Sermon preached January 23, 2011
Text: I Corinthians 1:1-9
If I were to say that I am going to say a few words about the appointment system, how many of you might know what I am going to speak about? The appointment system is not a new app for your smart phone that helps you keep track of meetings! In the United Methodist Church, the appointment system is how churches get their clergy, their pastors. Here is how it works.
Perpetual Peace United Methodist Church in Lake Wobegon had their pastor retire, so they need a new one. They don’t form a call committee and send out word that they are searching. The Staff-Parish Relations Committee contacts the District Superintendent, who represents the bishop. They have a conversation about the needs of the church. They share a church profile with the district superintendent. On a regular basis, the bishop and district superintendents for a conference, in this case, Minnesota, get together and they discuss churches that need pastors, like Perpetual Peace United Methodist Church in Lake Wobegon. They consider its hopes, its dreams, its needs and the needs of its community. They consider the pastors in the conference, especially those that might want a new appointment. Together they decide who the new pastor should be, based on the gifts and strengths of a pastor and the needs of the church, and the bishop has the final say on that matter. Now the pastor is brought to Perpetual Peace UMC to meet with the Staff-Parish Relations Committee and after that meeting either the pastor or the church can say, “We don’t think so.” The bishop has the final decision, but pastors and churches have a strong say in the matter. That, in brief, is the appointment system.
I know it well. For seven years I served as a district superintendent. I was a part of those conversations. I did have to leave the room when First UMC, Duluth was discussed six years ago. All this is to say that I am here because of my choosing, and your choosing, and, especially, because of the bishop’s choosing. I stay out of my choice and your willingness to have me stay and the bishop’s willingness to let me stay. Every year you have the opportunity to ask the bishop for a change of pastor and I have the opportunity to ask for consideration for another appointment. There are some choices here.
But beyond your choosing and my choosing and the bishop’s appointing, I think there is something else going on. Better, I think there is someone else involved. I feel called by God to be here. My choosing to stay is in response to the voice of Jesus in my life. I know all the ins and outs of the appointment system, how it works, how I got here – and I still believe that this is where I am supposed to be – at this church, in this community, at this time.
I share this not as a claim to perfection on my part – “because I am called to be here everything I do is just right.” I am not trying to say that at all. In saying that I believe, I trust, that I am called to be here as your pastor, I am saying that there is someone I need to pay attention to, to listen for, as I seek to be the pastor of this church.
Now this is not earth-shaking stuff. You would probably expect me to say things like this. Here is where it gets interesting, though. I would say the same thing about you – not that you are called to be the pastor of the church, but I think you are called to be here. I think God has something to do with your being here at this church.
If you think about it, you may find that a little odd or uncomfortable. You chose to be here. You might be able to tell me or someone else why you chose this church – obviously because you like tall, dark wavy-haired pastors. I don’t want to diminish your sense of yourself as an autonomous, choosing person. What I am posing for your consideration is that maybe some of your choosing is done in response to the voice of Jesus, the voice of God in your life.
And maybe we are all here together not just because of our own choices and the choices of bishops. Maybe we are here because of Jesus, because of the invitation, the lure, the call of God’s Spirit in our lives. Maybe we are not doing this church thing all by ourselves. Maybe we are not alone, shadow dancing without a partner.
God in Jesus is our partner in the dance of life – calling, luring, inviting. We don’t shadow dance, but have a partner to whom we respond. I believe that to be true for my life. I believe it is true for your lives. I believe it to be true for our life together here as this church.
If we believe this to be true, about our lives, if we believe that we are not here at this church just at our own whim, but in part, in response to God’s invitation and initiative, then maybe we want to ask how we can pay closer attention to this God who is our partner in the dance. In the question section of her book Christianity For the Rest of Us, Diana Butler Bass poses a doosey – “Do you believe that God has some intentions for our lives and our communities?” “Some intentions” - - - that is different from saying that there is a detailed map of what we need to do next. It is more like a dance. God initiates, we respond, God responds and so on. Certain steps will make the dance flow better. How do we figure those out?
Answering that question is to discover what we mean by “discernment.” Discernment is simply a way to speaking about listening for the voice of God, about trying to sense God’s direction or intention. Theologian Marjorie Suchocki writes,
God’s word is hidden incarnationally in the world. It is a whisper. (The Whispered Word, 6). How do we hear that whisper?
We listen. We listen to the voices we find in the Scriptures. They help us along the way. We listen to the world: facts, figures, ideas. We listen to others and to each other. Listen deeply – to words and beyond words. John Wesley called this kind of listening “holy conferencing.” Listen to our inner selves, our deepest selves. Spend some time in silence.
The end result of all of this is not a simple print out – this is God’s direction for you, for First UMC. Brazilian theologian J. B. Libanio: We are forever tempted to want to be god-like – that is, to want to know the will of God as God knows it, with that certainty and clarity that is proper only to God. We are creatures, situated in time and space, subject to all their contingencies. (Spiritual Discernment and Politics, 36). Whenever we talk about something like discernment, we need to do so with a great deal of humility. We will do our best to listen and respond, knowing that sometimes our dance with God will be awkward. But we continue to trust that we are not alone, shadow dancing.
Another theologian, Nancy Bedford, helps me again understand the complexity of our situation as we seek to listen for God’s voice. “The practice of discernment entails both following creatively in the way of Jesus Christ, and taking into account personal, social, and structural dimensions of reality.” (in Practicing Theology, 159).
We believe we are not alone, that we are not shadow dancing in this life, but have a partner in God who calls to us in Jesus. We trust that God has brought us together here to do some good, to touch some lives, to share good news. We trust that God has something in mind for us. We believe that Jesus still speaks. But unlike Peter and Andrew and James and John, we are not on the lakeshore in Galilee. There is no audible voice rising from a figure in the distance. God’s voice in Jesus is a whisper, and we are trying to pay attention in a noisy world.
Still we trust that we are not alone. We are more than shadow dancing.
***Hymnal, page 883:
We are not alone,
we live in God's world.
We believe in God:
who has created and is creating,
who has come in Jesus,
the Word made flesh,
to reconcile and make new,
who works in us and others
by the Spirit.
We trust in God.
We are called to be the Church:
to celebrate God's presence,
to love and serve others,
to seek justice and resist evil,
to proclaim Jesus, crucified and risen,
our judge and our hope.
In life, in death, in life beyond death,
God is with us.
We are not alone.
Thanks be to God.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
Only You
Sermon preached January 16, 2011
Text: I Corinthians 1:1-9
You know you are getting older when:
• You hear snap, crackle and pop at the breakfast table and you are not eating cereal
• Your back goes out but you stay home
• When you are on vacation, your energy runs out before your money does
• It takes twice as long to look half as good
• Getting “lucky” means you found your car in the parking lot
• You find many favorite television shows on the retro tv channel
Many of my favorite television programs are programs from the past – like MASH. It is difficult to believe that the final episode of that program was aired twenty-five years ago, yet it remains a favorite.
For a comedy, the show often shared serious messages. I recall an episode in which Dr. Winchester was operating on a patient seriously wounded in battle. He worked tirelessly to save the man’s life, but could not save a damaged right hand. By the way, MASH was a television series set in an Army hospital during the Korean War. When the patient awoke, he was devastated. He told Dr. Winchester that he would rather have died than lose his hand as he was a concert pianist. Winchester works to convince the man that while his hand is lost, he retains the gift of music – it is in his head, his heart, his soul and not in his hand. He introduces him to “Concerto for the Left Hand” – a piece of music the composer Maurice Ravel composed for pianist Paul Wittgenstein who had lost his right arm during World War I.
I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind… so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift…. He will also strengthen you to the end. (I Corinthians 1:4-6) These are words of Paul written to a church hundreds of years ago. Today they are words spoken to you. You are recipients of God’s grace. You are gifted, not lacking in spiritual gifts. God continues to strengthen you.
You may say to yourself – me? Gifted? Yes, you - - - you are gifted, touched by God’s grace, rich in God’s gifts.
You are gifted just because of who you are. No one, no one has your combination of talents, experience, knowledge. Only you know the world the way you do. Only you see the world with your eyes. Only you touch the world with your hands. Only you bring to this moment and every moment who you are, and that is a gift.
Celebrate who you are in Jesus Christ. Celebrate the gifts of God’s grace that are strong in you. Celebrate those gifts, and dedicate yourself to using your gifts, your life, to share God’s grace, to build God’s dream for the world in Christ.
Winter for me means walking on the treadmill more often than walking outside. I like to listen to something or watch something when I walk, and this winter I continued watching the Ken Burns Baseball series I began late last winter. In the episode on the 1940s I heard again the story of Jackie Robinson, the first African-American to play professional baseball in the major leagues. I was struck by this powerful story, struck by the gifts that Jackie Robinson brought to this moment. When Branch Rickey signed Jackie Robinson to a contract, Rickey, a person of deep faith, a Methodist, grilled him – presented him with difficult situations, even screamed at him in language that Rickey would not use, just to see if Jackie Robinson could handle the pressure. Rickey asked Robinson not to fight back for three years, not to respond to racial epithets or being run into. Jackie Robinson said, “yes.” Robinson’s unique combination of athletic talent and temperament made this work. He was a strong and determined person, a person with an inner fire, but one who, for the sake of a greater cause was willing to temper his assertiveness. Jackie Robinson was a gifted person, and used his gifts to help change the world.
This past week President Barack Obama used his gifts for language and oratory, his thoughtfulness, to speak words of healing and encouragement to our hurting nation. He used his particular set of gifts to offer comfort and hope after the Tucson shootings. Only he could have done this in this way – just as Ronald Reagan used his gifts for communication after the Challenger tragedy, or Bill Clinton used his particular gifts to offer words of hope and healing after the Oklahoma City bombing, or George W. Bush after 9-11. Each of these presidents marshaled the gifts they had to a greater cause and made a difference with their words. Whatever we may think of some of their politics, in each case, they were willing to offer their best gifts to make a difference in the cause of hope at a crucial time in our country.
In the mid 1950s, Dexter Ave. Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama was searching for a new pastor. A predominantly African-American church, they had let their previous pastor, Vernon Johns, go, because they felt he was often too controversial, especially when preaching on racially-charged issues. The church sought a pastor who might be more traditional – an educated and trained pastor, more conventional and less controversial (see Taylor Branch, Parting the Waters, p. 25). They found a pastor who was near to completing his Ph.D. from Boston University. His doctoral dissertation was a comparison between the concepts of God found in the theologies of Paul Tillich and Henry Nelson Wieman, and he would critique them both from the perspective of Boston University Personalism (Branch, 102). He seemed to be just who they were looking for.
When a Montgomery Black woman named Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on a bus to a white person in December 1955, and was arrested for it, this pastor, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. head of the Montgomery Improvement Association, led a bus boycott. It catapulted him into the national spotlight as a leading spokesperson for civil rights for African-Americans. This pastor hired because he was well-educated and trained, used his intelligence and gifts for oratory to call our nation to be better, to live up to our promise. “Now is the time to life our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood; now is the time to make justice a reality for all God’s children” (“I Have a Dream”). His words continue to inspire. His gifts continue to give: We must work unceasingly to uplift this nation that we love to a higher destiny to a higher plateau of compassion, to a more noble expression of humanness.
I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind… so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift…. He will also strengthen you to the end.You are gifted. You are a gift. Celebrate your gifts. Listen to your calling. Your calling is to offer who you are in each moment to the grace of God and the work of God in the world. Most of our moments won’t thrust us into the spotlight of history like a President, like a Jackie Robinson, like a Martin Luther King, Jr. But without the countless players in Negro League baseball, Jackie Robinson would not have had a place to first play the game professionally. The civil rights movement required countless people most unknown beyond their community, their neighborhood, to press the nation forward. We must not look at the gifts of a Robinson or a King and say ours are not enough. God has given us the gifts we have to use for good. Only you have your set of gifts and experiences to share in the moments that are yours alone – and the greatest gift you have is the gift of your very self.
Celebrate your gifts with gratitude. Help others celebrate their gifts. Hone your gifts, develop the gifts of God in you. Share your gifts with the world to make it kinder, gentler, more caring, more just. Only you can do what you can do, and I give thanks to God always for the grace of God that has been given you in Christ. Amen.
Text: I Corinthians 1:1-9
You know you are getting older when:
• You hear snap, crackle and pop at the breakfast table and you are not eating cereal
• Your back goes out but you stay home
• When you are on vacation, your energy runs out before your money does
• It takes twice as long to look half as good
• Getting “lucky” means you found your car in the parking lot
• You find many favorite television shows on the retro tv channel
Many of my favorite television programs are programs from the past – like MASH. It is difficult to believe that the final episode of that program was aired twenty-five years ago, yet it remains a favorite.
For a comedy, the show often shared serious messages. I recall an episode in which Dr. Winchester was operating on a patient seriously wounded in battle. He worked tirelessly to save the man’s life, but could not save a damaged right hand. By the way, MASH was a television series set in an Army hospital during the Korean War. When the patient awoke, he was devastated. He told Dr. Winchester that he would rather have died than lose his hand as he was a concert pianist. Winchester works to convince the man that while his hand is lost, he retains the gift of music – it is in his head, his heart, his soul and not in his hand. He introduces him to “Concerto for the Left Hand” – a piece of music the composer Maurice Ravel composed for pianist Paul Wittgenstein who had lost his right arm during World War I.
I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind… so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift…. He will also strengthen you to the end. (I Corinthians 1:4-6) These are words of Paul written to a church hundreds of years ago. Today they are words spoken to you. You are recipients of God’s grace. You are gifted, not lacking in spiritual gifts. God continues to strengthen you.
You may say to yourself – me? Gifted? Yes, you - - - you are gifted, touched by God’s grace, rich in God’s gifts.
You are gifted just because of who you are. No one, no one has your combination of talents, experience, knowledge. Only you know the world the way you do. Only you see the world with your eyes. Only you touch the world with your hands. Only you bring to this moment and every moment who you are, and that is a gift.
Celebrate who you are in Jesus Christ. Celebrate the gifts of God’s grace that are strong in you. Celebrate those gifts, and dedicate yourself to using your gifts, your life, to share God’s grace, to build God’s dream for the world in Christ.
Winter for me means walking on the treadmill more often than walking outside. I like to listen to something or watch something when I walk, and this winter I continued watching the Ken Burns Baseball series I began late last winter. In the episode on the 1940s I heard again the story of Jackie Robinson, the first African-American to play professional baseball in the major leagues. I was struck by this powerful story, struck by the gifts that Jackie Robinson brought to this moment. When Branch Rickey signed Jackie Robinson to a contract, Rickey, a person of deep faith, a Methodist, grilled him – presented him with difficult situations, even screamed at him in language that Rickey would not use, just to see if Jackie Robinson could handle the pressure. Rickey asked Robinson not to fight back for three years, not to respond to racial epithets or being run into. Jackie Robinson said, “yes.” Robinson’s unique combination of athletic talent and temperament made this work. He was a strong and determined person, a person with an inner fire, but one who, for the sake of a greater cause was willing to temper his assertiveness. Jackie Robinson was a gifted person, and used his gifts to help change the world.
This past week President Barack Obama used his gifts for language and oratory, his thoughtfulness, to speak words of healing and encouragement to our hurting nation. He used his particular set of gifts to offer comfort and hope after the Tucson shootings. Only he could have done this in this way – just as Ronald Reagan used his gifts for communication after the Challenger tragedy, or Bill Clinton used his particular gifts to offer words of hope and healing after the Oklahoma City bombing, or George W. Bush after 9-11. Each of these presidents marshaled the gifts they had to a greater cause and made a difference with their words. Whatever we may think of some of their politics, in each case, they were willing to offer their best gifts to make a difference in the cause of hope at a crucial time in our country.
In the mid 1950s, Dexter Ave. Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama was searching for a new pastor. A predominantly African-American church, they had let their previous pastor, Vernon Johns, go, because they felt he was often too controversial, especially when preaching on racially-charged issues. The church sought a pastor who might be more traditional – an educated and trained pastor, more conventional and less controversial (see Taylor Branch, Parting the Waters, p. 25). They found a pastor who was near to completing his Ph.D. from Boston University. His doctoral dissertation was a comparison between the concepts of God found in the theologies of Paul Tillich and Henry Nelson Wieman, and he would critique them both from the perspective of Boston University Personalism (Branch, 102). He seemed to be just who they were looking for.
When a Montgomery Black woman named Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on a bus to a white person in December 1955, and was arrested for it, this pastor, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. head of the Montgomery Improvement Association, led a bus boycott. It catapulted him into the national spotlight as a leading spokesperson for civil rights for African-Americans. This pastor hired because he was well-educated and trained, used his intelligence and gifts for oratory to call our nation to be better, to live up to our promise. “Now is the time to life our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood; now is the time to make justice a reality for all God’s children” (“I Have a Dream”). His words continue to inspire. His gifts continue to give: We must work unceasingly to uplift this nation that we love to a higher destiny to a higher plateau of compassion, to a more noble expression of humanness.
I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind… so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift…. He will also strengthen you to the end.You are gifted. You are a gift. Celebrate your gifts. Listen to your calling. Your calling is to offer who you are in each moment to the grace of God and the work of God in the world. Most of our moments won’t thrust us into the spotlight of history like a President, like a Jackie Robinson, like a Martin Luther King, Jr. But without the countless players in Negro League baseball, Jackie Robinson would not have had a place to first play the game professionally. The civil rights movement required countless people most unknown beyond their community, their neighborhood, to press the nation forward. We must not look at the gifts of a Robinson or a King and say ours are not enough. God has given us the gifts we have to use for good. Only you have your set of gifts and experiences to share in the moments that are yours alone – and the greatest gift you have is the gift of your very self.
Celebrate your gifts with gratitude. Help others celebrate their gifts. Hone your gifts, develop the gifts of God in you. Share your gifts with the world to make it kinder, gentler, more caring, more just. Only you can do what you can do, and I give thanks to God always for the grace of God that has been given you in Christ. Amen.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Wet and Ready
Sermon preached January 9, 2011
Texts: Isaiah 42:1-9; Matthew 3:13-17
So when was the time in your life when you felt dirtiest? I don’t want to let your imaginations run wild. I am talking here about physically dirty, muddy, sweaty. I remember what it was like when I was pastor in Roseau, my first pastorate. The church operated a food stand during the county fair, and I remember what it was like after a day of frying hamburgers. Grease all over, and when you went into the shower the water would first bead up on you before you got enough soap on to cut through the grease. I also remember youth mission trips I lead as a youth pastor in Dallas. I developed a tradition of not shaving for about a week before the trip, and I had some work clothes that I would put on each day. Why get a lot of different shirts so dirty? By the end of the week, well, things were a little rugged. I did shower every day, but a lot of these trips were in South Texas in July and by the end of the week, that last day, the shirt could practically walk by itself and I looked a little rough myself.
When you have those experiences, and then you get all cleaned up, have you ever said, “Now I feel like myself again.”?
Then Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan, to be baptized. Every year, around this time, if we are reading the Scriptures on the ecumenical lectionary, that three-year cycle of readings that many mainline churches use, we read the story of the baptism of Jesus. And every now and again, it is good for us to use this story as a way to think about the place of baptism in our faith, and that’s what we are going to do together.
Martin Luther once said, “Baptism is a once-in-a-lifetime experience that takes our whole lives to complete” (quoted in Robinson and Wall, Called To Be Church, 159). Baptism is a once-in-a-lifetime experience that takes our whole lives to complete. I think he is right, but what is it about baptism that makes it so?
At baptism we acknowledge certain realities.
Do you renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world and repent of your sin?
Do you accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves? Do you confess Jesus Christ as your Savior, put your whole trust in his grace, and promise to serve him as your Lord, in union with the church which Christ has opened to all people?
At baptism we acknowledge that our lives get mucked up. We get caught in patterns of living that don’t enhance life. We do things that hurt others, and we are afraid to admit it and so muck our lives up even more. We distort our relationship with the world because we fail to see it more truthfully instead clinging to convenient truths which are not very true. The words in the baptismal vows are stark – spiritual forces of wickedness, evil powers of this world, evil, injustice, oppression. Maybe they need to be so we see our muddied condition more accurately. We have not necessarily been violent, but most of us have probably mishandled anger. We have not participated in lynchings or genocide, but we may have disliked someone just because of how they looked, or where they came from or who they loved.
At baptism we acknowledge that our lives get mucked up and muddied. We need to turn, to be washed, to accept grace. Waters of baptism symbolize the cleansing effects of God’s grace in Jesus, the cleansing effects of determining to live differently – to accept the freedom and power God gives us to resist evil, injustice and oppression. Given new birth through water and the Spirit, we feel like ourselves again. For in a way, that is what baptism symbolizes, the washing away of the dust, muck and mud in our lives so we can feel like ourselves again, be ourselves again. Ancient Christian thinker St. John of Karpathos wrote in words of encouragement to monks in India, “Through repentance a person regains their true splendor, just as the moon after the period of waning clothes itself once more in its full light” (Philokalia, I, 299)
Last week I said: We carry light within to light the world a little bit. We carry within the light of kindness, the light of caring, the light of compassion, the light of forgiveness, the light of joy, the light of peace, the light of love. We do, and sometimes our light gets muddied, sometimes by our own doing, and we need to brighten it again. Baptism represents that need for finding ourselves again, for claiming our light again. In the waters of baptism, experienced once, but continually washing over us, we come to feel like ourselves again, be ourselves again. We hear God saying to us, “Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have given my spirit. I have taken you by the hand and kept you.” (Isaiah 42)
Part of the work of completing our baptism is seeking to rediscover who we are in God again and again. It is seeking forgiveness. It is seeking on-going renewal. It is seeking a deepening of our faith. Sometimes that may mean washing the dust off a faith we have set aside as a part of our childhood. Our faith needs to grow with us as we grow.
But there is a second part to completing our baptism, I think. We are water-washed to get back into the muck and mire of life. Here I am shifting my metaphors, but good images speak with multiple voices. You see, we don’t simply get all washed and clean, and feel like ourselves again to look nice and shiny. God calls us to stand with others whose lives may still be stuck in the mud, who have not yet discovered the light of God within them, who are suffering from evil, injustice and oppression.
At some level, Jesus really did not need to be baptized by John. The story of his baptism has that awkwardness about it, John hesitating to baptize. Yet he gets baptized. He joins with humanity, becomes a part of the human project, enters the streams of human history. In a powerful prayer, Sheri Brown writes about the baptism of Jesus. Jesus goes into the Jordan River to be baptized by John. A muddy river where crowds had bathed and been baptized, a dirty river full of scraps and waste, fish bones from lunch and yesterday’s sweat, soured dreams and bitter tears. Jesus immersed himself in all of this – the muck of life.
We are washed in the waters of baptism, filled with God’s Spirit and discover our light, not to remain removed from the world, but to work with God to change the world. Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have given my spirit and they will bring forth justice to the nations…. I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out prisoners from the dungeon, form the prison those who sit in darkness. (Isaiah 42) In baptism we rediscover who we are, that we are loved by God and that we are to share that love.
Desmond Tutu and his daughter Mpho write in their book Made For Goodness, “living our goodness is our way of testifying that we know ourselves to be perfectly loved by God” (35). Among the stories they share about living goodness is a story from South Africa, the story of Mrs. Maphosela. Mrs. Maphosela is a middle-aged woman who began taking children into her home as their parents sickened and died of HIV/AIDS. First one dying mother and then another asked her to take their child in. After a time, children were simply left on her doorstep because of her reputation for providing loving care. Her three-room house is home to twenty children ages 18 months to 18 years. Some of the children are themselves infected by HIV, most, thankfully, are not. Women from the neighborhood volunteer to help. The older children help take care of the younger. Mrs. Maphosel used to take all her children to church by way of taxi, but that became cumbersome so now a deacon comes to lead worship in her home.
This is a woman who has immersed herself in the muddy waters of life to share God’s light and love and goodness, her light and love and goodness too.
Baptism is a once-in-a-lifetime experience that takes our whole lives to complete. We continue to renew ourselves in God’s love, growing, refreshing our lives, rediscovering who we are in Christ. Knowing more deeply who we are we enter again into the muddy streams of humanity to bring light, to be light, to offer cleansing and renewal and hope.
In baptism we come to know ourselves as God’s wet and ready people. Amen.
Texts: Isaiah 42:1-9; Matthew 3:13-17
So when was the time in your life when you felt dirtiest? I don’t want to let your imaginations run wild. I am talking here about physically dirty, muddy, sweaty. I remember what it was like when I was pastor in Roseau, my first pastorate. The church operated a food stand during the county fair, and I remember what it was like after a day of frying hamburgers. Grease all over, and when you went into the shower the water would first bead up on you before you got enough soap on to cut through the grease. I also remember youth mission trips I lead as a youth pastor in Dallas. I developed a tradition of not shaving for about a week before the trip, and I had some work clothes that I would put on each day. Why get a lot of different shirts so dirty? By the end of the week, well, things were a little rugged. I did shower every day, but a lot of these trips were in South Texas in July and by the end of the week, that last day, the shirt could practically walk by itself and I looked a little rough myself.
When you have those experiences, and then you get all cleaned up, have you ever said, “Now I feel like myself again.”?
Then Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan, to be baptized. Every year, around this time, if we are reading the Scriptures on the ecumenical lectionary, that three-year cycle of readings that many mainline churches use, we read the story of the baptism of Jesus. And every now and again, it is good for us to use this story as a way to think about the place of baptism in our faith, and that’s what we are going to do together.
Martin Luther once said, “Baptism is a once-in-a-lifetime experience that takes our whole lives to complete” (quoted in Robinson and Wall, Called To Be Church, 159). Baptism is a once-in-a-lifetime experience that takes our whole lives to complete. I think he is right, but what is it about baptism that makes it so?
At baptism we acknowledge certain realities.
Do you renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world and repent of your sin?
Do you accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves? Do you confess Jesus Christ as your Savior, put your whole trust in his grace, and promise to serve him as your Lord, in union with the church which Christ has opened to all people?
At baptism we acknowledge that our lives get mucked up. We get caught in patterns of living that don’t enhance life. We do things that hurt others, and we are afraid to admit it and so muck our lives up even more. We distort our relationship with the world because we fail to see it more truthfully instead clinging to convenient truths which are not very true. The words in the baptismal vows are stark – spiritual forces of wickedness, evil powers of this world, evil, injustice, oppression. Maybe they need to be so we see our muddied condition more accurately. We have not necessarily been violent, but most of us have probably mishandled anger. We have not participated in lynchings or genocide, but we may have disliked someone just because of how they looked, or where they came from or who they loved.
At baptism we acknowledge that our lives get mucked up and muddied. We need to turn, to be washed, to accept grace. Waters of baptism symbolize the cleansing effects of God’s grace in Jesus, the cleansing effects of determining to live differently – to accept the freedom and power God gives us to resist evil, injustice and oppression. Given new birth through water and the Spirit, we feel like ourselves again. For in a way, that is what baptism symbolizes, the washing away of the dust, muck and mud in our lives so we can feel like ourselves again, be ourselves again. Ancient Christian thinker St. John of Karpathos wrote in words of encouragement to monks in India, “Through repentance a person regains their true splendor, just as the moon after the period of waning clothes itself once more in its full light” (Philokalia, I, 299)
Last week I said: We carry light within to light the world a little bit. We carry within the light of kindness, the light of caring, the light of compassion, the light of forgiveness, the light of joy, the light of peace, the light of love. We do, and sometimes our light gets muddied, sometimes by our own doing, and we need to brighten it again. Baptism represents that need for finding ourselves again, for claiming our light again. In the waters of baptism, experienced once, but continually washing over us, we come to feel like ourselves again, be ourselves again. We hear God saying to us, “Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have given my spirit. I have taken you by the hand and kept you.” (Isaiah 42)
Part of the work of completing our baptism is seeking to rediscover who we are in God again and again. It is seeking forgiveness. It is seeking on-going renewal. It is seeking a deepening of our faith. Sometimes that may mean washing the dust off a faith we have set aside as a part of our childhood. Our faith needs to grow with us as we grow.
But there is a second part to completing our baptism, I think. We are water-washed to get back into the muck and mire of life. Here I am shifting my metaphors, but good images speak with multiple voices. You see, we don’t simply get all washed and clean, and feel like ourselves again to look nice and shiny. God calls us to stand with others whose lives may still be stuck in the mud, who have not yet discovered the light of God within them, who are suffering from evil, injustice and oppression.
At some level, Jesus really did not need to be baptized by John. The story of his baptism has that awkwardness about it, John hesitating to baptize. Yet he gets baptized. He joins with humanity, becomes a part of the human project, enters the streams of human history. In a powerful prayer, Sheri Brown writes about the baptism of Jesus. Jesus goes into the Jordan River to be baptized by John. A muddy river where crowds had bathed and been baptized, a dirty river full of scraps and waste, fish bones from lunch and yesterday’s sweat, soured dreams and bitter tears. Jesus immersed himself in all of this – the muck of life.
We are washed in the waters of baptism, filled with God’s Spirit and discover our light, not to remain removed from the world, but to work with God to change the world. Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have given my spirit and they will bring forth justice to the nations…. I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out prisoners from the dungeon, form the prison those who sit in darkness. (Isaiah 42) In baptism we rediscover who we are, that we are loved by God and that we are to share that love.
Desmond Tutu and his daughter Mpho write in their book Made For Goodness, “living our goodness is our way of testifying that we know ourselves to be perfectly loved by God” (35). Among the stories they share about living goodness is a story from South Africa, the story of Mrs. Maphosela. Mrs. Maphosela is a middle-aged woman who began taking children into her home as their parents sickened and died of HIV/AIDS. First one dying mother and then another asked her to take their child in. After a time, children were simply left on her doorstep because of her reputation for providing loving care. Her three-room house is home to twenty children ages 18 months to 18 years. Some of the children are themselves infected by HIV, most, thankfully, are not. Women from the neighborhood volunteer to help. The older children help take care of the younger. Mrs. Maphosel used to take all her children to church by way of taxi, but that became cumbersome so now a deacon comes to lead worship in her home.
This is a woman who has immersed herself in the muddy waters of life to share God’s light and love and goodness, her light and love and goodness too.
Baptism is a once-in-a-lifetime experience that takes our whole lives to complete. We continue to renew ourselves in God’s love, growing, refreshing our lives, rediscovering who we are in Christ. Knowing more deeply who we are we enter again into the muddy streams of humanity to bring light, to be light, to offer cleansing and renewal and hope.
In baptism we come to know ourselves as God’s wet and ready people. Amen.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Mirror, Mirror
Sermon preached January 2, 2011
Texts: Isaiah 60:1-6; Matthew 2:1-12
Once upon a time, a kind and beautiful queen gave birth to a lovely daughter whose complexion was fair, whose cheeks were rosy and whose hair was a beautiful black. She was named Little Snow White. Unfortunately, the queen died, and after a time, her husband, the king, married another.
This woman, too, was beautiful, but on the outside only. Inside she was so proud and haughty that she could not bear to be surpassed in beauty by anyone. She possessed a wonderful mirror which could answer her when she stood before it and said-
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, Who is the fairest of all?" The mirror answered-
"You, O Queen, are the fairest of all," and the Queen was contented, because she knew the mirror could speak nothing but the truth. But as time passed on, Little Snow-White grew more and more beautiful, until when she was seven years old, she was as lovely as the bright day, and still more lovely than the Queen herself, so that when the lady one day asked her mirror- "Mirror, mirror upon the wall, Who is the fairest fair of all?"
it answered- "O Lady Queen, though fair you be, Snow-White is fairer far to see."
The Queen was horrified, and from that moment envy and pride grew in her heart like rank weeds.
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage. "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the greatest king of all?” “Powerful, Herod, are you now, but another light has come to call!” Herod, like the vain Queen in Snow White, is horrified, and envy and anxiety would grow in his heart like rank weeds. We read more of that sad story last Sunday. Here we have only the beginnings of Herod’s scheming.
And the focus here is less on Herod than on this new life, the new birth, Jesus. A light has come into the world. This light has never been completely absent. God never abandons the world, but the good news of Christian faith is that in Jesus, the light of God shines with a particular brightness.
Like the wise men, we are drawn to this light. Christians are those who see the light of God shine brightest in Jesus the Christ. He is our good news. His light illumines our lives, giving us hope, showing us a way, energizing us.
We see the light of Christ. We meet him and we encounter the light. Like the wise men, we see the light of Christ and return to our lives – “they left for their own country by another road.” Our lives go on, but we are changed by our encounter with the light. The poet T. S. Eliot helps put this into words with two of his poems. He wrote a poem inspired by this Bible story called “The Journey of the Magi” in which he penned these lines: We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,/but no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,/with an alien people clutching their gods. We encounter the light, and we are changed, sometimes uncomfortable in the world – uncomfortable with hunger and violence and injustice and cruelty and indifference. In another of his poems, Eliot helps me understand this change in our lives because we have encountered the light of Christ. “Little Gidding”: With the drawing of the Love and the voice of this Calling//We shall not cease from exploration/And the end of all our exploring/Will be to arrive where we started/And know the place for the first time. In the light of Christ we can see our lives and the world more truthfully.
The wise men followed a light, encountered the light of Christ, and returned to their own country a different way, made different by their encounter with the light of Christ. They carried some of that light back with them, inside of them.
Christians are those who see the light of God shine brightest in Jesus the Christ. He is our good news. While one part of Christian faith and life is to proclaim where we have encountered light and love and life – that is, in Jesus, another part of Christian faith and life is to claim our light, let our light shine, let Christ shine in us and through us. “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.” Again, an Eliot poem helps me put words to this. Therefore we thank Thee for our little light, that is dappled with shadow. (Chorus X from “The Rock”) We have light within, sometimes dappled with shadow, but we have light to share with the world.
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who shines brightest of them all? Jesus shines brightest as we see, but shines his light through you and me.
Lisel Mueller writes this lovely poem about the light of the sky pouring itself into her some mornings. She goes on: But the plot/calls for me to live,/be ordinary, say nothing/to anyone. Inside the house/the mirrors burn when I pass. (“There Are Mornings”) When we see ourselves as Jesus sees us, as God creates us, even as we live our ordinary lives, the mirrors burn when we pass – mirror, mirror on the wall.
Abbot Lot went to see Abbot Joseph. ”Father, according as I am able, I keep my little rule, and my little fast, my prayer, meditation and contemplative silence; and according as I am able I strive to cleanse my heart of bad thoughts: now what more should I do? Joseph rose up in reply, stretched out his hands to the heavens, and his fingers became lamps of fire. He said, “Why not become all flame?” (in Kathleen Norris, Dakota, 123. From Thomas Merton, Wisdom of the Desert Fathers)
We carry light within to light the world a little bit. We carry within the light of kindness, the light of caring, the light of compassion, the light of forgiveness, the light of joy, the light of peace, the light of love. We have encountered the light in Christ, and we are different. Our lights are kindled. The mirrors burn when we pass. Why not become all flame?
Last Christmas music story for this season. Since we have a long Christmas music season at my house, I try and scope out some new music each year, stuff that I might particularly like. This year I discovered a beautiful Christmas song written and sung by Sheryl Crow – “There is a Star That Shines Tonight.” Tonight my Christmas wish will be for all to heed the call: Peace on Earth and in our hearts, Let love ring out, ring near and far, And lift the weary and the weak, And keep you near on Christmas eve, There is a star that shines tonight.
Arise, shine for your light has come. Heed the call. Let love ring out, near and far. Lift the weary and the weak.
Arise, shine, for you carry light, you are light – light for a weary world, light of kindness, compassion, caring, reconciliation, peace, joy, love.
Arise, shine, let the mirrors burn when you pass, burn brightly with Christ’s light in you. Aspire to become all flame. Amen.
Texts: Isaiah 60:1-6; Matthew 2:1-12
Once upon a time, a kind and beautiful queen gave birth to a lovely daughter whose complexion was fair, whose cheeks were rosy and whose hair was a beautiful black. She was named Little Snow White. Unfortunately, the queen died, and after a time, her husband, the king, married another.
This woman, too, was beautiful, but on the outside only. Inside she was so proud and haughty that she could not bear to be surpassed in beauty by anyone. She possessed a wonderful mirror which could answer her when she stood before it and said-
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, Who is the fairest of all?" The mirror answered-
"You, O Queen, are the fairest of all," and the Queen was contented, because she knew the mirror could speak nothing but the truth. But as time passed on, Little Snow-White grew more and more beautiful, until when she was seven years old, she was as lovely as the bright day, and still more lovely than the Queen herself, so that when the lady one day asked her mirror- "Mirror, mirror upon the wall, Who is the fairest fair of all?"
it answered- "O Lady Queen, though fair you be, Snow-White is fairer far to see."
The Queen was horrified, and from that moment envy and pride grew in her heart like rank weeds.
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage. "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the greatest king of all?” “Powerful, Herod, are you now, but another light has come to call!” Herod, like the vain Queen in Snow White, is horrified, and envy and anxiety would grow in his heart like rank weeds. We read more of that sad story last Sunday. Here we have only the beginnings of Herod’s scheming.
And the focus here is less on Herod than on this new life, the new birth, Jesus. A light has come into the world. This light has never been completely absent. God never abandons the world, but the good news of Christian faith is that in Jesus, the light of God shines with a particular brightness.
Like the wise men, we are drawn to this light. Christians are those who see the light of God shine brightest in Jesus the Christ. He is our good news. His light illumines our lives, giving us hope, showing us a way, energizing us.
We see the light of Christ. We meet him and we encounter the light. Like the wise men, we see the light of Christ and return to our lives – “they left for their own country by another road.” Our lives go on, but we are changed by our encounter with the light. The poet T. S. Eliot helps put this into words with two of his poems. He wrote a poem inspired by this Bible story called “The Journey of the Magi” in which he penned these lines: We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,/but no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,/with an alien people clutching their gods. We encounter the light, and we are changed, sometimes uncomfortable in the world – uncomfortable with hunger and violence and injustice and cruelty and indifference. In another of his poems, Eliot helps me understand this change in our lives because we have encountered the light of Christ. “Little Gidding”: With the drawing of the Love and the voice of this Calling//We shall not cease from exploration/And the end of all our exploring/Will be to arrive where we started/And know the place for the first time. In the light of Christ we can see our lives and the world more truthfully.
The wise men followed a light, encountered the light of Christ, and returned to their own country a different way, made different by their encounter with the light of Christ. They carried some of that light back with them, inside of them.
Christians are those who see the light of God shine brightest in Jesus the Christ. He is our good news. While one part of Christian faith and life is to proclaim where we have encountered light and love and life – that is, in Jesus, another part of Christian faith and life is to claim our light, let our light shine, let Christ shine in us and through us. “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.” Again, an Eliot poem helps me put words to this. Therefore we thank Thee for our little light, that is dappled with shadow. (Chorus X from “The Rock”) We have light within, sometimes dappled with shadow, but we have light to share with the world.
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who shines brightest of them all? Jesus shines brightest as we see, but shines his light through you and me.
Lisel Mueller writes this lovely poem about the light of the sky pouring itself into her some mornings. She goes on: But the plot/calls for me to live,/be ordinary, say nothing/to anyone. Inside the house/the mirrors burn when I pass. (“There Are Mornings”) When we see ourselves as Jesus sees us, as God creates us, even as we live our ordinary lives, the mirrors burn when we pass – mirror, mirror on the wall.
Abbot Lot went to see Abbot Joseph. ”Father, according as I am able, I keep my little rule, and my little fast, my prayer, meditation and contemplative silence; and according as I am able I strive to cleanse my heart of bad thoughts: now what more should I do? Joseph rose up in reply, stretched out his hands to the heavens, and his fingers became lamps of fire. He said, “Why not become all flame?” (in Kathleen Norris, Dakota, 123. From Thomas Merton, Wisdom of the Desert Fathers)
We carry light within to light the world a little bit. We carry within the light of kindness, the light of caring, the light of compassion, the light of forgiveness, the light of joy, the light of peace, the light of love. We have encountered the light in Christ, and we are different. Our lights are kindled. The mirrors burn when we pass. Why not become all flame?
Last Christmas music story for this season. Since we have a long Christmas music season at my house, I try and scope out some new music each year, stuff that I might particularly like. This year I discovered a beautiful Christmas song written and sung by Sheryl Crow – “There is a Star That Shines Tonight.” Tonight my Christmas wish will be for all to heed the call: Peace on Earth and in our hearts, Let love ring out, ring near and far, And lift the weary and the weak, And keep you near on Christmas eve, There is a star that shines tonight.
Arise, shine for your light has come. Heed the call. Let love ring out, near and far. Lift the weary and the weak.
Arise, shine, for you carry light, you are light – light for a weary world, light of kindness, compassion, caring, reconciliation, peace, joy, love.
Arise, shine, let the mirrors burn when you pass, burn brightly with Christ’s light in you. Aspire to become all flame. Amen.
Friday, December 31, 2010
You Can't Go Home Again
Sermon preached December 26, 2010
Text: Matthew 2:13-23
I hope you have all had a wonderful Christmas. I hope you were with people you enjoy. I hope the food was good. I hope you gave a gift someone really appreciated and that you received something that brought some joy to you.
Part of my appreciation of the season for me is in the music. I love the hymns we sing this time of year, and I love how people tend to sing out a little more. I enjoy many of the more secular songs of the season. I have fond memories of the Goodyear Christmas albums of the 1960s. I remember them around our house growing up.
I find that some of my favorite Christmas songs are tinged with a certain sadness – sometimes in the tune, sometimes in the words, sometimes both. Christmas Time Is Here from “The Charlie Brown Christmas Special” is beautiful and melodic but with a certain sad undertone, and the lyrics wistfully hope for a better world – “oh that we could always see such spirit through the year.” I’ll Be Home For Christmas is a delightful reminder of some of the small things that make Christmas special – snow and mistletoe, and yet there is sadness because the singer may only be home in his or her dreams. The song was copyrighted in 1943, during World War II when many could only be home for Christmas in their dreams. The lyricist says he first penned the words as a homesick college student. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, likewise combines a beautiful, haunting melody and lyrics both hopeful and sad. There are references to troubles that may someday be out of sight and to muddling through somehow.
Maybe I have grown in appreciation of these songs because in the last few years I find that I am making more peace with sadness in my life. It is partly a function of age, but it is more than that. It is a part of my spiritual journey. It is part of the work of the Spirit in my life trying to deepen my humanity. I remember encountering these words from Elizabeth Lesser a few years ago, and they rang so true to me: The opposite of happiness is a closed heart. Happiness is a heart so soft and so expansive that it can hold all of the emotions in a cradle of openness. A happy heart is one that is larger at all times than any one emotion. An open heart feels everything – including anger, grief, and pain – and absorbs it into a bigger and wiser experience of reality…. We may think that by closing the heart we’ll protect ourselves from feeling the pain of the world, but instead, we isolate ourselves even more from joy. From my own experience and from observing many others, I have come to believe that the opposite of happiness is a fearful, closed heart. Happiness is ours when we go through our anger, fear, and pain, all the way to our sadness, and then slowly let sadness develop into tenderness. (The New American Spirituality, 180). That has been something of my spiritual journey for a number of years, working with the Spirit toward a more open heart, a heart open to my own sadness and a heart open to the pain of the world. I am working with the Spirit to weave into my spiritual life the sadness, disappointment, discouragement I have known and to keep my eyes and heart open to the deep sorrow and pain in a world where there is too much hunger, too much violence, too much oppression, too much injustice.
I appreciate this difficult story we read today. I don’t necessarily like it, but I appreciate it. It is not the best story for the day after Christmas. No shepherds. The wise men have left (and oddly we will come back to their story next week). Angels don’t announce good news, only warn of danger. Joseph, Mary and Jesus have to flee in fear to Egypt. Herod, fearful for his power seeks to destroy all potential rivals, going so far as to eliminate children.
I appreciate this story for its realism. The world is sometimes a dangerous place. The powerful abuse their power. Children suffer unjustly and mothers weep inconsolably. The journey of Jesus’ family reprises the journey of his people so many years before. Jesus, Mary and Joseph go to a place of great pain for the Israelites, the place of their enslavement. Sometimes the spiritual journey of our lives requires that we, too, revisit places of difficulty, pain and sorrow – not to wallow in them, not to be perpetual victims of our pasts, but to weave all of our experiences into our hearts so our hearts can be more open and tender.
Jesus returns to Palestine, but he returns different. Though he was a boy during this time, he would have experienced exile in Egypt, even in his young life. He would have known displacement and wandering. He goes home, but he is different, marked, changed. You can’t go home again. The ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus put it this way: You cannot step twice into the same river, for other waters and yet others go ever flowing on. (Fr. 21; Wheelwright, The Presocratics, 71) Jesus returns to Palestine, but different. He has experienced something of the suffering of his people. He has probably experienced some sadness himself – leaving the familiarity of Egypt for a home he has not seen to years.
I appreciate this difficult story because it invites us to be open to all of our experiences, the highs, the lows, the triumphs, the disappointments, the joys, the sorrows, the pain and the healing. Take our experience and weave it more deeply and creatively into our lives. Take our experience and use it, use it to create a better world.
This story invites honesty. Life is not easy, nor perfect. Joan Chittister puts it well. When we manage to create for ourselves the perfect living space, uninterrupted and uninterruptable, we can be sure that we are no longer living life (Living Well, December 21). There are disappointments and sadnesses in our lives, and if we ignore them our lives shrink and our hearts harden. There are tragedies and sorrows in the world, and if we ignore them we abandon others, we leave weeping mothers inconsolable. We need to begin where we are in life to move forward. We need to see the world as it is to change it. We begin where we are, and we meet God there.
We begin where we are and we make choices about our lives and our world. C. S. Lewis penned these powerful words in his work Christian Behavior. Every time you make a choice you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before. And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing either into a heavenly creature or into a hellish creature: either into a creature that is in harmony with God and with other creatures, and with itself, or else into one that is in a state of war and hatred with God, and with its fellow-creatures, and with itself. To be one kind of creature is heaven: that is, it is joy and peace and knowledge and power. To be the other means madness, horror, idiocy, rage, impotence, and eternal loneliness. Each of us at each moment is progressing into one state or the other. (Mere Christianity, large print, 154-155) Every moment we choose. Every moment, God invites us to choose toward well-being, to weave all that we experience into a healthier whole – our joys and sadness, our accomplishments and disappointments. Every moment God invites us to create deeper peace in the world.
Friday night I shared some of the story of Frederick Buechner. Buechner is a Presbyterian pastor and prolific author. Friday I shared with you some of his struggles with his anorexic daughter and where he experienced the love of God in that struggle. Buechner’s story has even more sides to it. [Listening For God, I] One November morning in 1936 when I was ten years old, my father got up early, put on a pair of gray slacks and a maroon sweater, opened the door to look in briefly on my younger brother and me, who were playing a game in our room, and then went down into the garage where he turned on the engine of the family Chevy and sat down on the running board to wait for the exhaust to kill him. (40) Buechner was raised by a mother who did not want to discuss what had happened. “Don’t talk, don’t trust, don’t feel” were the rules of the family.
Buechner writes about his father’s suicide, his mother’s emotional closure, his daughter’s anorexia not to air depressing family facts, but because his story might help others be more honest in their lives and in that honesty connect more deeply with God, with others, and with themselves. My story is important not because it is mine… but because if I tell it anything like right, the chances are you will recognize that in many ways it is also yours. Maybe nothing is more important than that we keep track, you and I, of these stories of who we are and where we have come from and the people we have met along the way because it is precisely through these stories in all their particularity, as I have long believed and often said, that God makes himself known to each of us most powerfully and personally. If this is true, it means that to lose track of our stories is to be profoundly impoverished not only humanly but also spiritually. (52-53) He goes on to write: The sad things that happened long ago will always remain part of who we are just as the glad and gracious things will too, but instead of being a burden of guilt, recrimination, and regret that make us constantly stumble as we go, even the saddest things can become, once we have made peace with them, a source of strength and wisdom for the journey that still lies ahead. It is through memory that we are able to reclaim much of our lives that we have long since written off by finding that in everything that has happened to us over the years God was offering us possibilities of new life and healing which, though we may have missed them at the time, we can still choose and be brought to life by and healed by all these years later. (54)
Even this sad story from Matthew offers a Christmas message. God meets us in the midst of life, even when it is difficult, painful, sad and worse. God meets us. God is with us. We can’t go home again, but we can work with God to create a newer home, a newer world. God invites us reweave our live so that they are more whole. God invites us to work with God to create a world with fewer tyrants, less misuse of power, fewer children dying before their time, and fewer mothers weeping. God invites us to begin where we are to create with God peace on earth and in our hearts. That, too, is from a wonderful Christmas song (by Sheryl Crow). In the end, that song plays most forcefully in my life, in our lives. And God invites us to sing along with the whole of our lives. Amen.
Text: Matthew 2:13-23
I hope you have all had a wonderful Christmas. I hope you were with people you enjoy. I hope the food was good. I hope you gave a gift someone really appreciated and that you received something that brought some joy to you.
Part of my appreciation of the season for me is in the music. I love the hymns we sing this time of year, and I love how people tend to sing out a little more. I enjoy many of the more secular songs of the season. I have fond memories of the Goodyear Christmas albums of the 1960s. I remember them around our house growing up.
I find that some of my favorite Christmas songs are tinged with a certain sadness – sometimes in the tune, sometimes in the words, sometimes both. Christmas Time Is Here from “The Charlie Brown Christmas Special” is beautiful and melodic but with a certain sad undertone, and the lyrics wistfully hope for a better world – “oh that we could always see such spirit through the year.” I’ll Be Home For Christmas is a delightful reminder of some of the small things that make Christmas special – snow and mistletoe, and yet there is sadness because the singer may only be home in his or her dreams. The song was copyrighted in 1943, during World War II when many could only be home for Christmas in their dreams. The lyricist says he first penned the words as a homesick college student. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, likewise combines a beautiful, haunting melody and lyrics both hopeful and sad. There are references to troubles that may someday be out of sight and to muddling through somehow.
Maybe I have grown in appreciation of these songs because in the last few years I find that I am making more peace with sadness in my life. It is partly a function of age, but it is more than that. It is a part of my spiritual journey. It is part of the work of the Spirit in my life trying to deepen my humanity. I remember encountering these words from Elizabeth Lesser a few years ago, and they rang so true to me: The opposite of happiness is a closed heart. Happiness is a heart so soft and so expansive that it can hold all of the emotions in a cradle of openness. A happy heart is one that is larger at all times than any one emotion. An open heart feels everything – including anger, grief, and pain – and absorbs it into a bigger and wiser experience of reality…. We may think that by closing the heart we’ll protect ourselves from feeling the pain of the world, but instead, we isolate ourselves even more from joy. From my own experience and from observing many others, I have come to believe that the opposite of happiness is a fearful, closed heart. Happiness is ours when we go through our anger, fear, and pain, all the way to our sadness, and then slowly let sadness develop into tenderness. (The New American Spirituality, 180). That has been something of my spiritual journey for a number of years, working with the Spirit toward a more open heart, a heart open to my own sadness and a heart open to the pain of the world. I am working with the Spirit to weave into my spiritual life the sadness, disappointment, discouragement I have known and to keep my eyes and heart open to the deep sorrow and pain in a world where there is too much hunger, too much violence, too much oppression, too much injustice.
I appreciate this difficult story we read today. I don’t necessarily like it, but I appreciate it. It is not the best story for the day after Christmas. No shepherds. The wise men have left (and oddly we will come back to their story next week). Angels don’t announce good news, only warn of danger. Joseph, Mary and Jesus have to flee in fear to Egypt. Herod, fearful for his power seeks to destroy all potential rivals, going so far as to eliminate children.
I appreciate this story for its realism. The world is sometimes a dangerous place. The powerful abuse their power. Children suffer unjustly and mothers weep inconsolably. The journey of Jesus’ family reprises the journey of his people so many years before. Jesus, Mary and Joseph go to a place of great pain for the Israelites, the place of their enslavement. Sometimes the spiritual journey of our lives requires that we, too, revisit places of difficulty, pain and sorrow – not to wallow in them, not to be perpetual victims of our pasts, but to weave all of our experiences into our hearts so our hearts can be more open and tender.
Jesus returns to Palestine, but he returns different. Though he was a boy during this time, he would have experienced exile in Egypt, even in his young life. He would have known displacement and wandering. He goes home, but he is different, marked, changed. You can’t go home again. The ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus put it this way: You cannot step twice into the same river, for other waters and yet others go ever flowing on. (Fr. 21; Wheelwright, The Presocratics, 71) Jesus returns to Palestine, but different. He has experienced something of the suffering of his people. He has probably experienced some sadness himself – leaving the familiarity of Egypt for a home he has not seen to years.
I appreciate this difficult story because it invites us to be open to all of our experiences, the highs, the lows, the triumphs, the disappointments, the joys, the sorrows, the pain and the healing. Take our experience and weave it more deeply and creatively into our lives. Take our experience and use it, use it to create a better world.
This story invites honesty. Life is not easy, nor perfect. Joan Chittister puts it well. When we manage to create for ourselves the perfect living space, uninterrupted and uninterruptable, we can be sure that we are no longer living life (Living Well, December 21). There are disappointments and sadnesses in our lives, and if we ignore them our lives shrink and our hearts harden. There are tragedies and sorrows in the world, and if we ignore them we abandon others, we leave weeping mothers inconsolable. We need to begin where we are in life to move forward. We need to see the world as it is to change it. We begin where we are, and we meet God there.
We begin where we are and we make choices about our lives and our world. C. S. Lewis penned these powerful words in his work Christian Behavior. Every time you make a choice you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before. And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing either into a heavenly creature or into a hellish creature: either into a creature that is in harmony with God and with other creatures, and with itself, or else into one that is in a state of war and hatred with God, and with its fellow-creatures, and with itself. To be one kind of creature is heaven: that is, it is joy and peace and knowledge and power. To be the other means madness, horror, idiocy, rage, impotence, and eternal loneliness. Each of us at each moment is progressing into one state or the other. (Mere Christianity, large print, 154-155) Every moment we choose. Every moment, God invites us to choose toward well-being, to weave all that we experience into a healthier whole – our joys and sadness, our accomplishments and disappointments. Every moment God invites us to create deeper peace in the world.
Friday night I shared some of the story of Frederick Buechner. Buechner is a Presbyterian pastor and prolific author. Friday I shared with you some of his struggles with his anorexic daughter and where he experienced the love of God in that struggle. Buechner’s story has even more sides to it. [Listening For God, I] One November morning in 1936 when I was ten years old, my father got up early, put on a pair of gray slacks and a maroon sweater, opened the door to look in briefly on my younger brother and me, who were playing a game in our room, and then went down into the garage where he turned on the engine of the family Chevy and sat down on the running board to wait for the exhaust to kill him. (40) Buechner was raised by a mother who did not want to discuss what had happened. “Don’t talk, don’t trust, don’t feel” were the rules of the family.
Buechner writes about his father’s suicide, his mother’s emotional closure, his daughter’s anorexia not to air depressing family facts, but because his story might help others be more honest in their lives and in that honesty connect more deeply with God, with others, and with themselves. My story is important not because it is mine… but because if I tell it anything like right, the chances are you will recognize that in many ways it is also yours. Maybe nothing is more important than that we keep track, you and I, of these stories of who we are and where we have come from and the people we have met along the way because it is precisely through these stories in all their particularity, as I have long believed and often said, that God makes himself known to each of us most powerfully and personally. If this is true, it means that to lose track of our stories is to be profoundly impoverished not only humanly but also spiritually. (52-53) He goes on to write: The sad things that happened long ago will always remain part of who we are just as the glad and gracious things will too, but instead of being a burden of guilt, recrimination, and regret that make us constantly stumble as we go, even the saddest things can become, once we have made peace with them, a source of strength and wisdom for the journey that still lies ahead. It is through memory that we are able to reclaim much of our lives that we have long since written off by finding that in everything that has happened to us over the years God was offering us possibilities of new life and healing which, though we may have missed them at the time, we can still choose and be brought to life by and healed by all these years later. (54)
Even this sad story from Matthew offers a Christmas message. God meets us in the midst of life, even when it is difficult, painful, sad and worse. God meets us. God is with us. We can’t go home again, but we can work with God to create a newer home, a newer world. God invites us reweave our live so that they are more whole. God invites us to work with God to create a world with fewer tyrants, less misuse of power, fewer children dying before their time, and fewer mothers weeping. God invites us to begin where we are to create with God peace on earth and in our hearts. That, too, is from a wonderful Christmas song (by Sheryl Crow). In the end, that song plays most forcefully in my life, in our lives. And God invites us to sing along with the whole of our lives. Amen.
Blue Christmas
Sermon preached on Christmas Eve
Texts: Isaiah 9:2-7; Isaiah 63:7-9; Luke 2:1-20
Christmas music. I am going to begin this sermon and Sunday’s sermon with Christmas music stories.
At our house, Christmas music season begins November 1, and there is some history there. Julie really enjoys Christmas music, and that love has been shared with our children, especially with our daughter Beth. But the November 1 start date has a more recent origin. In 1998 we moved from Pengilly to Alexandria, and the move was not an easy one for Beth. At age 11, Beth broke her hip and some of her activities were restricted. She was not very happy with moving from a community that had surrounded her with care during a difficult time, and the first couple months of school in Alexandria proved trying. So Julie, with a certain genius, came up with the idea that come November 1, we would start playing Christmas music at our house. A tradition began.
I am not the family’s biggest fan when it comes to this tradition. I like Christmas music and have fond memories of the Goodyear Christmas albums that used to come out. My mom and dad had a few of those. But November 1 is just too early for me. Nevertheless, I admit that my appreciation for Christmas music has grown through the course of my married life. So I get to listen to some things I really like, I have burned a few Christmas CDs over the years – sort of my version of Goodyear’s great songs of Christmas. There are some surprisingly good songs by unexpected artists. Who could imagine Bing Crosby and David Bowie combining on a powerful version of The Little Drummer Boy/Peace on Earth? Bruce Springsteen does a great “Santa Claus is Coming To Town.” There are also some Christmas songs that just don’t resonate. I am a big Bob Dylan fan, but Bob Dylan “Christmas in the Heart” - thank goodness the money went to charity! I am also not a big fan of Elvis Presley’s “Blue Christmas.” It has just never done anything for me.
Yet when you looked through the bulletin tonight and saw a sermon entitled “Blue Christmas” I bet that’s where a number of you went.
But maybe some others of you went someplace else. “Blue Christmas” has more recently come to mean worship services that acknowledge how difficult a time of year this can be. If a family lives apart, Christmas can be a painful reminder of that distance. If family or friends are separated by hard feelings, Christmas can remind us of that, too. At Christmas we remember loved ones lost. Julie’s dad was born on Christmas and loved the holiday, and our celebrations are different without him. If economic hardship has struck, Christmas can be difficult. Life’s difficulties don’t take a holiday. Blue Christmas has those connotations, too, and it is important for us to remember and be sensitive to those who struggle with a blue Christmas. That may be some of us here tonight.
But I want to go someplace else with the idea of a blue Christmas. Avatar. How many of you have seen the 2009 blockbuster movie, Avatar? It is a story set in 2154 about human exploration of a place called Pandora, human exploration and exploitation. A corporation is mining for unobtanium on Pandora, and while they are doing this scientists have found a way for humans to interact with the local population – the Na’vi. The Na’vi are tall blue human-like creatures, and humans interact with them through Avatars – genetically-engineered Na’vi/human hybrid bodies. The scientists want to do research, other humans are interested only in exploiting whatever relationships might develop with the Na’vi through the use of the avatars. One kind of life taking on the form of another.
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered…. Joseph went to be registered with Mary…. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. A birth, the birth of a boy amidst the hay and smell of animals, born to a family far from home. But there was something special about this child. He grew into a powerful teacher, a remarkable healer, a bit of a renegade. It cost him, cost him his life, but his followers claimed that his life came back, that he was present even after execution. Though we tell the story of the birth of Jesus, we need to keep in mind his whole life – including his death and resurrection. Bands of cloth which swaddle him at birth will later be grave clothes which will not hold him.
And those who experienced this Jesus alive and alive again, they dug into their religious texts to try and understand who he was. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined…. For a child has been born for us, a son given to us… and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. [Isaiah 9] And they wrote new words about him. The true light which enlightens everyone was coming into the world…. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. [John 1]
Jesus was born, and like most babies he was probably a little blue at his birth. I bet you wondered how I was going to get back to the blue. Jesus was born, and in his life people knew God. God drew near in Jesus. A bit like the avatars, God comes close – to share our lives, to let us know that God understands, to share something of God’s life with us. Unlike the avatars, Jesus is not interested in exploiting us. God does not draw near to use us, rather God draws near so that we might have life. God draws near in order to foster peace and good will, joy and well-being. The red and green of Christmas, the blue of Christmas, the lights of Christmas, are meant to tell us that God is near. God is for us. God loves us. God desires peace and good will and well-being. God becomes like us so that we might become more like God.
And this is good news – good news of great joy for all. Do not be afraid. God draws near to us to give us life, hope, joy, love. A child has been born for us. To you is born this day a Savior. Good news.
This is good news for a thirteen year old, whose hip was broken, whose heart was broken. You are not alone. There can be music in your life to heal your heart.
This is good news for the young woman I spoke with on the phone the other day. She was a student in my on-line class “Religious Perspectives on Living, Dying and Grieving,” and when I phoned her for our final conversation and asked her what she learned, she told me that she felt better prepared to handle grief in her life, and it was especially helpful because her grandmother had died that morning. She is not alone, but there is one to comfort her.
This is good news for my friend Bill. Bill is a retired United Methodist pastor from New York state who I met while serving on a denominational commission. A few months ago, Bill informed us that he had been feeling poorly for quite some time and had now received a diagnosis – MDS, myelodysplastic syndrome, sometimes called preleukemia. He has just found out that out of 15 million in the transplant registry, he has no adequate stem cell donor match. Bill has heard the good news of Jesus and shared it in a recent e-mail. I offer you a “be joyful always… living life as prayer (not a separate activity – my life-long personal practice)… and giving thanks in all circumstances kind of Christmas. Makes celebrating the birth of the one many of us choose to follow in our lives, Jesus of Nazareth, real and always exciting. Always this season brings hope that more and more will finally come to know the Christian journey as about this life’s vocation on the love-compassion-kindness-forgiveness continuum and NOT about a life destination. Jesus’ message to us was clearly about behavior, not belief. Whoops, didn’t mean to almost preach but it sure felt good there for a minute. Let’s just leave it at this: our Christmas peace is great this year because of you. This is a man who knows Christmas as good news and I may just have to write him to let him know he got to preach a little on Christmas Eve here tonight.
This is good news for Frederick Buechner. Buechner is a Presbyterian minister and prolific author. He has known difficulty and tragedy. One of his daughters was anorexic. My anorectic daughter was in danger of starving to death, and without knowing it, so was I. I wasn’t living my own life any more because I was so caught up in hers. If in refusing to eat she was mad as a hatter, I was if anything madder still because whereas in some sense she knew what she was doing to herself, I knew nothing at all about what I was doing to myself. She had given up food. I had virtually given up doing anything in the way of feeding myself humanly. To be at peace is to have peace inside yourself more or less in spite of what is going on outside yourself. In that sense I had no peace at all…. The love I had for my daughter was lost in the anxiety I had for my daughter. Buechner needed to give her some room, offer her some space, and it finally happened when his daughter was hospitalized three thousand miles away. A judge hospitalized her and it taught him something about God’s love. The power that created the universe and spun the dragonfly’s wing and is beyond all other powers holds back, in love, from overpowering us. I have never felt God’s presence more strongly than when my wife and I visited that distant hospital where our daughter was. Walking down the corridor to the room that had her name taped to the door, I felt that presence surrounding me like air – God in his very stillness, holding his breath, loving her, loving us all, the only way he can without destroying us. (Listening to God, I: 49-50, 51-52) God is with us, gently, quietly, like a baby born on a long ago night in Bethlehem.
This is good news for us, for all. It is good news that comes with no strings attached. Yet it is good news that changes everything. Good news received is good news meant to be lived. If God comes to us in this way – for peace, good will, well-being, shouldn’t we be in the world for one another in that same way? Theologian Walter Wink states it succinctly. Jesus incarnated God in his own person in order to show all of us how to incarnate God. And to incarnate God is what it means to be fully human. (The Human Being, 30) Hear the good news. Be the good news.
Columnist Jean Brody tells this story. I once knew a woman who had very little in the way of material possessions. Her clothes were clean but faded. She ironed other people’s clothes to make money for her children. There was no car so she walked to work everywhere, and thus her shoes were worn and cracked. She and her two children lived in a tiny corner house that had once been white and they all slept in one bedroom. I met her through her little boy who used to come into my pet store after school. He love animals and I would pay him to “help me” by sweeping the floor. He brought mom around to see me one wintry day and I liked her and, since I was nice to her child, she liked me. Mothers are like that. When Christmas came, she appeared in my store, smiling and red-cheeked, with a gift for me. Wrapped in a newspaper were three things – a red candle never lit, four dimes wrapped in tissue and a magazine. She asked if I could open it so she could explain it to me. Blinking back tears, I listened as she said that the red candle would bring light in my life. The four dimes were to be distributed to my four children, and, in the magazine was an article she’d found about the true meaning of giving and loving one another. Jean hugged her new friend and accepted her heart-felt gifts graciously, and every year she puts that red candle, four dimes and magazine under the tree to keep the meaning of Christmas in sight. Good news lived and shared.
The good news is that Christmas is avatar blue – God comes near to bring us near to God. This is good news – God is with us working for peace, healing, well-being, good will, love. Tonight and all nights, hear this good news. Tonight and all nights, live this good news, be this good news for others. Amen.
Texts: Isaiah 9:2-7; Isaiah 63:7-9; Luke 2:1-20
Christmas music. I am going to begin this sermon and Sunday’s sermon with Christmas music stories.
At our house, Christmas music season begins November 1, and there is some history there. Julie really enjoys Christmas music, and that love has been shared with our children, especially with our daughter Beth. But the November 1 start date has a more recent origin. In 1998 we moved from Pengilly to Alexandria, and the move was not an easy one for Beth. At age 11, Beth broke her hip and some of her activities were restricted. She was not very happy with moving from a community that had surrounded her with care during a difficult time, and the first couple months of school in Alexandria proved trying. So Julie, with a certain genius, came up with the idea that come November 1, we would start playing Christmas music at our house. A tradition began.
I am not the family’s biggest fan when it comes to this tradition. I like Christmas music and have fond memories of the Goodyear Christmas albums that used to come out. My mom and dad had a few of those. But November 1 is just too early for me. Nevertheless, I admit that my appreciation for Christmas music has grown through the course of my married life. So I get to listen to some things I really like, I have burned a few Christmas CDs over the years – sort of my version of Goodyear’s great songs of Christmas. There are some surprisingly good songs by unexpected artists. Who could imagine Bing Crosby and David Bowie combining on a powerful version of The Little Drummer Boy/Peace on Earth? Bruce Springsteen does a great “Santa Claus is Coming To Town.” There are also some Christmas songs that just don’t resonate. I am a big Bob Dylan fan, but Bob Dylan “Christmas in the Heart” - thank goodness the money went to charity! I am also not a big fan of Elvis Presley’s “Blue Christmas.” It has just never done anything for me.
Yet when you looked through the bulletin tonight and saw a sermon entitled “Blue Christmas” I bet that’s where a number of you went.
But maybe some others of you went someplace else. “Blue Christmas” has more recently come to mean worship services that acknowledge how difficult a time of year this can be. If a family lives apart, Christmas can be a painful reminder of that distance. If family or friends are separated by hard feelings, Christmas can remind us of that, too. At Christmas we remember loved ones lost. Julie’s dad was born on Christmas and loved the holiday, and our celebrations are different without him. If economic hardship has struck, Christmas can be difficult. Life’s difficulties don’t take a holiday. Blue Christmas has those connotations, too, and it is important for us to remember and be sensitive to those who struggle with a blue Christmas. That may be some of us here tonight.
But I want to go someplace else with the idea of a blue Christmas. Avatar. How many of you have seen the 2009 blockbuster movie, Avatar? It is a story set in 2154 about human exploration of a place called Pandora, human exploration and exploitation. A corporation is mining for unobtanium on Pandora, and while they are doing this scientists have found a way for humans to interact with the local population – the Na’vi. The Na’vi are tall blue human-like creatures, and humans interact with them through Avatars – genetically-engineered Na’vi/human hybrid bodies. The scientists want to do research, other humans are interested only in exploiting whatever relationships might develop with the Na’vi through the use of the avatars. One kind of life taking on the form of another.
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered…. Joseph went to be registered with Mary…. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. A birth, the birth of a boy amidst the hay and smell of animals, born to a family far from home. But there was something special about this child. He grew into a powerful teacher, a remarkable healer, a bit of a renegade. It cost him, cost him his life, but his followers claimed that his life came back, that he was present even after execution. Though we tell the story of the birth of Jesus, we need to keep in mind his whole life – including his death and resurrection. Bands of cloth which swaddle him at birth will later be grave clothes which will not hold him.
And those who experienced this Jesus alive and alive again, they dug into their religious texts to try and understand who he was. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined…. For a child has been born for us, a son given to us… and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. [Isaiah 9] And they wrote new words about him. The true light which enlightens everyone was coming into the world…. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. [John 1]
Jesus was born, and like most babies he was probably a little blue at his birth. I bet you wondered how I was going to get back to the blue. Jesus was born, and in his life people knew God. God drew near in Jesus. A bit like the avatars, God comes close – to share our lives, to let us know that God understands, to share something of God’s life with us. Unlike the avatars, Jesus is not interested in exploiting us. God does not draw near to use us, rather God draws near so that we might have life. God draws near in order to foster peace and good will, joy and well-being. The red and green of Christmas, the blue of Christmas, the lights of Christmas, are meant to tell us that God is near. God is for us. God loves us. God desires peace and good will and well-being. God becomes like us so that we might become more like God.
And this is good news – good news of great joy for all. Do not be afraid. God draws near to us to give us life, hope, joy, love. A child has been born for us. To you is born this day a Savior. Good news.
This is good news for a thirteen year old, whose hip was broken, whose heart was broken. You are not alone. There can be music in your life to heal your heart.
This is good news for the young woman I spoke with on the phone the other day. She was a student in my on-line class “Religious Perspectives on Living, Dying and Grieving,” and when I phoned her for our final conversation and asked her what she learned, she told me that she felt better prepared to handle grief in her life, and it was especially helpful because her grandmother had died that morning. She is not alone, but there is one to comfort her.
This is good news for my friend Bill. Bill is a retired United Methodist pastor from New York state who I met while serving on a denominational commission. A few months ago, Bill informed us that he had been feeling poorly for quite some time and had now received a diagnosis – MDS, myelodysplastic syndrome, sometimes called preleukemia. He has just found out that out of 15 million in the transplant registry, he has no adequate stem cell donor match. Bill has heard the good news of Jesus and shared it in a recent e-mail. I offer you a “be joyful always… living life as prayer (not a separate activity – my life-long personal practice)… and giving thanks in all circumstances kind of Christmas. Makes celebrating the birth of the one many of us choose to follow in our lives, Jesus of Nazareth, real and always exciting. Always this season brings hope that more and more will finally come to know the Christian journey as about this life’s vocation on the love-compassion-kindness-forgiveness continuum and NOT about a life destination. Jesus’ message to us was clearly about behavior, not belief. Whoops, didn’t mean to almost preach but it sure felt good there for a minute. Let’s just leave it at this: our Christmas peace is great this year because of you. This is a man who knows Christmas as good news and I may just have to write him to let him know he got to preach a little on Christmas Eve here tonight.
This is good news for Frederick Buechner. Buechner is a Presbyterian minister and prolific author. He has known difficulty and tragedy. One of his daughters was anorexic. My anorectic daughter was in danger of starving to death, and without knowing it, so was I. I wasn’t living my own life any more because I was so caught up in hers. If in refusing to eat she was mad as a hatter, I was if anything madder still because whereas in some sense she knew what she was doing to herself, I knew nothing at all about what I was doing to myself. She had given up food. I had virtually given up doing anything in the way of feeding myself humanly. To be at peace is to have peace inside yourself more or less in spite of what is going on outside yourself. In that sense I had no peace at all…. The love I had for my daughter was lost in the anxiety I had for my daughter. Buechner needed to give her some room, offer her some space, and it finally happened when his daughter was hospitalized three thousand miles away. A judge hospitalized her and it taught him something about God’s love. The power that created the universe and spun the dragonfly’s wing and is beyond all other powers holds back, in love, from overpowering us. I have never felt God’s presence more strongly than when my wife and I visited that distant hospital where our daughter was. Walking down the corridor to the room that had her name taped to the door, I felt that presence surrounding me like air – God in his very stillness, holding his breath, loving her, loving us all, the only way he can without destroying us. (Listening to God, I: 49-50, 51-52) God is with us, gently, quietly, like a baby born on a long ago night in Bethlehem.
This is good news for us, for all. It is good news that comes with no strings attached. Yet it is good news that changes everything. Good news received is good news meant to be lived. If God comes to us in this way – for peace, good will, well-being, shouldn’t we be in the world for one another in that same way? Theologian Walter Wink states it succinctly. Jesus incarnated God in his own person in order to show all of us how to incarnate God. And to incarnate God is what it means to be fully human. (The Human Being, 30) Hear the good news. Be the good news.
Columnist Jean Brody tells this story. I once knew a woman who had very little in the way of material possessions. Her clothes were clean but faded. She ironed other people’s clothes to make money for her children. There was no car so she walked to work everywhere, and thus her shoes were worn and cracked. She and her two children lived in a tiny corner house that had once been white and they all slept in one bedroom. I met her through her little boy who used to come into my pet store after school. He love animals and I would pay him to “help me” by sweeping the floor. He brought mom around to see me one wintry day and I liked her and, since I was nice to her child, she liked me. Mothers are like that. When Christmas came, she appeared in my store, smiling and red-cheeked, with a gift for me. Wrapped in a newspaper were three things – a red candle never lit, four dimes wrapped in tissue and a magazine. She asked if I could open it so she could explain it to me. Blinking back tears, I listened as she said that the red candle would bring light in my life. The four dimes were to be distributed to my four children, and, in the magazine was an article she’d found about the true meaning of giving and loving one another. Jean hugged her new friend and accepted her heart-felt gifts graciously, and every year she puts that red candle, four dimes and magazine under the tree to keep the meaning of Christmas in sight. Good news lived and shared.
The good news is that Christmas is avatar blue – God comes near to bring us near to God. This is good news – God is with us working for peace, healing, well-being, good will, love. Tonight and all nights, hear this good news. Tonight and all nights, live this good news, be this good news for others. Amen.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Urgent Advent
Sermon preached December 19, 2010
Texts: James 5:7-10
This morning I want to begin with two items from this past week’s newspaper, and I have a power point slide for one. A postal worker in the small town of Whitefish Bay, Wisconsin, eight miles north of Milwaukee, was arrested at the North Shore Post Office last Thursday for wearing an unsanctioned uniform while making his rounds. That is, no uniform at all. The 52-year-old man allegedly walked into an office building to deliver mail wearing only a smile. According to Whitefish Bay Now, which cites a town police report, the man has since admitted the nude delivery, saying “he was sorry and it was a stupid thing to do.” The Associated Press reports that the postman was hoping to cheer up a woman working at the office, who he said seemed stressed. The AP also says the woman “dared him to do it,” but Whitefish Bay Now says the woman has denied encouraging the delivery of any sort of special package. Still, she says she doesn’t believe he intended any harm. Slide please. Oh, this is the second story. Here we have the cartoon Non sequitur which appeared in Friday’s newspaper. The caption reads “The Modern Iconoclast.” We have a scene of people frantically scurrying around, fearfully shouting, and in the midst of them is the odd looking man carrying a sign that reads, “Calm Down, Things Will Work Out.” It is often that same man in other cartoons who carries a message of doom and gloom, “The End is Near.” It says something about our time that this cartoon makes sense to us.
Advent is drawing to a close. It will end Friday when we celebrate the birth of Jesus on Christmas Eve (worship services at 4 and 10 – invite a friend). This Advent we have been working with the theme “waiting for God.” It is a thought-provoking theme, really, as we believe God is always present in our lives, moment by moment influencing us toward our good and the good of the world. But God’s influence is often quiet, and sometimes the pattern for that influence takes some time to discern – so we “wait for God.” We wait for God and are ready for the unexpected. We wait for God and are open to the unusual. In this final Advent sermon I want to say that we wait for God with an attitude that can be described as urgent patience.
I came across this phrase “urgent patience” in a book by Bob Johansen called Leaders Make the Future. Johansen argues that among the enduring leadership skills needed in a changing world – a violent, uncertain, complex and ambiguous world – is the skill of urgent patience. He took the idea from Bill Walsh, successful coach for the San Francisco 49ers. Urgent patience means understanding when we need to take on new challenges, when we need to get moving, and when we need to be more patient, persistent, steady. (15-16)
There is a time and a place in our lives, in our church, in our world for a calm, steady presence. There is also a time and place for urgency. Harvard Business School professor John Kotter, a recognized expert on leadership and change, writes in response to the question “What is the single biggest error people make when they try to change?” – they did not create a high enough sense of urgency among enough people to set the stage for making a challenging leap into some new direction (Kotter, A Sense of Urgency, viii). Yet Kotter also recognizes that urgency can be false. With a false sense of urgency, an organization does have a great deal of energized action, but it’s driven by anxiety, anger, and frustration, and not a focused determination to win (x).
Urgency and patience are both important at the right time as we seek to be God’s people, as we seek to be followers of Jesus Christ, yet both have their shadow sides. Patience can edge over into complacency and passivity. “Calm down” may often be good advice, but things won’t necessarily be all right unless we act. Urgency can edge into panic, frenetic activity, frantic activity, impulsiveness. The mailman in Whitefish Bay probably wishes he had been a little more patient and a little less urgent.
As God’s people, as followers of Jesus Christ, we need to live in the balance and tension of urgent patience. It is right there in the New Testament. James encourages disciples of Jesus to “be patient…. The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains.” But the author also adds a sense of urgency – “the coming of the Lord is near.” God is up to something – always active in the work of renewal, and we need to be ready to follow this active, adventuresome God. And any good farmer knows that it does not help just to wait for the rain to get a decent crop – you have to till the soil and plant the seeds and tend the weeds. James even seems to think this urgent patience lends itself to certain behaviors – strengthening the heart, not grumbling against one another.
While the modern iconoclast with his sign “Calm Down. Things Will Work Out,” may not have it exactly right, may not quite capture urgent patience, this attitude of urgent patience is deeply needed in our world, and it is often hard to locate.
As I think about our national life, I wonder if we are lacking in this sense of urgent patience. Two years ago, we elected a President promising hope and change. Two years later, we sweep that President’s party out of power. And if the complex problems of healthcare and budgets and environmental concerns and energy are not solved in the next two years, will we do another about face? I cannot help but wonder if we have lost something of the balance of urgent patience in our national life. The problems we face require some urgent action, require forward movement, but many are complex enough that the solutions require long-term patience along with urgency. Could Christians develop this Advent attitude deeply enough to share it with others and be a leaven in our national life?
But the church is not immune from its own imbalance when it comes to urgent patience. Dan Dick is a United Methodist minister who works for the UMC in Wisconsin. Prior to that he worked for a national United Methodist agency. About a year ago he wrote the following on his blog: We’re old. We’re dying. We’re decaying. We’re declining. We’re ineffective. We’re irrelevant. Doesn’t that motivate you to do better? Come on, be honest. Don’t such messages just fill you with energy, vigor, passion and hope? Sure they do, otherwise why would we dwell so constantly upon them? Why waste time envisioning ourselves as God is calling us to be when we can wallow in all the things we aren’t? Doom-and-gloomers eat this stuff up. The United Methodist Church will be gone in 40 years. The average age of United Methodists is 104. We’re closing 24,000 churches every year. It’s like crack. Once we taste the bad news, we simply can’t get enough of it. He is writing tongue in cheek, but he is not far off the mark in depicting what we hear. The United Methodist Church is declining in membership in the U.S., and our members are older than the average U.S. population. We are closing churches – in many communities where there is no longer any school or hardware store or maybe even post office. We have issues to be concerned about – there is need for some urgency. But are we too often edging into the frantic, the panicked, the frenetic? Our issues require action, but thoughtful, well-considered action and a willingness to try things that may take time to develop. How ironic that we who should know urgent patience well seem to be missing it.
This congregation is part of the trend in our denomination. In 1984 we had just over 1,000 members, today we have about 600. Worship attendance that year averaged 350, now we are closer to 200. We should feel a sense of urgency in seeking ways to turn this trend around. I believe we feel that. We know our situation. Yet we, too, need to be thoughtful, reflective, patient as we try out ideas, as we seek to be faithful to who we are and to who God is inviting us to be. We will need to let go of some things along the way. We will try some things that don’t work. Some things we will need to give sufficient time – early and late rains. Together we need to figure out when to welcome new challenges and when to be more patient.
Urgent patience is needed in our personal lives, as well. In every life, there are moments of significant decision. We may be faced with a health crisis. We may confront an economic hardship. Our relationships may hit crisis points. Our spiritual lives may have moments of crisis. These may require urgent attention. Often, however, the urgent action is only a first step on a much longer road to change. Changing health habits and becoming healthier is a long journey, requiring patience, even when it begins in an urgent moment. Repairing a torn personal relationship takes time and patience, even if it begins with a crisis point. Some social scientists theorize that it takes 10,000 hours of practice at something to become an expert. We shape our lives in response to God’s Spirit over the whole of our lives – urgent patience.
It is Advent, even if only for a few more days. Jesus is near, always near. Change is needed in our lives, in our church, in our world. Strengthen your hearts. Let go of the grumbling. May we be urgent when we need to be in following our adventuresome God, but may our urgency never be without patience, and my our patience never become complacency. And if you ever get the urge to deliver the mail naked, be a lot more patient. Amen.
Texts: James 5:7-10
This morning I want to begin with two items from this past week’s newspaper, and I have a power point slide for one. A postal worker in the small town of Whitefish Bay, Wisconsin, eight miles north of Milwaukee, was arrested at the North Shore Post Office last Thursday for wearing an unsanctioned uniform while making his rounds. That is, no uniform at all. The 52-year-old man allegedly walked into an office building to deliver mail wearing only a smile. According to Whitefish Bay Now, which cites a town police report, the man has since admitted the nude delivery, saying “he was sorry and it was a stupid thing to do.” The Associated Press reports that the postman was hoping to cheer up a woman working at the office, who he said seemed stressed. The AP also says the woman “dared him to do it,” but Whitefish Bay Now says the woman has denied encouraging the delivery of any sort of special package. Still, she says she doesn’t believe he intended any harm. Slide please. Oh, this is the second story. Here we have the cartoon Non sequitur which appeared in Friday’s newspaper. The caption reads “The Modern Iconoclast.” We have a scene of people frantically scurrying around, fearfully shouting, and in the midst of them is the odd looking man carrying a sign that reads, “Calm Down, Things Will Work Out.” It is often that same man in other cartoons who carries a message of doom and gloom, “The End is Near.” It says something about our time that this cartoon makes sense to us.
Advent is drawing to a close. It will end Friday when we celebrate the birth of Jesus on Christmas Eve (worship services at 4 and 10 – invite a friend). This Advent we have been working with the theme “waiting for God.” It is a thought-provoking theme, really, as we believe God is always present in our lives, moment by moment influencing us toward our good and the good of the world. But God’s influence is often quiet, and sometimes the pattern for that influence takes some time to discern – so we “wait for God.” We wait for God and are ready for the unexpected. We wait for God and are open to the unusual. In this final Advent sermon I want to say that we wait for God with an attitude that can be described as urgent patience.
I came across this phrase “urgent patience” in a book by Bob Johansen called Leaders Make the Future. Johansen argues that among the enduring leadership skills needed in a changing world – a violent, uncertain, complex and ambiguous world – is the skill of urgent patience. He took the idea from Bill Walsh, successful coach for the San Francisco 49ers. Urgent patience means understanding when we need to take on new challenges, when we need to get moving, and when we need to be more patient, persistent, steady. (15-16)
There is a time and a place in our lives, in our church, in our world for a calm, steady presence. There is also a time and place for urgency. Harvard Business School professor John Kotter, a recognized expert on leadership and change, writes in response to the question “What is the single biggest error people make when they try to change?” – they did not create a high enough sense of urgency among enough people to set the stage for making a challenging leap into some new direction (Kotter, A Sense of Urgency, viii). Yet Kotter also recognizes that urgency can be false. With a false sense of urgency, an organization does have a great deal of energized action, but it’s driven by anxiety, anger, and frustration, and not a focused determination to win (x).
Urgency and patience are both important at the right time as we seek to be God’s people, as we seek to be followers of Jesus Christ, yet both have their shadow sides. Patience can edge over into complacency and passivity. “Calm down” may often be good advice, but things won’t necessarily be all right unless we act. Urgency can edge into panic, frenetic activity, frantic activity, impulsiveness. The mailman in Whitefish Bay probably wishes he had been a little more patient and a little less urgent.
As God’s people, as followers of Jesus Christ, we need to live in the balance and tension of urgent patience. It is right there in the New Testament. James encourages disciples of Jesus to “be patient…. The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains.” But the author also adds a sense of urgency – “the coming of the Lord is near.” God is up to something – always active in the work of renewal, and we need to be ready to follow this active, adventuresome God. And any good farmer knows that it does not help just to wait for the rain to get a decent crop – you have to till the soil and plant the seeds and tend the weeds. James even seems to think this urgent patience lends itself to certain behaviors – strengthening the heart, not grumbling against one another.
While the modern iconoclast with his sign “Calm Down. Things Will Work Out,” may not have it exactly right, may not quite capture urgent patience, this attitude of urgent patience is deeply needed in our world, and it is often hard to locate.
As I think about our national life, I wonder if we are lacking in this sense of urgent patience. Two years ago, we elected a President promising hope and change. Two years later, we sweep that President’s party out of power. And if the complex problems of healthcare and budgets and environmental concerns and energy are not solved in the next two years, will we do another about face? I cannot help but wonder if we have lost something of the balance of urgent patience in our national life. The problems we face require some urgent action, require forward movement, but many are complex enough that the solutions require long-term patience along with urgency. Could Christians develop this Advent attitude deeply enough to share it with others and be a leaven in our national life?
But the church is not immune from its own imbalance when it comes to urgent patience. Dan Dick is a United Methodist minister who works for the UMC in Wisconsin. Prior to that he worked for a national United Methodist agency. About a year ago he wrote the following on his blog: We’re old. We’re dying. We’re decaying. We’re declining. We’re ineffective. We’re irrelevant. Doesn’t that motivate you to do better? Come on, be honest. Don’t such messages just fill you with energy, vigor, passion and hope? Sure they do, otherwise why would we dwell so constantly upon them? Why waste time envisioning ourselves as God is calling us to be when we can wallow in all the things we aren’t? Doom-and-gloomers eat this stuff up. The United Methodist Church will be gone in 40 years. The average age of United Methodists is 104. We’re closing 24,000 churches every year. It’s like crack. Once we taste the bad news, we simply can’t get enough of it. He is writing tongue in cheek, but he is not far off the mark in depicting what we hear. The United Methodist Church is declining in membership in the U.S., and our members are older than the average U.S. population. We are closing churches – in many communities where there is no longer any school or hardware store or maybe even post office. We have issues to be concerned about – there is need for some urgency. But are we too often edging into the frantic, the panicked, the frenetic? Our issues require action, but thoughtful, well-considered action and a willingness to try things that may take time to develop. How ironic that we who should know urgent patience well seem to be missing it.
This congregation is part of the trend in our denomination. In 1984 we had just over 1,000 members, today we have about 600. Worship attendance that year averaged 350, now we are closer to 200. We should feel a sense of urgency in seeking ways to turn this trend around. I believe we feel that. We know our situation. Yet we, too, need to be thoughtful, reflective, patient as we try out ideas, as we seek to be faithful to who we are and to who God is inviting us to be. We will need to let go of some things along the way. We will try some things that don’t work. Some things we will need to give sufficient time – early and late rains. Together we need to figure out when to welcome new challenges and when to be more patient.
Urgent patience is needed in our personal lives, as well. In every life, there are moments of significant decision. We may be faced with a health crisis. We may confront an economic hardship. Our relationships may hit crisis points. Our spiritual lives may have moments of crisis. These may require urgent attention. Often, however, the urgent action is only a first step on a much longer road to change. Changing health habits and becoming healthier is a long journey, requiring patience, even when it begins in an urgent moment. Repairing a torn personal relationship takes time and patience, even if it begins with a crisis point. Some social scientists theorize that it takes 10,000 hours of practice at something to become an expert. We shape our lives in response to God’s Spirit over the whole of our lives – urgent patience.
It is Advent, even if only for a few more days. Jesus is near, always near. Change is needed in our lives, in our church, in our world. Strengthen your hearts. Let go of the grumbling. May we be urgent when we need to be in following our adventuresome God, but may our urgency never be without patience, and my our patience never become complacency. And if you ever get the urge to deliver the mail naked, be a lot more patient. Amen.
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