/rink/field so well and moved through the game so instinctively that explaining their sport to a mere mortal was impossible for them. They could not articulate what made them geniuses. They just were, and they were just able to do what no one else could do.

Jesus was a sort of genius of faith. What is difficult for the rest of us, was seemingly much easier for him. One of the amazing things about him was that his faithfulness to God was displayed in his faithfulness to humanity. He was able to give himself over entirely to the vision that God had revealed to him, but that wasn’t enough for Jesus. Jesus wanted to share the vision of peace, equality, justice, grace, love, and hope that God had revealed to him. He wanted desperately to teach the rest of us about this vision he saw so clearly. However, the fact is that Jesus the genius of faith wasn’t very effective as a teacher and a coach. Jesus chose a small group of students and travelled from village to village teaching them the way that God was revealing to him. He showed them examples of faithfulness by healing, telling straightforward stories, sharing cryptic parables, embracing people on the margins, and accepting the malice of those who opposed him. He did everything within his power, but that wasn’t enough. When the true test of faith came, all of his pupils played hooky on the exam. Jesus’ students abandoned him.

Jesus’ students knew that they were following a genius. They knew that he saw things and knew things that they didn’t. As we peek into their class this morning, we hear them demanding the genius to “Increase our faith!” Jesus the Genius is at his wit’s end. He has shown them faithfulness by healing the blind, the lame, and even the dead. He has tried to explain faithfulness with stories of salt, trees, a prodigal son, lost coins, lost sheep, narrow doors, and a dirt-bag manager. As a teacher, he has done everything he knows how to do to get his point across. As a genius, his students just don’t get it, and the genius is getting frustrated. “Increase our faith!” “Increase our faith? Why don’t you get it. You can’t just snap you fingers. You have to do the work and you have to immerse yourself in the process. It came easy for Jesus, and he can’t understand how in the world they just can’t get it. Then Jesus answers their demand in frustration, If you had any faith at all you could do the impossible. If you had faith the size of a tiny seed you could tell a mulberry tree to uproot itself and it would move to the sea. But, you don’t get it. You still think you’re in charge. You still won’t accept the fact that faithfulness is about being a slave to a master, about giving in completely to the creative will of the creator.” The genius seems to know how far his faithfulness will be taking him and has full awareness of the demands of his submission. Therefore, he is frustrated when his students demand an instantaneous increase of faith. He has done everything he knows how to do, but they just don’t get it.

The thing about geniuses is that we don’t always get them when they are with us. We don’t always get the lessons that they teach us while they are teaching them. With Tillich and Einstein we are able to take in their theories and philosophies in small doses over time. We can read what other lesser geniuses say that they said, and if we work hard and have a bit of luck, eventually we get it, or some form of it anyway. With Magic, Gretzky, and Maradona we are able to watch what they did and see how they did it. If we are young and extremely gifted athletically we could watch their moves and anticipation and can adapt their gifts with ours and build on them. As children, Magic did this with with Oscar Robertson, Gretzky did it with Bobby Orr, and Maradona did it with Pele.

As disciples of Jesus, we are able to look at the full picture 2000 years later. We have the vantage point of the risen Christ and the amazing power of redemption that Christ’s spirit has influenced in the past two millenniums. So with all of these advantages, you would think that we would understand the lesson that Jesus’ first students did not. You would think that we would realize that faith is a process and that submission to the will of God is crucial to faithfulness. Yet, we still stand with the first students of Jesus demanding an immediate increase of faith. Every time things don’t go our way, we want the same results of a faithful life that we would have if we were actually living a faithful lives. I don’t know how faithful you are living. I can’t judge your faithfulness, and you can’t judge mine. However, we should be able to look at our own lives, our own priorities, and our own commitment level, and know how faithful we are being. How faithful am I, is a question all of us need to answer on our own. It is a question that it shouldn’t take a genius to answer.
1 Timothy 6:6-19
6:6 Of course, there is great gain in godliness combined with contentment;
6:7 for we brought nothing into the world, so that we can take nothing out of it;
6:8 but if we have food and clothing, we will be content with these.
6:9 But those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction.
6:10 For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, and in their eagerness to be rich some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pains.
6:11 But as for you, man of God, shun all this; pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, gentleness.
6:12 Fight the good fight of the faith; take hold of the eternal life, to which you were called and for which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses.
6:13 In the presence of God, who gives life to all things, and of Christ Jesus, who in his testimony before Pontius Pilate made the good confession, I charge you
6:14 to keep the commandment without spot or blame until the manifestation of our Lord Jesus Christ,
6:15 which he will bring about at the right time--he who is the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords.
6:16 It is he alone who has immortality and dwells in unapproachable light, whom no one has ever seen or can see; to him be honor and eternal dominion. Amen.
6:17 As for those who in the present age are rich, command them not to be haughty, or to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but rather on God who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.
6:18 They are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share,
6:19 thus storing up for themselves the treasure of a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of the life that really is life.

Last week, we listened to Jesus tell the bizarre parable of the dirt-bag manager from Luke 16. While the parable is bizarre and difficult to understand, it also allowed us the opportunity to talk about something that we try to avoid speaking about in church. Money, money, money, money. During the sermon we recalled the sting of our annual meeting last February, and how difficult it can be to talk about money in church. As we listened to the words of Jesus reminding us that we cannot serve both God and money, we reminded ourselves of the reasons we choose God. We were reminded of the lasting power of our creator, who trumps the addictive power of our preoccupation with money. The ubiquitous nature of money, means that we must be purposeful in our spiritual discipline and commitment to our loving master, God.

Our lectionary passage this week once again allows us to look eye to eye at an issue that we usually choose to avoid. This morning, we are fortunate enough to revisit our allegiances to the infinite and to the temporal, the treasures of heaven and the bank. Returning to this theme allows us to look and talk openly about a defect that we easily recognize in others, and usually are blinded to in ourselves.

This text is one of the most quoted in the Bible “For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil” The most famous sermon on this text is by Chaucer’s Pardoner in The Canterbury Tales. Many of us may remember the degenerate, morally corrupt preacher, the Pardoner from our high school literature class. The Pardoner knows how to raise money. His secret is convincing his listeners that they are going to die. It is a brilliant illustration of how the love of money leads to death. Three young thugs are confronted with the idea of death and mortality for the first time. They are appalled by the idea of it and decide to go on a hunt for death so they can kill it. Off they go in search for it, but no one knows where death can be found. Suddenly, they find a sack of gold under a tree. Upon their discovery of the gold, their search for death is forgotten. Two of the rogues decide to send the third off to find something in the city. While he is gone, they plot to kill the third when he returns so they can have the treasure all to themselves. As the third journeys into town, he comes up with a similar plan and finds a chemist who gives him a drink that will kill any who drinks it. He buys three bottles of wine and puts the poison in two of the bottles. Upon his return, the other two kill him. To celebrate their victory, they toast their treasure with the bottles the third has brought to them. The Pardoner’s story ends with the three thugs all lying dead around the bag of gold. In their greed, they found death.

“Most chilling in the tale is that the Pardoner, who preaches so powerfully against covetousness, cynically admits that he uses it to part the fool and his money for his own benefit. He has no interest in the Gospel and would as gladly take everything from the poorest widow in the village even if her children starve, than suffer any deprivation of his own. He is a lasting example of the sin of covetousness and the way it ravages the human heart.” (Gracia Grindal) Chaucer’s tale is a reminder of the perpetual and timeless truth that greed corrupts. It is a disease that all of us can easily suffer from if we do not practice the type of spiritual discipline that reminds us 6:18 We are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share,
6:19 thus storing up for themselves the treasure of a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of the life that really is life.

You may also remember the Spanish explorer/conquistador Hernan Cortes from high school history class, who is reported to have said when he came upon the Aztecs in Mexico, "Let your emperor send us gold, for I and my companions suffer from a disease of the heart for which gold is the only cure." He spoke truly. This disease brought unimaginable terror and suffering to millions, both the victims of the Spanish greed and the armies themselves.

Grounding ourselves in the lasting infinitude of the who is creator of all that was, is and will be, is the spiritual foundation that stands up to and against death. Storing up this type of treasure allows all of us to take hold of the life that really is life. It is living for that which yields life. Greed breeds death, life gives life. It is another way of saying that life is for living. We can only serve one master. Is it God or money? It is a life or death decision.

luke 15
15Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. 2And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” 3So he told them this parable: 4“Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? 5When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. 6And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ 7Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance. 8“Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? 9When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ 10Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

Last Sunday, we talked about analogies for God. Our text was from the book of Jeremiah and the prophet’s comparison of the creator to a potter and humanity being shaped on the potter’s wheel. It is a beautiful metaphor. The idea that the creator is still creating us is a wonderful image that is comforting to live into. Our text this morning offers two different analogies for God. We have the wonderful opportunity of Jesus answering for us his experience of what God is like. It should be a real blessing. The idea that we can get an inside look from our messiah into how he sees God, is scintillating. At least it should be. But, what we have from Jesus isn’t nearly as beautiful, comforting, or wonderful as the creating hands of the divine potter whom Jeremiah described to us last week. Instead what we get from Jesus are the analogies of a bad shepherd and a crazy lady. In Jesus’ description of what God is like, we get a person we would never entrust with a flock of sheep, and a woman we would never want to party with.

In our passage from Luke, Jesus is embroiled in conflict with different groups of religious legalists. They have an idea of who God is and for them God is a rule-maker and rule-keeper. For these folks God was concerned about the boundaries, and religion was for the select few who were inside God’s boundaries. The Pharisees and Scribes believe that salvation is achieved by working hard for God and by proving to God that they are worthy. They are flabbergasted that Jesus, a new teacher with a growing following, would have such blatant disregard for the rules, and be so reckless with the boundaries. They are disgusted that Jesus would welcome sinners and eat with tax-collectors and prostitutes. For these folks, religion is about the law, and Jesus is a law-breaking criminal. God is a judge and Jesus is out of order.

Jesus interrupts their disdain to tell them what he believes God is like. Of course, Jesus being Jesus, he shares with them what God is like with a question.
“Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? 5When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. 6And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’”
Don’t forget. This all started with a question. “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?” The answer is obvious. Not one of us. No self-respecting shepherd would do that. It would be irresponsible and idiotic. For a shepherd to leave an entire flock unprotected and unshepherded in the wilderness to look for one lost sheep would be a ridiculous business decision. Nobody in his right mind would do something like this. Of course, this shepherd that Jesus describes is not in his right mind. Not only does he put his entire flock in jeopardy for one lost sheep, he also calls all of his friends and neighbors together to celebrate his stupidity. He never goes back to the ninety-nine. He is two busy celebrating the one. He may possibly be the worst shepherd whoever lived.

As the legalists stand dumbfounded at the dumbness of Jesus’ imaginary shepherd, he begins another ridiculously divine comparison. 8“Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? 9When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’”
What woman? No woman that I know would do this. I could imagine looking for a lost coin, but I can’t imagine putting my entire life on hold for a lost quarter. Much less, throwing a party when I found it. If you were this lady’s neighbor or friend and you got invited to a party for her found coin, wouldn’t you want to invite a few mental health professionals to come with you? This woman is not in her right mind. “Hi, Margaret, this is Delores. Do you remember that silver coin that I lost last week? Yes, that’s right. The one that I have turned over the house looking for. Yes, that’s right. The one that have haven’t slept that past five nights over. Yes, that’s the one. Well, anyway. I was hoping that you could make your famous seven layer dip and come over for a little found coin party. It should be quite the shin-dig! I’m making mimosas!” As Jesus asks the question what woman wouldn’t do that, all of his listeners are wondering what woman would do that. Can you imagine the party? Taking turns dancing with the lost coin and taking turns looking at the coin’s album. The idea of finding a poor, scared lost sheep is at least heart-warming. You would have to be some kind of numismatist to believe that this woman’s coin party is in the same area code as normal (a numismatist is a student of currency).

So what is Jesus’ point? If Jesus is trying to tell us who God is and what God is like, what good are these two parables? I think that Jesus is trying to describe to the boundary focused religious legalists, a God who knows no boundaries. A God who doesn’t care about the barriers that they are constructing. He is trying to tell them that God is a seeker. That God will not rest until God finds us. That God doesn’t care about the rules, or the logical, all God cares about is us. God is not in the business of shepherding necessarily, God is in the business of finding. The Pharisees and Scribes are spending their lives putting up barriers between themselves and “the sinners”. Jesus describes a God who pushes over every barrier to get to the sinners, who turns over every leaf, and leaves everything else behind to get to those of us who are lost, even if like the coin, we have no way of knowing that we are.

Jeremiah 18:1-11

18The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: 2“Come, go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.” 3So I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was working at his wheel. 4The vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as seemed good to him.5Then the word of the Lord came to me: 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.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.11Now, therefore, say to the people of Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem: Thus says the Lord: Look, I am a potter shaping evil against you and devising a plan against you. Turn now, all of you from your evil way, and amend your ways and your doings.

A lot of what a preacher does each week is look for analogies, “to search for a similarity between like features of two things, on which a comparison may be based.” It is what we do. It is what I do all of the time (I am sure that it is something that Dan does also). After I read choose a text, I begin to try to get to the germ of truth that moves me in the text. Then I begin to try to figure out how to share that truth with you. Sometimes it floods, and sometimes it dribbles. As I read journal articles, books, or watch movies or television every day, in the back of my mind is the text for Sunday. As I meditate in prayer and as I drive around town, my mind constantly drifts back to the sermon text. When I get an idea, I jot it down or call myself and leave a voice mail. It is part of the creative process, and when the nugget comes, the sermon comes with it. When the nugget doesn’t, it is a long week for me and a bad Sunday for you.

Our text this morning comes with a built-in analogy. There was no need to scrambling for it, and I didn’t have to wait for it to come to me. It is right here. The prophet Jeremiah compares God to a potter, and God’s people to clay (bulletin cover...Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore). God sends the prophet to the potter’s house and Jeremiah watches the potter work at the wheel with the clay. The analogy continues as the potter works the clay into a vessel and as the clay gets lopsided, comes apart, dries, and spoils in one way or another, the potter reworks the clay and starts over from the beginning on a new more useful vessel. It is a beautiful analogy and a wonderful way to see ourselves and God. We are part of a creative process. We are clay in the creator’s hands. We are being moved, shaped, and directed into a useful utensil that can be purposeful and even essential. God does not slap us together and then put us out as finished products. We are perpetually created, constantly being made useful. As clay, we are not completed products. As potter, God is not finished with us. We are on God’s wheel, not on God’s shelf.

The problem with most analogies is that they are limited. Obviously, we are not inanimate objects (although, as I look out at a few of you, it is no longer obvious). We are not just clay stuck on a cosmic wheel. We are free agents. We have the freedom to choose whether or not we want to be shaped by the potter. It is up to us. If we choose to be post-kiln, strong, hardened vessels, we can make our own way in the world, and choose to be unencumbered by the creating hands of the potter. We can make it on our own. The problem comes when we get knocked off of our pedestal. The problem comes when we get broken, or at least slightly cracked. We might do our best to pick up the pieces and put ourselves back together again, but on our own we will never feel like the proud piece we once were.

The God of Jeremiah is a tribal God who seems tempted to scrap everything, “to pluck it up, and destroy it”. This type of God needs to be pleased and appeased. This is another way that the analogy is limited. The God of hope, love, grace, forgiveness, redemption, and power is not limited like the emotional reactions of humans. God is a cosmic being who can only be partially explained by our experience and is veiled by our finite vision. God cannot be reduced to our anthropomorphic analogies and is free to act within history. The God of creation is not merely a tribal God, but the God of all reality, who always works for the good, even when we don’t. Paul Tillich, described God as “the unconditional and ultimate reality, who is always a good reality, that permeates and pervades all of life.” If Tillich is correct, if God is always good and is always pervasive, then we are never in danger of being scrapped. Even as we lay in broken parts, God is always ready to sweep us up and shape us into useful vessels.

We may think that we are a finished product, that we have been through the fire of life, are glazed, hardened, and permanently fixed as we are; our chips and cracks are just the facts of life. We are who we are and there is no change or renewal in our future. The good news is that our creator is not nearly as pessimistic as we are. The potter’s wheel is always available to those who are malleable.

I wondered how this sermon might fit into the event of Park’s baptism. I wondered how I might fit Park into the sermon, and then I realized that the entire message is oriented towards Park and the other children of our community whom we have pledged to nurture. What a gift it is to our children and to our loved ones when we believe that all things are possible and refuse to accept that any of our brokenness is unfix-able. Believing in our own resilience and God’s role in that ability to recover and reform is the greatest quality we can instill in our children.

This morning, let us open ourselves up to the possibilities of our potter. Put yourself in God’s hands. God can work with us, broken pieces, cracks and all. God won’t necessarily make us new, but I have no doubt that God will make us useful, and, isn’t useful what all of us long to be? Now, you may believe that you are done with God, but the good news of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, God, the potter is not done with you.

Isaiah 5:1-7
5:1 Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard: My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill.
5:2 He dug it and cleared it of stones, and planted it with choice vines; he built a watchtower in the midst of it, and hewed out a wine vat in it; he expected it to yield grapes, but it yielded wild grapes.
5:3 And now, inhabitants of Jerusalem and people of Judah, judge between me and my vineyard.
5:4 What more was there to do for my vineyard that I have not done in it? When I expected it to yield grapes, why did it yield wild grapes?
5:5 And now I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard. I will remove its hedge, and it shall be devoured; I will break down its wall, and it shall be trampled down.
5:6 I will make it a waste; it shall not be pruned or hoed, and it shall be overgrown with briers and thorns; I will also command the clouds that they rain no rain upon it.
5:7 For the vineyard of the LORD of hosts is the house of Israel, and the people of Judah are his pleasant planting; he expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!

Wednesday evening our family joined several other families at the Bear Creek Lake Park beach. It was a birthday party for our friend Mike. As the kids played in the sand, water, and on the playground, a few of the parents sat around the picnic table eating chips, crackers and cheese chatting about our children. One of the moms was talking about the fact that her daughter was just about to start 6th grade. A collective moan travelled through the air. “Middle school,” we murmured. “What a terrible time of life,” we all collectively groaned. We then rotated around the table spontaneously sharing stories of how badly we had each been treated and how badly we treated others throughout junior high. As we shared our horror stories, I remembered a ride in my Dad’s station wagon coming home from a Little League baseball game. We were in 6th grade, and there were four of us riding with my father. We had just played a game on the north side of Denver. I couldn’t tell you exactly what we were talking about, but I know that it was Toby, Jon, another kid named John C., and myself. (Toby, Jon, and I were basically inseparable.) Our friendship started at four. We had played most every sport together, every season of every year since we started to school. When we weren’t playing sports together on a team, we were playing them in the park or at one of the hoops our fathers had installed in the back of our homes. We invented games to play, and for a threesome, got along swimmingly, most of the time. I mean, there were times that Toby and Jon would gang up against me; and, there were times when Toby and I would gang up against Jon (it seems that Toby must have been the problem). But, for the most part, we were three amigos. The downside to this bond of three middle brothers, was the innocent intrusion of others. We could pick on each other incessantly, but we were pretty vicious when someone else tried to pick on one of us, or sadly, even tried to join in on the banter. As we drove home from our game, John C. tried to join in the endless cycle of competition and trash talking that the three of us began shortly after we learned to string sentences together. John C. had gone to school with us and played ball with us since kindergarten. He was our friend, but not a close one. Like I said, I don’t know exactly what we were talking about, or even how the conversation was going. I just remember that after my Dad dropped John C. off at his house, he drove a half-block and then pulled over the station wagon. He put the car in park and then turned his whole body around and stared at the three of us in the back seat. At first, we nervously laughed. The laughter stopped, as my Dad spoke with his powerful voice, “You three donkeys! All that boy wants to be is your friend, but you treat him like dirt! You three should be ashamed of yourselves!” The three of us sat in silence as we drove the short six blocks to Jon’s house, Toby wisely jumped out with Jon when we got there. I sat alone in the backseat. It was deathly silent. In those days, my father wasn’t one for rambling. He knew that he had made his point.

My Dad had had a difficult childhood and adolescence. I am sure that growing up poor, he had been on the outside of some groups of boys like us. I am sure that as he listened to the three of us pick on John C., he knew the pain that we were inflicting. To be fair to our twelve-year-old selves, we didn’t really know what we were doing, but, my Dad did. He was disgusted by it, and he made sure that we felt disgusted. I am sure that my father (who was literally working night and day to provide for me and my siblings what he had not had), was wondering what he had done wrong. I’ll bet he was wondering how such a sour grape had grown in the vineyard that he had planted and nourished.

The God of Isaiah is wondering what happened to his vineyard. The prophet is trying to convey to the people how exasperated God has become with them. God has given them every benefit, every grace, every mercy, and every chance, but they refuse to show justice to those who need it most. He had lavished his attention on a hill full of fine vintage grapes, but what was growing there was sorry and worthless. God had planted a vineyard to yield justice, but the fruit of his labor only produced bloodshed. Now, the vineyard is no longer worth nurturing and protecting. It is merely a hillside full of wild grapes.

The prophet Isaiah is trying to explain to the people of Israel that their blatant disregard for justice has left God no choice but to leave them alone to their own devices. In our society, justice is often used in reference to arresting, convicting, and imprisoning people who break the law. For Isaiah, justice is connected to the treatment of the least advantaged in society: widows, orphans, poor, and other marginalized. Isaiah’s Song of the Vineyard, is an attempt to persuade us to have the same kind of concern for the under-served and forgotten people that God has. (Paul Redditt)
The voice of the prophet sings out in judgment, will we listen? As I hear the prophet’s voice, it sounds like my Father, and he is calling me a donkey. What do you hear? Let’s face it, meanness, ignorance, ostracizing, marginalizing, patronizing, and classifying are not just the business of middle schoolers. The judgment of prophet for our lack of care and justice sings to you and me today. How are we failing the marginalized people in our lives? If you can’t think of some marginalized people in your life, you are failing. That is the message of judgment from the prophet. In one way or another, we are all sour grapes. A few weeks ago, we learned of the sweetness of God’s motherly love. The love of a creator who holds us to her cheek. This morning we visit the God of Isaiah, who is flummoxed with us for forgetting our brothers and sisters he also created, and for letting the good vineyard that he planted go bad. The good news, is that, for Isaiah, “after judgment always comes healing, after desolation, always comes consolation, and after grief always comes hope; and in every case it happens in that order!” (Marilyn McEntyre) But, let us not move to the good news too quickly. We probably need to sit in judgment a little bit longer than is uncomfortable, at least I know I do.

Hosea 11:1-11
11:1 When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son.
11:2 The more I called them, the more they went from me; they kept sacrificing to the Baals, and offering incense to idols.
11:3 Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk, I took them up in my arms; but they did not know that I healed them.
11:4 I led them with cords of human kindness, with bands of love. I was to them like those who lift infants to their cheeks. I bent down to them and fed them.
11:5 They shall return to the land of Egypt, and Assyria shall be their king, because they have refused to return to me.
11:6 The sword rages in their cities, it consumes their oracle-priests, and devours because of their schemes.
11:7 My people are bent on turning away from me. To the Most High they call, but he does not raise them up at all.
11:8 How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, O Israel? How can I make you like Admah? How can I treat you like Zeboiim? My heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender.
11:9 I will not execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim; for I am God and no mortal, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come in wrath.
11:10 They shall go after the LORD, who roars like a lion; when he roars, his children shall come trembling from the west.
11:11 They shall come trembling like birds from Egypt, and like doves from the land of Assyria; and I will return them to their homes, says the LORD.

This is going to be a short sermon. I say that so that you will pour yourself into it with me, knowing that you only have to really concentrate, and imagine with me for 10 minutes or so. Of course, you and I both know that nothing is free. I know that many of you are skeptics, and I know that you are probably thinking “the preacher, is promising a short sermon, but what’s the catch? What is he going to expect me to do? No one just gives a short sermon away for free without asking for something in return.” Of course, your hypothetical and imaginary suspicions are right on target. I will be asking you for something in return, but I won’t be asking for it until the end of the short sermon. I won’t be asking you for anything until I have delivered on my end of the bargain. I won’t be asking you to do your part until the end of this short sermon. Of course, we are not going to count this long, rambling introduction as part of the short sermon. So for those of you who keep time on my sermons, this short sermon begins now.

As I read and studied our passage from the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible book of Hosea, I thought about the many different images of God that I have had in my life, and the different ways the rest of you might have viewed God at different times in your lives. Many of us grew up with a prevailing image of God that was nurtured and perpetuated by our Sunday School teachers, pastors, priests, parents, and peers. Some of us grew up without much talk or thought of God, our prevailing image of God was an afterthought, or saved for special occasions like the family silver. God was brought out at Christmas and Easter, and then put back on the shelf for next time. Another group of us, grew up in the between of these two poles. God was part of our lives growing up, but not the biggest part. We took a little here and a little there and formed an image of God that fit the rest of our life. If we were lucky, we learned about God as the loving father of the prodigal son, the God who always roots us on, and waits patiently, even anxiously for our return from rebellion.
Or, God might have been a mysterious presence only to be approached through ritual at church, or a loving Father who liked to keep his children at arm’s length and only wanted to see them on their best behavior. In many families, we grew up with an image of God as an impossible-to-please parent, who used shame and guilt as the primary motivator. Of course, these are only a few of the ways we grew up seeing God, and to keep this sermon short, you may have to fill in a few for yourselves.

There are many ways that we have seen or see God, good, bad, and ugly. Some of these images have damaged our psyches, and some have helped us see God in a way that makes us respond in love. There are countless images of God that we could have accepted throughout our lives, but this morning I would like for you to put all of those to the side, and accept just one image. The one image of God that I would love for us to embrace is the one from Hosea that Josh read with us earlier. This is what I am asking of you in return for this short sermon. Put away your images a God who can’t be pleased, or a God who has to be appeased. Suspend your belief in a God who rules with iron fists of shame and guilt. This morning, may you release the image of a distant God who keeps us at arm’s length, and embrace the God who loves with the tenderness of a loving mother.
When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son.
The more I called them, the more they went from me;
they kept sacrificing to the Baals and offering incense to idols.
Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk, I took them up in my arms;
but they did not know that I healed them.
I led them with cords of human kindness, with bands of love.
I was to them like those who lift infants to their cheeks.
I bent down to them and fed them.
Hosea’s God loves with persistence, and pursues us even as we run away. She is an active mother, who paces the floors at night, with the restlessness of worry and hope. She is nurturing, healing, and kind. She is utterly and completely steadfast. She loves us without limit, and is unable to abandon her own. We are her babies, and will always be the one she took into her arms, and held to her cheek.

Shall we put away forever the negative, stifling, disinterested images of God, and embrace the God who’s heart yearns for us? Can we immerse ourselves in a relationship with a God who wants nothing more of us than who we are? Let us love this God. Let us embrace this tender image of God. Let me remind you, it is your end of the bargain, I fulfilled mine.

Luke 11:1-13
11:1 He was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples."
11:2 He said to them, "When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come.
11:3 Give us each day our daily bread.
11:4 And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial."
11:5 And he said to them, "Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, 'Friend, lend me three loaves of bread;
11:6 for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.'
11:7 And he answers from within, 'Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.'
11:8 I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs.
11:9 "So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.
11:10 For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.
11:11 Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish?
11:12 Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion?
11:13 If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!"

For the past six weeks, our family has had a big worry. Grace has been having night terrors almost every night. These terrors come to her about two hours after she falls to sleep. She gets incredibly agitated and is temporarily inconsolable. As she cries and screams, we talk to her gently and try to get her to wake up. It is a horrible experience. Grace is almost always happy, gregarious, and gentle. As a parent, waiting for her to come to herself is excruciating. Much of the “free time” Sarah and I have lately has been researching this issue. We have read articles on the inter-net and talked to different friends who have had children who have had night terrors. We have looked at her diet and any other activities that may contribute to the problem and took her to the pediatrician for an expert opinion. All the while, Sarah and I have also done our best to make sure that Grace does not feel as if there is anything “wrong” with her, and have had to deal with the quandary of what to do when she is invited over to a buddy’s house for a sleepover. To add to this stress is the reality that most children who suffer night terrors have a genetic predisposition. I had night terrors for much of my childhood. I remember the horrible feeling of waking up completely disoriented and agitated with one or both of my parents sitting next to me trying to calm my nerves. I remember feeling embarrassed and out of place after having a night terror at a sleep-over. The reality that this experience and these feelings are being passed on to my sweet little girl makes me feel sad and helpless. In this sadness and helplessness, I recollected the one thing that seemed to soothe me at bedtime as a child. Each night, before I went to sleep, my mom or dad would sit on the side of my bed, scratch my back, and pray to God that I have “sweet dreams” and a “peaceful night’s sleep”. These prayers made me feel like God cared for me and was involved in my life. They also made me feel as if my parents were doing everything that they could possibly do to help me. I still had bad nights, but as I went to sleep, I believed with all of my heart that I was going to have sweet dreams and a peaceful night’s sleep. At night, as I sit with Grace, hold her hand, and pray the same prayer with her that my parents prayed with me, both of us feel better, both of us feel at peace, and both of us believe that sweet dreams are ahead.

I am a bit sheepish to admit that my inclination to pray with and for Grace came only after I had tried everything else and had come to realize that her night terrors were beyond my ability to control. This is not to say that all of the research, advice, and medical consultation that we still actively pursue are not valuable, but couldn’t I have invited God into the process a little sooner?

As Luke shares an abbreviated version of the Lord’s Prayer, and Jesus’ conversation about how and why we pray, we are reminded that prayer is our way to hand over the steering wheel to God. Prayer is an act of humility in which we admit to God and ourselves that we cannot do it on our own and that we are not in control and that we are not the center of the universe. Prayer is not complicated and does not have to include extra-holy words or sacred phrases. It is simply an act of submission recognizing the presence of God, our creator, who wants to be involved in our lives.

The biography of American theologian and U.C.C. member Reinhold Niebuhr tells a story about Dr. Niebuhr preaching for a vacationing pastor in New England during the Second World War (Richard Fox). After the sermon, Niebuhr prayed a short prayer, one that he had jotted down in the pastor’s study before the service. Following the service, a church member approached Dr. Niebuhr. The worshipper told Niebuhr how much the short prayer had meant. Niebuhr, pulled the scrap of paper out of his Bible and gave it to him. The next year the man used it in Christmas cards, and others began to share it. This prayer was used and reused until it became one of the best known prayers in the world. Many of you know already know which prayer I am referring to, and some of you know it by heart. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” Nothing extra-holy, nothing super-sacred. Just a simple prayer scratched out on a summer Sunday. Reinhold Niebuhr is one of the most influential thinkers of the twentieth century. He is one of the most ground-breaking and voluminous authors in Christian history. His face graced the cover of TIME magazine’s 25th anniversary issue, and his two-volume masterpiece “The Nature and Destiny of Man” helped form what we know today as Neo-orthodoxy. All this being true, the greatest contribution he gave to humanity was the short, simple prayer we know today as the Serenity Prayer. It is a prayer that helps us to focus on who we are, who God is, and what we can do as God’s people. It is a prayer that models the sentiment of the simple prayer that Jesus taught long ago, it is a prayer that like the Lord’s prayer acknowledges the sovereignty of God and asks for help in our helplessness. The persistence and consistency of the Serenity Prayer shared in the circles of support groups every minute of every day in every country of the world models the type of persistence and humility that Jesus teaches us in our gospel reading today. 1:9 "So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. 11:10 For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.”

If we are looking for answers, they may be more simple than we expect. If we are desperate for comfort, the first step comes with summoning up the courage of humility, the willingness to admit that we have to ask. Watching my daughter cry in terror is what it took for me. What will it take for you? It isn’t rocket surgery. It really is quite simple. It’s as simple as asking, searching, knocking. As simple as acknowledging that we need help. I am granted some serenity by the realization that I cannot change everything by myself, even the things that I want changed the most. Asking God for the strength and courage to help me accept the things in life I can do nothing about also helps me to focus on the things that I can do something about. The Lord’s Prayer and the Serenity Prayer are both examples of uncomplicated exercises in lasting spiritual meaning; they are doors to freedom just waiting to be opened. If only we’ll knock.

Luke 10:38-42
10:38 Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home.
10:39 She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to what he was saying.
10:40 But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me."
10:41 But the Lord answered her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things;
10:42 there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her."
The sibling rivalry of Martha and Mary has been used for centuries to highlight two different approaches to faith and faithfulness. In the NRSV translation of this text that we just read together, it is implied that Martha was distracted “by her many tasks” as the host for Jesus and the probable seventy or so others who have come to sit at his feet and learn from him. The original Greek text of Luke says, “Mary, who also was sitting at the feet of Jesus” implies that both Mary and Martha were listening to him teach, but Martha got up to tend to the obvious responsibilities that playing hostess to a house full of guests always involves. This is not just a cut and dry scenario of one busy-body sister and another who is so devoted to learn from the spiritual master that she hangs on his every word. This scene has all of the blurred lines of real life. It is not cut and dry. It is a bit messy. Just like our lives.

Looking at this passage without the vaudevillian costumes of Mary dressed in flowing white with a harpist strumming in the background and Martha in black with the organ pulling out all the stops will probably help us look at the real life blurred choices of faith that we are forced to make everyday as church and as individuals. As church, we know the quandary of being solely focused on the voice of a still speaking God while making sure that the business of church is being managed successfully. We have felt the confusing choice of having to make sure that the pot of soup in the downstairs kitchen is being stirred responsibly even as we are trying to focus ourselves on the celebration of our monthly communion meal. Our small community splits the duties of host and hostess, and in this tag-team it is easy to get immersed in the busyness of what we are supposed to do as a good church forgetting who we are called to be as a collection of Christ’ disciples. In this quandary it is easy for us to confuse discipleship and devotion with maintaining the institution of Mayflower. We often get caught up in how our church is supposed to be. We allow the standard to be set by other churches and by the church we used to be ignoring the words of the master whom we have left the feet of to busily work on the church business at hand. When we forget why we are here, it doesn’t make us bad people or a bad church, it just means that like Martha, we have forgotten our ultimate concern, the main point of why we are here in the first place. We let the anxieties of expectations get in the way of our purpose. Martha isn’t a bad person; her focus is off. She has decided that her obligations to being good, proper, and well-mannered are more important than her identity as novice at the feet of her spiritual master. She is blinded by her expectations of how good hosts should behave and her reactions ring true to our own. She is co-dependent, and tries to triangulate Jesus into her sense of what is most important. She doesn’t have the self-awareness to take a breath, open her eyes, and see what is going on around her. Just listen to Martha as she interrupts Jesus teaching to involve him in her own pettiness. No doubt she is well-intentioned, and no doubt she just doesn’t get it. Martha knows that she is right. “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her to help me.” Like any co-dependent triangulator, Martha must have been floored by the reality that Jesus doesn’t care that she is left to do all the work by herself. It must have taken her for a loop that Jesus believes that all of her anxieties are just distractions keeping her from the reality that the holy one is in her midst. How crushing it must be for her to hear that her sister has chosen the better part, the lasting part, “which will not be taken away from her.”

This passage is a call to presence. I wonder if Martha finally got it. I wonder if she put down the dishes, the apron, and her defenses and sat back down at the feet of Jesus. I wonder if she allowed for the fact that she was wrong and the reality that she should let her distractions float way and immerse herself in the holiness in her midst. Her anxiety is understandable but she is letting it get in the way of what really matters. Don’t we do the same thing?

Keeping our families going in a positive direction and our children well-balanced with multiple activities is important. But, when we get trapped in the hamster wheel of lesson to lesson and game to game we lose sight of our destination. Our vocation is an important piece of who we are and how we serve God and those God has put in our care. But, when our work, lack thereof, or excess of, becomes our ultimate concern and our primary worry, we become distracted from the purpose of employment. We become slaves to a cruel master, one who can never be pleased.

Our ultimate concern here at Mayflower and as individual human beings is not different than Martha or Mary. Our ultimate concern is watching for, listening for, and being present to the infinite presence of our creator. This is what good religion, spirituality, and a community of faith are all about. This is why we are here. This is the reason we gather together as church. We are joining together to play witness to the creative acts of God that transcend the temporary actions and distractions that can often obscure God’s infinitude. To put it more simply, we are here to share love with each other because we are experiencing the overflowing generosity of the love of God. We share that generous love with each other because sometimes we allow ourselves to get distracted from it, our self-imposed anxieties keep us from focusing on it. As we share God’s unconditional and unlimited love with each other as church, we let it overflow (spill over) by actively searching out other people to partake in the loving abundance. One mechanism that helps us share this love with each other is our Sunday morning worship service. It begins with gathering our focus and a call to celebration, we then respond to our loving God in songs of praise, and remind our children of the generous gift of an all accepting God. It is important that during this time that we present honestly to each other the ways that we have become distracted from the holiness in our midst (family, work, worry) and confess these distractions to God and each other. In worship we share our ultimate joys and concerns as people knit together by the holy, infinite, presence of God. We sing praises because we just can’t keep silent, and we admonish and bless each other to help us remember what is important, lest we get distracted from what really matters. Lest we forget that we were placed on earth to love God and share God’s love assertively. The worship service, choir, council, monthly communion, and other sacraments move us with focus to share God’s infinite love with the children of our neighborhood via the SMART reading program, and to share this love with our neighbors in a meal every First Sunday. The mechanisms that we have chosen to convey the overflowing goodness of God, these programs and ministries are the vehicles that deliver the abundance that we are receiving from God all the time. But we cannot allow these vehicles to become distractions for what is really our primary focus and ultimate concern. We must learn from Martha and never let the business and busyness distract us from why we are here and the presence of the holy in our midst. We (like Mary) are here to choose the better part, the part that will not be taken away from us. This is who we are as focused disciples of Christ, and what we do as attentive listeners to the master. This means that as individuals we must always be aware of the thing that matters most, and as church we must pitch in together so that we can all be present to the presence of the holy in our midst. Of course, you have to wonder if Martha would have been able to sit back down and listen to Jesus if she would have known that Mary would be sharing the workload after everybody left.

***Note*** Much of my approach to this text is inspired by Paul Tillich, the great 20th century theologian. The following is an excerpt of his discussion on this text.

Chapter 20: Our Ultimate Concern

Now as they went on their way, he entered a village; and a woman named Martha received him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching. But Martha was distracted with much serving; and she went to him and said, "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me." But the Lord answered, "Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things; one thing is needful. Mary has chosen the good portion, which shall not be taken away from her."
LUKE 10:88-42

The words Jesus speaks to Martha belong to the most famous of all the words in the Bible. Martha and Mary have become symbols for two possible attitudes towards life, for two forces in man and in mankind as a whole, for two kinds of concern. Martha is concerned about many things, but all of them are finite, preliminary, transitory. Mary is concerned about one thing, which is infinite, ultimate, lasting.
Martha’s way is not contemptible. On the contrary, it is the way which keeps the world running. It is the driving force which preserves and enriches life and culture. Without it Jesus could not have talked to Mary and Mary could not have listened to Jesus. Once I heard a sermon dedicated to the justification and glorification of Martha. This can be done. There are innumerable concerns in our lives and in human life generally which demand attention, devotion, passion. But they do not demand infinite attention, unconditional devotion, ultimate passion. They are important, often very important for you and for me and for the whole of mankind. But they are not ultimately important. And therefore Jesus praises not Martha, but Mary. She has chosen the right thing, the one thing man needs, the only thing of ultimate concern for every man.
The hour of a church service and every hour of meditative reading is dedicated to listening in the way Mary listened. Something is being said to us, to the speaker as well as to the listeners, something about which we may become infinitely concerned. This is the meaning of every sermon. It shall awaken infinite concern.
What does it mean to be concerned about something? It means that we are involved in it, that a part of ourselves is in it, that we participate with our hearts. And it means even more than that. It points to the way in which we are involved, namely, anxiously. The wisdom of our language often identifies concern with anxiety. Wherever we are involved we feel anxiety. There are many things which interest us, which provoke our compassion or horror. But they are not our real concern; they do not produce this driving, torturing anxiety which is present when we are genuinely and seriously concerned. In our story, Martha was seriously concerned. Let us try to remember what gives us concern in the course of an average day, from the moment of awakening to the last moment before falling asleep, and even beyond that, when our anxieties appear in our dreams.
We are concerned about our work; it is the basis of our existence. We may love it or hate it; we may fulfill it as a duty or as a hard necessity. But anxiety grasps us whenever we feel the limits of our strength, our lack of efficiency, the struggle with our laziness, the danger of failure. We are concerned about our relationships to others. We cannot imagine living without their benevolence, their friendship, their love, their communion in body and soul. But we are worried and often in utter despair when we think about the indifference, the outbursts of anger and jealousy, the hidden and often poisonous hostility we experience in ourselves as well as in those we love. The anxiety about losing them, about having hurt them, about not being worthy of them, creeps into our hearts and makes our love restless. We are concerned about ourselves. We feel responsible for our development towards maturity, towards strength in life, wisdom in mind, and perfection in spirit. At the same time, we are striving for happiness, we are concerned about our pleasures and about "having a good time," a concern which ranks very high with us. But our anxiety strikes us when we look at ourselves in the mirror of self-scrutiny or of the judgments of others. We feel that we have made the wrong decision, that we have started on the wrong road, that we are failing before men and before ourselves. We compare ourselves with others and feel inferior to them, and we are depressed and frustrated. We believe that we have wasted our happiness either by pursuing it too eagerly and confusing happiness with pleasure or by not being courageous enough to grasp the right moment for a decision which might have brought us happiness.
We cannot forget the most natural and most universal concern of everything that lives, the concern for the preservation of life—for our daily bread. There was a time in recent history in which large groups in the Western world had almost forgotten this concern. Today, the simple concern for food and clothing and shelter is so overwhelming in the greater part of mankind that it has almost suppressed most of the other human concerns, and it has absorbed the minds of all classes of people.
But, someone may ask, do we not have higher concerns than those of our daily life? And does not Jesus Himself witness to them? When He is moved by the misery of the masses does He not consecrate the social concern which has grasped many people in our time, liberating them from many worries of their daily lives? When Jesus is moved by pity for the sick and heals them, does He not thereby consecrate the concern shared by medical and spiritual healers? When He gathers around Him a small group in order to establish community within it, does He not thereby consecrate the concern about all communal life? When He says that He has come to bear witness to the truth, does He not consecrate the concern for truth, and the passion for knowledge which is such a driving force in our time? When He is teaching the masses and His disciples, does He not consecrate the concern for learning and education? And when He tells the parables, and when He pictures the beauty of nature and creates sentences of classic perfection, does He not consecrate the concern for beauty, and the elevation of mind it gives, and the peace after the restlessness of our daily concerns?
But are these noble concerns the "one thing" that is needed and the right thing that Mary has chosen? Or are they perhaps the highest forms of what Martha represents? Are we still, like Martha, concerned about many things even when we are concerned about great and noble things?
Are we really beyond anxiety when we are socially concerned and when the mass of misery and social injustice, contrasted with our own favored position, falls upon our conscience and prevents us from breathing freely and happily while we are forced to heave the sighs of hundreds of people all over the world? And do you know the agony of those who want to heal but know it is too late; of those who want to educate and meet with stupidity, wickedness and hatred; of those who are obliged to lead and are worn out by the people’s ignorance, by the ambitions of their opponents, by bad institutions and bad luck? These anxieties are greater than those about our daily life. And do you know what tremendous anxiety is connected with every honest inquiry, the anxiety about falling into error, especially when one takes new and untrod paths of thought? Have you ever experienced the almost intolerable feeling of emptiness when you turned from a great work of art to the demands, ugliness and worries of your daily life? Even this is not the "one thing" we need as Jesus indicated when He spoke of the beauties of the Temple being doomed to destruction. Modern Europe has learned that the millennia of human creativity of which it boasted were not that "one thing needful," for the monuments of these millennia now lie in ruins.
Why are the many things about which we are concerned connected with worry and anxiety? We give them our devotion, our strength, our passion and we must do so; otherwise we would not achieve anything. Why, then, do they make us restless in the deepest ground of our hearts, and why does Jesus dismiss them as not ultimately needed?
As Jesus indicates in His words about Mary, it is because they can be taken from us. They all come to an end; all our concerns are finite. In the short span of our lives many of them have already disappeared and new ones have emerged which also will disappear. Many great concerns of the past have vanished and more will come to an end, sooner or later. The melancholy law of transitoriness governs even our most passionate concerns. The anxiety of the end dwells in the happiness they give. Both the things about which we are concerned and we ourselves come to an end. There will be a moment—and perhaps it is not far away—when we shall no longer be concerned about any of these concerns, when their finitude will be revealed in the experience of our own finitude—of our own end.
But we maintain our preliminary concerns as if they were ultimate. And they keep us in their grasp if we try to free ourselves from them. Every concern is tyrannical and wants our whole heart and our whole mind and our whole strength. Every concern tries to become our ultimate concern, our god. The concern about our work often succeeds in becoming our god, as does the concern about another human being, or about pleasure. The concern about science has succeeded in becoming the god of a whole era in history, the concern about money has become an even more important god, and the concern about the nation the most important god of all. But these concerns are finite, they conflict with each other, they burden our consciences because we cannot do justice to all of them.
We may try to dismiss all concerns and to maintain a cynical unconcern. We determine that nothing shall concern us any more, except perhaps casually, but certainly not seriously. We try to be unconcerned about ourselves and others, about our work and our pleasures, about necessities and luxuries, about social and political matters, about knowledge and beauty. We may even feel that this unconcern has something heroic about it. And one thing is true: It is the only alternative to having an ultimate concern. Unconcern or ultimate concern—those are the only alternatives. The cynic is concerned, passionately concerned, about one thing, namely, his unconcern. This is the inner contradiction of all unconcern. Therefore, there is only one alternative, which is ultimate concern.
What, then, is the one thing that we need? What is the right thing that Mary has chosen? Like our story, I hesitate to answer, for almost any answer will be misunderstood. If the answer is "religion," this will be misunderstood as meaning a set of beliefs and activities. But, as other New Testament stories show, Martha was at least as religious as Mary. Religion can be a human concern on the same level as the others, creating the same anxiety as the others. Every page of the history and psychology of religion demonstrates this. There are even special people who are supposed to cultivate this particular human concern. They are called by a highly blasphemous name: religionists—a word that reveals more about the decay of religion in our time than does anything else. If religion is the special concern of special people and not the ultimate concern of everybody, it is nonsense or blasphemy. So we ask again, what is the one thing we need? And again it is difficult to answer. If we answer "God," this will also be misunderstood. Even God can be made a finite concern, an object among other objects; in whose existence some people believe and some do not. Such a God, of course, cannot be our ultimate concern. Or we make Him a person like other persons with whom it is useful to have a relationship. Such a person may support our finite concerns, but He certainly cannot be our ultimate concern.
The one thing needed—this is the first and in some sense the last answer I can give—is to be concerned ultimately, unconditionally, infinitely. This is what Mary was. It is this that Martha felt and what made her angry, and it is what Jesus praises in Mary. Beyond this, not much has been said or could be said about Mary, and it is less than what has been said about Martha. But Mary was infinitely concerned.This is the one thing needed.
If, in the power and passion of such an ultimate concern, we look at our finite concerns, at the Martha sphere of life, everything seems the same and yet everything is changed. We are still concerned about all these things but differently—the anxiety is gone! It still exists and tries to return. But its power is broken; it cannot destroy us any more. He who is grasped by the one thing that is needed has the many things under his feet. They concern him but not ultimately, and when he loses them he does not lose the one thing he needs and that cannot be taken from him.
Luke 24:44-53
24:44 Then he said to them, "These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you--that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled."
24:45 Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures,
24:46 and he said to them, "Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day,
24:47 and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem.
24:48 You are witnesses of these things.
24:49 And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high."
24:50 Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them.
24:51 While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven.
24:52 And they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy;
24:53 and they were continually in the temple blessing God.

After the service last Sunday, I got into a few different interesting conversations about our service and about my sermon. One of the conversations was about the comment I made about what I consider to be the bad theology in the third verse of "How Great Thou Art" (which happens to be one of my favorite hymns). "And when I think that God, His Son not sparing, Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in; That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing, He bled and died to take away my sin." The reason I termed this "bad theology" is that I believe that God is always about life, not death. I do not believe that God would choose for Jesus to die. I also don't believe that Jesus became the Messiah, the Christ before his death. I believe that Jesus' complete and utter faithfulness to the God of life, peace, inclusion, and grace moved him to accept that his death would bring about a new age and would be a powerful example to those who would give themselves to the God of life completely. Answering violence with violence was not an option for Jesus, so he chose his own death. God responded to his faithfulness by raising him from the dead, by showing that life has victory over death. Jesus was faithful to the God of life, and God was faithful to him after death. I won't believe in or worship a God who would give her own son to die, who would send his own son to suffer for any reason. This is not a God worth believing in. In this type of theology we become puppets and playthings for the whims of a creator. I choose not to believe that the creator of the cosmos would be this evil and this petty. I believe that God is good, and that God longs for the goodness of creation and all created beings. Jesus' choice and our ability to choose are foundational to our relationship with God and God's relationship with us. God does not force our choices and did not force Jesus'. We are not puppets. God is not a puppet master. This is why I would term any theology that puts God in a puppeteer position and places Jesus or us with strings attached as "bad theology".

This leads us to a second topic of conversation after the service last Sunday. Apparently, during the sermon, I said something that misconstrued my fundamental beliefs about God and humanity's goodness. As spoke about sin and quoted Jacques Ellul about the nature of sinfulness. I said that "our willful rejection of God's peace is at the root of any and all of our sinful activities." As I spoke about sin as the law of retribution, I should have been more explicit about the fact that I believe sin and sinfulness to be a choice, sometimes conscious and sometimes not. I believe that all of God's creation and creatures were created and are being created good. However, with our ability to choose or not choose God, life, peace, and other goodnesses, we can get ourselves stuck in a vicious sin cycle. I do not believe in original sin, but I think that we can get ourselves lost in the momentum of violence, selfishness, narcissism, fear, ambivalence and chaos as we refuse God's gift of peace, love, and good. Sin is estrangement from God, and I believe that that estrangement is on us. However, the good news is that God does not want this separation and we are always free to choose the life and goodness that God always offers us. As the great 20th century professor, theologian, and U.C.C. member Reinhold Niebuhr put it, "Man is a sinner not because he is finite but because he refuses to admit that he is."

The idea that God is about life is affirmed continuously throughout the Gospels. Through the choices of Jesus, God demonstrates her unyielding attachment to life. Through raising Lazarus and others from death to life, God through Jesus proves that he is a God of life. As Jesus shows faithfulness to the God of life by subverting the social order on behalf of the poor, unclean, female, non-Jewish, aged, and otherwise invisible and forgotten, God proves her ultimate faithfulness to Jesus by resurrecting him to life.

Following his resurrection, Jesus appears to his followers. At first they thought they were seeing a ghost, because we aren't used to looking for life in the places that they usually found death. Even though they had experienced amazing death defying miracles in Jesus' company, the disciples couldn't believe their eyes. Even though Jesus had appeared to Peter, Thomas, and others, eating with them and showing them his scars from the cross and his body from the resurrection, it took them a bit to wrap their minds around the reality that Jesus was in their midst. But, as they did, they were able to embrace the abundant life of the transcendent Christ given to the world by the God of life.

As his followers let go of their presuppositions of what they believe is possible, Jesus opened their minds to understand what the God of the scriptures was revealing in him to them. As they listened, he revealed to them that their mission was to proclaim repentance and freedom from sins to all people, to spread the news of the risen Messiah and the God of the living. While he blessed them with this blessed task he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. He vanished from their midst. Yet they continued worshiping him and returned to their homes with great joy.

The vanishing, the ascension, the carrying up of Christ into heaven, marks the changing of the guard, the beginning of a new age. The ascension of Christ is the moment that we pass from Jesus' time to our own. As the disciples stood in Bethany celebrating with joy the miraculous ascension of the Christ from our dimension to God's, they were joyous because they were finally able to let go of the assumption that death has the final word and that the God of life transcends all of the fears that have been holding them back from life fully celebrated. It was this new reality and unabashed confidence that allowed them to respond to all of the amazing acts of the Holy Spirit of God and the suffering brought on by those who were frightened by these acts. Believing that God is loving and that our lives are best lived in response to that love creates the type of movements that change the world. The earliest followers of Christ defied the powers of the world with the confidence and joy that the God of love, life, and peace was on their side. We are joyous because we are living in this transcendence as well. We are joyous because we believe that God cannot be contained even by death. I believe that God is a God of life and that life transcends everything we are capable of understanding to be possible. As followers of the living Christ we believe that love and life are stronger than death and hate. When we believe in this abundant generosity of God we live with a faithful confidence that welcomes whatever tomorrow has to offer. This type of life and transcendence can be denied by or embraced. It can be dissected and left lifeless, or it can be experienced in all of its glory. It is our choice.

sermon Luke 7:36-8:3
7:36 One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee's house and took his place at the table.
7:37 And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment.
7:38 She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment.
7:39 Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him--that she is a sinner."
7:40 Jesus spoke up and said to him, "Simon, I have something to say to you." "Teacher," he replied, "Speak."
7:41 "A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty.
7:42 When they could not pay, he canceled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?"
7:43 Simon answered, "I suppose the one for whom he canceled the greater debt." And Jesus said to him, "You have judged rightly."
7:44 Then turning toward the woman, he said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair.
7:45 You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet.
7:46 You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment.
7:47 Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little."
7:48 Then he said to her, "Your sins are forgiven."
7:49 But those who were at the table with him began to say among themselves, "Who is this who even forgives sins?"
7:50 And he said to the woman, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."
8:1 Soon afterwards he went on through cities and villages, proclaiming and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. The twelve were with him,
8:2 as well as some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out,
8:3 and Joanna, the wife of Herod's steward Chuza, and Susanna, and many others, who provided for them out of their resources.

I used to love watching the old television show Candid Camera. Years before shows like "Punked", "What Would You Do?" and all of the other cheap imitations, Candid Camera showed some of the most funny, innocently hilarious situations ever caught on film. One of my favorite bits from the show I only saw as a re-run decades after it was originally shown in the early sixties. It was in black and white. Allen Funt, the host of the show, is narrating. He describes the location as the viewer is watching it. It is a side street, off of a busy boulevard. Folks are parking on this side-street and then walking over to a near-by movie theater. They are dressed up to go see the picture show. The woman gets out of the passenger door and asks her husband, who is driving, why they couldn't just pay for parking at the cinema. The husband says something like, "Pay for parking? Why don't I just burn my money. The walk will do us some good." The couple has two children. The children listen as their mom and dad politely argue about what is, in essence, their father's tight wallet. As the family walks toward the theater, they continue to talk about why they are walking. The side-street is empty, other than their car parked near the curb. After the movie, when they return to their vehicle, there is a car parked directly in front of theirs, and a crane truck parked directly behind. The car and the crane truck have completely boxed the family's car in. There is no way to get out. The man begins to look the situation over. The woman stands silent with her arms crossed. The man starts looking in the window of the car parked in front of him. He looks around, then checks to see if the doors are unlocked. They are not. The children have taken a seat on the sidewalk leaning back against a brick wall. A few moments after checking the car in front, the man starts to eye the crane truck. The crane is holding a large wrecking ball. As the man steps towards the crane truck, his wife unfolds her arms and starts walking towards him. "Howard, don't even think about it." The camera shows a close up of her face as her husband decides to climb up into the crane truck. The anger in her face slowly transforms to shock, then fear. "Howard! Howard" Her husband is now in the driver's seat of the heavy equipment. "The keys are in it!" he says excitedly. "I'm just going to back it up." "Howard, you are a bookkeeper! Get down from there!" The camera pans in towards her face as the ignition on the crane is turned. Her children are now standing at her side. All three faces are marked with stunned disbelief. As her husband struggles to shift the crane into reverse, the wrecking ball suddenly drops down and destroys the car parked in front of theirs. The camera then catches the blank shocked faces of the father in the crane, the two children, and the wife. There is a long period of silent disbelief until the woman breaks the silence with a murmur under her breath. "He thought parking was expensive." Just before panic ensues, Allen Funt pops onto the scene and asks "what in the world is going on here?" The family struggles for words until one of them recognizes his famous face. "Oh my goodness"...and before they can finish their sentence Funt interrupts and says, "That's right, you're on Candid Camera."

I wonder if Simon the Pharisee was wondering if Allen Funt was going to show up and reveal that he was part of an elaborate prank. Simon had planned and put together his guest list so that he could host Jesus, the controversial, and his small band of students. I don't know what his intentions were, Luke doesn't really tell us. It could be that Simon was truly interested in Jesus' take on God, and his unconventional approach to their religion. It could be that Simon the Pharisee was trying to trap Jesus. Regardless, Simon's party didn't go as planned. Seemingly, before the first course arrives, a woman wanders into the courtyard and stands behind Jesus, kneeling at his feet, weeping. She then begins bathing Jesus' feet with her tears, drying them with her hair, and then kissing his feet and anointing them with extremely expensive ointment. What do you think Simon must have been thinking as his Charlie Rose religious round-table turned into an erotic, tear-filled event? You can almost hear Peter whisper to Andrew "I like this kind of party." But, you can't. You can't hear anyone. The party sits in stunned silence. Like a family who has just watched a wrecking ball crash through a stranger's car. Nobody knows what to make of this scene; no one knows what to do with this woman. Simon sits in silence. Luke tells us that he is speaking to himself, trying to figure out why Jesus would allow such a woman to do such a thing. Nobody else says a word either. They are nonplussed. But Jesus isn't. We sometimes think and have often been told that Jesus is homogenized. That Jesus is squeaky clean and free from all that is earthy. However, Jesus is not shaken by her gender, sexiness, grief, or charity. He loves her. He treats her with dignity. He is in the moment with her. Jesus knows that she needs his presence, his acceptance, his approval, and his forgiveness. Jesus knows that she needs his peace. Jesus doesn't correct her, and Jesus allows her to lavish her grief and charity upon him. The rest can be stunned and then judgmental, but Jesus will be present.

We often get caught up in ourselves. We often place social niceties and the way things are supposed to be, in front of the moment. We tend to get nervous when things get too real. We (like the dinner guests at Simon's party) want to control how lavish acts of faithfulness should be and how far the grace of God can be spread. I would venture to say that some of the greatest things that we ever witnessed were jaded by our own sense and judgment of what was possible or what should be permitted. Instead of going with the flow, we are often doing everything to stem the tide, and control things so that they fit into our own experience and expectations.

For the woman in our story, lavish faithfulness came before what was socially acceptable. For utter faithfulness she was willing to throw away her dignity and dismiss all of the rules. I believe that lavish faithfulness always breaks some rules. Being real with ourselves, with others, and with God, takes a willingness to be perceived as foolish. It usually means losing control and not being able to give full account of our actions financially, socially, or religiously. Lavish faithfulness often involves doing some things that would not be described as safe or prudent. These moments of risk taking discipleship often feel bizarre, because we are no longer bound by what other people think, or what the fall-out of our life-without-a-net may be. In these "Candid Camera" moments, we immerse ourselves in the present, because that is where lavish faithfulness always is, and where God is with us. Present in our foolery, flattered by our risks.

Sermon May 16, 2010
Luke 24:44-53
24:44 Then he said to them, "These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you--that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled."
24:45 Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures,
24:46 and he said to them, "Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day,
24:47 and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem.
24:48 You are witnesses of these things.
24:49 And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high."
24:50 Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them.
24:51 While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven.
24:52 And they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy;
24:53 and they were continually in the temple blessing God.

After the service last Sunday, I got into a few different interesting conversations about our service and about my sermon. One of the conversations was about the comment I made about what I consider to be the bad theology in the third verse of "How Great Thou Art" (which happens to be one of my favorite hymns). "And when I think that God, His Son not sparing, Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in; That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing, He bled and died to take away my sin." The reason I termed this "bad theology" is that I believe that God is always about life, not death. I do not believe that God would choose for Jesus to die. I also don't believe that Jesus became the Messiah, the Christ before his death. I believe that Jesus' complete and utter faithfulness to the God of life, peace, inclusion, and grace moved him to accept that his death would bring about a new age and would be a powerful example to those who would give themselves to the God of life completely. Answering violence with violence was not an option for Jesus, so he chose his own death. God responded to his faithfulness by raising him from the dead, by showing that life has victory over death. Jesus was faithful to the God of life, and God was faithful to him after death. I won't believe in or worship a God who would give her own son to die, who would send his own son to suffer for any reason. This is not a God worth believing in. In this type of theology we become puppets and playthings for the whims of a creator. I choose not to believe that the creator of the cosmos would be this evil and this petty. I believe that God is good, and that God longs for the goodness of creation and all created beings. Jesus' choice and our ability to choose are foundational to our relationship with God and God's relationship with us. God does not force our choices and did not force Jesus'. We are not puppets. God is not a puppet master. This is why I would term any theology that puts God in a puppeteer position and places Jesus or us with strings attached as "bad theology".
This leads us to a second topic of conversation after the service last Sunday. Apparently, during the sermon, I said something that misconstrued my fundamental beliefs about God and humanity's goodness. As spoke about sin and quoted Jacques Ellul about the nature of sinfulness. I said that "our willful rejection of God's peace is at the root of any and all of our sinful activities." As I spoke about sin as the law of retribution, I should have been more explicit about the fact that I believe sin and sinfulness to be a choice, sometimes conscious and sometimes not. I believe that all of God's creation and creatures were created and are being created good. However, with our ability to choose or not choose God, life, peace, and other goodnesses, we can get ourselves stuck in a vicious sin cycle. I do not believe in original sin, but I think that we can get ourselves lost in the momentum of violence, selfishness, narcissism, fear, ambivalence and chaos as we refuse God's gift of peace, love, and good. Sin is estrangement from God, and I believe that that estrangement is on us. However, the good news is that God does not want this separation and we are always free to choose the life and goodness that God always offers us. As the great 20th century professor, theologian, and U.C.C. member Reinhold Niebuhr put it, "Man is a sinner not because he is finite but because he refuses to admit that he is."

The idea that God is about life is affirmed continuously throughout the Gospels. Through the choices of Jesus, God demonstrates her unyielding attachment to life. Through raising Lazarus and others from death to life, God through Jesus proves that he is a God of life. As Jesus shows faithfulness to the God of life by subverting the social order on behalf of the poor, unclean, female, non-Jewish, aged, and otherwise invisible and forgotten, God proves her ultimate faithfulness to Jesus by resurrecting him to life.

Following his resurrection, Jesus appears to his followers. At first they thought they were seeing a ghost, because we aren't used to looking for life in the places that they usually found death. Even though they had experienced amazing death defying miracles in Jesus' company, the disciples couldn't believe their eyes. Even though Jesus had appeared to Peter, Thomas, and others, eating with them and showing them his scars from the cross and his body from the resurrection, it took them a bit to wrap their minds around the reality that Jesus was in their midst. But, as they did, they were able to embrace the abundant life of the transcendent Christ given to the world by the God of life.

As his followers let go of their presuppositions of what they believe is possible, Jesus opened their minds to understand what the God of the scriptures was revealing in him to them. As they listened, he revealed to them that their mission was to proclaim repentance and freedom from sins to all people, to spread the news of the risen Messiah and the God of the living. While he blessed them with this blessed task he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. He vanished from their midst. Yet they continued worshiping him and returned to their homes with great joy.

The vanishing, the ascension, the carrying up of Christ into heaven, marks the changing of the guard, the beginning of a new age. The ascension of Christ is the moment that we pass from Jesus' time to our own. As the disciples stood in Bethany celebrating with joy the miraculous ascension of the Christ from our dimension to God's, they were joyous because they were finally able to let go of the assumption that death has the final word and that the God of life transcends all of the fears that have been holding them back from life fully celebrated. It was this new reality and unabashed confidence that allowed them to respond to all of the amazing acts of the Holy Spirit of God and the suffering brought on by those who were frightened by these acts. Believing that God is loving and that our lives are best lived in response to that love creates the type of movements that change the world. The earliest followers of Christ defied the powers of the world with the confidence and joy that the God of love, life, and peace was on their side. We are joyous because we are living in this transcendence as well. We are joyous because we believe that God cannot be contained even by death. I believe that God is a God of life and that life transcends everything we are capable of understanding to bepossible. As followers of the living Christ we believe that love and life are stronger than death and hate. When we believe in this abundant generosity of God we live with a faithful confidence that welcomes whatever tomorrow has to offer. This type of life and transcendence can be denied by or embraced. It can be dissected and left lifeless, or it can be experienced in all of its glory. It is our choice.

Sermon May 2, 2010, "Green Eggs and Ham"
Acts 11:1-18
11:1 Now the apostles and the believers who were in Judea heard that the Gentiles had also accepted the word of God.
11:2 So when Peter went up to Jerusalem, the circumcised believers criticized him,
11:3 saying, "Why did you go to uncircumcised men and eat with them?"
11:4 Then Peter began to explain it to them, step by step, saying,
11:5 "I was in the city of Joppa praying, and in a trance I saw a vision. There was something like a large sheet coming down from heaven, being lowered by its four corners; and it came close to me.
11:6 As I looked at it closely I saw four-footed animals, beasts of prey, reptiles, and birds of the air.
11:7 I also heard a voice saying to me, 'Get up, Peter; kill and eat.'
11:8 But I replied, 'By no means, Lord; for nothing profane or unclean has ever entered my mouth.'
11:9 But a second time the voice answered from heaven, 'What God has made clean, you must not call profane.'
11:10 This happened three times; then everything was pulled up again to heaven.
11:11 At that very moment three men, sent to me from Caesarea, arrived at the house where we were.
11:12 The Spirit told me to go with them and not to make a distinction between them and us. These six brothers also accompanied me, and we entered the man's house.
11:13 He told us how he had seen the angel standing in his house and saying, 'Send to Joppa and bring Simon, who is called Peter;
11:14 he will give you a message by which you and your entire household will be saved.'
11:15 And as I began to speak, the Holy Spirit fell upon them just as it had upon us at the beginning.
11:16 And I remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said, 'John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.'
11:17 If then God gave them the same gift that he gave us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could hinder God?"
11:18 When they heard this, they were silenced. And they praised God, saying, "Then God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life.

"That Sam-I-am! That Sam-I-am! I do not like that Sam-I-am! Do you like green eggs and ham? I do not like them, Sam-I-am. I do not like green eggs and ham. Would you like them here or there? I would not like them here or there. I would not like them anywhere. I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them Sam-I-am."

Of course we know the rest. We know that the obstinate creature in the tall funny hat was determined not to like green eggs and ham. Long before Sam-I-am showed up, the obstinate creature had decided that he did not like green eggs and ham. So, as Sam-I-am wants to know if he would like them here or there, the obstinate one already knows that he would not like them anywhere. He is sure that he would not like them in a house, with a mouse, in a box, or with a fox. He would not could not in a car or in a tree. So why doesn't Sam-I-am just let him be? Why? Because, Sam-I-am is sure that the obstinate creature in the long hat will love green eggs and ham if he will just try them. But, this obstinate, furry creature in the tall funny hat is a closed book, a locked gate, and a slammed door. He would not, could not, on a train, or in the dark, or in the rain. He does not like green eggs and ham, he does not like them Sam-I-am.

The Bible is full of obstinate creatures. Truth be told, so is this church, and so is this pulpit. Remember a few weeks ago? Saul was so sure that he would not could not accept Christians and what they were doing to Judaism that he had to persecute them and kill them off. He was so sure that he could not see the error of his ways, he could not see that the violence that he committed and perpetuated was wrong. I am sure that the loving creator, who longs for peace, love, and life for all her creatures had tried to show Saul and shepherd Saul towards the way of peace, love, and life. Yet Saul would not see, and he would not follow. He was such an obstinate creature that his creator had to blind him with a bright light and knock him off his horse to get him to change his ways, to get him to try it a new way.

In our text this morning, we see that the creator had to get creative with another obstinate creature. The thing is, even as the earliest Jewish followers of Christ were being persecuted and ostracized by their own people, the early Christians were resistant to sharing the love and life of Christ with people who were not Jewish. The leader of these early Christians was obstinate about keeping the purity of his faith. Peter would not could not see that God had called Christ as Messiah for everyone. Peter did not like them here or there, he did not like gentiles anywhere. The creator had to send his obstinate creature a vision, and then a person, to help re-create the way Peter saw things. God had to come to Peter in the form of this vision and with the person of Cornelius, a gentile, a Roman, a Roman Army officer, to show Peter that everyone was in, and that the love of God knows no boundaries or borders.

The voice of the Great-I-am is not so different than that of Sam-I-am. God tackles our obstinacy with the same vigor that Sam-I-am tackled the obstinacy of the furry creature in the tall hat. "You do not like them. So you say. Try them! Try them! And you may. Try them and you may, I say." The call of God to peace, love, and life will not be muffled. The Great-I-am will be heard. Our creator is just as much of a pest to us about our prejudice, violence, narrowness, and bigotry, as Sam-I-am is about green eggs and ham. Just as Sam-I-am tries to wear the obstinate furry creature down, God attempts to do the same with God's obstinate creatures.

I tell the story often about us and our process of becoming Open and Affirming. Mayflower had been a friendly, loving congregation for decades, but the idea of being explicitly Open and Affirming towards gays and lesbians was scary for many of our members. As we spoke about the reality of welcoming wholeheartedly gays and lesbians into our congregation, some of our members brought up different fears. One elderly member innocently brought up a question about whether or not our kids would be safe if we became Open and Affirming. There was a silence in the meeting. It was an innocent question that carried years and years of bigoted stereotypes. Mark Whitley broke the silence. He addressed the member by name, and then said "I'm Gay." The woman stared at her friend as the rest of us sat in silence. Mark had been a loving presence to her for years, and had served her church faithfully as the organist for a decade. It was an uncomfortable moment that felt much longer than it actually was. Finally, this elderly woman looked around the room with relief and stated, "Well, I guess it will be alright then." A few weeks later we voted unanimously to be Open and Affirming to all people.

The issue of immigration and immigrants is another hot button issue that exposes our tendency towards obstinacy. On Friday I signed a petition about immigrants and immigration reform. I am not an expert on this issue, and I know that it is complicated and multi-sided. I also know that good, conscientious people disagree with me on the issue. I am pretty sure that a few of you may be those good, conscientious people. However, I hope that all of us can agree with the beginning paragraph of this three paragraph petition which reads: "As a Christian, I believe my faith calls me to view all people, regardless of citizenship status, as made in the "image of God" and deserving of respect; to show compassion for the stranger and love and mercy for my neighbor; and to balance the rule of law with the call to oppose unjust laws and systems when they violate human dignity." I believe with all of my heart that our creator longs for us to treat all of his creatures with love, respect, compassion, and dignity. I believe that this longing by our creator challenges all of our obstinacy, and calls us to let down our guard, drop our boundaries, and remove any assumptions that we make about our fellow creatures that she has also created. God is as pesky a pest as Sam-I-am. God will knock you off your horse. God will send Cornelius, or some kind of strange vision like Peter's. God will send you a Mark Whitley or a person that has been simply labeled as illegal. The Great-I-am will wear you down, just like Sam-I-am wore down our fellow obstinate creature with green eggs and ham or should I say verde huevos y jamon. The love of our creator knows no limits, boundaries, or borders. Thank you! Thank you! Great-I-am!

April 25, 2010
Psalm 23
23:1 The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want.
23:2 He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters;
23:3 he restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name's sake.
23:4 Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff-- they comfort me.
23:5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
23:6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD my whole life long.
This is a tough passage to preach. It is the one that virtually all of us know by heart (at least the King James Version). It is also a passage of scripture that many of us hold dear because it was read and quoted during the memorials of our love ones, during some of the most tender points in our lives. During difficult times it is good to hear and realize that we are being led and that we are not alone. When we feel lost in our grief and sorrow, it is good to know that we are being led to green pastures, still waters, comfort, and protection. During the times that we are burnt out and empty, it is inspiring to know that our plates are full and that we drink from an overflowing cup. The goodness and mercy of the 23rd Psalm dwells with us when we wonder if we have any other company however we don't often recite this passage on Easter season Sundays when our lives are full and tough times are in our rear-view mirror.

For most of us, most of the time, we try to do everything possible to prove that we are in charge. The idea that we are sheep is beneath us, too primitive, too dated. We are masters of our own destiny and creators of our own path. We feel no need to be led and have no desire for a shepherd. That makes us interesting creatures doesn't it? We can roam through the fields on our own with no need for a protector, until danger comes, and then we are all too happy to have a shepherd. We shall not want, until we need to be led, fed, and restored.

I am sure that it was easy for the ancients to embrace the idea of being sheep with a shepherd. They never had the freedom to choose their own leaders. They were citizens of a rigid caste social order. They were not as free to choose who they followed as we are, so we can't be held to the same sort of herd mentality as they were. Right? We are free to feel obligated to a shepherdess when we are helpless and to completely avoid her call when we have everything under control. Everyone needs a shepherd now and again, but all of the time? That's just plain needy. So in essence, our faith becomes a sort of 911 call for tea partiers, and there is nothing wrong with that. Right? Everyone is entitled to emergency services.

It is important for a preacher to keep up with current events and popular culture. Due to this vocational necessity, I recently began following our local sports franchises. One of the things that I notice in my new found hobby is the pervasive interest in the head coaches of these teams. Mike Shanahan, Josh McDaniels, Bill McCartney, Dan Hawkins, Clint Hurdle, and George Karl have been just a few of the coaches of our area teams who have gotten a lot of press and provoked a bunch of talk. Coach Karl of the Nuggets has been the main focus of this chatter lately. As many of you are aware, Karl is battling throat cancer. The announcement of his diagnosis came in mid-February. Since then he has been undergoing radiation and chemotherapy treatments and has taken leave from the team. One of the things that I have found interesting about this situation is how indispensable Coach Karl has suddenly become to the Nuggets players. In the six years that George Karl has been with the Nuggets he has been at odds and heavily criticized by several of his players. Kenyon Martin had to be benched during the playoffs one year, Carmello Anthony was suspended for not coming out of a game, Renaldo Balkman is often deactivated because he won't listen to the coach, and J.R. Smith and Karl recently went a year without speaking to each other. Yet now that the Nuggets are struggling to win against teams that are far less talented than they, to a player, every member of the team blames his lack of cohesiveness and under-performance to the absence of his coach.

We aren't much different than the spoiled professional athletes that we root for. We love to be able to dictate how we are led and choose when we will follow. We love our politicians when they agree with us and vote the way we want them to, but when we don't agree with them and things don't go our way, we want them out of office as soon as possible. So when a shepherd starts calling us to places we would rather not go, we are used to deciding which pasture we feel like lying in.

If we are to take the Bible seriously, the Lord is in charge, the Lord is our shepherd. God leads, we follow. This type of discipleship takes complete submission and utter confidence in our shepherd. It is also a full-time gig. Life as sheep who follow a shepherd is not something we can turn on and off. We are not permitted to decide which excursions we will go on with our shepherd, we just go where and when the shepherd leads. The life of a sheep with free choice and a creative, discerning mind takes discipline. It takes devotion. It takes a willingness to follow the direction that the voice of the shepherdess calls us to and a sense of trust that the sacred destination we are being led to is more bountiful than the places we would go on our own. God is our maker. God wants nothing to harm us. God is pulling for us to display the best of ourselves and give the most of ourselves. The sheep/shepherd metaphor is a limited one, because we are much more than sheep and the Lord is much more than a shepherd. However, this metaphor points to the decision to let God lead and for us to follow with full vigor and submission. This complete devotion is the crux of faith and discipleship, and at the very heart of who we are as human beings and Christians. True discipleship is a full-time vocation, and involves being led all of that full-time.

April 18, 2010

Acts 9:1-6, (7-20)
9:1 Meanwhile Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest
9:2 and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem.
9:3 Now as he was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him.
9:4 He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?"
9:5 He asked, "Who are you, Lord?" The reply came, "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.
9:6 But get up and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do."
9:7 The men who were traveling with him stood speechless because they heard the voice but saw no one.
9:8 Saul got up from the ground, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing; so they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus.
9:9 For three days he was without sight, and neither ate nor drank.
9:10 Now there was a disciple in Damascus named Ananias. The Lord said to him in a vision, "Ananias." He answered, "Here I am, Lord."
9:11 The Lord said to him, "Get up and go to the street called Straight, and at the house of Judas look for a man of Tarsus named Saul. At this moment he is praying,
9:12 and he has seen in a vision a man named Ananias come in and lay his hands on him so that he might regain his sight."
9:13 But Ananias answered, "Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem;
9:14 and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke your name."
9:15 But the Lord said to him, "Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel;
9:16 I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name."
9:17 So Ananias went and entered the house. He laid his hands on Saul and said, "Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit."
9:18 And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and his sight was restored. Then he got up and was baptized;
9:19 and after taking some food, he regained his strength. For several days he was with the disciples in Damascus,
9:20 and immediately he began to proclaim Jesus in the synagogues, saying, "He is the Son of God."

When many young Native Americans are ready they go on a a vision quest, a personal, spiritual quest alone in the wilderness. It is a time of fasting, solitude, and the beginning of a lifelong journey of spiritual vocation. For millions of Eastern Asians, there is the "Tao" which is usually rendered in English as road, channel, path, or way. In Jewish law, there is the Halakhah (huh-luhkh-khuh), literally the path that one walks. The "path" of the Halakhah is the complete body of rules and practices that faithful Jews are bound to follow, including biblical commandments, rabbinical dictates, and binding customs. The life of a Hindu is divided into four Ashramas, or stages of life. In these stages, one journeys from a novice to eventually becoming an ascetic, when one renounces all worldly attachments to contemplatively find the Divine through detachment from worldly life and peacefully shed the physical body for moksha, eternal freedom. One of the fundamental pillars of Islam is the Hajj. The physical pilgrimage to Mecca that every physically and financially able Muslim must make at least once in his or her lifetime. The first followers of Christ called themselves "the Way". Similar to all of the other religions just described and most others on earth, the early followers of Christ saw themselves as pilgrims on a journey toward a new plane of existence and awareness. Luke, the author of the Gospel and the book of Acts (which Ken read from this morning), fills his writings with the image of a journey and metaphors of what it means to follow Christ-a risen Lord who takes us from where we were, and where we are to a new place where we could not and would not go without his call and his leading (portions of this introduction are inspired and lifted from the commentary on Acts by William Willimon).

As spiritual people on a journey towards meaning, significance, community, and truth we follow the same voice and move in a similar "Way" as our Christian forebears (Remember the ancestors we traced on Easter morning?); and, we are much more like the pilgrims of other religions chasing their vision quest, following their path, and moving through their stages, than we sometimes realize. We are pilgrims on a journey, sojourners, listening for the voice of the Divine, to tell us where to go next and then moving in the direction it calls.
It is life in pursuit of the Holy and in response to the Spirit.

Saul was on a journey. He was following the path of the Halakhah. He was a true believer, punishing those who didn't truly believe in keeping strict adherence to the law of Jehovah. He believed that following the path the Lord had placed before him was leading him to be a soldier for the cause of purity and that any of the victims that were persecuted and/or killed were merely casualties of a Holy War. Saul was the latest sergeant in a long line of Israelite warriors who felt empowered to violence in defending the cause of righteousness on behalf of his people and their God. The terrorists that his holy commission sought to try, convict, and punish were the traitors of his faith. They were the Jewish followers of the Way of Jesus Christ, and Saul was making certain that they knew the errors of their Way. As Saul rode his trusty steed in the hunt of terrorist traitors in Damascus, he was knocked off his horse, and steered off his path by a light from heaven and the voice of the Lord Jesus Christ who was calling him to a new Way, and a different path. Saul would know no longer be Saul. As Paul, he would use the same vigor he once had for violence to pave the Way for the peace, love, and hope of Christ. The same man who had been the reaper of justice for the purity of the law would become the author of the fruits of the Spirit.

As people on a journey we know that sometimes we can convince ourselves that the path we are travelling is a Holy one, even when it's not. We can get so locked in to the road we are on that we don't realize, refuse to acknowledge that it is no longer the one we set out on, and that we have ceased being navigated by the call of the Holy One we were following. Sometimes we faithful pilgrims get lost on our journey of faith, and like Saul need to be knocked off of our high horse. As Flannery O'Connor once wrote of Paul, "I reckon the Lord knew that the only way to make a Christian out of that one was to knock him off his horse." Do you need to be knocked off of yours? I know that there have been many times that the Lord had to knock me off of mine.

Many of you know that I grew up in a very conservative religious home. Our church was even more fundamentalist than our home. In homes and churches like I grew up in, "homosexuality" was a sin and "homosexuals" were sinners. My indoctrination on this subject and others was confirmed by my experiences in school, with my friends, and on the teams that I was a member. The worst thing that you could do to your buddy was to insinuate that he was less than heterosexual. If you really wanted to get under some-one's skin, you would call him "gay" or a more hateful blatant phrase describing the same thing. I was homophobic and I knew very few people who weren't.

In college my bigotry stayed safe. Even as I studied theology and immersed myself in scripture, nothing that I read or experienced caused me to waver from my "Holy" path of homophobia. During and after college, I was gradually leaving behind the fundamentalism and biblical literalism of my youth, but my beliefs about homosexuality stayed with me.

A year and a half after college graduation, as I worked full-time as the Associate Minister of a large church, I started divinity school at T.C.U. in Ft. Worth, Texas. The seminary there is progressive, thoughtful, and very diverse. Suddenly, I was out of my element. I was around a majority who did not believe that Gays and Lesbians were sinners, and who were not bashful about their beliefs. I was uncomfortable and a bit angry. I could not accept that what they believed was godly or true. I struggled through my first semester. I made no friends. I kept to myself. It was one of the few times in my life that my social needs did not present problems for my academic pursuits. I was determined to go to class and get home, safely away from the crazy sinners that I found myself in class with. Like Saul, I thought, believed, had been convinced, and was convinced that the way I had been taught about this topic was right.

One day during my second semester I was sitting in a homiletics class, a preaching class, when a woman named Sara Smith stood up to preach. In this class, students would take turns preaching and then being evaluated in our preaching by the professor and the students in the class. Sara was a lesbian. In fact, she still is. She was very comfortable with this fact. I had thought that she should at least be discreet, but she wasn't. She was proud of who she was and didn't mind sharing her pride. The worst part about Sara for me, was that I really liked her. She was dynamic, kind, and funny. I didn't know what to make of this strange creature. As she stood in the pulpit and preached, the Holy Spirit of God breathed through her. I could feel God speaking to me as powerfully through her as I had ever experienced in my life, and as she spoke I was knocked off of my horse. During the five minutes of her sermon, my life changed. I had been marching down one path and the Lord abruptly changed my course. I was no longer homophobic, Gays and Lesbians were no longer sinners, and homosexuality was no longer a sin. I had experienced a sort of blinding light that made me see everything differently after that experience. Have you ever experienced anything like that? Have you ever been knocked off our your horse by God in a way that made you re-evaluate everything about yourself, including the destination of your journey?

Most of the time we are very skillful equestrians. God tries to knock us off of our horses and we become a trick rider like Texas Rose Bascom, or a bronco rider like Ty Murray. We stay on our course and on our horse no matter how blinding the light or how loud God's voice. I know I do. I try to cling to the reins of control with all of my might, because I am comfortable with the road that I travel and happy with my path. I am sure that you can identify with me in this, most all of us prefer to be easy riders. However, as pilgrims on our faithful sojourn the way is the Lord's, and we must be willing to let go of the reins and be knocked to the ground once in a while. What Flannery O'Connor wrote of Paul is certainly true for me and probably true for you, "I reckon the Lord knew that the only way to make a Christian out of that one was to knock him off his horse." Let go of the reins. It may be the only Way.

Easter 2010
Luke 24:1-12
24:1 But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared.
24:2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb,
24:3 but when they went in, they did not find the body.
24:4 While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them.
24:5 The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, "Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.
24:6 Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee,
24:7 that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again."
24:8 Then they remembered his words,
24:9 and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest.
24:10 Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles.
24:11 But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them.
24:12 But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.

Many of you have probably seen the new television show "Who Do You Think You Are?". It's on NBC on Friday nights. Each week, the show dramatically documents a particular celebrity's journey of discovery into his or her family history. Sarah and I have watched the show a couple times together (all of you who were here a few weeks ago know that this exercise is not as simple as it sounds). One of the episodes featured Emmitt Smith of football and dancing fame. His journey takes him from his home in Dallas, to his childhood home in Florida, to his great-great grandparents' home in Burnt Corn, Alabama. In Alabama, Smith is confronted with the sad realities of his ancestors' slavery and all of the violence, ugliness, and evil that went along with that type of oppression. He is brought to tears as he comes to realize the steep price that was paid by his ancestors. He weeps as he recognizes that he is standing on the shoulders of generations of ancestors who have elevated him to opportunity and stardom. It is a powerful moment, watching a superstar at the instant he becomes cognizant of the stuff from which he was made, and the people from whom he was formed. The episode that featured Lisa Kudrow of Friends fame was just as moving. Her climb through the Kudrow family tree brought her to Eastern Europe. The devastating story of her family includes a massacre by the Nazis in a small Jewish village in Belarus, where her family was among hundreds of Jewish villagers who were shot and then burned. Kudrow is shown walking on the grounds of these sites of horror, then standing at the location of her Great-Grandmother's grave. What was family history is brought home to her in the power of place. It is sad to watch and, obviously, much more so to experience. The Easter moment in the show comes when Kudrow has help in locating her father's cousin, who fled the village before the Holocaust, and escaped the tragedy which befell the rest of their family. As she hugs her elder relative, long thought to be dead, the joy of reunion is made even more poignant by the pain of loss. The only thing that could break up the power of such an emotional moment is Sarah turning to me and telling me to cry more softly so that she could hear what Lisa Kudrow was saying.

If we decided to do a "Who Do You Think You Are?" process here at Mayflower, I think that it would be pretty telling. We would learn about the people who made us who we are. We might travel to the hometowns of the families who started our congregation. I would imagine that some of these folks came here from the Midwest and that most came to Englewood from the Northeast. If we climbed even higher in our family tree, we would be able to trace ourselves back to England, back to the folks who took the risk to travel across the ocean on a ship they had named the Mayflower. As we looked at the trunk of the tree, we would see that it is Catholic, and as we dug deep into the roots, we would see a group of Jewish disciples of Jesus becoming the church of the risen Christ. They became the church of Easter because they believed in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, they believed that three days after Jesus was crucified, he rose from the dead and left the tomb. If we traced ourselves all the way to the roots of our family tree, we would find a faithful community of men, women, and children who were willing to believe and share their belief that Christ is risen!
Now, it may be difficult for us to believe that Jesus Christ physically conquered death. We may believe that Easter defies belief, but it is inarguable that we are standing on the shoulders of early Christians who by definition believed that the God of Israel raised Jesus from the dead. It doesn't matter who we think we are. Who we are is people born and bred by those who believed in the Resurrection. This belief caused them persecution, suffering, and even life itself. The Resurrection was their vocation and their mission. It was the water and soil that grew this tree that God planted centuries ago. The experience of the Resurrection caused Mary Magdelene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and Peter to scatter from the tomb and tell everyone that it was empty. Their encounter with Easter empowered their little community of faith to become a movement that would change the world and what the world believed was possible. These early believers were not "especially creative or imaginative" and were certainly not the sort of minds who would have any reason to concoct as unbelievable and unwelcome a thesis as the resurrection. Resurrection was not the perfect strategy for growth and was not the fastest way to make friends with their fellow Jewish folks or their Roman neighbors. The only reason to spread the news about the event that they had experienced on Easter and after was because they believed that God had done something in the resurrection that changed everything that we know about God and everything that we believe to be possible. (portions of paragraph allude to and quote sermon by William Willimon).

I believe that Jesus rose from the dead on Easter morning. I believe it because it makes sense to me. I don't believe that 400-500 people would conspire to tell a lie about an empty tomb and the appearances of a risen Christ, and "that these same liars would be willing to suffer and die for their" fabrication (Mickey Anders). I believe that the truth of the resurrection is the only way to explain the amazing belief and extraordinary behavior of the earliest community of Christ. I agree with the old preacher, who said, "The Gospels do not explain the Resurection; the Resurrection explains the Gospels" (J.S. Whale)".

Who do we think we are? When we start to dig, we inevitably find out that we are people of the Resurrection, people who are willing to spread the word about an unbelievable truth we can't help but believe. Now, I know that some of us have trouble accepting that the Resurrection is true. It is a tough thing to wrap your mind around. My question for the doubters is this: what if it is? What if Jesus really did rise from a tomb 2000 plus some years ago? What if the Resurrection is something that actually happened? What if it is true? This is a question that will keep us asking more questions and wondering if some things are possible that we were afraid to even hope for. Who do we think we are? We are people of the what if. We are people of the Resurrection. We are people of Easter.

Good Friday 2010
Psalm 22

1My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?

2O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest.

3Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel.

4In you our ancestors trusted; they trusted, and you delivered them.

5To you they cried, and were saved; in you they trusted, and were not put to shame.

6But I am a worm, and not human; scorned by others, and despised by the people.

7All who see me mock at me; they make mouths at me, they shake their heads;

8“Commit your cause to the Lord; let him deliver— let him rescue the one in whom he delights!”

9Yet it was you who took me from the womb; you kept me safe on my mother’s breast.

10On you I was cast from my birth, and since my mother bore me you have been my God.

11Do not be far from me, for trouble is near and there is no one to help.

12Many bulls encircle me, strong bulls of Bashan surround me;

13they open wide their mouths at me, like a ravening and roaring lion.

14I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted within my breast;

15my mouth is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to my jaws; you lay me in the dust of death.

16For dogs are all around me; a company of evildoers encircles me. My hands and feet have shriveled;

17I can count all my bones. They stare and gloat over me;

18they divide my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots.

19But you, O Lord, do not be far away! O my help, come quickly to my aid!

20Deliver my soul from the sword, my life from the power of the dog!

21Save me from the mouth of the lion! From the horns of the wild oxen you have rescued me.

22I will tell of your name to my brothers and sisters; in the midst of the congregation I will praise you:

23You who fear the Lord, praise him! All you offspring of Jacob, glorify him; stand in awe of him, all you offspring of Israel!

24For he did not despise or abhor the affliction of the afflicted; he did not hide his face from me, but heard when I cried to him.

25From you comes my praise in the great congregation; my vows I will pay before those who fear him.

26The poor shall eat and be satisfied; those who seek him shall praise the Lord. May your hearts live forever!

27All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord; and all the families of the nations shall worship before him.

28For dominion belongs to the Lord, and he rules over the nations.

29To him, indeed, shall all who sleep in the earth bow down; before him shall bow all who go down to the dust, and I shall live for him.

30Posterity will serve him; future generations will be told about the Lord,

31and proclaim his deliverance to a people yet unborn, saying that he has done it.

As we read Psalm 22 together, we all probably noticed that it is the source of Jesus' most famous question: "My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?" It is the troubling question we know from Matthew and Mark's Gospels. "Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachtani?" It is the question that rumbles through us because it is a question we have asked God ourselves on behalf Jesus and countless other innocents. God, why have you abandoned Jesus? Why wouldn't you rescue the one that showed complete faithfulness? How would you allow your own son to be persecuted, suffer, and die in such a violent and painful way? As we sometimes fearfully ask the question, we are troubled that there is no answer. We are hurt that as Jesus cries, God is silent. We ask this question at other times as well. Why Haiti? Why would you allow an earthquake to devastate the devastated? God, why do you allow innocent children to be molested? God, why do you allow terrible tragedies to happen to the good and allow evil people to live long healthy lives? God, why do you forsake the children of the poor and the mothers of the stillborn? These are dark, dirty, and difficult questions. But, they are questions that we all have to ask. "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" It is a tough question to ask, it is a question that the psalmist asked, one that Jesus asked, and one that Christians and Jews have asked for millenia. It is a question that our children will continue to ask, as will their children. I think that Frederick Buechner is right when he states that "if you take three facts, God is good, God is great, and the innocent suffer, you can only reconcile two of those. You can never, ever reconcile all three. The Bible never gives an answer."

My tendency is to point out all of the ways that God answers our questions and to move quickly to the Easter. I would love to say that Easter and the resurrection answer all of our questions satisfactorily. But it doesn't, and I can't pretend that it does; neither can you. Resurrection does not undo death, pain, and suffering. The glory of God does not erase the terrible suffering of innocent children and entire nations of hungry hurting people. Good Friday and all that it represents is brutal. It is just pain, suffering, and abandonment. Today Jesus cries out for the presence of God, but God does not answer.

Easter will come. But, today Jesus is not leaving the tomb empty; he is hanging on a cross. To jump ahead to Easter is an unfaithful, superficial denial of the suffering and painful abandonment that Jesus experienced on this day 2000 years ago. Why God abandoned Jesus, why God seems to abandon the poor people of Haiti, Darfur, and Denver are questions that only God can answer. Shouldn't God have to answer for these things? Shouldn't God be accountable for these evils? I know that these questions may seem heretical to some of us. But, if you have suffered through the extreme pain of loss, and if you have called out to God and heard no answer, then you know that these questions come from the depths of faith calling out for the one we need the most. My God! My God! Please answer me! Please respond! Please don't forsake me! Please don't abandon me!

The silence of God on Good Friday is deafening. God's voice will speak and Easter will come; just not today.

Lenten 5
John 12:1-8
12:1 Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead.
12:2 There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him.
12:3 Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
12:4 But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said,
12:5 "Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?"
12:6 (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.)
12:7 Jesus said, "Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.
12:8 You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me."

At the end of many evenings, after the kids have bathed and gone to bed, after we have picked up around the house, cleaned the kitchen, and put our pajamas on; Sarah and I will plop down on the couch and watch television. One of the things that typically happens to us as we sit together relaxing at the end of the day is that we get annoyed with each other. We watch every show on Tivo, digitally pre-recorded. The first program we generally watch is CBS News with Katie Couric. This is when the annoyance almost always starts, and it is almost always Sarah's annoyance. As we watch the news. I enjoy becoming part of the commentary. I enjoy giving my two cents about the news of the day, especially about the news that I don't believe really is news. Sarah does not enjoy my enjoyment. As I state my opinion, Sarah tells me to "Be Quiet", "Hush", "SHHH!", and finally "Would you shut up!". Even when I shut up and merely sigh or roll my eyes, Sarah will still tell me to "Stop it!". Of course, on the next stop on our annoyance train Sarah takes the engineer's seat. After the news we'll watch a Sunday night HBO series like Big Love. As we watch Big Love, Sarah will go upstairs and grab her laptop then comeback down, get a drink from the kitchen and sit down just as the plot thickens. "Who is that?" she questions. "That's his wife," I reply. "Which one?" "Nicki, the conservative one." "Wow!" she says. "What did she do to her hair?" "I don't know, would you be quiet?" "Oh, now you want quiet!" "Is that her sister?" Sarah The Tenacious continues. I shake my head, she rolls her eyes, and the end of the day relaxation regime continues. Of course, then we turn off the television. Retreat to the parlor. Have an hour long session of prayer time and praise songs, and then do healthy couples communication exercises together.

All of us know something similar to this experience. Whether it is a partner, spouse, parent, or friend. We know the ongoing dialogue of television and movie watching with somebody else. We also know the feeling of having a running narration as we are trying to let the story unfold on its own. In the Gospel of John, as the story unfolds, John the gospel writer continually interjects as a "psst, you don't want to miss this part" companion.

In our reading this morning, John interupts his gospel story foreshadowing what is to come. He wants to point the listener towards the garden where Jesus was betrayed and arrested, John wants to set the stage, to help us to focus our attention on the coming tragedy.
12:4 But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said,
12:5 "Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?"
12:6 (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.)
John's interruptions were helpful for the first listeners, for those who were still looking for someone to blame for Jesus' death. The problem with this is that generations later Judas Iscariot became the only villain and a justification for anti-semitic stereotypes about Jews. As Christianity became more European and less and less Jewish, Judas somehow or other became the only Jewish person in the New Testament. By the fifteen century European artists made sure that Judas was depicted with over the top racist caricature. These medieval paintings show Judas with a money bag, hooked nose, and exaggerated grotesque features. While every other subject in these paintings look like handsome Italian, French, Dutch, or Germanic disciples of Jesus Christ the Anglo-Saxon. The anti-semitic stereotypes about money, betrayal, and shrewdness were all perpetuated in the artistic depictions of Judas. jhom.com/topics/color/judas.htm These hate filled depictions were not exclusively for artists. Theologians, Priests, and Popes perpetuated the racist malice that fueled a series of genocides throughout Christian Europe, culminating with the Holocaust. It is funny how hate works. Not ha ha funny, but, devastatingly sad funny. Why don't people generalize that Jews walk on water, commit courageous acts of self-sacrifice, and feed thousands of people with a few fish? The truth is that as we read the New Testament, we are reading one side of an argument between Jewish people in conflict about the direction of their religion. As John interupts the story to point out who Judas is and what he ends up doing, he wants to make sure that everyone knows that Judas is on the opposing side, that Judas is the villain who is part of the villainous opposition.

However, painting Judas in black and white does little for us. If Judas is only the plotting betrayer, pilfering money from the coffers of Jesus and his fellow disciples, then all we have is a scoundrel. We won't learn a thing. Seeing the world in black and white never teaches you anything. A polarized world is fine if you are Keith Olberman, Glenn Beck, or one of those Social Justice Christian Marxists. But, for the rest of us, the world isn't simply occupied by sharply opposing factions. For the rest of us, the world is full of gray, yellow, blue, red, orange, and purple. With this in mind, Judas Iscariot becomes a human being who has to be given a second chance, who deserves a new look.

You have to wonder what led Judas to betrayal. He wouldn't have set out with Jesus, leaving his whole life behind, knowing that he would ultimately double-cross him (so to speak). Judas had to have felt that Jesus had misled him. He had signed up with a Messiah who was going to take the world by force. But, as the journey continued, Judas could see that Jesus would only be taking the world by charity and love. Judas felt as if he had been sold a bill of goods. He was convinced that Jesus was the chosen one, the one who would restore Israel and her people to prominence and out of slavery. He was to be the new Moses, the deliverer, but as it turns out all he was doing was delivering money to the poor, healing to the sick, and food to the hungry. Judas felt betrayed by Jesus. Judas felt as if Jesus was leading them all astray, and he would be the one who had the courage to stand up and do something about it. Judas knew that the other eleven disciples felt the same way as he did. He heard the arguments, the confusion every time Jesus moved further into Gentile territory, and every time he upset the religious authorities. Judas didn't feel great about what he was doing to Jesus, but someone had to do something. He had his reasons.

Of course, betrayal is always a process. You don't start out in bed with your colleague. The betrayal of an affair begins with feelings of resentment and justification. It begins when you feel as if the other doesn't understand you or has taken you for granted. Unfaithfulness gets started with small deceits, subtle digs, and willful delusions. Betrayal gains momentum with a drink after work, or a secret facebook friending. As the steps of betrayal are walked, there are pathstones of justification all along the way. We convince ourselves that every action by our offender are intentional sins committed against us. We just know that we are victims of malicious intent, and this knowledge fuels our justification for our own acts of betrayal.

This process of betrayal isn't unique to extra-marital affairs. It is the same series of poisonous actions that justifies our disloyalty in friendships, dishonesty in our business dealings, and our failures as parents. Betrayal is a gradual buy-in to the excuses of evil. A slow attempt to validate decisions we know are wrong.

If Judas is just a villain, what do we learn from him? We all must examine our own ability to betray. We all must be honest about the seeds of betrayal that are planted within us. As our Lenten journey turns sharply towards Jerusalem, we must examine the darkness that dwells within us all. Remember, our time in this Lenten wilderness is to prepare ourselves for the transformation that God offers at Easter. If we don't acknowledge our capacity for evil, and our propensity towards self-justification, then our preparation is incomplete, and our transformation becomes something of a temporary makeover.

John's interuptions may help us see who Judas really is. But, do they help us to see ourselves for who we are? A surrender to the Holy includes total self-disclosure, and complete submission to God. Emptying ourselves of the seeds of betrayal are a necessity for this process, a prerequisite for the transformation which awaits us.

I should mention that as offended as we all should be about the historical depictions of Judas Iscariot, there is one physical characteristic that many artists have attributed to him that seems worth noting. In Medieval paintings, Judas Iscariot is often rendered as a red head. While I know that it is not right to be prejudiced against people for how they look...Every evening, as I sit in front of the television and try to enjoy my own running commentary of the news...I have to wonder if those artists were on to something.

SERMON LENT THREE "EVERYONE WHO THIRSTS"

Isaiah 55:1-9
55:1 Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.
55:2 Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food.
55:3 Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live. I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David.
55:4 See, I made him a witness to the peoples, a leader and commander for the peoples.
55:5 See, you shall call nations that you do not know, and nations that do not know you shall run to you, because of the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, for he has glorified you.
55:6 Seek the LORD while he may be found, call upon him while he is near;
55:7 let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the LORD, that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.
55:8 For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD.
55:9 For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.

As the prophet Isaiah announces and describes this grand feast for his people, I can hear the voice of the announcers on the TV commercials full of exclamations whetting our appetites for the amazing meals we aren't supposed to refuse. It seems that most every chain is offering a three course meal for $9.99 right now. Applebees, TGI Fridays, Black Eyed Pea, and all of the others offer us their tantalizing, honey-smoked, marinated, grilled, mesquite, wood-fired, apple-kissed, bacon-wrapped, butter melt, Chicken, Steak, Rib-plate. And that's just the main course. These meals sound like an amazing deal at an unbelievable price if you have never eaten at Applebees. Otherwise, these meals are just dinners at a chain restaurant at a more fair price, not the irresistible feasts promoted by the perpetual ads on every program that seem only to move us to watch PBS. For those of us living in excess, announcements of a feast that would be irresistable to most everyone else who lives or has lived on earth, is just an interuption of our television program.
The meal Isaiah is offering is free, and the folks he is offering it to are more hungry than any of us. Food was scarce and water was a commodity for the exiled Israelites whom Isaiah prophesied. For these folks who have been separated from their homeland and are slaves to their oppressors, the idea that their money is no good at the feast with water, wine, milk, and rich food has to be overwhelming, too good to be true. Everything that they are being offered seems out of reach. Fresh water for the exiled in ancient Babylon was something that you had to work for, drawing from a well you had to dig yourself. Good wine was something for celebrations or not at all, and milk was just about as scarce for these people as wine. Rich food was the thing dreams were made of for the poor ancient exiles. Anthropologists tell us that malnutrition was one of the greatest blights on the people of biblical times. The shortage of food and water was a deadly reality for them. The Bible is full of food and food metaphors because food was constantly on the mind of these underfed folks. So as the prophet uses his megaphoned descriptors of abundance, these folks, who know only scarcity, perk up their ears.

Some of us here know the allure of a free meal. Some of us don't. When Denny's advertises a free breakfast on the Tuesday after the Super Bowl, people who live in scarcity lick their lips. People who live with surplus barely notice the ad. If pressed, people who have access to plenty of food would tell you that they don't like Denny's, or they would question the nutritional value of the Grand Slam Breakfast. People living without just get there early to stand in line.

Many of you were at the Country Buffet a few months ago when we hosted the Bishop Elementary students we work with each week in the Smart program. Now, I am sure that some of the kids we read with have plenty of food at home; but, some of them were dumbstruck and mesmerized as they stared at the platters of food laid out at the buffet. It was a sensory overload for them, and a stark reminder for those of us who witnessed the impact that the abundance of food had on them.

It is important for us to recognize to whom Isaiah's invitation is addressed. The "To" line on this invitation is for "Everyone who thirsts" and "Everyone who has no money." This may present some problems for some of us who are hoping to attend the event. It could be problematic for we who are full. To be invited to the feast we have to count ourselves among those who thirst and hunger. We must thirst for the water, wine, and milk of abundance that only God can provide. We must hunger for the rich food that only God can prepare. In order to partake of God's sustenance we cannot be full. We cannot be so full of ourselves that we believe that we are providing for our own needs. We cannot ignore the creative power who provides everything for all the beings of creation. We cannot be so arrogant that the idea of a free feast of God's abundance registers for us the same way that a free Grand Slam Breakfast at Denny's or even a three course $9.99 meal does. If we can't or won't acknowledge that we are among the needy and that our needs can only be filled by God and God's people, we have no need for the feast we are invited to. This is why the Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness to fast. He chose to make himself hungry so that he would long for the rich food of God. He chose to make himself thirsty so that he would crave Holy water. The Lenten season is for us to follow the lead of our Messiah. It is a time of wilderness preparation that allows us to be hungry, and thirsty enough for the abundance and transformation God offers. It is an offer we have to be humble enough to accept. God's feast is for the hungry and thirsty. Are you too full to partake? This table is set for all who hunger, this cup is for all who thirst. Will you come to the table of God?

Sermon for Lent 2: February 28, 2010
Rev. Dr. Paul Leon Ramsey,

"What Did We Expect?"

Luke 13:31-35
13:31 At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, "Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you."
13:32 He said to them, "Go and tell that fox for me, 'Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work.
13:33 Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.'
13:34 Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!
13:35 See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, 'Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.'"

Recently, I described my sermon preparation process. I talked about selecting the text and then looking at artwork inspired by that text, reading different scholars' commentaries and journal articles concerning the subject, reading blogs and sermons by preachers, and then letting things percolate for a few days before I start writing. This week, as I managed the varied reactions from last Sunday's Congregational Meeting, I found it difficult to pour myself into my normal sermon process. My attention was intermittently interrupted by my own thoughts about last Sunday's meeting (I also found myself interrupted by your thoughts about the meeting as well). Each week, my sermon is the most important thing I do vocationally. It is from this pulpit that I set and keep the path for us each week, and every week. So, a week after the most passionate Congregational Meeting that we've had at Mayflower since the first Congregational Meeting I was present for, I realized that I can't set the path for us if I don't do my best to make sure that we are all heading in the same direction. Sometimes the diversion has to become the path. With this in mind, as the pathfinder, I had to slow down to make sure all of us are still up for the journey, and ready to move forward together.

Most all of us have been on a group hike. Whether it was at summer camp or with a group of friends or scouts, we know the figurative and literal ups and downs of a group hike. We know that on these excursions the best and worst of each individual usually comes out. Often the best and worst are the same thing. At the beginning of the hike, you kind of block out Bobby the Botanist, but when you leave the trail momentarily to relieve yourself, his voice comes through loud and clear. "You are about to pee in poison ivy," suddenly the know it all knows it all. Funny George is hilarious at the beginning of the hike. But three hours in, his General Larry Platt Pants On The Ground routine isn't quite as comical. Thorough Thelma is pretty annoying as she stalls everyone at the trailhead going over her alphabetical packing list, making sure that she had absolutely everything in her pack from aspirin to zinc oxide. But four hours in, as everyone is snacking on her trail mix, she doesn't seem so irritating. This is the reality of every journey. When we are journeying with other people, there are as many personalities as there are people, and each of those people have strengths and weaknesses. At Mayflower, we are several hours into our journey, and I believe that we are experiencing one of the most difficult parts of every climb; we are experiencing the false summit.

We have all experienced the false summit phenomenon at some point or another on a hike. This is when you've been climbing all day up the mountain. Your hamstrings are knotting up. You are hungry, thirsty, sweaty, and the altitude has begun to give you a bit of a headache. You can see what looks like the peak just around the next corner and you know that you'll be there in a minute or two. You have started to think about how it will feel to take your shoes off, rest a second, and then make your way back down the mountain. But just as you reach what seemed to be the peak, you sadly realize that it is not actually the summit. It is a false summit. The actual peak stands behind and above it and might as well be 100 miles away. The realization makes you angry, frustrated, deflated, disappointed, and very, very tired. And, just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, Funny George has started his damned Clara Peller "Where's The Beef?" imitation. And you thought that the altitude was giving you a headache.

At the false summit, you have to weigh your options. Do you gut it out and decide to power through to the true peak? Do you settle in at the false summit and pretend that this was as far as you planned on going? Or do you turn around and go home resigned to disappointment and fatigue?

I believe that some of us set up Access Mayflower as a false summit. We convinced ourselves that once we raised enough money, got the new tower up and the building renovated, we would reach Point B, the only destination we had on our map. The problem is, once we got to Point B, we realized that our map was only one page in God's atlas. We thought that we had given it all we had to get to Point B only to discover upon our arrival that Points C, D, and E were still up the trail. It is difficult to make the emotional transition to this reality. When we fixate on one point or destination, we are setting ourselves up for disappointment because this journey that we are on is about the journey, not the destination. We are intuitively responding to the One who creates the trail, who makes the path; our job is to go where it leads. This new reality still involves the cast of characters we set out with -- Funny George, Thorough Thelma, Bobby the Botanist, Prayer Chain Carolyn, Moderator Heather, Newcomer Pat, Red Headed Annabelle, Baby Park, Music Director Gina, Helpful John, and Pastor Paul. To believe that we were going on a lazy Sunday walk is naive at best. To believe that we would all get along perfectly and agree on every topic is not realistic.

Remember last week? I am not asking about the meeting, but the Gospel reading. Jesus, full of the Spirit, was led by the Spirit into the wilderness where he confronted his own fear, doubt, reluctance, personal demons, and the ever present longing for self-protection and preservation. In the wilderness Jesus faced the evil temptation of complacency, of close enough being good enough and far enough. In the wilderness Jesus came to realize that if he were to be the one God was calling him to be and choosing him to be, he had to be willing to go all the way. The mirage of a false summit would not tempt Jesus. Jesus chose to prepare himself to be transformed by the Holy, and he was willing to push through the excruciating moments of silence, hunger, and thirst in order to get to the level of complete spiritual awareness that would allow God to transform him. Remember? God will not hold an unwilling hostage, and God will not force any of us up the trail if we refuse to go.

Jesus could have chosen to go back at any point. He could have stopped at Point A, B, or C. But he didn't stop until he got to the cross. When the Pharisees came to Jesus and told him that Herod wanted to kill him, Jesus could have packed it in. He could have easily told himself and everybody else that this was his stop. That he was getting of here. That he had reached the summit. But he didn't. He kept walking all the way to Jerusalem, all the way to "the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!" He sensed what was on the path before him, and he kept walking anyway.

As we climb together, we will wonder together about the path we are travelling. We will laugh together, and we will get annoyed with the sounds of each other's laugh. Some of us will want to rest longer than others from time to time; some of us will want to look at our compass, and some of us will have questions about where our guide is taking us. There will be concerns about the pace we are travelling and the risks of the terrain. But all that comes with the territory and is the nature of any community climb. The climb will not always be arduous. In fact, we all know that most of the time it isn't. Most of the time there is laughter, hugs, baptisms, hymns of praise, game nights, Service Saturdays, SMART, First Sundays, Prayers of the People, and children singing Jesus Loves Me, choir practice, grieving together, remembering the saints, the Communion Meal, and news of Dave quitting cigarettes.

The Spirit will lead us into and out of the wilderness. The Spirit will lead us to deeper meaning and closer relationships. The Spirit of God that led Jesus Christ on his journey is leading us as well, and the Spirit who transformed him is transforming us as well. Committing to the journey is committing to the Spirit, and the Spirit will lead us to true authenticity and transformation. We are not to the summit yet, but we will get there...together.

February 21, Lenten 1 Sermon: "Competing Allegiances"
Luke 4:1-13
Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, 2where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. 3The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” 4Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’” 5Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. 6And the devil said to him, “To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. 7If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” 8Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’” 9Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, 10for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,’ 11and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” 12Jesus answered him, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” 13When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.

Now that we find ourselves in the midst of the Lenten season, it is important that we remind ourselves of the point of Lent. It can easy for us to forget the point of what we're doing and why we are doing it. With Lent, it is easy to get fixated on what the we are giving up or what we are adding adding on. But what we are doing is not the point. Taking one of our habits, addictions, weaknesses, or soft spots and deciding that for 40 days we are giving it up for Lent is easy. I know that this may sound callous to those of us who are experiencing jitters because we don't have our daily caffeine running through our systems. It may sound harsh to those of us who are a bit shaky because we have suspended our nicotine use. The idea that giving up our chocolate, fried food, meat, alcohol, or internet is easy may sound ludicrous to those of us who are four days in and experiencing symptoms of withdrawal. But, in spite of our protests, I maintain my premise, that these acts of self-denial are easy compared to really getting to the point of Lent. The point of Lent is not self-denial. Self-denial can be part of the Lenten process, but it is not the essence. Self-sacrifice is only scratching the itch on the surface. The point of Lent is significantly more difficult to put your finger on.

After the heavens were opened upon his baptism at the river Jordan, Jesus was moved by the Spirit into the wilderness for forty days and nights. He wasn't led by the Spirit to this lonely place to see if he could give up red wine, olive oil, and baklava for six weeks. He was led there to prepare himself in solitude for all of the temptation, suffering, betrayal, self-doubt, God-doubt, trauma, loss, criticism, loneliness, rejection, sleeplessness, isolation, disappointment, physical abuse, and torture he would inevitably experience if he believed the words God breathed through the broken clouds upon his baptism at the river Jordan. If Jesus believed that he was God's son, the beloved, with whom God was well pleased, then Jesus of Nazareth would have to spend some time alone in the wilderness confronting his own fear, doubt, reluctance, personal demons, and the ever present longing for self-protection and preservation. If Jesus of Nazareth was to be transformed by the divine Spirit into Jesus the Christ, he would have to prepare himself for the transformation. He would have to ready himself by answering the tests that only come in being by himself.

In the wilderness Jesus faced the evil temptation of complacency, of close enough being good enough. But, close enough wasn't far enough for Jesus. He knew that if he were to be the one God was calling him to be and choosing him to be, he had to be willing to go all the way. Jesus had to be willing to fight through the voices that were attempting to interupt his destiny. Jesus had to stare the tempting faces of self-preservation, self-adulation, self-pity, and all the other self-motivated human tendencies in the eye and choose to the Holy. Jesus chose to be transformed by the Holy. He had to be willing to push through the excruciating moments of silence, hunger, and thirst in order to get to the level of complete spiritual awareness and surrender that gives God permission to take over because God will not hold an unwilling hostage. The transformation that God offers only comes when we relinquish control to the divine.

As we watch the Olympics this week, we will see amazing athletic accomplishment. We will also see human beings who have completely surrendered their lives to their sport. We will watch stories, vignettes of young men and young women who have gotten up every morning virtually every day of their lives to run, lift, skate, ski, and cross train in relentless pursuit of their goal. We will see parents standing in the stands or in the shadows of the slope watching with unwavering focus as their child performs for the world the activity that the parents have witnessed for years in private. Many of these athletes are physically gifted in ways that most of us are not. All of these athletes are dedicated to their sport in ways that all of us are not. These are people who are willing to fight through the internal voices of pain, thirst, hunger, pain, and exhaustion to convince their bodies that their physical needs are irrelevant. These are people who are willing to fight through the external voices of friends, parents, girlfriends, boyfriends, and teachers to convince these people that their social needs are extraneous.

However, there is a huge difference between Jesus' mystical test in the wilderness and the Olympic athletes' training regimen. For the athlete, his training leads him to sweet dreams of gold on a podium. For Jesus, the tests prepares him for the bitter reality of a cross on a hill. Jesus' time in the wilderness was not an act of self-denial. It was a deliberate choice of self-preparation to the voice of God calling him into the depth of human need and sacred surrender. His time in the wilderness let him discern what he really wanted to do and what he truly needed to do. It let him listen more closely to his own voice deep down beneath the other tempting voices that told him comfort and control were deep enough. His time in the wilderness allowed him to go to the depths of his essence where God was living in his soul waiting to be invited to take over and transform. I believe that God is waiting in the depth of our souls as well, with the creative power of loving transformation. The point of Lent is preparing ourselves to say yes to that transformative power.

The point of Lent is not self-denial. The point of Lent is participating in spiritual activities and disciplines in order to empty ourselves so that God can fill us. It is the 40 days and nights, the ten percent of the year, that we give ourselves into a regimen that will soften us enough to allow God to mold us into the new creation God would have us be.

Self-denial is easy compared to the wilderness commitment of getting to the very bottom of things. In a blog this week on Sojourners.com (I posted the link on our website), Julie Clawson wrote a very personal account of the superficial nature of a Lenten season merely focused on self-denial. "I’ve discovered that for me personally, legalistic denial for the sake of denial often achieves the opposite purpose. Giving up coffee doesn’t make me a better follower of Christ, it just makes me more irritable. Giving up Facebook doesn’t help me build community in the body of Christ; it simply helps me as a detached introverted person creep further into my shell. Those disciplines don’t assist me in emptying myself in order to let God in; they simply fill me with more of me."

The goal of Lent is to actively let God in. It is a time that we fight through the silence, hunger, and other temptations that confront us when we are toiling in the wilderness. The devil that Jesus experienced was trying to convince him that he didn't need to completely surrender to the call of God, a God who was offering transformation. The evil that confronts us is doing the same thing. As we attempt to empty ourselves of the fear, resentment, prejudice, addiction, close-mindedness, laziness, selfishness, anger, and desire to be in control, there will be countless evil temptations that whisper to us that we have gone far enough. Five minutes into our thirty minute prayer time, something will always come up. Seven hours into our 24 hour fast, there will always be an excuse to break it. These interuptions and excuses will almost never be evil in and of themselves. They are evil because they try to undo our surrender to the holy. Evil tries to stop us short of our spiritual destination and is always difficult to refuse. We must remember that the point of Lent is not us. It is not what we are denying ourselves, or what we are providing ourselves. The point of Lent is to give God enough access to our hearts and souls that God can work freely within us and transform us into the people God wants us to be. Our Messiah is leading us into the wilderness and teaching us how to say no to the temptation of stopping short, the temptation to only scratch the surface. Will we follow? It is far beneath the surface that the Spirit is trying to lead us. Through the wilderness to places of meaning, authenticity, and surrender. Will we follow the Spirit all the way to the depths of our being so that we may also participate, with Jesus, in the wonder of complete transformation?

LUKE 9: 28-43

28Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. 29And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. 30Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. 31They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. 32Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. 33Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” —not knowing what he said. 34While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. 35Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” 36When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

37On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. 38Just then a man from the crowd shouted, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. 39Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. 40I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not.” 41Jesus answered, “You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here.” 42While he was coming, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father.

43And all were astounded at the greatness of God.

Peter wanted to do what we all want to do sometimes. Right? Peter wanted to preserve the perfect moment. He wanted to build a monument in tribute to the most awe-inspiring event he had ever witnessed and let his life be defined by that moment. It's a common tendency -- to let our greatest moment define us, or to let a period in our life become the time we want to settle into even as time and life passes on. Remember, Simon Peter is fresh off the boat. It hasn't been long since he was fishing all night, living the small town life of a simple fisherman. Now, he has joined his spiritual master at the top of a mountain, has watched him change before his eyes, and has seen the glory of God displayed by the appearance of the long dead prophets Moses and Elijah. He has been to the mountaintop, and he has seen the impossible, and he figures that everything else has to be downhill from here. "How can anything else ever compare to this?" Peter thinks to himself. "Why don't we just build a few monuments. Set up a little gift shop, sell t-shirts that say stuff like "My Parents Went To The Mount of Transfiguration and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt". Maybe have a snack bar that sells dried dates and gyros. It could be a little business that would help fund Jesus' struggling ministry. Peter could register it as the "Dead Prophets' Non-Profit." Peter feels as if his life has come to fruition and now it's time to settle in. I'd love to know if this is the same phenomenon that happened to George Clooney's prom date. If she just kind of packed it in from there. Felt as if no event would ever compare to prom night and no man would ever compare to the boy George and now lives her life as a spinster in Cincinnati wearing her prom dress to her job every day at Kinkos. The moment hasn't passed, and Peter already wants to get stuck in it.

We used to have this disease at Mayflower. Some of you may remember how our pre-remodeled narthex looked eight years ago. There were two large glass display cases holding pictures and momentos of the "glory days" at Mayflower, there were also two other smaller glass cases back there as well. When I first got here, almost nine years ago, these monuments to the past were charming. There were only twenty or so folks at church every Sunday, and most of the people in attendance had been at Mayflower during the "glory days". So looking at the old pictures from the fifties with hundreds of Sunday School kids lined up together in front of the church and dozens of people huddled shoulder to shoulder seemed nostalgic and heart warming. But after a few years, as we began to fill up the narthex during cookie time after services the display cases began to feel more like crypts. We were beginning to grow, and there wasn't enough room for all of the new folks and the memorials. It was a physical and spiritual reality. In order to make room for the fellowship of a growing faith community, we had to let go of the shrines constructed in honor of a church long gone. There just wasn't room for both. We had to be the church God was calling us to in the future or die being the church that we had been in the past. It wasn't an option to be both.
It wasn't just the physical reminder of the display cases that kept reminding Mayflower what we no longer were, it was also our by-laws and structure. With thirty active members, we were still operating with the same constitution as the church did with three hundred. Everything we did was a reminder of who and what we weren't anymore. It was deflating, and it was counterproductive. Mayflower had been clinging so tightly to who we were that we didn't have the energy to listen for who we were to become.
The next day, as Peter contemplates how he will construct his memorial booths and how he will begin his "Dead Prophets' Non-Profit," the reality of life with Jesus interupts. Down from the mountain is a man who is helpless, in desperate need of having his son healed. He is hurting, screaming for the justice and wholeness of the Holy. Peter's nostalgic dream is shaken awake by the stark reality of reality. At the descent, there are real people with real hurts that need real healing. Life with Jesus isn't on the mountain and above the fray. It can't be controlled by the stagnancy of the past. The Christian life calls for openness and willingness and the flexibility to change. It doesn't cling to the past -- no matter how glorious -- but points to the needs of people in the present and always listens for the call of God in the fast coming future.
Last Sunday, most of us probably watched the Super Bowl. Some of us watched the game, some of us watched the commercials, some watched both, but most all of us watched the Who play at halftime. I like the Who. But I must say that it was difficult watching 65 year old men playing 40 year old songs. I kept thinking more about how Pete Townshend's partial deafness than his extraordinary guitar playing, and watching his ample belly peaking through his open shirt wishing he would have worn an undershirt. For the first time viewing a football game, I was disappointed it was in HDTV. I was recently watching Elvis Costello interview Bruce Springsteen on a television program titled "Spectacle: Elvis Costello With..." On the show Elvis Costello plays with and interviews different famous and fairly famous musicians. At one point in the show Bruce Springsteen was asked about what makes Rock and Roll, Rock and Roll. He said, "Rock and Roll is always something coming. It creates an energy that pushes you towards the future. It's a developmental force...there is forward energy...an ever present now that is always for tomorrow." I found this idea compelling and found it to be an excellent description of the church. Another way of saying our denominational tagline "God is Still Speaking." We are participating in the transcendence of God. It may not be as obvious as it was for Peter and the others on the mountain with Jesus, but we are part of what God is doing next. We are living in the ever present now. What we do is now is Working towards the liberation of all people with faith that someday all will be liberated. Feeding the hungry in hopes that one day all will be fed. Praying for healing believing that one day all will be whole. We are participants in what God will do next. That is what Christians do, that is what Mayflower is doing. The Who was a finished product thirty years ago. As a band, they have done virtually nothing of artistic consequence in thirty years. Their first farewell tour was in 1982. I find it interesting that Bruce Springsteen and Pete Townshend are only a few years apart in age. Springsteen seems to be from a completely different generation. Maybe that is because by the time Pete Townshend was twenty, he had already become one of the biggest stars in Rock and Roll. Upon the release of My Generation in 1965, he had already begun wrecking hotel rooms and passing out in a pile of groupies on the wrecked bedroom floor. Bruce Springsteen didn't breakthrough until he was 26. In Rock and Roll six years is a millenium. The Who played small clubs for six months before they hit it big; Springsteen played small clubs in New York and New Jersey for over six years. As a finished product, the Who only feels the need to replicate what they have done before. As an artist in process, Bruce Springsteen is continually looking for what to do next. From music scores for an independent movie like "The Wrestler", to the recent recordings with folk legend Pete Seeger, Bruce Springsteen perpetually redefines himself and his music. The Who straps on their gear and plays the greatest hits of CSI.

At Mayflower, we are learning the same lesson Jesus taught Peter. We understand that history is good if we are learning from it, and we know that it can be evil if we are yearning for it. I firmly believe that everything we have done in our recent past and are doing in the present, like the renovation and new tower, Smart!, First Sundays, our Children's Ministry, Ministry Council, Third Sundays, Interfaith, Sponsoring Homeless Families, Choir, and Worship, are all ways that we are actively responding to God's call in the present and readying ourselves for God's action in the future. However, we must always be aware of the common tendency to cling to what we know and to celebrate what we have done. We are part of a movement not an institution, part of a process not a finished product. I like the idea that we are named after a boat full of pilgrims, people of the Mayflower, seeking a destination full of mystery and promise. Not knowing exactly what's in store. God is always about the new and what's next, and that's where God's people should be too.

1/31/10 Sermon on Psalm 71

Psalm 71

1In you, O Lord, I take refuge; let me never be put to shame.

2In your righteousness deliver me and rescue me; incline your ear to me and save me.

3Be to me a rock of refuge, a strong fortress, to save me, for you are my rock and my fortress.

4Rescue me, O my God, from the hand of the wicked, from the grasp of the unjust and cruel.

5For you, O Lord, are my hope, my trust, O Lord, from my youth.

6Upon you I have leaned from my birth; it was you who took me from my mother’s womb. My praise is continually of you.

7I have been like a portent to many, but you are my strong refuge.

8My mouth is filled with your praise, and with your glory all day long.

9Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my strength is spent.

10For my enemies speak concerning me, and those who watch for my life consult together.

11They say, “Pursue and seize that person whom God has forsaken, for there is no one to deliver.”

12O God, do not be far from me; O my God, make haste to help me!

13Let my accusers be put to shame and consumed; let those who seek to hurt me be covered with scorn and disgrace.

14But I will hope continually, and will praise you yet more and more.

15My mouth will tell of your righteous acts, of your deeds of salvation all day long, though their number is past my knowledge.

16I will come praising the mighty deeds of the Lord God, I will praise your righteousness, yours alone.

17O God, from my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds.

18So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to all the generations to come. Your power

19and your righteousness, O God, reach the high heavens. You who have done great things, O God, who is like you?

20You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up again.

21You will increase my honor, and comfort me once again.

22I will also praise you with the harp for your faithfulness, O my God; I will sing praises to you with the lyre, O Holy One of Israel.

23My lips will shout for joy when I sing praises to you; my soul also, which you have rescued.

24All day long my tongue will talk of your righteous help, for those who tried to do me harm have been put to shame, and disgraced.

If you look at the shelves in my study here at the church or in my home, you would see that they are lined with books by people who spent most of their lives in relative solitude. Men and women who occupied their interior lives more fully than their social lives. Emily Dickinson, Thomas Merton, Teresa of Avila are among the poets and writers featured prominently in my library.
Your library may be similar. These writers are people who spent most of their time alone, most of their time in contemplation, most of their time cultivating an inner voice. They gravitated towards solitude and were able to articulate some of the basic inner workings of the human condition, because they were uninterupted by the noises of life most of us find impossible to ignore.

Emily Dickinson was from a prominent family in Massachusetts. Throughout her life, she became more and more withdrawn. Most of her friendships were carried on by letters; later in her life she didn't even leave her room. While most of her family members knew that she wrote poetry, they had no idea how much poetry she had written and how well she wrote it. With Dickinson, it is easy to see that much of her seclusion was imposed by her social anxiety. She preferred to be alone; she was rocked by personal contact and fueled by intellectual friendships via letters, not conversation.

For Thomas Merton, solitude came from his acceptance of a calling. Merton was socially gregarious but accepted a vow of silence as part of his spiritual discipline. Merton spent much of his life in silence, working side by side his Trappist brothers at a monastery in Kentucky. Other than the simple work at the order, Merton wrote. He wrote more than 70 books along with countless poems, essays, and reviews. Almost all of his writing was spiritual, detailing a contemplative life of meaning and service. As a college student at Cambridge and Columbia, Merton was the life of the party, at home in the bars and considered a womanizer. He stayed out all night in New York's jazz clubs. It was the late 30's and the beginning of Charlie "Bird" Parker and Dizzy Gillespie's bebop era of jazz. It was one of the great moments in the history of art, and young Thomas Merton was in the heat of it. The heat was so hot for Merton that when he disclosed his former lifestyle to the head of the Franciscan order he hoped to join, the Friar told him to come back the next day after he had time to digest all that he had heard. When Merton returned the next day, the Friar told him that he wasn't cut out to be a Franciscan. I don't know what Merton told the friar, but it must have been a humdinger. It took some time for Merton to find a monastic order that would accept him. Merton felt called to leave behind his social life for silence. Unlike Dickinson, Merton had no social anxiety. His life as recluse was self-imposed as a faithful response to his calling by the Spirit of God.

Teresa of Avila was a spanish nun and church reformer in the 16th century. Teresa had a charismatic and gregarious personality. She used her gifts to reform the church and became one of the most important mothers in church history. She also imposed upon herself an arduous spiritual discipline. She was devoted to an extreme prayer and devotional life that included days alone in her convent cell. She would read, write, and pray kneeling on the stone floor for hours at a time. During these times of contemplation, Teresa would recieve visions from God. She recorded these visions in her masterpiece, The Interior Castle. In this work she details seven dwelling places of God describing the work that the spirit does within us when we commit ourselves in devotion and discipline to God.

"Let nothing trouble you,
let nothing make you afraid.
All things pass away.
God never changes.
Patience obtains everything.
God alone is enough."

I am drawn to people of devotion like Merton and Teresa. I appreciate the poetry of Dickinson, but the fact that much of her inspiration came from social anxiety takes some of the zing out of her work for me. With Merton and St. Teresa I am moved by their commitment to an ascetic life as a decision over and against the life that came easily to them. They moved away from their comfort zone to a life of contemplation at great costs to themselves. One thing that I find interesting about Teresa is that she was hot. She was so attractive to men that while she was in the hospital for medical treatment, her confessor not only fell in love with her but wound up confessing his own sins. It helps me to learn the lessons of their lives knowing that they had lots of options, knowing that the spiritual life was a choice, not a default. It is always fascinating to glean meaning from lives of ardent dedication.

Recently, I have been increasingly fascinated with the lives of people who have achieved balance. Public figures who kept their public lives successful while maintaining a spiritual discipline in their personal lives. One such figure was the sixth President of the United States, John Quincy Adams. Adams, the son of our second President, was also Secretary of State, a United States Senator, member of the United States House of Representatives, and an ambassador to four countries. His life in public service spanned 54 years. Adams was the only person to know both the signers of the Declaration of Independence and Abraham Lincoln. He dedicated himself to his country and his God. He was a some time Congregationalist. In reading about John Quincy Adams, I discovered that his religious rights are often squabbled over, with Congregationalist historians claiming him from the Unitarians who believe he was always theirs. From my readings, he seemed to be both. The thing that I find most interesting about JQA is that he was hot (just look at the picture). Actually, one thing I find interesting and inspiring about him was his spiritual devotion. He battled depression, living in the shadows of his larger than life father, a difficult marriage, and the deaths of his two adult sons with spiritual discipline and devotion. Adams dedicated himself to biblical study, spiritual journaling and poetry. In the midst of one of the most busy public lives in American history, John Quincy Adams made time for himself with the Spirit of God. No matter how hard he was pushed or pulled, he would not waver from the discipline of being alone with God in study and prayer. In an age when the intellectual elite were leaving behind Christianity, Adams would not. He felt as if he had to defend himself in the midst of a tide that was turning towards "the liberal class who consider religion as merely a system of morals." He loved the Bible. "So great is my veneration of the Bible," he wrote, "and so strong is my belief, that when duly read and meditated on, it is of all the books in the world, that which contributes most to making men good, wise, and happy." Adams lived in mortal fear that he would fail to grow, learn and serve God, and was driven by the conviction that every day that passed without a worthy accomplishment was a day wasted. In his prayer diaries he had an ongoing argument about slavery with biblical figures like Abraham, Isaac, and Paul. His spirituality led him to be one of the most ardent early abolitionists and most vocal public office holders questioning the treatment of the Indians. An argument he had put forward while he was a member of Congress was one of the bases that Lincoln used for the Emancipation Proclamation. Many of us probably remember that John Quincy Adams was the pro-bono lead counsel representing the African slaves who took control of the Amistad Ship. He was dedicated to putting his faith in action and fueled by his private time in prayer and study to serve God actively.

Towards the end of his life he suffered a stroke. His sense of mortality and existential awareness led him to reread verse 18 of Psalm 71. He confided in his journal, "For I believe there is a God who heareth prayer, and that honest prayers to him will not be in vain." During this time his friends and family pled with him to retire. John Quincy Adams responded with grounded vigor, "The world will retire from me before I retire from the world." A few years later, he suffered another stroke, this time a massive one. At the age of 81 Adams fell to the floor of the House of Representatives. He was carried to the Speaker's Room inside the Capitol building. He died there two days later. Towards the end of his life, John Quincy Adams summed up his spirituality in these words, "I reverence God as my creator. As creator of the world. I reverence him with holy fear. I venerate Jesus Christ as my redeemer; and, as far as I can understand, the redeemer of the world. But this belief is dark and dubious." Adams knew that faith is not easy business, and that belief in Christ involves effort, even struggle. The spirituality he honed in his private life enabled him to meet his public and personal struggles with dignity and courage. He was able to stand up for what he believed because he had examined his beliefs with thorough discipline.

I tend to shy away from preaching from the Psalms. I guess it's because I believe that the Psalms are fairly self explanatory. They are the words of a person who devoted himself to the presence of God, who positioned herself in the mercy of God, asked for God's voice, and then waited to hear the response. This morning we have witnessed the lives of those who waited long enough to listen. Will we?

January 10, 2010

Isaiah 43:1-7
But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. 2When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. 3For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. I give Egypt as your ransom, Ethiopia and Seba in exchange for you. 4Because you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you, I give people in return for you, nations in exchange for your life. 5Do not fear, for I am with you; I will bring your offspring from the east, and from the west I will gather you; 6I will say to the north, “Give them up,” and to the south, “Do not withhold; bring my sons from far away and my daughters from the end of the earth— 7everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made.”

luke 3:15-22 (3:15-17, 21-22)
15As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, 16John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 17His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” (18So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people. 19But Herod the ruler, who had been rebuked by him because of Herodias, his brother’s wife, and because of all the evil things that Herod had done, 20added to them all by shutting up John in prison.)
21Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, 22and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

As I contemplated our two texts this morning, texts about a God who is with us, a creator who loves, redeems, and protects us, my heart was full with the image of a God who calls through the heaven expressing love, who is with us through the waters, the rivers, the fires, and the flames. A God who forms us, makes us, and knows us by name. A God who loves us like a father, and protects us like a mother. Think of the power of these sentiments, and the profundity of these facts. God made us, God loves us, and God is pleased with us. Living with this as a presupposition, a given, alters everything in our lives. God becomes a loving parent rooting us on, rather than a judgmental father, waiting for us to fail.

All of us have seen the confidence and grace of a person who has never had to doubt the love of her parents. We have seen her as a child, unafraid to raise her hand and give the answer, and unashamed even if the answer is wrong. When a child knows that her parents love her unconditionally and indisputably, success is virtually assured. I know that there are special cases that defy this generalization, but if our goal is nurturing healthy, happy, loving, focused, and kind children. Then making our love for them known explicitly, is the singularly most important thing we can do as parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, friends, and church members. That is why, as God's children, it is so important for all of us to accept the love of God as a foregone conclusion. Accepting God's love helps us to move on to the important job of loving the rest of God's children with reckless abandon.

We have all seen or experienced people who cannot accept the reality of God's love for them. They are riddled with guilt, they pass extreme judgment on themselves and other people, and are unable to forgive themselves or other people. The extravagant acceptance of God and the relentless pursuing love of God seems impossible to them. They can't get past their past sins because they believe that God hasn't gotten past them. I believe that this is bad religion, and I believe that this type of God is not worth having faith in. But, we can't just blame this mindset on bad religion, schewed theology or oppresive churches. This type of mindset about God, a heavenly Father, usually comes from having parents who are unwilling or unable to express their own unconditional love for their children, thus, making it virtually impossible for their children (even as adults) to conceive of a God who would shower unconditional love and acceptance upon them.

I spent the early 1990's living in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area working at a large church in Arlington and going to divinity school at TCU in Ft. Worth. Unfortunately, during my time in this area, the Dallas Cowboys were the most dominant team in football. The Cowboys coach during this period was Jimmy Johnson, the bombastic coaching genius known as much for his helmet hair as his motivational techniques. Jimmy Johnson was on television all of the time, and I grew to hate (or for the sake of a sermon on unconditional love), severely dislike him. Jerry Jones, the equally bombastic owner of the team, had fired Tom Landry as soon as he bought the team and hired his old Arkansas teammate Jimmy Johnson to become his coach. Johnson had been a very successful college coach at Oklahoma State and the University of Miami. Immediately after he was hired by the Cowboys he divorced his wife of twenty-five years. When asked why, Johnson replied, "You don't need a wife in the pros. In college you have banquets and it looks good for the recruits and their families. So you need a wife. In the pros you don't." It was amazing to watch the knucklehead as he said all of this with a straight face, obviously, not knowing or caring how much of a jerk he was. Before his first Super Bowl victory, they did a human interest story on the Cowboys' coach. Of course I believed that the idea of a human interest story on Jimmy Johnson was an oxymoron. At the beginning, they talked about Johnson growing up in Port Arthur, Texas. He was in the same high school class with Janis Joplin. Jimmy joked about how he had made fun of Joplin throughout their school days. "She was so different than the rest of us. I used to call her 'beat weeds'," he said with his signature manure eating grin. Of course, most music fans know that Janis Joplin had an incredibly low self-esteem, and talked about the pain of ostracization she felt in high school. Yet even after her famous self-destructive death, Jimmy still had reason to smile about his treatment of her in high school. In this piece they interviewed Johnson's two sons, who were in their early twenties. They talked about not seeing their father very often as boys and seeing him even less often as teenagers. It was the typical feel good story aired during pre-game shows, just without the good feelings. Towards the end, the interviewer asked his older son a question that you wouldn't expect on a pre-game football show. "Does your Dad love you?" The young Johnson stared at the camera. "I guess so. I mean...sure. I don't know." As he stared with a blank, growing sad face, the interviewer softly said with compassion, "he's never told you that he loves you, has he?" The sad face of Johnson's son grew damp with tears. It was the tragic look I have seen dozens of times on women and men who do not have the comfort, confidence, and calm of knowing without doubt that their mother and father love them.

Now, I must say, Jimmy Johnson may be an entirely different person now that he has retired and left coaching behind, and, in his defense, I have never heard that he killed kittens for sport. But, whenever I think about the power of a parent's love expressed explicitly, I always think about that pre-game piece, and the trauma present with explicit love isn't. Last week, I sat in my study and watched that sad, lost look in the eyes of a childhood friend. Now in his forties, he cannot move on to embracing himself or anyone else, primarily because he still doesn't believe that he has unconditional love from anyone, not even his mother and father.

This is why we celebrate the good news of a loving God. This is why we hear the echoes of God's love rumbling from the heavens and we smile. We believe that the same loving God who shared sentiments of love for Jesus after his baptism, speaks words of love for Sadie Mae as a beloved daughter, Charlie and Benson beloved sons. And we believe that next week God will still be speaking in that same voice of love at the baptisms of Liam and Sam Kadel. We believe that God loves us and our children, and we will not be bashful about sharing that fact. We will live as those who can bask in the love of our creator, and we will nurture our children with love. They will not doubt our love or God's love, because they have been immersed in the power of that love, baptized in the unconditional, unwavering, explict love of God, and we will not let them forget it. Amen.

November 29, 2009
Luke 21:25-36
25“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. 26People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. 27Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. 28Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
29Then he told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; 30as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. 31So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. 32Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. 33Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. 34“Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, 35like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. 36Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”

Last Week I spoke about the fear that the media constantly injects us with or I should say we allow ourselves to be injected with. These doom and gloom news stories enter our living rooms each evening and threaten to panic us into paralyzing despair or to immobilize us with apathy...because we can't take any more...because the reality of death, violence, destruction, and a blatant disregard for humanity, the environment, and every living being is so readily apparent every night on the news. That some sort of distance, apathy, and denial seem to be the most positive options. Seem to be the way that we will be able to be reluctantly hopeful and to keep putting one foot in front of the other walking forward, slowly, into an uncertain future.
Last Sunday, the last Sunday of the Christian year, we read from Mark's "little apocalypse". We heard Jesus talking about the end of the ancient world, with seeming predictions of the grand temple of Jerusalem tumbling down, and rumors of wars, earthquakes, and famines. The birth pangs of one world coming to an end and a new world beginning. Jesus' evocative, imaginative words are strange for us, easy to avoid, tough to take. But, here we are again. The first day of the Christian year. The first day of Advent. And, once again, we are listening to Jesus share disturbing news of an impending apocalypse where there will be: "signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. 26People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken." This isn't the way we wanted to ring in the new year, is it?

Apocalyptic talk, hits us in our most vulnerable places. It stirs up fear that many of us have tried to suppress or overcome. For some, the apocalyptic talk we are most acquainted with are the disturbing dreams of the end of the world that come from dime store novels like Left Behind. These stories yearn for a world that the pure, holy, saved ones are swept up by God and taken to the pearly gates of paradise. While the rest of us labor on, here on earth, waiting for our eternal, fiery punishment. This type of apocalyptic isn't one that most of us non-millennial, universalist leaning Christians find very attractive. All though, I do agree with the preacher who talked about how great it would be if the Left Behind folks were actually on to something. "All of the uptight, judgmental fundamentalists would be gone, and we would get all of their stuff (Campolo)."

I grew up with a different, but equally disturbing apocalyptic view. This was the "what if Jesus came tonight?" apocalyptic. I am sure that this apocalyptic has another more theological, more philosophical sounding name. But I don't know it. For me, the "what if Jesus came tonight?" apocalyptic formed my developing psyche in ways that were almost debilitating. From twelve years old on, at Summer Church Camp, during the daytime we would hike up Long's Peak, play Capture the Flag, make leather comb holders, and do a lot of the other activities that you would expect at a summer camp in the eighties. The not so "normal" part happened every night at the campfire. Fifty or so of us would be gathered around the fire literally singing Kumbaya and other devotional songs. After thirty minutes of singing, and holding hands with our love interests, one of the camp counselors would stand near the fire, at the center of our circle, and begin his "what if Jesus came tonight?" diatribe. Usually these sermonettes started with a story about how this college aged counselor had wasted his life drinking beers and having fun when out of the blue he came to the realization (usually dramatically) that Jesus could come at anytime, and that understanding scared the beers, fun, and other hells out of him. His hope was that we would all have the hell scared out of us as well. His hope was usually realized. At the end of these talks, was almost always the obligatory, "what if Jesus came tonight?". There were variations, but the idea was, is your heart pure? Have you asked for forgiveness since the last time you sinned? Have you thought about sinning? Almost always, I would let go of the girl's hand that I had been holding worried that if Jesus came at that moment he would know that my thoughts were more in line with spin the bottle than Kumbaya. It was a horrible way to live. It was psychologically and spiritually damaging. A person living with this type of apocalyptic, believes that Jesus might come back at any time, and his second coming is less about a glorious and graceful redemption of God and God's people, and more about the judgment of the quick, the dead, and the hormornal hand-holders.

Of course, not all of us grew up with these two types of Christian Apocalyptic or any of their thousand cousins. But almost all of us grew up with a pronounced possibility of the Apocalypse. Remember curling up underneath your school desk for Duck and Cover civil defense drills? Schoolchildren in the United States and the United Kingdom from the early 1950's into the 1980's used Duck and Cover as the suggested method of personal protection against the effects of a nuclear weapon. This was supposed to protect us in the event of an unexpected nuclear attack which, we were told, could come at any time without warning. I remember curling up in the fetal position under my desk one morning after I had seen footage of Hiroshima. It was tough to believe that my desk was going to protect me if Brezhnev, Castro, or Khomeini ever got mad enough to push the button.

Living in the Cold War was living under the constant fear of the Apocalypse, living in fear of the end of the world. Now that the Cold War is over, our fears of an imminent Nuclear Apocalypse have subsided. However, there are still plenty of threats that cause us to fear for the safety of the world. Do you remember the anxiety that you felt when the Twin Towers were destroyed on 9/11? There was a sense of vulnerability and impending doom that was palpable. Fear and his brother paranoia overtook us and our government. I don't know that we felt that the world was coming to an end, but the finale seemed only a few acts away. However, terrorism might seem to be a lesser evil as we live in an age where our awareness of global warming and its effects grow and grow. We are cognizant, and reminded constantly of the perilous tightrope humanity is walking today. The ozone hole, the destruction of species, rain forests, water and air pollution, pesticide and herbicide poisonings, eroding topsoil, and several other "inconvenient truths" make the possibility of the end of times more than just fanatical apocalyptic fantasy. As we track the climate and analyze the facts it is easy to despair the impending doom that we or our children might suffer, and because of this awareness, we are apocalyptists. We live with a fear that is not so different than the ancients of biblical times, or from those living in fear of WWI, WWII, and the Cold War. Our fear may feel less imminent than theirs but our nagging consciousness weighs on us. The end result for us and all those who have come before us is a sense of powerlessness that forces us into submission and makes us feel as though we are victims to authorities beyond our control.

Gunther Anders, a 20th century philosopher, knew our fear well. He was Jewish-German, and escaped Nazi Germany during the Holocaust and coined the term "anti-apocalyptist" to describe those who refuse to give in to fear, despair, and hopelessness. I don't think that I had heard of Anders until a week or so ago. I read a brilliant article by the contemporary Christian Theologian Walter Wink, that referenced Gunther Anders. I researched him and tried to read his work, but little of it had ever been translated into English, and there is relatively little scholarship based on his work. Anders was one of the first social critics to approach the damage of technology and mass media on our collective and individual psyche. He was also one of the first to develop a philosophical anthropology of the nuclear threat. In 1962, in the heat of the Cold War and nuclear terror, Anders wrote "Since we believe in the possibility of the ‘End of Time,’ we are Apocalyptics, but since we fight against the man-made Apocalypse, we are -- and this had never existed before -- ‘Anti-Apocalyptics." He goes on to powerfully proclaim, "Let's go on working as though we have the right to hope. Our despair in none of our business." Wink suggests that Anders' insight is off in one regard, he says that "some of the biblical apocalyptics were really anti-apocalyptics too. They said imaginative, over the top, things about the end of the world in or that it not become true. A positive outcome might be conceivable, if the human race rises to its capacities and meets the future faithfully; but if it does not, then the apocalyptic nightmare may indeed descend upon us." As Luke warns in our gospel passage: "34“Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, 35like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. 36Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”

Blind optimism, and passive hope are not enough. As the reality of our last Presidential election has proven to us, hope is not a magic elixir, we must follow hope with collective action. Hope doesn't just happen because we wish things so. Hope, love, joy, peace are not enough, even Christ is not enough. In an apocalyptic age, we will have to do more than light candles, we will have to follow our sentiment with action. If we are to be fearless anti-apocalyptics, then we will have to more forcefully push towards saving the world we were born to care for. Hope will have to be something that we actively pursue like our lives depend on it, because they just may. We will have to do more for the environment than is comfortable, and protest more against violence in all its forms than is socially acceptable. We will have to stand up and be accountable for the sentiment we state and the beliefs we claim. Advent presses us to stand up, fearless, hopeful, and stride confidently towards a future that can only be claimed by those who embrace it with every fiber of their being.