Love is the Maple Syrup; Gratitude is the Pitcher

16 October 2011

1 Thessalonians 1:1-10

Away We Go is a movie about Burt and Verona, two thirty-something professionals who go on a road trip to find home, that is, to find just the right place to raise the daughter they are expecting (Verona is hugely pregnant), staying with friends and family as they go. I stole a line from this movie for my sermon title. In Montreal, Burt and Verona stay with college friends Tom and Munch, and their four children. Late at night, after putting the kids to bed the four are at a diner together talking about life and love and marriage and children, and Tom, to illustrate a point, makes a house of leftover pancakes for sugar cube Burt and Verona and their baby, and he says:

“Look at that, is that a home? Is that a family?”

“Yeah,” Burt replies.

“NO!” Tom counters. “That’s just the raw materials. The people, the walls the furniture, that’s just stuff. That’s not a home. That’s not a family. What binds it all together is this.” And he holds aloft a pitcher of maple syrup.

“This is Love. Your patience, your consideration, your better selves. Man, you just have no idea how good you can be. But you have to use all of it. All of it…. The love, the wisdom, the generosity. The selflessness. The patience. Patience.”

And Tom continues to pour maple syrup all over the pancake house until it fills the platter and overflows onto the table.

Love is the maple syrup, the mortar, the glue, the stuff that transforms people into family, and a house or apartment into a home. Love is the stuff that sticks us together.

But what holds the love? What keeps it from dissipating into thin air or spilling all over the floor? Love is like a liquid; it takes the shape of its container—a pitcher, a bottle, a thimble—a person. A person who cannot communicate love is like a pitcher without a spout or a corked bottle that can’t be opened. There may be goodness inside, but, it has to come out somehow to do any good.

Don’t be like Olie, who loved Lena so much, he almost told her. (Ba-da-bump, cha!)

A man named Gary Chapman wrote a book several years ago expounding on five languages of love, and they aren’t English, French, Spanish, German and Italian. No, they are the languages of physical touch, acts of service, giving and receiving gifts, the language of presence, and words of affirmation. Some of us are more conversant in one of these languages; of course it is best to be multi-lingual in love.

The apostle Paul was particularly good at speaking the love language of affirmation, by expressing his gratitude for the people to whom he wrote his letters. “We always give thanks to God for all of you and mention you in our prayers, remembering your faithfulness.” (I Thes)

“I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you….” (Philippians)

“I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love towards all the saints, and for this reason I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers.” (Ephesians)

The bonds of love between the apostle and the congregation were strengthened by these words of gratitude. Each was reminded of the other’s faithfulness. Gratitude is the pitcher or the spout through which the love flows. Love builds up the church, strengthens the body of Christ, and cements the relationships of brotherly and sisterly affection between members. Paul was writing about the church, but of course, the same is true for families.

I know that I often take my family for granted. I was reminded of this by my Korean foreign exchange student, fifteen-year-old Min Young, whom we hosted several years ago. After dinner, every evening, as he stood to clear his plate, he offered a courtly little bow and thanked me for the delicious supper. Even when Richard did the cooking, he thanked me. It is probably something his mother and father insisted he do, and it was very sweet. It made me realize, however, how many times I had risen from the table without thanking anyone.

How simple it is to say “thank you.” Each word of gratitude is like a dollop of love, sweet goodness, sticking us together. A word of gratitude says: I see you; I know you; my life is better because of you. It’s not simply good manners: expressing gratitude is a spiritual discipline, which opens our eyes to the goodness and Godliness all around us.

Love is the maple syrup, gratitude is the pitcher with the spout that lets the love pour out over us, to stick us together. Love sticks us together and makes us family. Love sticks us together and builds us into the body of Christ, the church.

Because God has poured love over us, we have love to share, a pitcher that is never empty. Thanks be to God! Amen.

To Go and Do Likewise (preached July11)

Texts: 1 John 4:7-8; Luke 10:25-37

Today our uncommon lectionary intersects with the Revised Common Lectionary. When asked
"What's your story?" or "What scripture informs your faith?" Love was a common theme.

"The one that says 'God is Love'" was one unsigned submission.

"How to truly love our neighbors as ourselves" was another. And from Marcia Ferris, this request came with a song: "The greatest love of all."

I believe that children are the future

Teach them well and let them lead the way

Show them all the beauty they possess inside

Give them a sense of pride....

...The greatest love of all is happening to me...

...Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.

I remember singing along with Whitney, whenever that song came on the radio. All the residents of Stanger Hall (I was in college at the time) would sing along. Sometimes I worried that it was a bit sacrilegious, to sing that "the greatest love of all" was love of self (rather than the love of God). But, for many people that is indeed where it needs to begin: with an understanding of how God sees each and every one of us: as a beloved child, loved just for being.

Unfortunately, many children are brought up knowing that they are unloved and believing that it is because they are unlovable. My parents were two cases in point: they each lost a parent at an early age, and so they were brought up, during the Great Depression, by people who never let them forget what an imposition they were. In my father's case it was a stepfather, in my mother's case it was foster parents. Fortunately, they also had people in their lives who did love them, and they were able to heal enough to be good parents to my siblings and me.

Ideally, every child should all be nurtured from the cradle, to know that he or she is a beloved child of God. Every child should know someone whose love is unconditional, someone who models God's love to him or her. Ideally, that love should be strong enough to stand up to the challenges of contradictory messages which will besiege the child as he or she grows. The messages that say she is unattractive, he is unworthy, they are incomplete without something or other, which they can buy for the low, low price of....

Ideally, but so many of us, we have to learn to love ourselves, so that we can know what it is to love our neighbors as ourselves. I believe worship is, to some extent, group cognitive therapy. Cognitive therapy is the practice of learning new thought patterns, reinforcing healthy messages and blocking unhealthy messages. When we address God in prayer, as just and merciful, we say these things not to "butter God up" to get on God's good side. God knows who God is. We say these things to remind ourselves who God is, lest we forget, lest we forget. Praying in this way is like holding up a mirror, to see ourselves as God sees us. Beloved. Welcome. Forgiven, and Blessed.

But we can't get too stuck on ourselves. We also are reminded that we are not God's only children. We have brothers and sisters in the neighborhood who are equally loved, welcome, forgiven and blessed. Who are these brothers and sisters? Wherever you go, whoever you see, your looking at them.

"Seeking to justify himself," the scripture says, "seeking to justify himself," the lawyer asked, "So, who is my neighbor?" What kind of an answer was he fishing for? I suppose one that would allow him to go on living and loving his own family and friends, while ignoring the suffering of strangers, and being an accomplice after the fact, which is one way to describe a person whose indifference compounds suffering-- an accomplice after the fact.

How do we truly love our neighbors as we love ourselves? This is an open question. It is a question we should carry into our lives every day. We should never presume to have any answer beyond that which lies hidden in plain sight, in the parable. That is the only solution to the puzzle, the only answer that Jesus offers.

Which of these, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?

Go and do likewise.

What's a Witness to Do? Love Everybody.

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

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

For All the Saints, Who From their Labors Rest

November 1st, All Saints Day, will be a day to remember those who have died. Jan Kurtz and Jackie Froemming will assist us in our worship as we interpret the custom of Dia de los Muertos (literally, “day of the dead”). You are invited to bring along to worship that day a photo, or an object of remembrance, representing someone you love who has died. It will be added to a display that will be created around the communion table as worship begins.
An object of remembrance can be something of sentimental value, like the fishing lure your grandpa gave you, or symbolic, like a soup ladle (but not necessarily her soup ladle) of an aunt who always had something cooking. It could even be something humorous, like a toy squirrel representing the rodent that vexed even a saintly gardener so much!
We will also have an opportunity, at Adult Forum the same day, to talk with others about how our loving relationships continue, even beyond the grave.
A few years ago, after Alice Jarvis died suddenly, her husband John signed all the thank you notes which he wrote to those who came to her funeral, “Love, John and Alice.” He continued to sign correspondence in that way, months after Alice had died. I was concerned. I shared my concern with my husband, who said, sympathetically, “Just because she has died doesn’t mean the relationship is over.” It was one of those “ah-ha” moments for me.
“For love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave,” according to the Song of Solomon (8:6). This is wisdom born of centuries of experience. Love is not deceived by death. Love recognizes that the separation between the living and the dead is transitory, and ultimately, of little consequence. The love that we share in this life continues to nurture us, even when our beloved has died.
So the first of November will be a celebration of love, and life, and a day to remember the promises of God.