Interrupting God

10 Feb 2013

Luke 9:28-43a (Transfiguration)

            The gospel lesson provides the climax of the season after Epiphany. The season is all about light, beginning with the light of the star and concluding with Jesus shining with the image of the glory of God. The mountaintop experience of Peter, James and John is an echo of the Bethlehem experience of the astrologers. The wise ones followed the light to find Jesus; the disciples followed Jesus and found the light. The first three searched for a king and found a child of humble birth; the latter three followed the humble rabbi Jesus and found the chosen one, the messiah of God. The good news comes full circle: In Jesus, the man of Nazareth, God has come to us. Jesus is the one promised through Moses and the prophets: The one who is God’s chosen shepherd.

            Peter’s first instinct was to get busy. Peter started talking about his plans to build three houses, one each for Jesus and Moses and Elijah; but God interrupted him and said, “Listen!” Some think Peter's impulse to build "three dwellings" is akin to the church's impulse to build monuments and cathedrals. I like to think that Peter was establishing a kind of first-century Habitat for Humanity project. Peter was just itching to get busy!

            Busyness may be the hallmark of the reformed religion. Our 17th century predecessors used to say that the devil makes work for idle hands, so they kept busy. Peter’s instinct was very UCC: right away he wanted to DO something. Many people are drawn to the United Church of Christ, to liberal Christianity in general, because we put our faith into action. We are doers. The heading of our church stationery carries a United Church of Christ motto from the 80’s: “To believe is to care, to care is to do.” That’s true, and it is very Jamesian, by which I mean very true to the epistle of James. But like all mottos, this one is only partly true. Slogans have their limits.

            God interrupted Peter. God interrupted Peter’s good intentions; God interrupted Peter’s mission. Let us entertain for a moment the notion that Peter wasn’t the only one interrupted. Until that time Jesus too was busy, healing the sick, casting out demons. After that moment, Jesus turned his face toward Jerusalem. He continued to do good, but the focus of the mission changed. Perhaps Moses and Elijah came to say, “Jesus. What are you doing? Listen!”

            “God is still speaking,” is another United Church of Christ slogan, and the one that is particularly appropriate for this gospel story. “This is my beloved son,” the voice of God said, “listen to him!” The interrupting God and the still-speaking God are one. If God is still speaking, we should stop and listen, and allow God to interrupt the course of our lives. If we are following Jesus' way, and not our own way, then, once in a while we need to stop for directions. We don’t need a mountaintop experience, but we do need to stop and listen, and allow God to be at work in our hearts and minds and souls. Before, during, and after we get busy, we stop and listen.

Worship is standing in the presence of the glory of God, listening.

Worship is standing in the presence of the glory of God, listening. Yes, worship is an interruption, but it is an essential interruption. All the good deeds that need to be done can wait, while we stop and listen. God is still speaking. Listen.

Homework:

            Here is a simple practice, we can do every day. It comes from a monastic tradition, so it is tried and true. Monastic apparently practice this twice a day, once at noon time and once at night, but if we can manage even one daily interruption, well, that would be something and better than nothing! Give it a try this Lenten season.

1. Become aware of God’s presence.

2. Review the day with gratitude.

3. Pay attention to your emotions.

4. Choose one feature of the day and pray from it.

5. Look toward tomorrow.

What's My Line?

First Sermon as Pastor of First Congregational UCC, Mankato

February 3, 2013

Lectionary Texts: Jeremiah 1:4-10; Psalm 71:1-6; 1 Corinthians 13:1-13; Luke 4:21-30

            This is the season after Epiphany, the season of light in the darkness. The season begins with the story of the wise ones, astrologers from the east following the light of a star, and recognizing the spark of the divine in the child Jesus. As we continue through the season that spark becomes a flame, and the light of Christ shines brighter each week, until, at the end of the season we will see Jesus transfigured… but that is not until next week.

            This week, the Gospel lesson is the second half of the two-parter that began last week when Jesus read the scripture and preached in his home synagogue in Nazareth. In the gospel of Luke this story serves to identify Jesus as the Christ, the Messiah, long before anyone else in the story has figured it out, but of course the readers and hearers of the gospel know this already. And what happens in Nazareth literally foreshadows what will happen again and again. It is the job description of a prophet: a prophet tells the truth, announces good news, and gets run out of town.

            This Gospel lesson is paired with the Old Testament lesson from the call of the prophet Jeremiah, one of the greats, who also was regularly run out of town for telling the truth. Neither of these scriptures bode well for a new pastor! It’s hard not to take this personally. Today’s appointed texts—appointed ages ago by a dispassionate committee of the ecumenical and international Revised Common Lectionary—are quite a set up! But don’t worry about me. I knew the risks before I put on the uniform.

            Fortunately, in between those two challenging texts we have perhaps the best thing the apostle Paul ever wrote (if he indeed wrote it) that beautiful hymn to love that we hear so often at weddings. “If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels….”

            I have preached on this text at dozens of weddings and I am always struck by the irony of the choice. Paul never married, and in another section of the same letter Paul encouraged all Christians to abstain from marriage, to remain single as he was. So I don’t think Paul would have ever imagined that his words would be so often read at weddings! Because 1 Corinthians 13 isn’t about marriage. It is about love, but not exclusively romantic love.

            It is about compassion, that defining characteristic of the God we have come to know through Jesus, who took the Ten Commandments of Moses and boiled them down to two—love God, and love your neighbor as yourself. Be compassionate because God is compassionate. Love, because God is love.

            It is simple. So simple. Lennon and McCartney had it down—All you need is love. And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. All things pass away, all things except faith, hope and love, and the greatest of these is love.

            It is simple really. Except it’s difficult.

            The life of faith is a lot like the game of golf. Lois Mussett asked me the other day if I play golf, to which I answered, “I own golf clubs. I have played golf.” I have played enough to know that golf is a simple game. Get that little ball into that little hole. Do it in as few strokes as possible. Simple. Except, it’s difficult. Sometimes, occasionally—no, if I’m honest I should say rarely—I manage to hit the ball from the tee to the fairway, fairway to green and take two putts, the way it’s supposed to be done. But more often play badly. I have hit the ball with what seems to me to be a perfectly sound stroke and sent it whizzing into the woods to the right of the fairway. I have topped the ball, and watched it dribble off the tee box and come to rest short of the fairway. I have four-putted, on a number of occasions. No, Lois, I wouldn’t dare say that I play golf.

            Love is simple. And sometimes it is easy. It is easy to love the loveable, to be mutually encouraging, and to rejoice with those who rejoice. But love isn’t always easy, sometimes it is difficult, and lonely, like the love of a father captured in this poem by Robert Hayden, called “Those Winter Sundays”

Sundays too my father got up early

and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,

then with cracked hands that ached

from labor in the weekday weather made

banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.

When the rooms were warm, he'd call,

and slowly I would rise and dress,

fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,

who had driven out the cold

and polished my good shoes as well.

What did I know, what did I know

of love's austere and lonely offices?

“Love’s austere and lonely offices”—that is the language of the church, a reference to daily prayers, which can be solitary, monastic rituals. Love’s austere and lonely offices are simple but superhuman acts of patience and kindness, selfless and thankless service to others. Love’s austere and lonely offices are eased by a lifetime of practice, and by the companionship of Christ, and the encouragement of the church. Love’s austere and lonely offices at the sickbed, loves austere and lonely offices at the graveside, love’s austere and lonely offices in the nighttime, these are the offices that it is sometimes a privilege for the church to share, sometimes a privilege for a pastor to share. Love’s austere and lonely offices are in fact the very experiences that prepare us for the breaking of a beautiful dawn.

            Yes, the life of faith is simple. It’s about love. And it’s difficult. It’s about love. That is why we do not go it alone, we walk together, as the church. As the church, we practice love in small and simple ways, day after day, week after week, so that when we are called to more challenging acts of love we will be ready. We stoke the furnace of faith so as to make banked fires blaze, when we need them.

            That’s my line. That is the work that I am called to do is to stoke the furnace, to feed the flame, to lead the movement, to keep the main thing the main thing. The church exists to make the love of God known, to teach the language of love, to help the whole earth know the love of God that we have come to know through Jesus. This is the work to which we are called together, each using the gifts we have been given to build the church up in love. God will be with us. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Stand by non-violence; stick with love

The final sermon as pastor of First Congregational UCC, Brainerd, MN

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, Day, January 20, 2012

Psalm 36 “In your light, we see light.”

            I have told you many times that Martin Luther King Jr day is my favorite patriotic holiday, because Martin Luther King Jr was not just a great American—he was the Reverend Doctor King. It is the only national holiday that honors a member of the clergy. I have always thought that the church should make more of that. The Rev. Dr. King’s day should be a day when people of faith throughout the country goad their pastors into danger, provoke them to take courageous stands for love and justice. Pastors and priests, rabbis and imams, shamans of every faith could rise up together and march to whatever capitol is nearest and ask the tough questions of their law makers. We could all join hands together and stand up for love and justice and together be anti-violent, anti-racist, and anti-poverty.

            Maybe someday.

            So when, in November, I realized I would be announcing my resignation, and setting my own expiration date as your pastor, I knew, I knew that I couldn’t choose better than to have one more Rev. Dr. King day with you.

            For you children who might not yet know who I’m talking about, and for all of us who may have forgotten some of the details of his too short life, here is a litany of The Reverend Martin Luther King Jr.’s historic acts.

            1955-6 – Montgomery, Alabama bus boycott

            1957 – Founded the Southern Christian Leadership Conference

            1958 – publication of Stride Toward Freedom, wherein he set forth the principles of nonviolent resistance.

            1959 – 1963 Continued to work for voting rights, the integration of public schools and continued to develop and teach nonviolent resistance.

            1963 – March on Washington, “I have a dream,” “Letter from the Birmingham Jail,” and The Strength to Love.

            1964 – Nobel Peace Prize, and published Why We Can’t Wait.

            1965 – Selma to Montgomery Marches, which preceded the introduction of the Voting Rights Act.

            1966 – Moved to Chicago, to concentrate his efforts on fair housing

            1967 – Published Where Do We Go From Here, and The Trumpet of Conscience. Delivered his final speech as president of the SCLC.

            1968 – After speaking in Memphis, Tennessee, was killed.

            Where did he get these ideas about love and justice and non-violent resistance? His whole life was steeped in scripture. He got it right out of the word of God and the life of Jesus. He was called to rise to leadership by the convergence of events and by the power of his own intellect and ability. But he was encouraged and sustained by the unhistoric acts of people whose names are mostly forgotten, except to those who loved them best. King was encouraged and sustained by his congregation. He was provoked to love and good works by the people that he served.

            In The Strength to Love, King told us about one of these ordinary persons, Mother Pollard, who, back in 1956 during the Montgomery bus boycott heard him speak to an assembly. He greeted her after the service and she challenged him. “Something is wrong. You don’t talk strong tonight.”

Dr. King knew she was right. It had been “a tension-packed week which included being arrested and receiving numerous threatening phone calls. I attempted to convey an impression of strength and courage, although I was inwardly depressed and fear-stricken.”

He tried to keep up appearances but Mother Pollard was too wise for that.

“Now you can’t fool me. I know something is wrong. Is is that we ain’t doing things to please you? Or that the white folks is bothering you? I done told you that we is with you all the way. But even if we ain’t with you, God’s gonna take care of you.”

King wrote, “As she spoke these consoling words, everything in me quivered and quickened with the pulsing tremor of raw energy.”

            Without Mother Pollard, Dr. King might have gone home and written a letter of resignation, reasoning that the road is too hard, the sacrifice too great. Without the power of his congregations praying and walking together, where would we be?

            MLK day should be a celebration not just of a man, but of a movement, a celebration of the power of faith in action, a celebration of the power of non-violent resistance to unjust violence. Let it be for us all a day to double our commitment to follow the way that Dr. King followed.

            We stand by non-violence.

            We stick with love.

            We walk the way of the crucified Christ.

            We are the congregation of the beloved community, the church, and we are called to shine. We are not the source of light, but when we stand in the light of Christ we shine. Like the moon lights up the night with the reflected glory of the sun, we can shine the light of God in the darkness and banish fear. Let your light so shine! Amen.

Epiphany: The Season of Light

 Matthew 2:1-12

           “An epiphany” is the name given to the moment when Dr. Gregory House solves the diagnostic mystery in the TV drama House. I can imagine that Hugh Laurie practiced the “epiphany face” in the mirror until he had it down. Regular viewers became attuned to recognize that expression and know that the show was almost over.

            An epiphany is a revelation, an insight, a moment of enlightenment. The church gives the name “Epiphany” to January 6 to commemorate the moment when the astrologers from the east found the child with his mother, and recognized this child Jesus as a revelation of God, as the light of the world. The season that follows the Epiphany is a season of light. Next week we will read about the baptism of Jesus, and then the call of the disciples, and follow Jesus and his disciples throughout their travels together. The season will conclude with a burst of light on the mountaintop where Jesus is transfigured before Peter, James, and John. Epiphany is the season of light.

            Epiphany is the season of light in the darkness. A candle lighted in the bright light of the midsummer sun is hardly noticeable; we notice the flame in contrast to the dark of a winter night. The enlightened astrologers shine with the reflected glory of the child Jesus; that light shines in contrast to the darkness of Herod and all Jerusalem with him.

            “When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him….”

            And Herod in his fear plotted to put out the light.

When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:
‘A voice was heard in Ramah,
   wailing and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
   she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.’
(Matthew 2:16-18)

            Herod personifies darkness, gives the power of evil a name, and a motive: fear. Be aware of fear, and beware. Fear invites the darkness. Fear colludes with violence. Fear does not excuse or explain evil, but it goes before it like a harbinger. When fear overcomes a nation, a city, a family or an individual beware.

            Look to the light. It may be little more than a spark of hope at first, but it will burn brightly. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome it. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Prayer of Dedication:

Gracious and loving God, we give you thanks that we who walked in darkness have seen a great light, in Jesus, the man of Nazareth. May the gifts that we share help us to reflect the light of your glory into all the places where evil threatens to gain ground, whether that be in our own hearts or in the halls of power. This we pray in Jesus name. Amen.

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.

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.

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.