Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Consoling Job


Now, when Job's three friends heard of all these troubles that had come upon him...they met together to go and console and comfort him. They sat with him seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.
--Job 2:11,13
            What if, instead of immediately rushing to fill the airwaves with commentary after the slaughter of the innocents at Sandy Hook school, the nation had observed a holy silence? What if, instead of shooting at the families who grieved, the photographers had capped their lenses and sat down on the ground around the school and wept? What if, instead of mining for sound bites, reporters had shut off their recording devices and spoke not a word, seeing that the parents’ suffering was very great?
            Silence is not the same as indifference. Sometimes the most compassionate response is quiet understanding.
            I do not fault the photographers and reporters for doing their jobs, or the leaders of cities, states and the nation for trying to give voice to our collective shock and grief. I do not intend to criticize. I merely offer an exercise in imagination. Can we imagine a more compassionate world?
            If we can imagine it, perhaps we can begin to realize it.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Prepare the Way! (Decoded)


9 December 2012
            “My relationship with the Lord has grown cold” she said. “I have to work on that.”
            She wasn’t talking to me. I just couldn’t help but overhear the conversation in the booth directly behind me, no matter how hard I tried not to hear it. I mean, you can’t put your fingers in your ears and hum at Perkins. Not unless you are small enough to order off the children’s menu. That sort of behavior is unbecoming in an adult. Likewise, turning around and joining a conversation with strangers is generally not an option. But if it were, this is what I would like to have said: “How is your relationship with your people? Do you have a warm relationship with the people you see every day? Because we relate to God through other people.”
            I was just reading Malachi (the last book in the Old Testament). In Malachi’s day, people were complaining that God did not seem to care about their troubles. People thought that if they went to the temple and offered the usual sacrifice, if they observed the ritual and the rules, that they out to get something out of it. People were starting to complain. Why are we going to all this trouble if God does not show?
Malachi said to them, if you want God to be faithful to you, then you all should be faithful to your wives. If you want God to be fair, you better treat other people fairly. If you want God to be generous, then be generous to people who are in need. Simple really. Simple to understand; it’s the doing that’s difficult.
            This is the Sunday—the second Sunday in Advent-- when we sing about preparing a way in the wilderness. In the metaphorical language of the church, during Advent we prepare a way for Jesus to enter into our hearts. That is poetic language; it’s beautiful. It is also meaningless, unless by “Jesus” we mean people. We open our hearts to other people by getting to know them, so that their joys become our joys, and their cares become our cares.
But that too is meaningless, unless by “opening our hearts” we mean not just being mindful of the miseries of others, but doing whatever we can to relieve the miseries of others, working as hard to relieve their miseries as we work to relieve our own. If faith is just a feeling, what earthly good is that? What difference in the world does it make for us to feel all warm and Jesus-y in our hearts?
            The prophets speak of a change of heart but they don’t stop there. Words of glad tidings are empty if they are not followed by deeds. This is how the Prince of Peace comes into the world, to save the world: First the Godly one is born into our hearts, then our minds, then our bodies. This is how we become drenched in Godliness, this is how the holy works through us. Feel it. Think it. And go and do. This is the good news. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

The Tree in Winter


2 December 2012
In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David;
 and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. --Jeremiah 33:15

            To me, there is nothing sadder than the sight of bare naked trees in winter. Trees that have dropped all their leaves—they look so cold, and so vulnerable. In a deciduous forest in winter you cannot tell the living from the dead. All the trees look lifeless, unless you know what to look for, unless you know how to read the signs. If you look closely, you can see the buds, even in midwinter. The buds signify life. The buds are the difference between dormancy and death. The tree is only sleeping.
            This is Advent: it is a walk in a winter wood, looking for signs of life.
            As I mentioned in our weekly newsletter, I was talking with a group of colleagues a week or two ago about the perceived “problem” of Advent. Many ministers feel pressured to skip Advent and go straight to Christmas. I remember a pastor of my childhood reporting a conversation with the “Altar Guild” (a fancy name for the women who took charge of polishing the brass candlesticks and arranging for floral deliveries). One of the ladies complained that the purple candles on the Advent wreath clashed with the red and green. Reverend Ullman patiently explained that purple was the color of the season of Advent. Red and green have no liturgical significance. Purple is the imperial color, the color of kings. Purple is passionate, and so the church has designated purple as the appropriate color for Advent. So don’t blame the purple for clashing with the red and green, blame the red and green for clashing with the purple. And that’s the story of how Rev. Ullman stood up to the Altar Guild. He didn’t stay long after that.
I suppose it is tempting to accommodate the commercial calendar. They are playing carols at the mall, so why not sing them at church? Isn't all this Advent drama just a pretense anyway? We know what's coming on December 24-- Christmas Eve, the birth of Jesus, Angels and shepherds and wise men and fa-la-la-la-la. Why pretend to wait for what we have already received?
Actually, I think the church plays it false when we pretend that Christmas is complete, in and of itself, that the baby king is the Kingdom, that God's salvation has arrived and all is resolved. The truth is, we abide in Advent. Advent is where we live-- somewhere between the announcement and the arrival of the peace of Christ, the realm of God.
Advent is a season of waiting. Waiting in darkness for the lights to come on. Waiting in hunger for breakfast to be served. Waiting in prison for release to be announced. Waiting in debt for forgiveness. Waiting on the battlefield for peace and return.
What are you waiting for? Does it make a difference, hearing that you do not wait alone? How does it feel to know that all the earth is waiting? Why would anyone want to cheat Advent? Advent is as real as life gets.
Even if you can think of nothing for which you are waiting, I invite you to abide in advent. Linger a while. Keep company with those who are waiting for salvation, forgiveness, peace. Our salvation is near. The bare trees, representative of dormant dreams, these trees are budding. Cut a branch, and put it in water. You will see your hope spring forth.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

This is the Joyful Feast

November 4, 2012

All Saints Day/Dia de los Muertos/Day of the Dead
Isaiah 25:6-9

            What is your comfort food? Every culture has comfort food, soul food. It’s the food that reminds us of good times and good people, food that smells like love. Maybe your trigger is the smell of chicken fat sizzling in a pan, or the lovely mouth-feel of banana pudding. Mac and cheese. Peanut butter on toast. Popcorn. Certain meals evoke memories of people and places and times gone by. Certain food has the power to remind us who we are, where we came from, and where we should be going.
            We are a faith founded on a meal of bread and wine, which is the ultimate comfort food. Of course we do not worship food itself, but the bread and wine reminds us who we are, where we came from, and where we should be going. This meal holds the meaning, it is so much more than bread and wine. It holds sacred memory. The container looks small, but it’s bigger on the inside. It goes deep down, far back into our sacred memory of bread from heaven, bread in the wilderness. It goes back to feast days and fast days, memories of scarcity and abundance.
If we pray the prayer that Jesus taught us, every day, then we are reminded every day that our daily bread is given by God. God feeds us.
The image of the God who feeds us is one of my favorite images of God, and another is the image of the God who tenderly wipes away every tear from our eyes (Revelation 21:3-4). Death shall be no more. Mourning and crying and pain will be no more. John of Patmos who received the Revelation was remembering the prophet Isaiah's promise to the people in exile. Isaiah was imagining God calling the people home to Jerusalem, to Mount Zion, where a feast was prepared for them-- "a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear." On the holy mountain of the Lord, God will swallow up death forever. "Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces."
One day in Jerusalem, Jesus shared the feast of Passover with his disciples. The feast was already a reminder of God’s power to save. What is the meaning of Passover? This feast is to make us feel as if we personally had come out of Egypt, as if we personally had been rescued from death and redeemed from slavery. The unleavened bread, the bread of people in a hurry. The cup of salvation, the cup that anticipates God’s return, to restore God’s reign of justice and righteousness. The meal already had meaning. Jesus added another layer of meaning when he said, this is my body, broken for you. This is the cup of the new covenant in my blood.
After Jesus died, the disciples scattered. They forgot the promises of God. They forgot that Jesus had told them that he was going to suffer and die, and rise again. They forgot, until they sat down at table with a stranger, who took bread and blessed it and broke it, and then they remembered. Their eyes were opened and they realized-- this feast means that death is swallowed up forever.
This feast is the Passover, this feast is the return from exile. This is the joyful feast of the people of God.
This Holy Communion is the Feast of Paradise. We share this feast with the dead as well as the living. The great cloud of witnesses gathers around the table, and the shroud is lifted-- that which separates the living from the dead is lifted. Death is swallowed up forever. We all feast in paradise together. Come and join the feast!

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Treasured Service


21 October 2012
Mark 10:35-45

            The front page of Thursday’s Brainerd Dispatch announced that Gary Walters is Brainerd's Outstanding Citizen of the Year. If you don't know the name, you probably know the stunts: this is the guy who camped out at the top of the old landmark water tower to raise money (and mentors) for Kinship Partners. Every year he picks a new outrageous adventure to draw attention to Kinship partners, like swimming across Lake Mille Lacs, walking the length of Minnesota, or cycling the Mississippi River Road to New Orleans. But his response to the award: "Walters said he gets so much more out of life by doing the adventures for Kinship Partners. He said youths and Kinship are not the only ones who benefit."
            Doesn’t the Citizen of the Year, the Volunteer of the Month, or the Human Rights Award honoree always say something like that? That is what service teaches us.
            Jesus said, "Whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be a slave of all." (Mark 10:43-44) He said this to all his disciples, according to the story, and of course, that includes us.
            Jesus had just told his disciples, for the third time, what was going to happen when they reached their destination. They were on the road to Jerusalem. We know what’s coming, we have heard the rest of the story, we know what will happen to Jesus in Jerusalem. Those who were following Jesus had some idea, he had told them twice before what awaits him in Jerusalem.
See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.
But you know how it is when you hear bad news, especially about someone you love. Surely not. No, couldn’t be. There will be a reprieve, surely, some miracle. James and John seem to have focused on only the last part of the message, the part about rising. And they asked Jesus if they could be right there with him when that rising part happens, when Jesus comes into his glory. And the other disciples heard about what James and John had done they were angry, perhaps because they didn’t think of it first. They were angry, maybe because they were afraid there wouldn’t be enough glory to go around. But God always provides more than enough glory to go around, and always enough serving to do. "Whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be a slave of all."
            We have been thinking, all this month, about how we treasure our church. Often times we think of what we treasure in terms of what we get: fabulous pot luck suppers, the overwhelming support of the congregation in times of crisis, the awe-inspiring beauty of candlelight on Christmas Eve.
But  Brainerd’s Citizen of the Year reminds us that the most valuable treasures are the opportunities to serve others. Because we really to get more than we give. We give time and effort, but we get to be servants, like Jesus. We get to be like Jesus when we serve.
We have this treasure in our church. It is the treasured opportunity to serve meals at the Sharing Bread Soup Kitchen. It is the treasured opportunity to make life a little bit better for a stranger. It is the opportunity to read stories to a very young guest when we host the Interfaith Hospitality Network in our Rainbow Center and Fellowship Hall. It is the opportunity to drive to Pine Ridge, to insulate a home against the cold winds of a Northern Plains winter and the scorching heat of a South Dakota summer.
As you continue to think about this treasure we have, think about our treasured opportunities for service.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Too Much Baggage for the Journey


14 October 2012
Mark 10:17-31

            Who is wealthy? There is so much talk today-- all seams aimed at dividing us-- the 99%, the 1%, the 47%. My friend, Bryan Sirchio, a UCC minister & musician goes to Haiti regularly, to do what he can to help the poor, and gain some perspective. He tells a story of how “the poor” helped him. He was working with the Sisters of Charity in Port-au-Prince, doing whatever needed to be done, which was on this particular day, cutting hair. Bryan was no barber but he had been to one and knew that part of the job is the chatter. He got to talking with this man from Port-au-Prince, about the rich and the poor, and Bryan asked the man, “Do you think I’m rich?”
The man said, “I don’t know. How many times a week do you eat?”
Bryan was sure he had heard wrong. Sensing his confusion the man continued, “I mean, to you eat food every day? If you eat food every day, you are rich.”
            So I invite you to approach this text not as one of the 99%, but as one who eats food every day and therefore, is rich. Because it is too easy to approach this text in a judgmental way, if we think it is not about us. It is about us.
            Having placed ourselves firmly in the story as the rich young person, I want us all to consider this important detail: Jesus loved that rich young man. Not because he was rich, not because he was “good” (No one is good but God alone). Jesus just loved that rich young man. And Jesus loves you. All.
            The rich young man came and knelt at Jesus feet to ask “What must I do?” And Jesus responded by reminding him of the commandments:
            You shall not murder;
You shall not commit adultery;
You shall not steal;
You shall not bear false witness;
You shall not defraud;
Honor your father and mother.
These are six of the Ten Commandments. These make up the second tablet of the law, which Jesus, elsewhere, summed up in one: Love your neighbor as yourself.
Perhaps Jesus was about to list the four remaining commandments, when the man interrupted him and said, “I have kept all these since my youth!”
Then Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said: “You lack one thing: sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me."
You lack one thing. Even if we have managed to love our neighbor as we love ourselves, keeping the whole second tablet of the law, there is also the first tablet, the first four of Ten Commandments:
You shall have no other gods.
You shall make no graven image
You shall not take God’s name in vain.
Honor the Sabbath.
Elsewhere in the gospel, Jesus summarized this tablet also: Love God, with all your heart and soul and mind and strength.
Our relationship with wealth is one of the greatest threats to our relationship with God, because it is the idol most likely to replace God as the object of our love, the desire of our hearts, the preoccupation of our mind, for which we spend our strength. The pursuit of wealth threatens our souls.
So it is with love that Jesus challenged the man to let go of his idol, and trust in God alone.
This is the season of the year when the stewardship committee invites us all to make a commitment to give to the church. We often think that we need to give because we owe the church our support. As if it is an exchange for services rendered. That is one way to look at it, I appreciate that, I sincerely do. But it doesn’t work for me. I give for a different reason. I give because giving away the idol that most tempts me is a way to profane that idol. I give away money to renounce the money’s claim on my life.
The truth is, we all need to give, because giving away that which threatens to displace God is itself and act of faith, a spiritual discipline. We need to give just as much as we need to pray, and study the scriptures, and worship and sing together. The act of giving is itself a prayer and a song, an act of devotion.
Jesus calls to us all: come to me, you weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light. Wealth might be one of those burdens.
            The journey is long, and the way is hard. It is best to leave the baggage behind. Our relationship with wealth is hefty baggage. The rich young man knew that much-- or at least, he knew something wasn’t right. That’s why he knelt at Jesus feet, taking the posture of one who begs for healing. Wealth was burden, Jesus said he needed to lay it down.
May we to have the wisdom to kneel down and allow Jesus to lift every burden, that we might take up the cross and follow him on the journey.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Wisdom-Watching


23 September 2012
Proverbs 31:10-31; James 3:13-4:3; Mark 9:30-37

            We have known it was coming for quite some time. We can feel it, like a steady change in altitude that we can feel in our ears. I find, that like Pavlov’s dogs salivating at the sound of the bell, I have been conditioned to dread the approach of November elections. It is the season of bitter squabbles on television and radio, billboards and web sidebars. I reflexively start my engine and tune into NPR, and suddenly I feel like I’m trapped in the car with quarrelsome children… except they are not children, they are petulant adults, each one trying to convince me that the other is stupid. Not just stupid, but dangerously stupid enough to be thrown out of the car.
            The democratic ideal is that the people rule. We the people, if we are to rule, we must be engaged in a process of discernment, make reasoned decisions, and cast responsible votes. Who among us is wise? Which candidates have the wisdom to lead us?
            It is a tremendous responsibility, which I believe most people take seriously. Some of us take it so seriously we become sick with anxiety. How do we prove ourselves faithful citizens without going mad, in this season of madness?
            Sometimes I think the best thing to do is turn off the radio. Turn off the TV. Stop reading the blogs, columns, or letters that we know will just whip us into a frothy anger. That anger, that anxiety, that stress is not helping us make reasoned decisions.
            Instead, we should use that time to meditate. I am serious! Try this. It is a prescription for your spiritual health from your spirit-doctor: take 10 minutes that you would ordinarily spend watching the morning news program, and meditate on this final chapter of Proverbs. Do the same at night. Ten minutes in the morning, ten minutes before you sleep. From now until election day, give it at least that. Because this passage tells us what wisdom looks like, it may just help us to discern who among us is wise.
            Wisdom opens her hands to the poor, and reaches out to the needy.
            Wisdom prepares employment for her servants, but also labors alongside them. Wisdom is not too proud to take on the task of the servant.
            Wisdom is a house-holder, which in Greek is the same word for economist. Wisdom is an economist who provides food, clothing, and shelter for all her household, not just herself, not just her husband, not just her children. Wisdom provides for everyone, the whole economy.
            The capable woman is the personification of wisdom. Imagine a world run by capable women. Some of them might even be men. In most of the Scriptures, we women, we have imagine ourselves as generic men. All that “mankind,” man this and man that, him, his. Well fellas, the table is turned in this one scripture, and you get to imagine yourselves as generic women. Now do you understand all the fuss about inclusive language? Do you get it? Imagine the world run by capable women, generically speaking--- a world run by people who are the embodiment of wisdom.
            If proverbs doesn’t provide enough material for your meditation, turn to James. We know all too well that every candidate claims to be wise. But oftentimes they are simply clever. Knowing. Shrewd. Confounding. Manipulative. That is not what James would call “wisdom from above.” Look to see who is gentle. Merciful. Willing to yield. Who is a peacemaker.
            Finally, look to the gospel. The simplest test of all: The one who would be first of all must be a servant of all. Jesus placed a child in the midst of them. See this picture on the bulletin cover of this beautiful child? That is a child who has just come out of the tub! No dirt, no scabs, no nose ickies— any of us intimately familiar with parenthood know that this picture is not an entirely honest depiction of this child. Your typical child looks like that for about 5 minutes after bath time. Then he or she is back to their normally runny-nosed self. The child Jesus picked up probably looked like any child who spent the day outdoors without adult supervision. The one who welcomes that child-- the orphaned, naked, street urchin--  that is the one who is worthy to be our first among all.
            May God bless these days of discernment. May God grant us wisdom, and courage, and may God grant us peace. Amen.

Monday, October 1, 2012

Consider the Cat


30 September 2012
On the occasion of “Bless the Beasts” Sunday
Outdoor Worship in Gregory Park 

            Today we take a break from the routine of worship in our church sanctuary to come outside to God’s sanctuary, of which every church sanctuary is an incomplete copy. Today the sky is our ceiling and the pines are our pillars and the maples our stained glass. Thank God!
            Remember that we used to live a lot closer to the earth. Not you and me personally of course, but our ancestors, many generations removed, rested each night on the bosom of the earth itself. We used to live much closer to our fellow creatures of the earth as well, keeping our domesticated animals close to us and keeping the predators as far away as possible.
            Living so close together, cheek by jowl, perhaps it was clearer to us then that we are dependent on one another. Our dogs kept  us warm and alerted us to danger, and we kept them warm and shared our food with them. With the help of our dogs we watched our cattle and kept them safe, led them to pasture and water, and they in turn fed us and clothed us. It was clear to us that we were dependent on one another, that our welfare and the animals’ welfare were intertwined.
            Today we remember and give thanks to God for our co-creatures. We remember that we were made for each other. We remember that our welfare and our fate is intertwined. May we always be mindful that God has made a covenant not just with us, but with every living thing.
            There is yet more light and truth to break forth from the earth and all that dwell therein. Jesus gives us a clue: the abundant life on this earth is not just for food and clothing, but for beauty and delight. Our relationship with each other is not strictly utilitarian. All living things have something to offer, even the lilies of the field, even the cat.
            The cat is one creature you won’t see mentioned in the Bible, but we can learn from them nevertheless. If you want to know peace, contemplate your domestic cat. Look at her, lounging in the pool of sunlight. She know how to appreciate the moment. Or find her in your closet, sleeping on your softest sweater, or in the linen cupboard, graciously furring up the towels for you. That cat knows when and where to get some alone time.
Note how the feline head is the perfect size and shape, a match for the human hand; and how she fits in the hollow of your lap. What other reason could God have for creating the cat, than to be our comfort and blessing?
Thank God and give praise for all creatures great and small! Amen.

Friday, September 28, 2012

Adam & Eve, Ruth & Naomi, David & Jonathan


It’s Adam and Eve, Ruth and Naomi, David and Jonathan:
The Biblical Case for a Broader View of Family
By Rev. Deborah G Celley
On November 6, the citizens of Minnesota will be asked, “Shall the Minnesota Constitution be amended to provide that only a union of one man and one woman shall be valid or recognized as a marriage in Minnesota?" My answer will be no. I am voting no because the amendment is discriminatory. The sole reason for the amendment is to prevent homosexual couples receiving the same rights that heterosexual couples receive through marriage. I am one of hundreds of Clergy United for All Families, a coalition of religious leaders working to defeat this amendment.
The pro-amendment side also has the support of some Minnesota clergy, most notably the Roman Catholic bishops and conservative protestant church leaders. These religious leaders claim that the union of one man and one woman is the biblical view of marriage. I will grant that it is one model of marriage found in the Bible. But one man, one woman is not the only biblical view of marriage and family.[1]
Throughout most of the Bible, marriage is a union between one man and as many women as he can afford to keep: like Jacob, Leah, and Rachel, for example. Also, a man’s family includes servants and the children of the servants that he has impregnated: the children of Bilhah and Zilpah in Jacob’s case (see Genesis 35: 23-26 for the roll of Jacob’s sons), and the child of Hagar, in the case of Jacob’s grandfather Abraham. We will visit Abraham’s story again later.
Genesis includes the story of Adam and Eve, but it also includes the story of Lot having sons by his daughters. His excuse was that they got him drunk; he didn’t know what he was doing (Genesis 19:30-38). Perhaps getting him drunk and sleeping with him was their revenge for his offering them up to be gang raped by the men of Sodom (Genesis 19:8).
The manliest man of them all, King Solomon, had among his wives, seven hundred princesses and three hundred concubines. With a thousand women to impregnate, it is no wonder he turned to a fertility goddess for a little extra help. (See 1 Kings 11:1-5). Solomon himself was not the son of David’s first (nor second, nor third) wife. Solomon was the son Bathsheba, whom David married after arranging her widowhood. (2 Samuel 11).
So, how can biblically literate people make the claim that one man, one woman is the Biblical view of marriage? Conservative Christians commonly site the words of Jesus in Matthew 19:3-6:
Some Pharisees came to him, and to test him they asked, ‘Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for any cause?’ He answered, ‘Have you not read that the one who made them at the beginning “made them male and female”, and said, “For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh”? So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.’[2]
Jesus quotes from each of the two distinct creation narratives. The first chapter of Genesis describes creation by the word of God’s mouth. Note the repeated refrain: “God said ‘Let there be—,’ and there was---.” The creation of human beings is the final act of creation, the capstone of God’s magnificent work. In this version, male and female humans are a simultaneous creation (Genesis 1:26-27).
The second chapter describes the order and process of creation distinctly differently from the first. In the second chapter God creates an earth-creature out the dust, and animates the creature. Then God plants a garden for the creature to live. After deciding that the creature looks lonely, God creates animals. The earth creature names them all, but among all these creatures not one was quite what God had in mind. So God put the earth creature to sleep, and divided it in two, and created a woman and a man.
And that, little children, is why we are always looking for the one who completes us, the one who makes us whole again. It is a beautiful story, and for most of us it works just so. Sometimes the person that completes another happens to be of the same gender. Whenever we celebrate the marriage of two people who love each other, the church intones these words, “What God has joined together, let no one separate.” It works regardless of gender.
In the gospel context, this passage is not as much about marriage as it is about the confrontation between Jesus and the Pharisees, who present a question not about marriage but about law, specifically, a law regarding divorce. The Pharisees knew the answer before they asked the question. The answer is yes, it is lawful. See Deuteronomy 24:1: if a man finds something objectionable about his wife he can write her a certificate of divorce.
In one remarkable biblical example, a mass dissolution of marriage was required by the will of the religious community, in order to be faithful to the law. You will find it in the book of Ezra, which chronicles the return of the exiles from Babylon to Jerusalem. The problem, introduced in the ninth chapter, was intermarriage. Some prominent people among the retuning exiles had taken foreign wives and had children with them. Intermarriage is prohibited by law (Deuteronomy 7:3-4). After fasting and prayer, the community concluded that those who had intermarried must divorce. (Ezra 10:3) The book of Ezra ends on the chilling report: “they sent them [their wives] away with their children.”
The Pharisees were experts in the law. They were members of a religious reform movement that was devoted to creating a society based on God’s law. As the gospel’s antagonists, the literary function of the Pharisees is to try and fail to trick Jesus into contradicting the law.
Here is why Jesus always stunned and outwitted the Pharisees: he did not contradict the law but he fulfilled the law. Jesus filled the law full of justice and mercy. Women were always the victims of divorce. While the intent of the law which allowed for divorce was to prevent the injustice of one man having to raise another man’s child (if the woman was found to be pregnant before her time), men used the law to interpret “something objectionable” freely.  Women received nothing but a certificate of divorce-- no property, no child support (and probably no children either, children were the husband’s property), no income. There was no law allowing a woman to divorce her husband. Only a man could initiate a divorce.
Jesus refused to be a party to injustice. In Jesus’ view, if someone takes a wife, he is responsible for that woman as long as she lives. Then Jesus followed up this teaching with something that the “biblical marriage” people conveniently forget.
“His disciples said to him, ‘If such is the case of a man with his wife, it is better not to marry.’” (Matthew 19:10) Jesus concurred, and then gave a peculiar little speech about men who have made themselves “eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let anyone accept this who can.” Here is evidence that celibacy and singleness were preferable to marriage and childbearing, in early Christian thought.
The apostle Paul recommended celibacy to the first Christians. He wrote it plainly in 1 Corinthians 7:25-35. Ironically, this letter is the same source for the ode to love so often read at weddings (1 Corinthians 13). Not that marriage itself is a sin, Paul wrote, he simply advised that it was better to remain single, because the responsibilities of marriage are a hindrance and a distraction from Godly devotion.
The Hebrew Bible presents marriage as a union of one man and as many women as he can afford to keep, regardless of the consent of the women taken as wives or concubines. The law, in Deuteronomy, makes provision for a man to divorce a wife with whom he finds fault, but no provision for a wife to divorce her husband. The Greek New Testament presents marriage as a worldly distraction, a threat to whole-hearted devotion to God and to the Christian community. This is not good news for any kind of marriage.
Fortunately, there is more. Within the Bible, I also find stories which ignite hope for the future of families, and affirm family values which I believe are more faithful to the heart of God than the one-man-one-woman mantra of the Christian right.
What makes a family? What kind of family delights the heart of God?
The book of Ruth tells the story of a widow, Naomi, who, after emigrating from Israel with her husband, is widowed. Her two grown sons, who had taken foreign wives, also died, childless. The three widows Naomi, Orpah, and Ruth, did not have a promising future. Naomi kissed her daughters-in-law goodbye, sent them back to their fathers, and wished them well. Then she turned her face toward her homeland, to seek refuge there. But the younger daughter-in-law Ruth clung to Naomi and promised:
Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge;
your people shall be my people, and your God my God.
Where you die, I will die—there will I be buried. (Ruth 1:16-17)
The women became a family of choice. They crossed the border together and made a home in Bethlehem. They supported one another by gleaning grain from the fields. The elder devised a plan for the younger to marry a relative, and when Ruth gave birth to a son, Naomi became the baby’s nurse. A woman, a woman, a man and a baby—that’s a biblical example of family that we do not see promoted at our local conservative church. But the value of devotion to one another, the value of enduring hardship together, the celebration of new life together, these are good family values. The story of Ruth clues us in to the kind of family that delights the heart of God: it is not the appearance that matters, as much as the quality of the relationships.
Church leaders who promote “traditional marriage” are often the same leaders who publicly deride single mothers, even if these women are single because they have been abused. Single mothers have a biblical champion in Hagar, the mother of Ishmael. I promised you I would revisit Abraham’s story. Hagar was an Egyptian slave in Abraham’s household; she was his wife Sarah’s maid. When Sarah thought she would never bear children, she used Hagar as her surrogate. Then, after Sarah gave birth to a son of her own (Isaac), Sarah insisted that Abraham send Hagar and Ishmael away (see Genesis 21:9-19). Abraham put the child on Hagar’s shoulder and sent them into the desert with a skin of water and a bit of bread. And when the bread and water were gone, and the child cried out in hunger, Hagar sat down to die.
Then God did something without precedent in the Hebrew Scriptures. God spoke to a woman. God spoke to Hagar and said, take that little boy by the hand, because I am going to make a great nation out of him. And God did. Starting with a poor African single mother and her little orphaned child, God made the nation that Scripture and tradition identify as the Arab people. But you don’t hear about that in the conservative women’s bible study.
Neither do you hear about Jonathan’s love for David. At first sight,
…the soul of Jonathan was bound to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul…. Then Jonathan made a covenant with David, because he loved him as his own soul. Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that he was wearing, and gave it to David, and his armor, and even his sword and his bow and his belt. (1 Samuel 18:1-4)
David and Jonathan were intimate. They were bound together; they became family. Jonathan declared that he loved David more than his own life (1 Samuel 20:17). When Jonathan was killed, David sang this lamentation:
I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan;
greatly beloved were you to me;
your love to me was wonderful,
passing the love of women.
Far be it from me to “out” David and Jonathan. Whether their relationship was typical of a Band of Brothers comradeship or more Brideshead Revisited is conjecture. There was a fierce love there, and a covenant, and at the last, grief and tears. That sounds a lot like a marriage.
We also meet all kinds of families in the New Testament. We meet young Timothy, Paul’s protégé, who was raised by two women: his mother and grandmother, Eunice and Lois (2 Timothy 1:5); there is no mention of a father. We have Lydia, a female head of household and leader of a church (Acts 16:14-15). We have the curious partnership of Prisca (aka Priscilla) and Aquila (mentioned several times in Acts and in some of Paul’s letters). I was sure that Aquila was a girl’s name, but it is not; I checked with Professor Deborah Krause of Eden Theological Seminary just to make sure. What is remarkable about this partnership, Professor Krause wrote[3], is that the name of the wife frequently precedes that of her husband, which is an unusual construction. It may suggest that first century Christians were more egalitarian than the conservative organization Focus on the Family would like us to think.
Jesus scandalized the religious conservatives of his day by suggesting that biological family ties were not of great importance. He shunned his mother and brothers when they were asking for him and proclaimed familial relationship with everyone who does the will of God (Mark 3:35). When James and John got up from their nets to follow him, he did not tell them to go back and take care of their father (Matthew 4:22). People left their mothers and fathers and children and homes to follow Jesus (Matthew 19:29) and he did not chastise them for it, he blessed them.
Married with Children was a popular American situation comedy that ran from 1987-1997. I was married (with children), during most of its decade-long run, so I was too busy to watch it, but I gather that it was a parody of the popular television families of the 1950’s: Leave It to Beaver, the Donna Reed Show, Father Knows Best. These fictional programs, not the Bible, are the more likely source for the conservative idea that marriage has been—from time immemorial—one man, one woman, with children. Real life has always—yes, even from biblical times-- been much more diverse than the Hollywood archetype.
What makes a family? What kind of family delights the heart of God? Look for the passion of Jonathan for David; look for the tender care and super-human strength in adversity of Hagar for her son Ishmael; look for the devotion to the next generation of Eunice, Lois and Timothy. Look for people united in a common mission to benefit the least and last, like the first Christian communities sharing possessions (see Acts 2:43-47 and 4:32-35). Where are our brothers, our sisters, our mothers and fathers? Wherever there is love, there is the family of Christ.

Rev. Deborah G Celley is pastor of First Congregational United Church of Christ, Brainerd, Minnesota. www.uccbrainerd.com. She also blogs at creatingworshiptogether.blogspot.com.


c. Deborah G Celley, 2012


[1] Carolyn Pressler, Professor of Biblical Interpretation at United Theological Seminary of the Twin Cities, has also published a paper online at mnunited.org
[2] The Scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the USA, and are used by permission. All rights reserved.
[3] In a personal email, September 9, 2012.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Unplugged!


9 September 2012
James 2:1-17; Mark 7: 24-37

Music Television’s Unplugged series debuted in 1989 (according to Wikipedia), offering viewers the opportunity to hear the live acoustic versions of popular songs that were usually electrified and often over processed in the music studio. For guitar players like Eric Clapton, Bonnie Rait, and Mark Nopfler, it was an opportunity to demonstrate that their musical talent was not dependent on the sound studio. For guitar amateurs like me, it was a revelation. Hearing “Layla” on acoustic guitar was like realizing that I’d never really heard it before. Oh, I’d listened, but I’d never really heard. My ears were opened, unplugged.

They brought to Jesus a man who was deaf and had an impediment in his speech and Jesus put his fingers to his ears and then he spat and touched his toungue and he said Ephphatha which means “unplug yourself!”

Be thou opened! It is what we might say to the kitchen sink when we are laboring over a clogged drain-- “Come on, unplug yourself!” Well it’s what I might say anyway. Anyone who has walked into my office while my laptop computer is misbehaving knows that I have a quirky habit of talking to my appliances.

Faith unplugged, unclogged, unstopped… that’s what James is appealing to in his letter. You think you get it? He says. Listen to yourself! Look at the way you are treating people! You say “I believe” and then you treat the poor like dirt and the rich with deference. It that how you love your neighbor as yourself?

What if we were to reverse that? Say, treat the rich like dirt and the poor with deference? Would that be better? Of course not! That’s no better. Love your neighbor as yourself. Or, in the words of one of my favorite acoustic musicians Eric Bibb: “Walk with the rich, walk with the poor. Learn from everyone, that’s what life is for. But don’t you ever let nobody drag your spirit down.”

Love your neighbor as yourself. And, love yourself as your neighbor.

It’s the immigrant woman in the gospel of Mark who teaches us how to do that, while Jesus plays the devil’s advocate. She comes to Jesus for help and he insults her. Who among us would have the courage to persist? Who among us would have the courage to be our own advocate? By standing up for herself and her daughter, she cast out the demon. She became the exorcist. Jesus announced it: For saying this you may go. The demon has left your daughter.

She got it. She lived it. Faith. Unstopped. Unplugged.

This Christian life, this discipleship—it is not about believing the right set of doctrines. It is about living unplugged, unstopped, without blinders. It is about appealing to the goodness of all people, and trusting in the mercy of God.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Holy Wisdom Sets Her Table


Proverbs 9:1-6
Wisdom has built her house, she has hewn her seven pillars.
She has slaughtered her animals, she has mixed her wine, she has also set her table.
She has sent out her servant girls, she calls from the highest places in the town,
"You that are simple, turn in here!" To those without sense she says,
"Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed.
Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight."

            Wisdom is the feminine face of God in the Hebrew scriptures, one of the many metaphors for the holy presence of the God who cannot be named, who cannot be captured in a “graven image.” And a beautiful image of womanhood she is. Wisdom is no lady of leisure, no frail and fainting maiden upon her couch! She built herself a house! She has hewn her own pillars out of the rock! She has butchered her own meat, crushed her grapes with her own bare feet and mixed her wine. All for the sake of those who are simple, senseless, ignorant, immature. This image of wisdom teaches us that tenderness is a feminine virtue, and so is strength. I love that. How very proto-feminist that is.
            “Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight.”
            Insight is a way, a path, a road—not a destination in itself but a way of being in the world, in the company of the wisdom, the presence—or, the image of the glory of the presence of God. I don’t mean that people with more education are better than people without. It doesn’t matter how many letters you have after your name: M. Div or PhD. When I think of the saints of this congregation, many of whom didn’t have any initials after their name except maybe “dip” for diploma, but they were always learning, always seeking to know more. Marge Vuchetich is one who comes to mind.  And George MacKenzie, who may have had some initials after his name but took none of them for granted. He was always seeking more wisdom. The pursuit of wisdom is not an end in itself, it is the path, the way, to come near to the holy one who cannot be named or seen or engraved.
And that is why education is a Christian value. That is why, when our spiritual ancestors built their homes in the wilderness of New England, the first house they built was the meeting house and schoolhouse. Every village in Plymouth Plantation with a population of 50 was required to employ a teacher. Because education is a Christian value, our Congregational forbearers  established the first colleges and universities in North America—colleges that are still of the best reputation in higher learning—Harvard, Yale, Dartmouth, Grinnell, Carleton. The Morril Act of 1862, which established land grant colleges, giving birth to state universities across the country, was the brainchild of a Congregationalist from Vermont. All of these institutions were designed from the first to be free of the constraints of the church that founded them, so that the pursuit of wisdom might be unfettered by even the best intentions of the pious. Piety is also a Christian value, but excessive piety can give rise to hubris, pride, a vice.  Piety must be tempered by humility, which understands that there is yet more light and truth to break forth. Our faith is not threatened by education, because nothing true could be a threat to God, who is truth.
            Let us continue to support our public schools, for they are the foundation not only of our democracy, but also of our faith. Everyone must have access to Wisdom’s table. As we give these school kits away, to students who might be in Harare, Zimbabwe or might just as well be in Mobile, Alabama; Port au Prince, Haiti or New Orleans, Louisiana, let us send them with our prayers and our promises, to defend the freedom of teachers and writers and researchers, for it is through them that the freedom of the Spirit is at work, for the sake of the world. Amen.
            

Sunday, August 5, 2012

The Parable of the Table


   A Communion Meditation on John 6       
In the gospel of John, there is no last supper with the disciples. There is no Passover meal in the upper room, no “This is my body,” no “this is my blood.” That story belongs only to Matthew, Mark and Luke, and also to Paul’s letter to the church in Corinth. We get the words of institution from those biblical sources. In the gospel of John, this is the nearest we have to communion—the feeding of the five thousand and more.
            “Jesus took the bread and after giving thanks, he distributed it to them, likewise the fish, as much as they wanted.” And there was an over-abundance: from five barley loaves and two fish, Jesus fed more than 5,000 people and had 12 baskets full of leftovers.
            And that is the miracle which we reenact every time we gather together. We bless, we break, we give, and there is more than enough. It’s not bread that we break open, that is only the visible symbol standing in for the invisible reality of the presence of God which feeds gives us life.
            And sometimes, we don’t even realize what we have. We think all we have to share is bread, all we have to give is money, or time. All we can do is feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and visit the sick and imprisoned, and write to our senators and congressional representatives about the needs of the poor and the stewardship of the earth. All that is good, and has its place, but that’s not all there is. If we think that’s all there is, we are to be pitied.
            Life is more than bread, and the body more than clothing.
            The bread that lasts, the font of living water… these are ours, and this is what we share every time we gather. The bread of heaven, the living water… the presence of God is what we are here to experience. It is the more we are always seeking, the hunger that cannot be satisfied at any table but this one.
            What must we do in exchange for this bread? Nothing. Just trust in the one who provides it. It will be given freely.
            Come to the feast.
            

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

The Ministry of Imagination


29 July 2012
Ephesians 3:14-21

            “More than we can ask or imagine.” It’s a beautiful promise. It reminds me of the words from our funeral liturgy: when we are praying for those who grieve, we remind each other of the promise that “eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor anything in human imagination envisioned” what God has prepared.
            On Friday the Book Group will start reading The Compassionate Brain: How Empathy Creates Intelligence by Gerald Huether. I realized some time ago that the subtitle proposes a thesis which contradicts my previous assumptions.
            “Bleeding heart liberal” a supposed slur (which I personally consider a badge of honor) arises from the observation that liberals seem to care about everything… the whales, the owls, the slugs. Is there no end to their crazy compassion? It’s also observed that universities produce more liberals than conservatives. So I assumed that education creates compassion. The more you know, the more you care. What the author Gerald Huether is suggesting is quite the opposite: that compassion comes first. Empathy creates intelligence. The more you care, the more you are motivated to learn.
            I realize now that my own life experience confirms this theory. I’m sure you can think of examples from your own life. I never thought much about dance, as an art form, until a daughter whom I love pursed the study of dance. Because I love her, I learned more about dance than I ever thought there was to know.
            Also, I never thought much about makeup and hair, as you can plainly see, until a daughter whom I love began to pursue the art of design. And I am again learning more than I ever imagined there was to know, because of love. Love, compassion, and empathy create intelligence.
            Being rooted and grounded in love, God is able to accomplish through us more than we could ever ask or imagine, Paul wrote.
            What if the most important thing to teach children is not in fact their ABCs and 1,2,3s. What if the real foundation for learning is, in fact, love?
            If this is true, then, how important is our ministry to children in this church? Not just our ministry to children in our church, that is, children who show up, I mean our ministry, as a church, to children in our community. Who is better equipped than the church to provide a foundation of love, for the children in our community?
            And, if love is the foundation for learning, what is the content of our curriculum? And what is the goal?
            I would suggest that the goal is that every child be rooted and grounded in love. That every child know—above and below and around all else—the love of God from experiencing that love in their families and in this church. I would suggest that the goal for our ministry with children be that every child have the empathy that creates wisdom, intelligence, and imagination, for it is thorugh our imagination especially that God is at work. The world that is coming, the Realm of God or the Kingdom of God, it is more than all we can ask or imagine. So let’s imagine more. Let’s imagine better. Let’s imagine a world where everyone lives in peace and harmony… and leave room for God to do even more. More than all we can ever ask or imagine. So be it! Amen.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

The Ministry of Reconciliation: Crossing borders


Ephesians 2:11-22

So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God…. Ephesians 2:19

In this letter to the Ephesians Paul talks of God reconciling two groups of people through Christ: The two groups are Jew and non-Jews, Jews and everybody else. To reconcile usually means to make amends, to make up after an argument. That’s the common understanding of reconciliation, and it is an important one. Every time we say the Lord's Prayers, we pray that we might be forgiven our debts as we forgive our debtors.  But, having overheard our treasurer Lisa Wigand working with our bookkeeper, I know that there is another understanding of the term reconciliation. To reconcile accounts is to make sure that they balance. The bank statement and the check register do not need to shake hands and say “All is forgiven!” At the end of the day they just need to be equal.

That’s another way to see the ministry of reconciliation. It is one of the churches ministries, according to the apostle Paul (2 Cor 5) the ministry of reconciliation. It is a relational ministry. It does mean to be reconciled, one to another, it does mean forgiveness and restitution. 

But the ministry of reconciliation is also a justice ministry. Consistent with the words of the prophets and the story of God’s intervention for the benefit of the poor, enslaved, and down-trodden, the ministry of reconciliation means that the church is called to declare God’s will for a just balance. The church is called to bear witness to the equality of all people under God.

There is a power on the earth that hates equality, that fears reconciliation, and prefers division. A History Lesson: In 1663, in the colony of Virginia, Irish and English indentured servants and African slaves together plotted rebellion against their masters. The plot was put down in the usual violent manner. But the unusual alliance between white indentured servants and black slaves shook the confidence of the land owning class. In order to decrease the likelihood of an alliance between black and white servants, Virginia’s House of Burgesses passed new laws which granted new rights to white indentured servants and further restricted the rights of African slaves. White privilege was born. It was very effective. The lives of poor white indentured servants were, at first, only marginally better than that of black slaves. But the margin became wider when the term of indentured servitude was limited by law, and the term of slavery extended infinitely, from one generation to the next. Black and white servants never again joined forces against their masters.

It is a very old strategy: in order to consolidate and maintain power, the ruling elites create division among people, lest they unite in rebellion against their rulers. In the Roman Empire, the privilege of citizenship was the reward for cooperative captives. Conquered peoples could buy citizenship for themselves and their families, and enjoy the protection of the empire. Uncooperative or rebellious peoples would be punished. The worst punishment, reserved for insurrectionists, was crucifixion.

Like most of us, the Ephesians to whom Paul wrote were probably somewhere in the middle strata. Some may have been Roman citizens, some may have been slaves, but most were probably neither elite, nor slaves. They were people who were subject to the peace of Rome. They each had their place in the new world order.

To these people Paul wrote, “you are no longer strangers or aliens, but you are citizens… members of the household of God.” Equal status is the reward and equal regard is the expectation of life under the peace of Christ. Now that’s different-- different from the peace of Rome and different from the domestic tranquility of these United States.

I am reminded of a quote that caught my attention when I was watching, but not really watching, a movie. The movie was on, Richard was watching it, I wasn't really paying attention until I heard the cynical old newspaper editor say to the young idealistic reporter, "The average Joe doesn't want to rock the boat, because he's hoping to climb aboard." Maybe there were people in the church in Ephesus who were hoping to climb aboard, hoping to someday rise to the status of Roman citizens. There is no reason to imagine they would be any different from us.

We are not without social stratification. Observe how the powerful seek to create divisions among the rest of us. What if we rejected those divisions? What if we reached down and up and out to claim each other as “equally citizens?” Imagine.

The cost of discipleship may seem higher for we who have the most to lose—we who have privilege. But the cost of remaining blind to our privilege is higher still, because we might miss out on the experience of reconciliation and the peace of Christ that comes from being part of something new: God’s reign, emerging here "on earth as it is in heaven."

It won’t be easy:
Power concedes nothing without a struggle.
 If there is no struggle there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom and yet deprecate agitation are men who want crops without plowing up the ground; they want rain without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters.
 This struggle may be a moral one, or it may be a physical one, and it may be both moral and physical, but it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will.
 -- Frederick Douglass, speech at Canandaigua, New York, August 3, 1857.

As long as we accept the place that power has given us, we can live in peace. But we can't be free. We are free only when we are reconciled to one another, when we are equality citizens of the reign of God.

Choose this day whom you will serve.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Children of God


Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 5:21-43
Whenever we pray the Lord’s prayer, we make the claim to be God’s children. We say “Our Father,” or “Abba” which means “Papa.” We make a claim to be part of God’s household, God’s family. But what does that mean?
In relation to God, it means we are God’s dependents. We are dependent on God for the stuff of life. It means we are God’s heirs, recipients of a legacy.
In relation to each other it means we are equals: equally deserving of all the good gifts of God, the pledge, the inheritance.
This relationship is demonstrated by Jesus in the gospel story. The daughter of the leader of the synagogue and the unnamed woman, both received the gift of life, the healing power that pulsed through Jesus. I don’t think anyone on the scene would have been surprised that Jesus rushed to the aid of the leader of the synagogue. That would have been considered his due. The daughter of the leader of the synagogue—the pastor’s daughter—probably had a place of distinction in the community.
But what about the woman who was no one’s daughter, no one’s sister, no one’s wife? The woman who had no man who could approach Jesus and plead on her behalf? She was perpetually ritually unclean, because of the unceasing flow of blood. Whatever man touched her would be ritually unclean. Whatever, and whomever she touched would become unclean. When she reached out and touched the hem of his garment she made Jesus ritually unclean.
So when he turned around in the crowd and asked “Who touched me,” the woman came forward in fear and trembling because she had been found out. She was expecting to receive a public scolding. But instead, Jesus called her—if you weren’t listening carefully you might have missed it—Jesus called her “daughter.” He claimed her as family. That was a revelation to her and to all who heard. Perhaps a more miraculous revelation than the fact of her healing—she was a “daughter,” a member of the household of God.
As I walk this world, I wonder, how many people go through life believing themselves to be unclean, unworthy, untouchable, because that is the only message that they have heard and received? That is the message they received from parents and teachers from a young age, and no one has ever contradicted it. So they live in a state of isolation, not believing themselves worthy of love or the things that make for life.
How can we, as a church, initiate healing by giving people a new message, claiming them as kin—brothers, sisters, sons and daughters of God.
I believe that is the consequence of our legacy as children of God: we are responsible to each other, our brothers and sisters. If we have faith that God wills good things for all God’s children, then we must do all that is in our power to see that all God’s children have a share of God’s gifts.
Sharing possessions, this was the way that the church in Ephesus lived their faith. The book of Acts depicts the response to the gospel as spontaneous sharing of possessions, communal living. How might we demonstrate the will of God, the righteous ordering of society? How might we join with God in creating the “kingdom” or kin-dom of God in this world, now?

Monday, July 9, 2012

Whether they hear, or not


8 July 2012
Ezekiel 2:1-5

Ezekiel was among the first captives, taken from Jerusalem to Babylon as the spoils of war. He had been a priest in the temple in Jerusalem. In Babylon, he experienced a calling to a different ministry, that of the prophet.
It would be like the Chaplain of the Senate being called to become Michael Moore (the film maker from Flint, Michigan). That is how different are the roles of temple priest and prophet.
The role of the priest of court is to make the king look good. Like the role of the Chaplain of the Senate is to say a prayer at the opening of session, laying on a polished veneer of piety over the unattractive process of governance. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that. You know the old German saying—anyone who loves law or sausage should see neither being made. What goes into the law, or sausage, could put you off it for a long time!) Whereas, the role of the prophet is to speak the truth to power, whether it is a convenient truth or not.
Michael Moore is a prophet like Amos, the shepherd of Tekoa, the outsider. In some ways, I think Amos had it easier than Ezekiel. Being an outsider, Amos had not developed personal relationships with the people to whom he was speaking. He could say, on behalf of the Lord, “I hate, I despise your solemn assemblies,” without ever having led those solemn assemblies (Amos 5:21).
Ezekiel was an insider. He had led the solemn assemblies and he had eaten from the king’s table. He was part of the small community of exiles from Jerusalem, taken to Babylon as the spoils of war, taken in chains, shamed and humiliated. These were a people who were already down, and God was asking him to give them a kick. His calling to be the prophet must have seemed a cruel joke. So, as much as I admire Amos, the shepherd of Tekoa, with his ever-flowing streams of justice and righteousness, and Michael Moore, the auto-worker’s son, with his passion for the least and last, I think the insider Ezekiel had the greater challenge.
I also think that Ezekiel is an important model for the prophetic church—especially for our prophetic church. Look around us—are we not the insiders? We are the spiritual descendants of the people who signed Mayflower Compact. We invented democracy (you could say, it’s all our fault!). We are the heirs of the Declaration of Independence and the Preamble to the Constitution. The theological language which was written into these documents is the theological language of our Congregational faith. The belief that all men (that is, all people) are created equal, and endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights: that is a theological position and a goal to which we aspire, but (we understand) to which we never quite rise. (It is a teleological statement—an end goal, a reason for being. Not a statement of fact.)
Because we are so proud of our heritage, we are often blind to our own faults. It is much easier to see only our virtues and others’ vices. It is easy to play the victim, especially when we have been victimized. The exiles in Babylon had much to grieve. They lost their land and their temple, which were to them the signs of God’s presence. It was Ezekiel’s job to tell them that they were not altogether innocent victims. They too were guilty of offense, and if they ever hoped to return to the land which God had promised to their ancestors forever, they had to live righteously among their captors. And in this way, Ezekiel helped to create a landless Judaism, a faith without the benefit of state sponsorship or royal headship.
Perhaps the most difficult role for the prophetic church is not to speak the truth to power as an outsider, as an Amos or a Michael Moore. Perhaps the most difficult role for the prophetic church is to speak the truth to each other, even when we feel powerless. The Spirit of God calls us to get up, get on our feet, and prophesy. Whether people hear, or refuse to hear, prophesy. At least they will know that there has been a prophet among them. At least they will know that they did not leave God behind in Jerusalem. God is among them, even in exile.
Are we not, after all, in a kind of exile? We were the mainline, now pushed to the sideline. Isn’t it ironic? But we are not victims. We still have a voice. We still have a mission. We still have the presence of God within us and among us.
Let the Spirit in. Let the Spirit stand us up on our feet. Stand up for justice. Stand up for love. Stand up for the outsider, and the alien in the land. Spirit of God is still with us, even in exile. Thanks be to God.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Mind the Gap



2 Cor. 8:7-15

I do not mean that there should be relief for others and pressure on you, but it is a question of a fair balance between your present abundance and their need, so that their abundance may be for your need, in order that there may be a fair balance. As it is written, "The one who had much did not have too much, and the one who had little did not have too little." – 2 Cor 8:13-15

That last bit in the epistle reading for today, “The one who had much did not have too much, and the one who had little did not have too little,” is a reference to the manna in the wilderness, which fed the Hebrew people after they had escaped from slavery in Egypt, and before they found their way to the promised land. The story of the Exodus is memorialized in the feast of the Passover, the annual spring celebration of freedom and national pride. 
Passover recreates and renews the memory of liberation from bondage, as the Seder service answers the question, "What does this celebration and remembrance mean to you?"
This celebration is to make me feel as though I had personally come out of Egypt. The events and miracles of the Exodus from Egypt have become my personal experience. I celebrate here in order that I may remember all the days of my life the day of my going forth from the land of Egypt; that I may bear witness to the divine promise which has ever stood by me; and that a new hope and strength may be kindled within me in the midst of my present trials and steady labors toward that day which is all good.
Every time the feast of Passover is celebrated, we are reminded that we are still in the wilderness, in a sense. We continue wandering toward the promised land. None of us are free until all of us are free. This isn’t the promised land until it is flowing with milk and honey for everyone. Not just for our people but for all people, including the widow, the orphan, and the alien in the land.
The whole chorus of the prophets continue to cry out for justice in every land. The test of a nation’s faithfulness is measured by how the powerful treat the weak, how the citizen treats the alien, how the wealthy treat the poor. This is not socialism. It is gospel.
On the night of betrayal and desertion, and on the eve of his death, our Lord Jesus shared the Passover meal with his disciples. The Passover embodies his final sermon. This celebration is to make us feel as though we had personally come out of Egypt. We celebrate here in order to remember all the days of our lives the day of our going forth from the land of Egypt, from the house of slavery, that we may bear witness to the divine promise which has ever stood by us, and that a new hope and strength be kindled with us in the midst of our present trials and steady labors toward that day which is all good.
“None of us are free, if one of us is chained, none of us are free.”

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Blessings and Curses


             “It made me feel so good!”
            “I feel energized!”
            These were some of the praises I heard of our eclectic worship service on Sunday, June 24. We had it all. A classical organ prelude. A folksy, twelve-bar blues introit sung by the singer-songwriter himself. A nineteenth century hymn, a contemporary gathering prayer, a twentieth century Caribbean song of praise. An anthem by twentieth century American composer Natalie Sleeth. A reading from the first century gospel of Mark. A fresh sermon, an old hymn, up to the moment prayer concerns and a new song. More new music, and to top it all off, a wedding! All in the space of one hour!
            The experts say, “Don’t do it!” Don’t mix worship styles. You can have traditional or contemporary worship; any effort to mix styles will sound like hell. So they say. What do they know? We did it! And if I do say so myself, it sounded like heaven to me. It was celebration of all that is good in every age, a collection of blessings from the universal and eternal church.
            Perhaps what made it work so well for us was the unified theme. It was all about the peace that God provides, and the faithful and courageous living that God’s peace enables in us. “It’s all in the hands of God,” Jan Morton sang (Natalie Sleeth’s words). “Sit down, stop your mind from racing, for I want you to listen,” Brother Timothy sang.
            And here is a bit of what I preached:
Panic is easy. It is the instinct of prey animals, to run at the sound of rustling in the bushes. Panic arises from the fight or flight response. When we can neither fight nor flee, like in a boat on a stormy sea—we panic, we go mad. We forget who and whose we are. We forget that we belong to God.
            Who is this that even the wind and sea obey him? This is your God, whose Spirit is wind, who commands the sea, who heals the sick, who makes the wounded whole, who holds you in the palm of the holy hand.
            Do not worry about your life, for God is at your side, on your side.
            That’s what I said Sunday morning. And then, Sunday afternoon, a truck ran into the back of my Honda Civic as I was driving north on highway 371. And I was reminded of the adage, “practice what you preach.” I was also reminded of something very witty which Anne Lamott once wrote: “If you want to make God laugh, tell her your plans.”
            Here was the opportunity to practice serenity in the midst of strife. It was difficult. It was a challenge to remember that we are all children of God, including the driver of the truck. It was an exercise in patience waiting for someone to respond to the 911 call. It was difficult to imagine peace in that moment.
            I wish I could say that as I sat beside the road I enjoyed the lake view that I happened upon, that I reflected upon the magnificent intricacies of the dragonflies that paused to rest on my open car window. I wish I could say I was a model of serenity. Then again, I wasn’t bad. I didn’t swear or anything. I did not return a curse for a curse. I just waited, I told my story to the Trooper, and I drove on when dismissed.
            We are all practicing faith. None of us have perfected it. While I wouldn’t say that God sent that truck speeding up the highway to teach me a lesson, I do say that God’s creative Spirit inspires me to take a collision and make a sermon out of it. I do declare that by the gift of God’s Holy Spirit, I can take a curse and find the blessing in it. And so can you. Eventually.
            It is for moments like that, beside the highway moments, storm at sea moments, that we practice the faith together. When we work out our faith together on Sunday morning, we find that we are strengthened for whatever might come our way on Sunday afternoon.