Sibling Rivalry

Genesis 4:1-16

The story of Cain and Abel was left out of the Revised Common Lectionary. It is not one of the texts selected to be read in church, on any Sunday, during the course of the three-year cycle. And yet it is a story with which we are all familiar. The plot line has been copied and reinterpreted throughout the ages, in fiction, ballads, plays, film. And the story keeps repeating itself in real life, as well.

Somewhere way, way back long ago, when people were just beginning to be able to think of themselves as people, and just beginning to wonder at the meaning of life, the universe, and everything, they began to tell each other stories. Storytelling is a way of making sense of the world, a way of telling an intangible truth through metaphor. That is still the function of stories today, our methods of telling the stories have changed, but we continue to tell them for the same reasons we have always told each other stories. To say something true. To share our values.
We understand that when we watch television or film that we are being told a story. And if the story is told well it will be true. It seems to me that are not many stories, really-- the same plot lines are told over and over again. There is the story of how love conquers all. It is told by Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler in "50 First Dates," which is a popular movie about a woman who, due to an auto accident, has no long-term memory, so Adam Sandler has to make her fall in love with him every day. Eventually, the story goes, they find a way to make a life together. We know that even though the story (as it is told in this specific film) is just plain silly, it is true. The truth is that love conquers all.
Then there is the story of how money doesn't buy happiness. Charles Dickens was very fond of that story and he told it over and over again with rich, miserable misers and poor, happy orphans. It doesn't matter that there never was an Ebenezer Scrouge or a Tiny Tim, the story is still true.
Shakespeare was especially fond of Cain and Abel plot line and it forms the basis of his greatest tragedies and histories: Titus Andronicus, Hamlet, Richard III, the Scottish play. Even if there never was a Cain or an Abel, the story is still true, and tragic, and it is being repeated over and over again.
The creation stories tell us that we are all related. We are all made in the image of God, according to the first story. We are all children of Adam and Eve, according to the second story. I can imagine the first precocious homo sapien child, listening to one of these stories around the fire at night, asking, "If we are all related, how come people fight?" It's a question we continue to ask today, "Why can't we all just get along?"
This is the story that was told to address that question. The story goes that there were two brothers. One was jealous of the other. He was jealous that his brother was better loved than he. God warned him not to be jealous, God warned him about that green-eyed monster couching by the door, ready to spring, ready to pounce. But at that moment, the jealous brother was overcome by rage and he killed his brother. Immediately he regretted it, and he tried to hide what he had done. But, murder will out. You can't hide from God.
God knew what had happened. But, just like a mother, God went ahead and asked the rhetorical question anyway. "Cain, where is your brother?"
To which Cain replied (apparently not realizing what rhetorical meant) with his own rhetorical question, "Am I my brother's keeper?" Which God, knowing everying including what rhetorical means, did not answer.
Am I by brother's keeper? Am I supposed to keep track of my brother as if he were a sheep in my flock, or an animal in my zoo? How would you answer that question if you were God? To the people that God made out of clay, God gave the keeping of all the earth. And if people are a part of "all the earth," then yes, we are each others keepers. But then again, people are not animals, we are not supposed to treat each other like dumb beasts. So maybe we are not each others keepers. But we know from the 23rd Psalm that "The Lord is our keeper (our shepherd, which is somebody who keeps sheep). So maybe we could say, yes, and maybe no. But what God could have said for certain is, "You are your brother's brother, and you ought to know where he is." I think that's what I might say if I were to write God's line for this story.
We may, or may not be our brothers' keepers, but we are created to be our brothers' brothers and our sisters' sisters. When we raise our hands against brothers and sisters, we curse ourselves, and our children suffer the consequences of guilt for generations. Cain killed Abel. Abel died, Cain survived, and suffered for the rest of his days.

Tomorrow when we commemorate the fallen, we adorn Abel's grave with flowers. Memorial Day is Abel's day, the day we remember our brothers and our sisters who have died on our behalf, who have been killed on our behalf by... our brothers and our sisters. For what else is war, but the tragic repetition of the murder of Abel by Cain? This is most clear when we remember the Civil War dead, for whom this national holiday was created. "Love and tears for the blue, tears and love for the gray." It was brother against brother. And the same is true of every war, if we agree that we are all members of one human family, all children of God. North and South Korea, Israel and Palestine, Pakistan and India, wherever and whenever war breaks out, Cain is sent to kill Abel, over and over again.
War happens because we can not see when sin is couching at the door. We are the ones who look over the fence at our neighbor's grass and say, "Hey, why is that grass greener than mine? Shouldn't I have green grass, and a gardener to mow it?" Shouldn't I have all of this, and more? Truth is it's none of our business who has greener pastures, or better access to crude oil or shipping lanes, or whatever else precipitates war.

But there is a note of hope, even in this tragedy, because we learn the truth about God in this story. The truth is that God does not seek vengeance for the life of Abel. The truth is, God loves Cain just as much as God loves Abel. It is said that God put a mark on Cain, a mark to protect him, so that no one would kill him. The mark of Cain-- so much speculation has arisen over the years about who bears "the mark of Cain." If there is such a mark, then surely it is a mark that we all bear, because we are as much children of Cain as we are of Eve and Adam. Maybe it's this dimple just above our lips. Maybe when Cain said "I'm a dead man," God said "Hush your mouth," and put her finger right there-- hush!

God does not demand Cain's life for Abel's. Cain lives, in exile yes, but he lives, and his children live, and there remains the potential for peace between the children of Cain and the children of Abel. The psalm 133 rejoices in the hope of reunion. How good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity! According to the notes, this psalm was written the hope of uniting the tribes of Israel, a hope that was never realized. It is a reunion we continue to hope for, yearn for, and walk toward, step by step, as we continue on the journey of faith that makes us partners with God in the Creation of God's realm of peace. So let's walk on in eager longing, in hopeful expectation, hand in hand.

Grace (Psalm 133)

In my last post, I asked "what burbles up from the depths of memory when you are struck by beauty and grace." Here is one answer, from my own life experience.

Whenever I entered Earlville United Parish church on a Sunday morning to find the Laxson brothers ushering, I couldn't keep myself from saying aloud, "How good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell together in unity" -- the first verse of Psalm 133. Seeing those two men together, living in the same town, spending time together, working at church together, and apparently enjoying one another's company-- for more than fifty years!-- it was a wonder to me, a cause for holy awe. Honestly, I couldn't think of anything more torturous than having to see my sister or brother every day. I did not like them, up-close. At a distance, they were all right. At holidays, for a few hours, I could tolerate them. I liked the general idea of a close-knit family, and I really wished I could have grown up in one of those, but I didn't.
What I remember of my childhood is pinching, biting, wrestling, slapping, name-calling, and believe me it was all in self-defense. My brother escaped the family home as soon as he was old enough to work; my sister wouldn't leave even after she was married. She was always around, I couldn't go home to have a quiet visit with my parents, she was there waiting for me when I pulled in the driveway. I just couldn't stand her.
When she died, the first thing I remember saying to my husband once I was able to stop crying for a while is, "I thought she would be around to irritate me until we were old ladies together." I swear, I remember Richard saying, "Well, maybe she will be." In the sense that just thinking of what a horrible, ungrateful little sister I was horrifies me, she is with me still.
I have two daughters. And this is how I know that God does not punish us according to our actions-- they like each other. They get along great. They each have a better sister than either my sister or I had. When I see them together, I can't help but think, "How good and pleasant it is when sisters dwell together in unity." Ah... Amen.

(Living together in harmony, at least long enought to snap a photo. Easter 1966.)

What's Your Story? (2)

This summer, at First Congregational UCC, we will take a break from the Revised Common Lectionary and create our own list of biblical narratives for worship, study and prayer. You are cordially invited to participate in the formation of our "uncommon lectionary."

During worship on May 23rd, the congregation spent some time meditating on these questions: What is your biblical story? What inspires you? What troubles you? What are the core stories of our scripture? This exercise prompted some thoughtful responses. A sample of the responses I've received so far suggests we are on a similar plane of thought, regarding what puzzles us:

I have been thinking about the story of Elijah's contest with the priests of Baal. What does this say to us about relationships with Muslims, Jews, Hindus, etc-- Do we have to "win"? How about our relationships with "the evangelicals" Are we right and they wrong, or visa versa? Or does that miss the point of the story?

Another wrote,

"No one comes to the father but by me." Fundamentalists often throw this up when someone suggests Gandhi might be in heaven (or nirvana?). There are a few other verses like this that people use to justify mission work that resembles more the crusades than the work of Jesus.

There are also some similarities in what inspires us: the sermon on the mount, the beatitudes, "the one that says, God is Love." As the youngest of three children, I particularly appreciated this submission:

(Significant in learning to deal with two older brothers) "A harsh word stirs up wrath, but soft words turn away anger."

What is your story? What biblical story most informs your life? What scripture got you through a crisis? What scripture did you select for your wedding? What comforts you in grief, what burbles up from the depths of memory when you are struck by beauty and grace?

To help us form this uncommon lectionary, comment on this post. Then check back, as the weeks progress, to see what comes of our efforts to make our own, homemade and locally grown lectionary.

Flaming Disciples

The story goes that the disciples were on fire that day.
They were celebrating the day of Pentecost, which commemorates the day Moses brought the commandments down from the mountain of the Lord. When Moses came down from the mountain, his face was radiant with the presence of the Lord-- so shiny the people couldn't bear to look at him and asked him to cover his face. Moses was the one who first heard the voice of God coming from a burning bush that was not consumed. God was present with Moses, and through the law which Moses brought to the people, God was present with all the people who followed Moses, and with their descendants forever.
As they were all together, praying, and celebrating how God was present with Moses, suddenly they experienced the powerful presence of God for themselves, first-hand, in the wind and the fire. It was the gift of the Holy Spirit, the same spirit which was with Moses and Elijah and Jesus.
That is the second chapter of Acts, the Acts of the Apostles, which really ought to be called the Acts of the Holy Spirit because the Holy Spirit is the power that inspires and moves (sometimes literally moves) every act in the book. The Spirit moves like a fire, setting hearts aflame with passion for God and for each other and for all the people, friend and foe, slave and master, prisoner and jailer. The Holy Spirit seems to have no standards at all. Whatever, whoever is combustible will catch the Holy Spirit's fire.
The real wonder is why some people seem to be flame-retardant.
When the apostles received the Spirit they began to tell the story of God's saving love, and everyone could hear and understand. Except those who couldn't. Some people just thought they were aflame with a different kind of spirit, the kind that comes in wine skins.
But note that the apostles didn't spend a moment agonizing over those who didn't "get it." They continued to move with the Spirit, to speak as the Spirit gave them the ability, to go wherever the Spirit led, and to allow that they did not own the Spirit of God, rather, the Spirit used them. As the Spirit of God uses us, to reach others.
We burn with the Spirit and yet we are not consumed-- like the burning bush in the Moses story. When we come together to worship, we devote yourself to prayer, which is perhaps the drying room for damp tinder, and perhaps lifting our voices in song is the bellows that makes the flame burn brighter. So we can go out, flaming with the Spirit of the Lord, ready to share the love of God, in ways that all people can hear and understand, and catch fire. Amen.

What's Your Story?

This summer, at First Congregational UCC, we are going to take a break from the Revised Common Lectionary and create our own list of biblical narratives. Our own Uncommon Lectionary will become the focus of our worship, study and prayer.
So what's your story? What story would you like to hear read and unpacked and examined in a sermon? What story would you like to pray or sing? What story would you like to share with the congregation?
How about an examination of the creation stories (yes, there are more than one)? What about that guy who got swallowed by a whale? What about Ruth and Naomi, the two widows who throw their lot in together?
Take a few moments to think about it. If you were browsing through a used book shop, and the guy looking through the shelf next to you picked up a bible and said, "Do you know if there are any good stories in here?" What would you recommend?

What's a Witness to Do? Love Everybody.

Acts 11:1-18, John 13:31-35

"Meanwhile, Peter stayed in Joppa with a certain Simon, a tanner." That's where the Book of the Acts of the Apostles left us, last week, in the exciting saga of the first Christians. Peter and all of the disciples were just figuring out what to do, post-Jesus. When Jesus was with them, he was at times incomprehensible, maddening, but at least he was there, and they could follow him. In this post resurrection world, they were finding their own way, with the help of the Holy Spirit and angels and visions. Like us, they were sometimes blind, but sometimes they could see.
And I truly see, Peter said in the 10th chapter, that God shows no partiality. This is not new information, this is something from way back in the law and the prophets, that God is the God of all the people, not just "us" but also "them." God is the God of Naomi of Bethlehem and Ruth of Moab; God is the God of Jerusalem and of Nineveh. God is the God of Judea and Samaria. Love your neighbor as yourself, Jesus said. How simple is that? Simple, to understand. As we know, difficult to practice. Because, it just seems like there is something at work in us that looks for somebody to hate, somebody to blame for all our troubles, somebody to stand against. The gospel writers themselves could not avoid demonizing somebody. In the gospel of John it is "the Jews," for which I prefer to substitute the term "the religious authorities" because, really, almost every character in the gospel is a Jew, including Jesus, and his mother, and the beloved disciple John, and Peter and all of the disciples. Except for a few minor Roman characters, everyone in the gospel is a Jew. Two thousand years of Church-sanctioned but not Christ-sanctioned violence against Jews and Muslims, women and homosexuals: this is evidence of how difficult it has been to follow this simple commandment, love one another. Love your neighbor as yourself. And who is my neighbor?
Into the mind of Peter, the one who denied Jesus three times, into the mind of Peter flowed this vision, three times. The vision seemed to be all about food, and it was puzzling. But when the messengers came from the centurion's household, perhaps Peter remembered what Jesus had taught him in the parable of the good Samaritan. Who is my neighbor? Whoever is in need, whoever shows compassion. Cornelius is both in need of and a provider of compassion. Aren't we all?
We need the church, as much as Cornelius needed the church. Cornelius didn't need conversion, the way Saul/Paul the persecutor of the church needed conversion. Cornelius was already a righteous man, a worshiper of God, a generous man full of good works. And yet, he lived on the margins of the community of faith. Until he sent for Peter, and became a part of the vision of the church without boundaries.
The church needed Cornelius, as much as the church needs us. Peter needed Cornelius to complete the interpretation of his vision. We need each other, we all need each other.
As we come to this table today, we remember that we feed each other with the presence of Christ. We are Christ-bearers and interpreters of visions to each other. In our relationship to one another we practice Christ's command to love one another, because as simple as it is, it is so difficult. Beloved, let us love one another.