Why the Christmas Story is Good News, and Why It Matters to Me

On Christmas Eve I have always preferred to let the Christmas story preach itself. Carefully placed and rehearsed and paced, read out from the pulpit of this beautiful sanctuary, accompanied by pipe organ and carols, the seven lessons are like seven gems in a filigree setting. What more can one say, but that which has already been said:

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.”

And,

 “Do not be afraid.”

And,

“I bring you good news of great joy. Unto you is born this day a savior, who is Christ, the Lord.”

This story is trustworthy and true. It may not have actually happened this way, but it is trustworthy and true. The Jesus Story is just one version of the overarching story of God and God’s people. It is the story of what lengths God will go to, for the people, to save the people-- to save us from each other and to save us from ourselves. This story is an invitation: God invites us into relationship. We get to decide how to receive the invitation. Whether to receive it as good news, bad news, or no news, is up to us.

According to the gospels of Luke and Matthew, the story of God’s incarnation was received with mixed reviews. The same may be true today. God comes with justice. This is good news. It is good news for shepherds in the field, good news for low-wage workers, good news for the alien wanderer in the land. Good news for the merciful and the meek. But bad news for Herod. Bad news for those who oppress the workers and visit violence upon the homeless traveler. The light that shines in the darkness is not the innocuous glow of the twinkling tree. It is a searchlight, which allows no injustice to hide from God who comes with justice, to set the prisoners free, to bring down the mighty from their thrones and life up those of low degree.

According to God, we are free. We get to decide whether or not to turn and walk back into our prisons. According to God, our eyes have been opened! We get to decide, whether to keep watch and bear witness, to call out when we see suffering, or whether to close our eyes and pretend not to see.

We get to decide how to live in response to this story. Living faithfully, day after day, is not easy living. It is thoughtful, spiritual, mindful living. Fortunately we are not left on our own. We have the church, and the promise that God will guide us. We are in good company.

This is a church that seeks to know and share the love of God which we find within us, and within these stories. We live to be faithful in our relationships with one another, with the church universal, with other people of faith, and with God. You, all of you, are welcome to come and be a part of this church. We don’t pretend to have all the answers. God knows. But we are a safe place to ask the questions, about how to live faithfully, do justly, and walk humbly with God and with each other.

Whatever we decide, about God, about the story, about the church, God is always seeking us out, inviting us in, because God is love; and I hope you will agree, that is good news.

May the peace of Christ be with you, this night, and always. Amen.

God Is With Us

19 December 2010

Isaiah 7:10-16; Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18-25

“And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Matt 28:20b (the last word)

                In life, in death, in life beyond death,

                                God is with us.

                We are not alone. Thanks be to God.

                                                                --“A New Creed,” United Church of Canada, 1980

                Today we have lit the candle of Love, and we have read and heard the story of the birth of Jesus, from Matthew’s point of view. Matthew’s birth narrative is much briefer than Luke’s; and where Mary is the focus of the birth narrative in Luke, in Matthew’s gospel Joseph plays the pivotal role.

                Poor Joseph. In our crèche, his figure stands like an accessory to Mary, like Ken to Barbie. He is always in the background. In Catholic tradition, Mary becomes the Queen of Heaven, but Joseph, he is just a saint. Sure, he has a few hospitals and a children’s aspirin named after him, but there are few great works of art that focus on his love and care for the child. In Christmas pageants too, he gets few lines, if any. Stage direction: Joseph approaches Inn, knocks on the door. Enter innkeeper. Joseph: “Got a room?”

Because Matthew’s version of events is recorded so tersely, I believe an appreciation for Joseph requires some faithful, respectful, and I hope not too fanciful, expansion of the story. To be faithful to the time and place, we must set aside our modern, western notions of marriage.  For most of the world, throughout much of history, marriage was considered far too important to be initiated by a boy and a girl. Marriage was arranged by elders and relatives who knew better. Joseph might not have even seen Mary before the betrothal ceremony, and may have had little contact with her after. The two ceremonies-- one for betrothal, when a woman was claimed by the husband’s family; and one for the marriage, when the man and woman began to live together as husband and wife—were separated by a sufficient amount of time (6 months or so) to confirm that the bride’s family was not trying to pass off “damaged goods.”

So, for Mary to turn up pregnant during this time is a grave dishonor, a shame upon Mary’s family, and upon Joseph’s too. All deals were off. Mary would not only have been disgraced, she could have been killed according to the law-- stoned to death as an adulteress.

That Joseph had resolved to dismiss her quietly shows that he is not only a righteous man (that is, a man who would not take an adulteress as a wife), his resolve to dismiss her quietly also shows that he is a compassionate man. This internal struggle, between righteousness and compassion, between the letter of the law and the spirit of the law, mirrors the moral struggles of the church to which Matthew addressed his gospel. And it foreshadows the teachings of Jesus, as recorded in the Sermon on the Mount: all those “you have heard that it was said” sayings that call us to go beyond the letter of the law, even to ignore the law, to be compassionate, as God is compassionate.

After he had resolved to do this, the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Do not be afraid.” This is the fulfillment of God’s promise—Emmanuel—God is with us. This is the beginning of the Gospel, and this is the end: Emmanuel, God is with us. Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.

When when Joseph awoke from his dream, the pathway was clear. Confronted with the law, torn between obligation and compassion, Joseph, emboldened by the promise of God’s presence, chose compassion. So may we all.

Isaiah's Vision; Paul's Hope

Texts for Sunday, December 5: Isaiah 11:1-10’ Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19; Romans 15:4-13; Matt 3:1-12

                The scriptures provide the following job description for kings: justice for the poor and meek, deliverance for the needy. Peace will come, the prophet promises, with a leader who will serve the last and least of the people. And on that day, the wolf shall lie down with the lamb, the cow and bear will graze, the lion will eat straw like the ox. And pigs will fly, the prophet might add. Like, “That’ll be the day.”

                Cynicism is easy, too easy. Anyone who is paying attention to news from Washington knows that our kings and princes have recently decided against deliverance for the needy. The least of these don’t even make the list of very important people. That is not how it should be.

                Jesus and the prophets held up a different picture. A vision of peace, that peaceful place where predators become herbivores, and prey have no worries. And this is written to give us hope, the apostle Paul wrote. Hope is the antithesis and the antidote to despair. Hope is powerful. Hope is not just wishful thinking, hope is a commitment to live in the present as if the future has already arrived.

                It is hope that drove the people into the wilderness of the Jordan, to be baptized by John. John announced the coming of the prince of peace and taught the people to prepare for his coming. “Repent!” was the word he used. Repent means “turn around.” Repentance is a reversal of course. Repentance clears the way for a new and better future. And repentance confirms in each of us the hope for a better future.

                Hope, three times in this brief passage Paul uses that word. Hope is extraordinary. Hope requires a minute shift in vision, just a small but powerful movement. Elsewhere in the letter to the Romans, Paul explains it this way: Suffering produces Endurance, and Endurance produces Character, and Character produces Hope. Somehow that proclamation seems counter-intuitive, because we all can think of examples of how suffering produces nothing but more suffering. But we also have witnesses to the power of hope. We have Paul, and we have Gandhi, and we have King, and we have Tutu. We have Wiesel, and Kushner, and so many others, people without headline names. We have witnesses to the power of hope, hope that the wrong shall fail, and the right prevail, with peace on earth, good will to all.

                And our witnesses show that living in hope gives us the power to join the movement of the one who ushers in the age of justice, and righteousness, and peace.

                May the God of hope fill you with all peace and joy in believing, that you may abound in hope, by the power of God’s Holy Spirit. Amen.

Tick Tock-- This is Your Wakeup Call for the First Sunday in Advent

The word from the prophet Isaiah, and the word from the Psalm appointed for today, is Peace. The prophet, speaking to people who had enough of war, enough of hunger, enough of exile, shared a dream of a new Jerusalem, where God would live. People of the world would stream in through the gates of the city to sit at God’s feet and learn of God’s ways, directly from the source of all life. Nations would not go to war over boundaries or water or food or oil; instead they would come to God for binding arbitration. God would judge between nations, and there would be no arguments, no appeals, so the weapons of war could be broken down and reformed into tools for the farmer and the orchard keeper-- plows and pruning hooks, for wheat and olives, for bread and oil. The stuff of life, courtesy of the author of life.

The psalm transports the worshipper in exile to Jerusalem, not Jerusalem as it was, or is, but as it ought to be, as God wills it. My feet are standing within your walls, Jerusalem, built as a city, where, as in Isaiah, justice is established, because God is judge.

The judgment of God is that all have the things that make for life. Biblical justice is overwhelmingly not retributive justice—not eye for eye as in Leviticus—but distributive justice, as in everyone having a share of the things that make for life, as in the miracle of the manna from heaven, and the feeding of the 5,000, and the wheat that never ran out, and the oil that was never spent.

The prophets promise that Peace is coming, that God will bring it to fruition. But that is not to say that we can sit back and wait for peace to over take us. We can participate in God’s peace now, we can practice living in God’s peace while we are still waiting for the fullness of time. The apostle Paul assures us, Peace is nearer to us now than when we first began to believe. Be Ready! The gospel warns, keep awake and be ready, for the Prince of Peace is coming. How will it look if he comes and finds us sleeping? Or worse, if he comes and finds us at war? As the Vaughn brothers sang, “Tick tock, people. Time’s ticking away.”

We may never see the fullness of God’s peace in our lifetime, but we can participate in God’s peace even today. The paths of peace are before us, and the milemarkers are justice, forgiveness, mercy, and compassion. Let’s be on our way.

Waiting for a King

Text: Jeremiah 23:1-6

The shepherds Jeremiah was referring to were the kings and princes, the rulers of Israel whose duty, according to the prophet, was to use their power for good and not evil. Instead of caring for the people they exploited them. The leaders of Israel were no better than the pharaoh of Egypt, from whom God had delivered the people to create the nation of Israel. Imagine, leaders chosen to serve the people, turning on the people they were called to serve. Enslaving them the way that Pharaoh had enslaved their ancestors, to the benefit of the leaders themselves, and their wealthy benefactors. Sound familiar?

                Truly, there is nothing new under the sun.

                Through the prophet, God promised to “attend to” the leaders of Israel, a vague, but no less ominous threat. Because you did not attend to my people, I will attend to you. And afterward, God will be the shepherd, God will be the king.

                Which is the way God wanted it in the first place. Back in the days of the prophet Samuel, before there was a king in Israel, the people asked for a king, so they could be like other nations. God warned them, through the prophet, God warned them about kings—they will send your sons to war; they will take your daughters as concubines; they will take away everything God has given you. But still the people said, give us a king! And in a private conversation, when Samuel was grieving over the people’s rejection, God said, don’t worry Sam, they are not rejecting you, they are rejecting me. Give them a king.

                And when it all went down just as God said it would, did God say, “I told you so.” Probably. But God also promised to return as the good shepherd, the true king of Israel.

                Next week we begin the season of Advent, a season of anticipation. We will return to the days of waiting, anticipating the return of the king. Because Christian doctrine teaches us that Jesus is the Messiah, the true king, the one of whom the prophets spoke.

                But here we are, still waiting for a King. Maybe not a king, exactly, but waiting for someone who will free us from the corrupt leaders, who gorge themselves on the wealth of the nation, while the poor of the people become destitute, and desperate. When was the last time a leader stood up for the poorest of the poor?

                Still we keep waiting, waiting, waiting for the world to change.

                What if we are the ones for whom we wait?

                For we are the body of Christ, and individually members of it.

                Then we are not just sheep. We are (paradoxically) also the shepherd. Or, at least, members of the body of the Good Shepherd. While none of us, individually, may have the power to save the world, all of us, together, with the Holy Spirit, have tremendous power, and we are called to use that power for good, and not evil, for the least and last of the people. For the old sheep, and the young lambs, for the lost and stray. If we fail to attend to the sheep, God will attend to us.

                This week, we live in the land between time. Between Pentecost and Advent, between the old year and the new, between the already and the not yet. And that is a metaphor for the whole of Christian history, lived between Resurrection and Return. We see paradise on the horizon, we ache for it, and it remains just beyond where we are right now.

                But paradise is our joy and our hope, and we hear the promise on our savior’s lips, “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” Today is a very long day—a day that holds within it an age, an infinite lifetime. While it is still day we have the opportunity to be a part of what God is doing in the world, and the promise that, before the day’s end, we will be together in Paradise. Thanks be to God. Amen.

               

The Communion Table as a “Thin Place”

The island of Iona, in the Irish Sea, is said to be full of “thin places,” places where the division between this life and the afterlife are very thin. That may be why St. Columba built a monastery there, because the place was already considered to be holy ground.

In Saving Paradise, Rita Nakashima Brock and Rebecca Ann Parker describe the early church’s understanding of Holy Communion as a numinous moment, when the veil between the “saints above” and “saints below” was drawn aside. When the church gathered to share the bread, believers feasted with the saints in paradise.

You know I lost my dad in 1992, and my sister and her husband in 2001, and my mom in 2003. Some weeks after my sister’s death, on an ordinary Sunday when we were sharing communion, I was suddenly surprised by the presence of my family. This is not a ghost story. It was not a hallucination. As I sat in the choir loft, while the ushers passed the trays of bread and wine, I felt my sister beside me, and my parents too. I had a sense that Cindy was stifling a giggle (something we often did in worship—try to make the other laugh). And then the moment passed. It was numinous moment. It was as if the difference between us, the living members of the family and the dead, was meaningless. We were all communing together.

When you come for communion this Sunday, remember you will share the feast with all the saints, the ones in the pews and the ones who sit at the table in Paradise, and in that moment, we will all be united in the presence of Christ. Amen.

Cindy and I, ready for Thanksgiving Worship at First Congregational in Moline, c.1980

Trying to See

31 October 2010

Luke 19:1-10

Reading Luke, you might think God loves the poor and hates the rich. It starts with the Magnificat, Mary’s song:

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. 

“He pulls the mighty down from their thrones and lifts up those of low degree.” In one of Jesus’ parables, a rich man is tormented in hell, and as if to rub salt in his wounds he can look up and see poor Lazarus in heaven. “The hungry he fills with good things and sends the rich away empty,” the way the rich man who lacked only one thing, to sell all he had and give to the poor, went away empty, still hungry for eternal life.

                The Gospel truth is that God loves. God loves rich and poor alike, God shows no partiality.  God is particularly fond of each one of us. The thing is, we who are rich seldom realize how poor we are. And we who have full stomachs and fuller refrigerators and pantries, sometimes we forget that we cannot live by bread alone, or even by bread stuffed with cheese and pepperoni. There is an emptiness that food cannot fill. So, sometimes, pulling the mighty down from their thrones is salvation for the mighty. Think of today’s gospel as a parable illustrating that truth. Here is a story of a man who sat up high, and was then brought low, and that is how salvation came to Zaccheus.

Neither poverty nor richness is the key to salvation. It isn’t that simple. Salvation comes to Zs’ house because he is looking for it. Yes, he is a rich man, but he doesn’t put his trust in his riches. His material wealth does not anesthetize him to the pain of his spiritual poverty. He senses there is something more and he goes looking for it.

Now I feel the need to wander off into an academic point.  I learned something new this week from David Lose, professor of Biblical Preaching at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, who runs a web site called workingpreacher.com. You know I’m a bit of a geek and I get really excited about these things—so please humor me with this excursus. I always trusted that the NRSV translation was trustworthy, but it turns out that at some point doctrine trumped scholarship in the translation of this story, and that decision, to translate a couple of verbs to coincide with doctrine, changed the meaning of the story in what I think is a significant way. Going back to the Greek, Z doesn’t say, “I will give” and “I will pay.” What he said is, “Half my possessions I give to the poor. And if I defraud anyone of anything, I pay back four times as much.” In the present tense. It is not promise of repentance, it is a statement of fact. This is important, and here is why: someone, somewhere down the line decided, that it was important to make this story fit the belief that repentance precedes salvation. Somebody decided to agree with the judgment of the crowds, that this man, Z, was a sinner. But being rich is not in itself a sin, and Z was apparently being a good steward of the wealth he had received, not hording it, but sharing it, and if he realized that he by oversight or faulty paperwork by one of his employees, perhaps, defrauded anyone, he made it right. More than right, he paid the victim back four times as much. This indicates that he was trying to be a righteous man, to live according to the law and the prophets and then some.

Why is this important?

I think it is important to understand why Jesus announced, Today, salvation has come to this house. It was not in response to repentance, or even in response to Z’s declaration of faithful practice.

On the way through Jericho, Jesus looked up and saw a man who was looking for him, a man who was searching. Jesus saw a man who was willing to, in a poetic literary reversal, humble himself by climbing up high. And Jesus lifted him up high by calling him down. Jesus said, I’m coming to your house today. That is salvation. Jesus coming to your house is salvation. Z didn’t do anything to earn it. He was just trying to see.

Seek and you will find.

I close with a few questions for contemplation:

What are we willing to do for a glimpse of God? Where are we seeking salvation?

The church is called to be the body of Christ, who came, and Jesus himself said, to seek out and save the lost. Like the crowd in Jericho, we may have our preconceived notions of who is and is not worthy. But the gospel tells us that God doesn’t see people the way we do. Who are we willing to seek out, to save?

Unchained

Sermon for Sunday, October 10, 2010

Primary Text: 2 Tim. 2:8-15

Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, a descendant of David--that is my gospel,

for which I suffer hardship, even to the point of being chained like a criminal. But the word of God is not chained.

This is one of those sacred moments when the lectionary—a list of scriptures, appointed for a given day years in advance—just happens to coincide poetically with current events. All week I had been contemplating the lives of those who, like Paul the apostle, suffered imprisonment for what they believed about God, and freedom, and life.

Our pilgrim ancestors jailed in England for seeking the freedom of conscience to worship as their conscience directed them.

Deitrich Bonhoeffer, jailed in Germany for his resistance to Hitler.

Martin Luther King Jr, jailed in Birmingham for having the audacity to insist that he was a man, with rights equal to any white man’s rights.

Steve Beko and Nelson Mandela, in South Africa, Tebetan monks and nuns in China, Roxana Saberi in Iran, Mary Benson and others in the US.

All of these people jailed for seeking freedom from oppression, freedom of conscience and freedom of speech. But the chains and the prison bars could not stop the power of God, which is always a liberating force.

And then on Friday came the announcement that lifts up another hero of freedom—Nobel Peace Prize winner Liu Xiaobo, currently in prison for resisting the restrictions on free speech in China.

The word of God is not chained. The power of God that was in Jesus is not chained to a historical moment, not chained to one particular nation, not chained even to a particular religion because the power of God can not be contained in one box, and commodified.

The power of God is unchained, even when those who are chained for asserting God’s power are killed—as was Bonhoeffer and King and the apostle Paul himself. Because you can not kill God’s power. Everything we do for good, for setting the oppressed free and lifting up the lowly, for pulling the mighty oppressors down from their thrones, is eternal. The deeds of the righteous will stand long after the chains that bound them have rusted away.

Jeremiah proclaimed God’s power to the exiles: The exiles are encouraged to live as if they were not in chains. Jesus proclaimed God’s power to the lepers: The lepers are unchained from their leprosy.

Paul was in chains but even from his prison cell he could live as a free man because the word of God is unchained.

The truth is we are all

Simultaneously:

Imprisoned and Free

Alcoholic and Recovering

Stranger and Saint

Dying and Alive

And we are called to live a life unchained.

We Feed Each Other

Texts: Joshua 5:10-12; Psalm 34:1-8; 1 Corinthians 12:1-11; Mark 6:30-46

As we bring this uncommon lectionary season to a close, I am returning to a theme from early June, when I preached on the feeding of the five-thousand. In that scripture which we heard again this morning, Jesus said to his disciples, "You give them something to eat."

"But, we have nothing, but a few loaves and a couple of fish," they protested.

But the disciples gave what they had, and Jesus took it, blessed it, and gave it back to them, to give to others. And by the grace of God it was more than enough.

That is the miracle that we witness in every church, in every age.

Jesus calls the church to give the poor of the world something to eat. You give them -- those who are poor in spirit as well as those who are literally starving-- something to eat.

We have nothing, we might say, nothing but this old church, a couple of hundred members, only one pastor, only our limited budget to share. But what we have, we give to God, and God takes it, and blesses it, and gives it back to us to give to others. And, by the grace of God, it is enough, and more to spare.

Worship is a meal in which God feeds us, and we feed each other, so that we might have the strength to feed those beyond our church doors. Worship is, in another sense, putting on our own oxygen mask before assisting others.

Most of us have the altruistic impulse-- the desire to help others in need. But, as the flight attendant reminds us before takeoff, we won't be much good to others if we don't take care of ourselves. Neglecting the spiritual disciplines of prayer and worship, on the excuse that we ought to spend our time and resources in mission-- well, that would be like rushing to help other passengers (in the event of loss of cabin pressure) with their oxygen masks without putting on our own. We won't be much help to others when we are passed out in the aisle. We can't feed others if we don't take the time to eat.

Our uncommon lectionary is one example of how we feed each other. Every time we come to worship we all bring with us the gifts of the Holy Spirit that God has given to each, for the common good. Every time we gather together it is like making stone soup, or setting out a spiritual smorgasbord. But even more so with the uncommon lectionary, which has allowed us to share our stories with each other. Not only the scriptural stories which we claim as our own, but also our life stories, our comforts and our concerns.

If following the Revised Common Lectionary is receiving the manna in the wilderness, our uncommon lectionary is like the fruit of the land of Canaan. It is as if we have arrived at the promised land, and now we eat what the earth and our own labor has produced, and we drink from the wells that we ourselves have dug. The bread is still from heaven, because the earth is God's, and everything within belongs to God. And yet we have a hand in production. Our experiences season the broth. It's a Lake Country Harvest of another kind.

The next great idea to come out of the Vision Quest group is called Heart-to-Heart. It's a structure for small group gatherings, to help us get to know one another so that we can better support each other on the journey of faith. It will be another opportunity to feed each other and be fed by God's holy word, as the Spirit speaks to the church using familiar voices. Together we will listen for God's still-speaking voice, together we will discern what the spirit is saying to the church.

The members of the church are here for service to Christ, using the gifts which the Holy Spirit gives to each for the common good. Today we feed each other, tomorrow and the next day and the next we get to work, feeding others as we have been fed. Every week we will return to receive bread for the journey. For what we are about to receive, thanks be to God. Amen.

Who Will You Bring to the Welcome Table?

Texts:

Acts 8:26-39; Romans 12:3-21; Luke 14:1, 7-24

We would like you to preach on any scripture that some Christians point to as proof of God's view on homosexuality. We'd like to know the "actual" meaning of those verses so we can be armed against it with knowledge, for us and for our daughter. (L & M)

As we come to the close of our summer season, we are also coming the the close of the Uncommon Lectionary series. I address L & M's request in the August newsletter, and I have re-posted my old "Bible Bullets" paper to the website. If you go to uccbrainerd.org and click on the "Bible Bullets" box, you will be linked directly to the paper. In it, I address several of the scriptures that some people fire at GLBT and allied folk. But knowing the "actual" meaning, as M and L call it, in quotes, will not stop the assault of anti-gay rhetoric.

Somebody said-- maybe it was Brett Farve-- somebody said "The best defense is a good offense." Explaining why we don't hold those few verses in the bible as God's final word on sexuality is a defensive tactic. Articulating what we do believe about God's embrace of all the people, that would be the offensive tactic.

The story of the Ethiopian eunuch is, to me, one of those revelations of the wideness of God's mercy, the breadth of God's embrace. It is an affirmation that those who have been marginalized and ostracized and disenfranchised belong in the church. They are not just allowed in the church, as if through a side door, they belong in the church as members of the body of Christ, and as leaders too.

The man in the chariot was a student of the Hebrew bible, the law and the prophets, but he could not become a Jew. Not because he was an African-- but because he was a eunuch. He was without, and according to the Levitical code-- the same code that is quoted to condemn gays, by the way-- according to the Levitical code he was barred from the temple.

The man in the chariot, the Ethiopian eunuch, had been reading from the book of the prophet Isaiah, about the suffering servant, "in his humiliation justice was denied him," and in that verse he found someone he could relate to, having just come from Jerusalem, where he was doubly the outcast (a foreigner and a eunuch), doubly humiliated. About whom does the prophet speak? About himself, or somebody else? Philip told him about Jesus, and he almost did not dare believe it. Could this mean there was a place for him?

"Here is water, what is to prevent me from being baptized," he asked. "What is to prevent me--" no one else in scripture speaks in this way, as if he is preparing himself for rejection, once again. Waiting to hear the reason-- "You're black. You're a eunuch." But no. There was no rejection.

The man was baptized at once, and went on his way rejoicing. Post-canonical legend has it that the Ethiopian later became the founder of the Christian church in Ethiopia. If so, then who and when was the first sexual minority elected bishop? It wasn't Gene Robinson in 2003 after all!

This isn't the only story, the scriptures are full of affirmations of God's expansive embrace. The table of the Lord is a welcome table. In an age when so many people decline the invitation, why would the church deny a place at the table to anyone who responds to the call?

What if we made the parable of the great banquet our story? What if we decided, as a congregation, that this is our metaphor for ministry in the coming months? Every week, a banquet is prepared. A sermon stews for days, until it's just right. The musicians rehearse. The table is adorned with flowers. The hosts make lemonade and coffee to go with the desert, the greeters are ready to open the doors, Shirley is at the guestbook with pens and the extra nametags.

Here is the church, here is the steeple, open the doors, where are all the people? Sixty, Seventy, Eighty people, that's good, but there is still room. Ninety, one-hundred, one-hundred and ten... still room! Go out into the highways and compel them to come in, the host says in the parable, my table must be full. People can't eat, if they're not here.

Many people received the invitation and declined. Does the host say to the servants, go out and beg those people to reconsider, please? No. The host focuses on the people who haven't yet received an invitation. The host sends the servants out to find the people who do not know that a banquet is prepared and they are welcome.

I met a man last week who started a GLBT support group at the VA hospital. He asked the group how many of them had grown up in a church. Nearly all raised their hands. Then he asked how many were involved in a church at present. None but a few raised their hands. Most didn't know of a church where they would be welcome.

Who else missed the invitation? Maybe they are under the mistaken impression that they aren't invited, because they are poor, and they think the church is only for people with money to give, or they are single, and they think the church is only for traditional families, or they have no children, and they think the church is only recruiting people who can fill the Sunday School. Maybe they are tone deaf and think the church is only for people who can sing.

If you were one of those servants, called to fill up the welcome table, who would you find? Who would you bring?

Who will you bring to the welcome table?

The Heart's Desire

For Sunday, August 15, in the Uncommon Lectionary Series.

Texts: Philippians 4:10-23; Luke 16:13-15; Luke 20:45-21:4

"For the Uncommon Lectionary, will you read the story of Jesus going to the temple and seeing the poor widow put her tiny coin into the offering box, and pointing out to the arrogant rich guys that she has given more than they have. This was one of my favoirtes when mother read to me from Hurlbut's Stories from the Bible." --Doris A.

"Luke 16 Puzzling!" -- Anonymous

Jesus, in the passages we read today, offered a lesson in contrasts: those who contribute relatively little, and make a big show of it, compared to those who give their little all, without fanfare, without any expectation of receiving accolades in return. Those who publicize their generosity have at least mixed intentions-- if we assume they have at least some inclination to do good, that intention is mixed with the need to lift themselves up above others. Their heart is divided-- serving others and themselves. But the widow gives with a singular heart, devoted to God and to others in need. I imagine her smiling, rejoicing as she approached the treasury, pleased that she had something to share.

I have seen it again and again, those who know what it is to be in need are often first in generosity. I remember during the great Midwestern floods of 1993, Bangladesh sent sandbags to Iowa. Iowa farmers, who had likely given to poverty relief through their churches, received aid from those whom they had previously looked upon as the less fortunate! It was biblical.

The church in Philippi was, according to the letters of the apostle Paul, particularly generous. Even though the Philippians were poor, as compared to other communities, they outshone the wealthier churches in generosity, and Paul lifted them up as an example to the church in Corinth (you can read about it in the 8th chapter of 2nd Corinthians).

Jesus taught his followers that they could not serve God and wealth. The first Christians, according to the book of Acts, shared everything, and if anyone had lands or properties, they sold them, and gave the proceeds to the church, to distribute according to need. Yes, according to the New Testament, the voluntary redistribution of wealth is a Christian virtue. We call it generosity.

But not everyone is equally virtuous. We admire St. Francis of Assisi and Mother Teresa of Calcutta, but not everyone can be St. Francis or Mother Teresa.

Paul explained this in terms of spiritual gifts. We may earnestly desire the higher gifts, we may earnestly desire to be like St. Francis, Mother Teresa, or the widow at the temple, but that level of generosity and devotion may be beyond us, for a time. We can practice generosity to the best of our ability, and trust that we may grow in this as well as other spiritual gifts.

I like the way the apostle Paul put it in his final greeting to the church that he loved so dearly. "I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. "

Paul does not say what the secret is, just that he learned it. I believe the secret has something to do with the heart's desire.

Consider your heart's desire. If our hearts are set on wealth, on material comforts, we are sure to be miserable, always searching for more. But with our hearts set on union with God, we will know such joy! Because the story of scripture assures us that we are God's heart's desire. God yearns for us passionately. So let us set our hearts on God. Hear what the Spirit is saying to the church.

How Can We Keep from Shining

Another sermon in the "Uncommon Lectionary" summer series at First Congregational UCC, Brainerd. Preached August 8, 2010.

Text: Matthew 5:1-16

I've been thinking of the summer "lectionary." My confirmation verse was Matthew 5-- about "your little light shine"/bushel basket. I found it a childhood dilemma... one message to show your light (your gifts) to the world... yet (as Garrison Keillor so sagely nails it) "Don't call attention to yourself."

--Jan Kurtz

Yes, it is a classic dilemma of the well-behaved midwestern child. Someone once told me that a Scandinavian proverb goes, the tall stalks of wheat are cut back. So don't get above yourself. Nobody likes a show off.

Dana Carvey based his "Church Lady" persona on the ladies from his childhood church in Montana, who kept children like him in check, by responding to anything that smacked of self-satisfaction with, "Well. Isn't that special." We all have our inner Church Lady, I suppose.

But when I think of this verse, especially at this time of year, I think of the sunflowers that bloom in the fields of western Minnesota and the Dakotas, and in our gardens all over the Midwest. Great big brown faces edged with yellow petals, follow the sun all day as it courses through the sky. I ask you, can a sunflower stop being shiny? Heck no! Do we judge the sunflower for drawing attention to itself? Not if we are sane and well-adjusted!

If, like the sunflower, we keep our face turned toward the light of God, how can we keep from shining? When we spend time each day in the presence of God, when we make the effort to be mindful of all that we have received from God, the light shines. Unselfconsciously. You can't help it, you shine.

Still, it's probably a good idea to balance, "Let your light shine," with "beware of practicing your piety before strangers, in order to be seen by them." Don't serve at the soup kitchen for the photo op. Serve at the soup kitchen so that people can eat, and thank God (not you) for the bread.

Let your light shine! Let your salt season the bread! Let people see God's love reflected in you.

Be Not Afraid!

Texts: Psalm 111 (...the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom....) and Matthew 14:22-33 (Do not be afraid.)

Chuck Watson asked me to address his question in our Uncommon Lectionary series. His question is about fear, and others have asked me the same question. Why are we supposed to fear God? Both old and new testaments commend the "fear of the Lord." It seems to be at odds with the gospel of Jesus, who said, on many occasions, "Be not afraid."

To begin to address this question we must remember two things about language: One, the scriptures were not written in English (I hope this is not a great surprise to you). They were taken down in Hebrew and Greek and copied over and over, many times before the English language evolved. Two, English is a living language, and the meaning of words change over time. The Hebrew word which is translated "fear" might be better translated as reverence, respect, esteem, awe, worship. When the Hebrew Bible was first translated into English, about 500 years ago, the word "fear" meant all these things. The Brewsters, the first family among the Pilgrims, named one of their daughters "Fear." It was typical among the Puritans to name their children after virtues (they also had a son named "Love"), and Fear was considered a virtue, akin to reverence.

Reverence for the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. Does that sound better? It follows from the first commandment, I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. You shall have no other gods before me. Know that God is God, and nothing else is-- that is the beginning of wisdom.

Fear, and I'm talking about fear as we use the word today, fear is a natural, normal reaction to danger. If we didn't have the fear response we might not have the sense to get out of harm's way. But persistent, unreasonable fear can itself become a poison. If we live in fear of someone or something, we give that person or thing power over us. In other words, we come to revere, or stand in awe of, the object of our fear. To fear something other than God is to come very close to idolatry.

Jesus came preaching "do not be afraid, little flock," do not worry about what you will eat or what you will wear, do not fear. To those who approached him in fear and trembling Jesus said, Do not be afraid.

To the church in every age and to us, Jesus says, as he said to his disciples in the story, "Do not be afraid."

The early church, the people to whom these gospel stories were first told, had much to be anxious and troubled about. Following the Way of the crucified and risen Jesus meant giving up ties to their families, their synagogues, even giving up their homes sometimes, to become part of something new and unknown. The early church was much like a boat on uncharted waters. In fact, in early Christian art, as seen in the catacombs and caves that were the early Christians' refuge, the boat was a symbol of the church. And it must have felt to them, at various times, like a boat on stormy seas.

Long-term unemployment, job insecurity, volatile financial markets which make a peak at our previously secure retirement funds feel like a trip to the casino... yes there is much to make us anxious and troubled. Glaciers evaporating, ice caps softening, oil plumes persisting in the gulf, we wonder what sort of a world we will be leaving to our grandchildren.

Here we are on this gospel ship, with our leaky roof, in the storm. And along comes Jesus, saying, Courage! Take heart! It is I! Do not be afraid!

He even calls Peter to come and walk with him on the water, in the storm. And Peter courageously steps out of the boat, and walks toward Jesus. In a moment, Peter looses focus, he lets the storm and the wind overwhelm him, and begins to sink. Even then, Jesus reaches out and lifts him up, and brings him back to the boat. And with Jesus in the boat, all is calm.

In what way is Jesus calling us to step out of our boat? In what way is Jesus calling us to leave the relative safety of a lifeboat in a storm, and step out into the storm itself?

When we take that step, how will we keep our eyes upon the one who keeps us above the waves?

How can we make room in the boat, to save others who are sinking?

Let us contemplate these questions, as we consider what the spirit is saying to the church.

(Preached Sunday, August 22, 2010)

Money, Money, Money:

It's a rich man's world. Or is it? Some thoughts on the theme for Sunday worship, in our uncommon lectionary season.

"For the Uncommon Lectionary, will you read the story of Jesus going to the temple and seeing the poor widow put her tiny coin into the offering box, and pointing out to the arrogant rich guys that she has given more than they have. This was one of my favoirtes when mother read to me from Hurlbut's Stories from the Bible." --Doris A.

"Luke 16 Puzzling!" -- Anonymous

Jesus blessed the state of poverty and the cursed the state of wealth. Jesus drew attention to the generosity of the poor and ridiculed the self-importance of the wealthy. And the wealthy ridiculed him right back.

Let Your Light Shine!

I've been thinking of the summer "lectionary." My confirmation verse was Matthew 5-- about "your little light shine"/bushel basket. I found it a childhood dilemma... one message to show your light (your gifts) to the world... yet (as Garrison Keillor so sagely nails it) "Don't call attention to yourself." --Jan K

I ask you, can a sunflower stop being shiny? Heck no! Do we judge the sunflower for drawing attention to itself? Not if we are sane and well-adjusted!

Still, it's probably a good idea to balance, "Let your light shine," with "beware of practicing your piety before strangers, in order to be seen by them." Don't serve at the soup kitchen for the photo op. Serve at the soup kitchen so that people can eat, and thank God (not you) for the bread.

A family acquaintance belongs to a church that sends missionaries to the world's poorest people, and when they go they bring no food for the hungry, no medicine for the sick, they build no shelters for the homeless. They tell the people that if they believed in Jesus, they would have all these things. Now, that's just messed up. But here is the theology behind it: the members of this church are so afraid of "works righteousness" that they refuse to do any work at all, lest God think they are trying to buy their way to heaven.

Let your light shine! Let your salt season the bread! Let people see God's love reflected in you!

Sisterly Love: Martha and Mary

Proverbs 31:10-31; Luke 10:38-42

The story of Martha and Mary was submitted by Marcia F., who, as most of you would guess, identifies with Martha. But she is not the only one. When the story comes up at prayer circle, for example, a number of women whom I admire get really ticked off at Jesus, for being so unkind to Martha. I am surprised at the women who get ticked off by this story. I strongly suspect them of being older sisters in their families of origin. I, being the younger sister, identify with Mary, so I really like this story. It makes me feel good and vindicated.

But not everyone loves this story, which is sad, because, sisters, we don't have many stories in the Bible about us. There aren't many biblical characters with whom we can identify like we can identify with Martha and Mary. Of all the people named in the Bible, the overwhelming majority are male. And, when a female character makes an appearance, she is rarely named-- usually she is identified as the wife of or the concubine of or the mother of or the sister of some guy. But here is Martha, and Mary, two women who are defined by their relationship not to some guy but to each other!

So, Sisters, why do we have a problem with this story? Perhaps we over identify, over personalize it. Maybe because we have so few biblical women with whom to identify, or maybe it is a gender-specific characteristic. Men don't seem to do this-- men don't get bent out of shape because Jesus was mean to Peter when he rebuked him.

In a video entitled "How to Irritate People," comic actor John Cleese related a story about his fellow Python Graham Chapman, who conspired with Cleese to demonstrate gender difference at a party they were attending. As if speaking to Cleese, Chapman said, very loudly, "The problem with women is they take everything personally." Immediately, three women turned on him and said, "Well I don't."

Perhaps we do. So Martha, I want to tell you, that this story, it's not about you. Don't take it personally. And Mary, it's not about you either (I say to myself). So stop feeling so smug and self-satisfied.

There is much to be commended in both women. Martha is the epitome of the wise and capable woman of the Proverb, with one exception-- she doesn't seem to be anyone's wife. But she is a caretaker, a capable woman, head of her household. Her sister Mary is behaving badly. Mary is sitting where she does not belong, at the rabbi's feet. That is the place for the honored student; if the disciples were an orchestra Mary would be sitting in the first chair, violin section, so to speak. Mary is taking a place that is not hers to take. In politest terms, Mary is being inappropriate, presumptuous. In less polite terms, Mary's behavior is scandalous. Some people might think she's acting like some sort of floozy.

Martha, as the head of her household is duty-bound to protect her sister and preserve the honor of the house. Martha expects Jesus to help her, but to everyone's surprise, Jesus does something completely different. Jesus turns the world upside down, again.

He rebuked Martha. The same way he rebuked his disciples for sending the children away, and found an opportunity for teaching a whole new way to look at the world. It is an amazing, liberating, new teaching.

Remember the story of Jesus and the children? They (Who were they? Might they be women, mothers perhaps?) were bringing children to Jesus that Jesus might bless them, but when the disciples saw it, they ordered them to stop. An important rabbi like Jesus doesn't have time to waste on little children. But when Jesus saw what was going on, he rebuked the disciples, and said to them, "Let the little children come to me!" They are first in the kingdom of God.

How about that. Women and children are part of God's new world, and so are the blind, and the lame, and the demon-possessed, the Samaritans, the alien and the sojourner in the land. The story of Martha and Mary is one gospel story among many that says to the church, that whatever we do, if we do not include the people on the fringe, then we are not complete.

We are the church. We are Mary and Martha, and Peter and Andrew, and we are the Gerasene demoniac, the leader of the synagogue, and the Syro-Phonecian woman. We are all of these. We need to be all of these together.

God knows the church needs Martha. But sometimes we are, like Martha, anxious and troubled about things that really are not all that important, when it comes right down to it. We are accustomed to providing certain programs and services as a congregation, but, unless we spend some time with Mary, at the feet of Jesus, we will not have the energy to do the many good things that we can do. We need to balance the "doing" of Martha with the "being" of Mary.

The annual leadership retreat is usually very "Martha." We do budgets and calendar and planning and reviewing. So this August, on the 14th, when we get together for our leadership retreat, we will spend some time being Mary, sitting at the feet of Jesus, listening.

Thanks be to God for Martha, and Mary, and for what the Spirit is saying to the church. Amen.

Responding to a Fundamentalist

An acquaintance of mine, who is a fundamentalist, sent me the following note after the publication of "Do We Always Have to Win?"

I read with interest your article in the Dispatch dated Friday July 30, 2010. In fact I was so interested in what you said that I couldn't go to sleep last night without reading it again. Would you please answer these questions for me?

1. Do you believe that the Bible is really the Word of God?

2. Is the Bible only a "collection of stories" or actual happenings?

3. What was the purpose of Christ's death on the cross?

4. Do you truly believe He was not a winner?

I look forward to your answer.

Here is my response. I hope it was both honest and kind.

Thank you for reading my article and thoughtfully responding. As for your questions: 1 and 2 I think you can quite clearly understand from reading the article. This is consistent with biblical scholarship. The scriptures are our theological inheritance from generations past. They require thoughtful interpretation, critical study, an understanding of the culture out of which they arose and the language in which they were told and written. This is consistent with 2,000 years of orthodox, catholic, and protestant teaching. "Biblical inerrancy" is a 20th century fundamentalist concept, with which I disagree.

3. What was the purpose of Christ's life? That is the more important question.
4. Was Jesus a winner? It's a question, not a statement. Jesus was handily defeated by Barabbas in a popular election. He was not a wealthy man. His followers did not constitute the A-crowd. He was betrayed, arrested and executed as a criminal insurrectionist. By all that constitutes "a winner" in ancient or modern culture, was he a winner? In order to answer yes, he was a winner, how would we define winner?
Neither you nor I can "win" any disagreement we have about the faith. I do not expect to win you over. If your faith works for you, then, good for you. Your interpretation of the faith does not fit my understanding of the world, the church, the scritptures, or the life of Christ. I will not try to make you a mainline protestant; and I hope you will not try to make me a fundamentalist.
Winning, however, is not what Christ taught. He taught love, and I trust that is the way to the heart of God.
Sincerely,
Rev. Deborah G Celley