Back to the Future

Sermon preached November 30, 2014

Texts: Isaiah 64:1-9; Mark 13:24-37

            Late last week I received a mailing from the General Board of Pensions and Health Benefits of The United Methodist Church.  This is not surprising as this is the group with which I have my pension.  I expected it to be general information about the Board or about my account.  So imagine my surprise when I began reading.  Dear David Bard:  According to our records, you are eligible to retire in 2015.

            Yikes!  I need to let you know that I don’t have any plans to retire in 2015.  I am not near ready to do that.  The Board of Pension is doing its job, though, in letting me know that I need to be preparing for that time when I do retire.  I need to be thinking about the future, and that will have an impact on the present.

            The theme we are working with in worship during the Advent season, those four Sunday prior to Christmas, which begins today, the theme we are working with in Advent is “Now and When.”  Today, I want to explore with you the “when” of the future and how it touches us in the present.  We are going back to the future today.

            We are going back to the future because our texts for today are about the future, and about the present.  The Gospel of Mark reading begins, “in those days.”  It is a reference to a future “when.”  It is a bit of a frightening future.  After that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.  In the midst of these calamitous events, then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in the clouds’ with great power and glory.  Some translations are now using the term “the Human One.”  The Human One is a wonderfully deep and rich image that Jesus appropriated as a term of self-identification.  In Jesus, true humanity, which is linked somehow to the image of God inside of us, in Jesus that true humanity comes into the world powerfully and decisively, but the Gospel of Mark acknowledges that all is not made immediately well.  There is something yet to come.

            Because of this future, our lives in the present need to be different.  Learn the lesson of the fig tree.  Look for the signs of the Human One and know that “heaven and earth will pass away, but the words of the Human One will certainly not pass away.”  So “watch out” and “stay alert.”

            Earlier than Mark, Isaiah also imagined a difficult time, a time in which we would want to cry out “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down.”  The prophet looks around and sees only people straying, people spending their efforts on things which “fade like a leaf” or blow away with the wind.  We cannot read this passage in isolation from others in Isaiah, which, while not negating the difficulty of the present, imagine that future where indeed God does tear open the heavens and comes down.  For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth….  Be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating; for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight….  No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime; for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth….  For like the days of the tree shall the days of my people be, and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands….  The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like and ox; but the serpent, its food shall be dust!  They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the Lord. (Isaiah 65:17ff, selected)

            These texts take us back to the future.  They provide glimpses of a horizon of hope even when the present is difficult.  This future hope rebounds into the present.  In the words of theologian Lewis Ford, “Future influence is different.  It is the still small voice that calls the world into being out of practically nothing” (Transforming Process Theism, 18).  God is that voice in the future calling us forward (Ford, 234 – God as future creativity).  It is a call from the future to the present.  Theologian Jurgen Moltmann puts this idea of the influence of the future this way.  The God of hope is himself the coming God.  When God comes in glory, God will fill the universe with God’s radiance, everyone will see God, and God will swallow up death forever.   This future is God’s mode of being in history.  The power of the future is God’s power in time….  By virtue of the hope for the coming God, the expected future acquires an inexhaustible ‘added value’ over and against present and past in the experience of time.  Moltmann, The Coming God, 24).

            We live in a horizon of hope, even when we know the full difficulty of the present, and the present is difficult.

            No matter our particular opinion on the justice of the grand jury decision in Ferguson, Missouri, the fact remains that an eighteen year-old young man is dead, and a young police office has to live with the fact that he shot and killed this young man, no matter how justified he believes his actions to be.  The world is not yet right.

            In Cleveland this week, a twelve year-old is dead, shot by police who thought the toy gun he was carrying was real.  The world is not yet right.

            Heroin is making a comeback, draining the life out of some, ending the lives of others.  The world is not yet right.

            Last week, two Palestinian militants armed with guns, knives, and axes hacked and shot worshippers in a Jerusalem synagogue as they prayed.  Five people died in the attack.  The world is not yet right.

            A self-declared Islamic State engages in brutal beheadings.  It is encouraging children to witness killings - what happens when someone thinks differently from the Islamic State or defies it in some way.  The world is not yet right.

            After that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.  O that you would tear open the heavens and come down.  The Bible is not pollyanish.  This kind of literature, which is called “apocalyptic” is frightening, yet it has a purpose.  Scholar Walter Wink, The positive power of apocalyptic lies in its capacity to force humanity to face threats of unimaginable proportions in order to galvanize efforts at self- and social transcendence (The Human Being, 159).  Into a world that is not yet right, a voice speaks to us from the future, inviting us to something new.  The Human One will come.  Here is a reflection from Walter Wink about that.  To be in the image of God is to be of the same stuff, the same essence, the same being, masculine and feminine.  But we humans are clearly not “like” God in our mundane existence.  We are selfish, contentious, brutal, indifferent, vicious, and vindictive.  If we are like God, then, we are so only potentially.  Perhaps someday we might become more fully human.  For now, we are only promissory notes, hints, intimations. (Just Jesus, 105).  Yet the promise is that the Human One will come.

The world is not yet right, but still we live in a horizon of hope, for God is a God who continues to appear, calling to us from the future and present with us now.  Our lives are not yet right.  We still struggle to be more fully human, yet we live in a horizon of hope, for God is a God who continues to appear, calling to us from the future and present with us now.  In words written by Walter Wink, “the Human Being wants to happen in and among us” (The Human Being, 170).

We are a people who live in a horizon of hope.  Nurture that hope.  In this season of Advent, nurture hope.

Dreams

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

            This week, I have nurtured hope in a couple of ways.  On Wednesday afternoon, we opened the chapel, then the sanctuary up for prayer for anyone who wanted to come and pray or meditate or reflect on the events in Ferguson.  Not many came.  I wanted to do something during that time.  Once an hour, beginning at noon, I went either into the chapel or the sanctuary and rang my prayer bowl.  Earlier in the day, I had decided that I would offer a brief prayer service at 4 p.m. if anyone was present.  No one was, but I offered the prayer service anyway.  I rang the bowl.  I used the United Methodist morning prayer, slightly revised.  I read “The Magnificat” from Luke 1, Mary’s powerful words about the horizon of hope in which we live.  I prayed a body prayer.  Then I sang.  I was a little self-conscious about this, but I did it.  I sang “We Shall Overcome” and the last first of “We Are Called” – Sing, sing a new song.  Sing of that great day when all will be one.  God will reign, and we’ll walk with each other and sisters and brothers united in love.  We are called to act with justice.  We are called to love tenderly.  We are called to serve one another, to walk humbly with God.  All this was an act of hope, a living in a horizon of hope.

            This week I also celebrated an acquaintance of mine.  Lowell Gess is a United Methodist pastor, who is also an eye doctor.  Lowell and his late wife Ruth established the Kissy Eye UM Clinic in Sierra Leone.  It has had its ups and downs over the years, but it has been a labor of love and compassion.  This week the story broke that Lowell, age 93, is going to return to Sierra Leone on January 3 to do what he can for the Ebola crisis.  He is taking $100,000 worth of medical supplies with him.  Lowell has been quoted as saying, “When you’re at a certain age, you just keep your fingers crossed you won’t have a stroke or heart attack before January 3.”  He has also said that if he contracts Ebola, he will not return to the United States for treatment.  This week I have shared Lowell’s story and I have meditated on him as a sign of hope, a life lived in a horizon of hope.

            The world is not yet right, but we are people who live in a horizon of hope, people with a future that speaks to us, people with a God, who, as the Human One, continues to find ways into our lives and into our histories.  We are a people who hold fast to dreams.  Amen.

The Long and Winding Road

Sermon preached November 23, 2014

Text: Matthew 25:1-13

            The Beatles, “The Long and Winding Road” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LneBIOa9B8s

            O.K.  You would have expected this song from me today.  No surprises.  I bet you would have been surprised, though, had I taken the advice of some of my colleagues and friends and posted on our sign outside, “Pastor David and the Ten Virgins.”  A group I meet with weekly sometimes asks me what’s on my sign, and they kiddingly suggested that with this week’s text, I could post that.  I replied that this would be too edgy even for me.

            So what about this story about the ten bridesmaids, or, more accurately in the Greek, the ten virgins?  Maybe a good beginning place to think about the story is with the words of Frederick Buechner about the stories of Jesus.  It is too bad we know Jesus’ stories so well, or think we do.  We have read them so often and heard them expounded in so many sermons that we have all but lost the capacity for hearing them even, let alone for hearing what they are really about. (Frederick Buechner web page)

            So let’s see if we can hear this story in some fresh ways.  Let’s see if it can speak to our hearts, our lives.

            The outline of the story is familiar enough.  We have ten bridesmaids, or ten virgins.  It may have been the custom of the day that bridesmaids were virgins –and, frankly, I am not sure I want to say any more about that.  Actually, we are not very certain of how much of this story reflects wedding customs of the time.  Anyway, five of the bridesmaids are foolish and five are wise.  In many weddings I’ve attended, if you can get half the wedding party to act wisely instead of foolishly, you are not doing too badly.  So these bridesmaids need to take oil lamps with them, and the wise ones take an extra flask of oil, while the foolish ones don’t.  Things get long.  They all fall asleep.  The bridegroom finally arrives.  The foolish bridesmaids discover they are running out of oil, and ask to borrow some from the wise bridesmaids, but the wise bridesmaids know they don’t have enough to share – otherwise none of the lamps will stay lit long enough.  The foolish bridesmaids head out to the all-night lamp oil store, but arrive to the wedding banquet after the doors are closed.  How awful, first they had to buy new dresses that they will only wear once, and then they had to buy oil, and now they can’t get into the banquet.  The ending lines are rather cryptic.  “I do not know you.”  How can that be?  “Keep awake” – but they all slept.

            So what’s this story about?  It is about the long and winding road of life.  It is about missed opportunities.  It is about readiness.  It is about responsibility.

            The story is about missed opportunities.  It ends on a sad note.  Five young women who had been planning on attending a wedding banquet are left out.  The truth about life is that we cannot go backwards, only forwards, and the truth about life is that sometimes we miss opportunities.

            When I was younger, I did not take music lessons.  I did not learn to play an instrument.  When I share songs from my i pod – that’s my musical gift.  I do sing, and sang in choirs quite a lot when I was in school, but I never learned to play an instrument.  I wish I had.  While it is never too late to begin, I will never make-up for time lost if I do decide one day to play something.

            One other thing I did not do when I was younger was learn a foreign language.  Along the way I have had to do some work in foreign language.  I did some rudimentary work in Hebrew and Greek in seminary, but if you were to hand me a Bible in Hebrew and Greek, I could not read most of it.  For my Ph.D. I had to pass reading exams in German and French.  I can make a bit out of such texts now, but I could not make my way in either of those languages day to day.  With a more multi-cultural world, I wish I had taken advantage of the opportunity to learn another language when I was younger.

            On the long and winding road of life, there are opportunities to do good that we miss.  Inevitably, we cannot do all the good that needs to be done in the world, but here I am talking about opportunities that we might well take easy advantage of, but don’t – the small courtesy we might offer, the friendly hello we might give, the encouraging word.  Sometimes we are too preoccupied with our own stuff, and sometimes that’s o.k., but not all the time.

            We will miss opportunities to learn and grow and do good on the long and winding road of life, but we want to be ready to make the most of as many opportunities for learning and growing and doing good as we can.

            One way we can be ready is with a little help from our friends.  It must be “the Beatles’ day here!  It should disturb us, a little that in this story wisdom seems on the side of not sharing.  Someone has said they are really glad that this isn’t the only parable Jesus tells about the Kingdom of God, and I agree.  Here the wise bridesmaids don’t share their oil.  There may be times when that is the only way forward, the only way to make the best of a difficult situation, but more often than not, we need to be there for each other.

            Sometimes we miss opportunities for learning and growth because we lack confidence.  We need others to help give us some encouragement.  Sometimes we don’t reach out to others because we have lost our sense that it makes a difference.  We need others to help remind us of our power, our strength, of that fact that God works through us – yes, even us.  We are in this faith thing together.  God has brought us together so we can help each other be ready when opportunities for learning and growth and doing good present themselves.

            Yet, there is also a truth in saying that there are some things no one else can do for us.  I recall an episode from Seinfeld where George has lost his job and is pondering with Jerry, his career options.  He could do something in sports, like be the general manager of a baseball team, or be a sports color commentator – except he has not training in broadcasting.  He likes movies, perhaps he could be a projectionist, except he doesn’t know how to run the projector.  No one could do the things George needed to do to get him ready for these careers.  He would have had to do them for himself. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2LCggmsCXk4)

            I remember as a boy that my dad had records by the Kingston Trio.  The Kingston Trio was a folk singing group from the late 1950 to the mid 1960s, and one of their popular songs was called “The Rev. Mr. Black.”  The chorus of the song was, “You got to walk that lonesome valley, you got to walk it by yourself, oh, nobody else can walk it for you, you got to walk it by yourself. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0lYDkAfViw)  Finally, there are some things that no one else can do for us.  As a student you can copy someone’s homework, but no one else can learn for you.  Much as I wish it were possible, no one can exercise for us, we have to do that for ourselves.  We can pray for each other, but we really cannot pray instead of someone else – that is, the growth that happens with prayer cannot be shared.  In Romans 12, in The Message, we are encouraged to “keep yourselves fueled and aflame,” and there are some things only we can do to make it so.

            Only we can do some of the things that need to be done to ready us for learning, growth and doing good.  There are certain kinds of oil that really cannot be shared.

            This is the Sunday before Thanksgiving, a time for gratitude.  I am grateful for moments in my life when I have been ready to learn, to grow, to do good, to see beauty, to create beauty, to love. 

I am grateful to getting help from my friends along the way, help in being ready to learn and grow and love and give.  My family has been a tremendous help to me, and it is such a joy for me that they are all here this morning.  You, my faith family, have helped me learn and grow in countless ways.  Thank you.

I am grateful for the grace of God.  Today’s story is a story Jesus tells about the Kingdom of God, but it is not the only story Jesus tells, nor is it all the Bible has to say about God.  I don’t think God really ever gets to a point where the doors are shut and God says, “who are you?”  Rather, God is a God who speaks the words in Isaiah 43: I have called you by name, you are mine.  When you pass through the waters I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you….  I am the Lord your God….  You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.

On the long and winding road of life, there will be times when a door will be shut, when we will lack the resources needed to make the most of an opportunity to learn or grow or do good.  Then I think God in grace comes looking for us, puts an arm around us, and shows us where we can find some oil for our lamps so we can once again become fueled and aflame.  For that, I am grateful, and in gratitude I want to go share a little of that light with others.  Amen.

Free

Sermon preached November 16, 2014

Texts: Exodus 6:1-11; Galatians 5:13-26

            Richie Havens, “Freedom” (live at Woodstock) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5aPBU34Fyk

            Freedom.  The idea runs deep in our national psyche.  In the “Declaration of Independence” we read that we are “endowed by our Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”  The Preamble to our Constitution says that the constitution was written to, among other things “secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity.”  In New York harbor we have a Statue of Liberty.  This past week, as our nation commemorated Veterans’ Day, we often heard phrases about “defending freedom.”  Freedom.

            Freedom is more than a national concept, however.  The idea of freedom is deeply embedded in our faith.  “Pharaoh, Pharaoh, o baby, let my people go.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.”  The God who told Moses, “I Am Who I Am,” or “I Will Be Who I Will Be” is a God working for freedom.  Author and public theologian Brian McLaren in his new book We Make the Road By Walking writes this about the Exodus story.  The story of Moses and the escape, or exodus, from Egypt glows at the core of the whole biblical story.  It makes one of history’s most audacious and unprecedented claims: God is on the side of the slaves, not the slave owners!  God doesn’t uphold an unjust status quo but works to undermine it so a better future can come. (39).  A story that glows at the core of the entire Bible is a story about freedom.  God is on the side of freedom.

            There are political dimensions to this part of our faith, and we need to keep asking questions about that, about the meaning for our politics that God is a God who frees for a newer world, for a better future.  Those discussions are for another day, however.

            Freedom certainly has political dimensions, but its meaning goes beyond politics.  Freedom is a rich idea.  Paul, in his letter to the early Jesus communities in the region of Galatia, the New Testament book we call Galatians, addresses a different dimension of freedom.  “You were called to freedom, brothers and sisters.”  In the words of the theologian Ernst Kaesemann, “Jesus gives freedom.”  He goes on to write, “Jesus’ gift is Christian freedom and we live by that gift and grace of his” (Jesus Means Freedom, 155).

            Freedom here is more than release from bondage or captivity, though that remains important.  Freedom here is more than having certain rights, though that is vitally important as well.  Freedom here is being free to love, free to give, free to grow, free to live.  Considered in this way, there are many kinds of slavery and bondage beyond being slaves in Egypt.  Patricia Adams Farmer: “We’ve all felt trapped at some point in our lives, and it feels like hell” (Embracing a Beautiful God, 95).  Brian McLaren, in We Make the Road By Walking, writes: The truth is that we’re all on a wilderness journey out of some form of slavery.  On  personal level, we know what it is to be enslaved to fear, alcohol, food, rage, worry, lust, shame, inferiority, or control (41).

            Paul seems to have understood this.  Jesus gives freedom.  Sisters and brothers, we are called to freedom.  “Only do not use your freedom for an opportunity for self-indulgence.”  We are set free, but it is not a permanent condition.  It is a wilderness journey.  We can use our freedom in such a way that we are led back into enslavement.  We can use our freedom in ways that lead away from love, generosity, growth, life.  Paul even offers some clues to tell us if we are on the right road, the paths of freedom.  By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  These are qualities that enhance freedom.  When we use our freedom to nurture these qualities in our lives then we are more free to love, to give, to grow, to live.

            What we are about as a church, a Jesus community is being freed by Jesus from whatever enslaves us, is sharing the good news that Jesus means freedom, and is walking freedom’s paths.  What we do can be framed in these terms.

            Worship.  We worship to hear freedom’s story again and again.  We come to be reminded that Jesus gives freedom.  Here we are reminded that we are loved, that we are valued, and that in our lives we can love, give, grow and live.  We connect with God here, the God whose work is freedom, the God of the exodus.

            Prayer.  Prayer is another way we connect with God.  Prayer is also a technology of freedom.  Sometimes what traps us is the working of our own minds.  We can be driven by our compulsions.  We can be plagued by our own negative thoughts spiraling downward.  Prayer slows us down, helps us get a better grip on the working of our minds.  And prayer connects with God’s empowering Spirit.

            Yet prayer can contain traps of its own.  Last week I mentioned I had a nice opportunity to share a plane ride from Oklahoma City to Minneapolis with Tom Albin, Dean of the Upper Room Chapel.  One of the things we chatted about was prayer.  Tom shared with me some of his thoughts about prayer. He thinks that many people, clergy included, are dissatisfied with their prayer life.  It is filled with guilt and should-be- doings.  We begin to feel inadequate and who wants to keep revisiting that?  I told Tom that one of the best things I ever read on prayer was a book that the Upper Room had published many years ago, Prayer and the Everyday Life, and one of the quotes from that book is that we should pray as we can pray, and not pray as we can’t.  Freeing prayer is prayer that honestly begins where you are.

            The Bible.  The Bible is a book filled with stories of freedom, yet it has often been a book that makes us feel trapped.  It is dull in some places.  It is just plain difficult in some places.  People have used it as a weapon sometimes.  It is placed on such a pedestal that we are afraid to make a mistake with it.  I think the Bible becomes a more freeing book when we are free to ask our questions about it.  One of the things I deeply appreciate about Adam Hamilton’s book Making Sense of the Bible is that he helps free this book for us so that it can become a book that frees us because we hear God through it.

            One of the most helpful ideas Adam discusses in his book is the idea that the material in the Bible might be considered in three buckets.  In one bucket, we have Scriptures that reflect something of the timeless purposes of God.  I think that Paul’s writing about the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5 fits that very well.  I would think God has always wanted us to cultivate in our lives love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.  In another bucket, there are Scriptures that may have reflected God’s purposes for a particular time, but not for all time.  Adam suggests much of the ritual law in the Old Testament fits this description.  The third bucket would be those Scriptures that reflect the historical circumstances in which they were written, but never reflected the best of God’s purposes.  Passages which provide directions for owning slaves could be among such passages.  For instance in Exodus 21, slave owners may be punished if they beat a slave and the slave dies immediately, but not if they beat the slave and the slave lives for a day or two (Exodus 21:20-21).  (Making Sense of the Bible, 273-274).  Thinking in terms of these three buckets frees the Bible up for our reading, helping make it again a book that can free us.

            Acts of Compassion and Justice.  The paths of freedom become very narrow if we are not helping others become free.  We share good news, we work for a better future simply because it is part of the freeing work of God which we are invited to join in Jesus.  But engaging in acts of compassion and justice also enhances our own sense of freedom.  Giving of ourselves  - with our time, with our energy, with our resource – adds to our lives.

            You were called to freedom brothers and sisters.  It is absolutely clear that God has called you to a free life (The Message).  The free life to which we are called, the freedom given us as a gift of God’s grace in Jesus is freedom to love, freedom to give, freedom to grow, freedom to live.  Together we help each other stay free.  Together we walk freedom’s paths.  Together we are, in the words of Martin Luther King, jr.,  “free at last, free at last, thank God almighty we are free at last.”  Amen.

The Long Run

Sermon preached November 9, 2014

  

Text: Matthew 25:14-30

            The Eagles, “The Long Run”  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DI_rkZIuHzw

Here’s the story (Cotton Patch Version):  The God Movement….  It’s like a businessman who was leaving town for a long time and called in his assistants and turned over his investments to them.  He made one responsible for about five hundred thousand dollars, another two hundred thousand, and another a hundred thousand – according to each one’s ability – and then he left town.  Right away the man with the five hundred grand got to work and made five hundred more.  The man with the two hundred grand did the same and made another two hundred.  But the guy with the hundred G’s went and rented a safe-deposit box and put his boss’ money in it.  After a long time the boss returned and called his assistants together for an accounting.  The one with the five hundred thousand brought his other five hundred thousand and said, “Sir, you let me have five hundred grand; look, I’ve made another five hundred.”  The boss said, “Splendid, you good and responsible worker!  You were diligent with the small sum; I’ll entrust you with a larger one.  You’ll be a partner in my business.”  Then the one with the two hundred G’s came and said, “Sir, you let me have two hundred thousand; look, I’ve made another two hundred.”  The boss said, “Splendid, you good and responsible worker!  You were diligent with the smaller sum, I’ll entrust you with a larger one.  You’ll be a partner in my business.”  Well, the hundred-grand man came up and said, “Sir, I know you are a hard-nosed man, squeezing pennies you haven’t yet made and expecting a profit before the ink has dried.  I was plain scared to take any chances, so I rented a safe-deposit box and put your money in it.  Look, you’ve got every cent.”  But the boss replied, “You sorry, ornery bum!  You knew that I squeeze pennies I haven’t yet made, and expect profits before the ink dries.  Then you should have turned my money over to the bank so that upon my return I would get back at least my principal with interest.  So then, y’all take the money away from him and give it to the one with the million.  For it will be given to everyone who has the stuff, and he’ll have plenty, but the man who doesn’t have the stuff will have even what he has taken away from him.  Now as for this useless critter, throw him in the back alley.  That’ll give him something to moan and groan about.”

            Jesus could tell a colorful story, and it’s kind of enjoyable to hear it re-told in an equally colorful way.  But what is he trying to say with this story?

            It would seem that one focus of the story is on the guy who was given a single talent, the hundred grand man.  He gets called “wicked, lazy and worthless” (NRSV), a “play-it-safe” (The Message), or “a sorry, ornery bum” and “useless critter.”  He ends up in the back alley, in utter darkness.  It is clear from the story that this guy has lost his way, that he lives “in the dark” so to speak.  But why?

            The man lived completely out of fear, with little trust in either himself or in others.  He didn’t trust his boss, seeing him only as a harsh, hard person.  He didn’t trust himself, didn’t even trust his limited abilities to do something good.  His fear and anxiety distorted his perception.  If he really thought of his boss as a hard-hearted, penny-pincher, you would think he would have found at least a bank in which to earn some interest – though this was before the FDIC guaranteed deposits up to $100,000.  The boss is gone awhile, so some interest would surely accrued.

            Without trust, we don’t see life as accurately as we might.  Fear narrows our perception.  Without trust we become unwilling to invest ourselves in that which is lasting, in that which makes sense in the long run.  Without trust we play it too safe with life.  We focus on short-term safety and not on growth in the long run.

            This is a story about investing in what is lasting.  It is a story about putting ourselves out there.  It is a story about the long run.

            The philosopher and psychologist William James once wrote, The greatest use of life is to spend it for something that will outlast it.  The long run.

            The philosopher Fredrich Nietzsche wrote, The essential thing “in earth and in heaven” is, apparently… that there should be a long obedience in the same direction. (Beyond Good and Evil, ch. 5, #188).   The long run.

            Part of what we do this month in our church is focus on stewardship, and part of that is asking you to consider making a financial pledge for the work of the church.  But stewardship, considered broadly, is about what we do with our time, our attention, and our resources.  It is about risking investing in the long run, that which lasts, and to do that over the long run.

            Yes, it is, in part about financial giving.  We are about long run stuff here.  We are about connecting people more deeply with God through the ups, downs, pains, joys, boredom and adventure of life.  This is a long run project.  The spiritual practices we encourage work in the long run, shaping our lives slowly, like water smoothing stones, liking gentle breezes changing the contours of a landscape.  Over time we would like our lives to be more joyful, genuine, gentle, generous and just.  We want to develop a faith that is thoughtful, passionate, and compassionate. We are about God’s work in creating a newer world, a world that is more just, peaceful, compassionate, kinder, gentler, more beautiful.  Talk about a long run project.

            We are about long run stuff here, and we need your investment of time, energy, passion, vision, thought, and yes, money.

            Another part of developing our lives in the long run is engaging with the Scriptures of our faith.  The Church Council and I are encouraging you to read Adam Hamilton’s book Making Sense of the Bible this fall and early winter.  There will be a couple of discussion sessions about it following worship – November 23 and January 11.  I hope other groups will also read and discuss this work.  Why?

            We often hear that there should be more Bible study in the church.  We often hear people talk about increasing their own Bible reading.  We also find that when we try and organize Bible studies, they are often hit and miss.  And for some of us the Bible has become a closed book of sorts.  There are a lot of reasons for this.  Let’s be honest, some of the Bible is dull, boring.  That we find that hard to admit is also a problem – such honesty seems, well, almost sacrilegious.  Being more honest about the Bible, however, is a necessary starting point if we want to engage this book for the long run.  We have also, many of us, seen the Bible wielded as a weapon.  Last week I was on a plane, seated next to Tom Albin, Dean of the Upper Room Ministries.  We have met a few times before so I knew who he was and he knew who I was.  We talked about spiritual growth and spiritual disciplines, and I shared with him a story about a Bible study I led in one of the churches where I was the pastor.  I told him that the group really did not do very well until a woman who was a fount of Scriptural quotes decided to stop attending.  She was intimidating to the rest of the group.  Experiencing the Bible as a weapon, we are reticent to grab hold of it for our own lives.

            I hope we can get beyond our fear and anxiety here.  I hope we can trust that struggling with this difficult book over the long run allows us to hear the voice of God in new ways.  I think Adam Hamilton’s book can help us with this.  I love this book… and I wrestle with it.  There are parts, if I am honest, that I have questions about.  There are statements on its pages that I don’t believe capture the character and will of God. (3) 

            I appreciate how Adam tells us what the Bible is not (chapter 1).  It is not an owner’s manual.  Some have used the letters for Bible to say that it is: basic instructions before leaving earth.  “The Bible is neither basic nor simply instructions for what you do before you die” (8).  It is not like a Magic 8 ball.  It is not systematic theology.  It is not a science textbook.  It is not simply a book of promises from God.

            I appreciate how Adam suggests we engage with the Bible for the long run (chapter 32).  It’s okay to wrestle with the Bible (301).  He offers eight suggestions for engaging this enigmatic and enlightening text: see yourself in the story; discover the situation in which the scripture was written; ask three questions: what does this passage say about humanity, about me, and about God?; pray the scriptures; memorize; study with others; bring the scripture into your life situation; imagine what might have been.

            Next week I will also discuss Adam’s book as a part of the sermon.

            For now, I hope you will prayerfully ponder two things.  Prayerfully consider how you will invest financially in the long run work of this church in the coming year.  Prayerfully consider another part of your stewardship, how you will engage with the Bible in new ways in the coming year.

            Above all, do these, and live your life, trusting always that we are embraced in love and grace of God for the long run.  Without trust, we are lost.  Amen.

A Family Affair

Sermon preached November 2, 2014

Texts: Revelation 7:9-17

            Sly and the Family Stone, “A Family Affair”

            Today may be the kind of day where apologies should be given to you who are visiting.  It is a family day here today.  We are glad that you are here.  We welcome you today.  We are an open family here, and there’s always room for more.  We are glad you came, and it remains a family day for us – a day to remember with gratitude.

            The family of the church is an open family, always with room for more.  We are also a big family.  I was gone all this past week.  I was part of two meetings for The United Methodist Church – The Study of Ministry Commission in Nashville and The Committee on Faith and Order in Oklahoma City.  I really got to see and be with our extended church family – persons from Germany, the Congo, Cote ‘d Ivorie, Florida, Arkansas, North Carolina, Hawaii, Russia, the Philippines, Texas, Zimbabwe, and more.  You were remembered in those gatherings.  This service was prayed about and for in those gatherings.

            Today, though, we are remembering family members nearer to us.  In just a bit we will be lighting candles for and reading the names of family members who have died since last All Saints’ Day.  This morning I am remembering another person as well.  The stole I am wearing belonged to United Methodist Bishop Wayne Clymer, bishop in Minnesota 1972-1980.  Bishop Clymer retired as a bishop from the Iowa Conference in 1984, and that year, he preached the sermon at the worship service where I was ordained.  Bishop Clymer became our “Bishop in residence” here in Minnesota, and I had the privilege of sharing some meals with him, or of being with him in worship.  Bishop Clymer died late last November.  Bishop Clymer is part of my family of faith, as are those we will be lighting candles for in just a bit.  I’ve thought as much about each of them and their families.

            I would like to share a poem with you that speaks to me about this All Saints’ Day.  “The Death of a Parent” (Linda Pastan)

Move to the front

of the line

a voice says, and suddenly

there is nobody

left standing between you

and the world, to take

the first blows

on their shoulders.

This is the place in books

where part one ends, and

part two begins

and there is no part three.

The slate is wiped

not clean but like a canvas

painted over in white

so that a whole new landscape

must be started,

bits of the old

still showing underneath - -

those colors sadness lends

to a certain hour of evening.

Now the line of light

at the horizon

is the hinge between earth

and heaven, only visible

a few moments

as the sun drops

its rusted padlock

into place.

            With every loss to our family of faith, there is a tear in the fabric of our community.  This is the place in books/where part one ends,/and part two begins/and there is no part three./The slate is wiped/not clean but like a canvas/painted over in white.  With every loss each of us takes on a slightly different role in our community: a whole new landscape/must be started.  But we do that building on the gifts given by those who are gone - bits of the old/still showing underneath - -

            We celebrate gifts given today, even as we mark our loss.  Our prayer is for God’s Spirit to give us wisdom, courage, and love to continue to create a community of compassion, love and care.  We pray, and trust God will answer our prayer.

            We pray and trust that there is something more to this family of ours.  We are a family that affirms that we stay connected, even after death.  We affirm as a community that we are a family whose great reunion is up ahead.  After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages.  Some of the imagery here may feel a little strange, but this is a reunion, a joyful family reunion.  The people for whom we will light candles in a bit live on in our hearts, in the marks they made in our lives, but they also have life in God and remain a part of this family of faith.

            We are also a family whose work is God’s work – God’s work of working toward a world without hunger or harm, a world where the waters of life flow freely, a world where tears are dried, a world of song and dance and joy.

            Those who have gone were an integral part of our family and that work.  Thanks be to God.  They remain part of the family even as the work is now ours to continue - a whole new landscape/must be started/bits of the old/still showing underneath- -.  The work is ours to continue inspired and enriched by those who have gone before.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Moves Like Jagger

Sermon preached October 26, 2014

Texts: Deuteronomy 34:1-12; Matthew 22:34-40

            Maroon 5, “Moves Like Jagger” (Note: This is not a Christian song, but it was popular and has a good beat) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iEPTlhBmwRg

            Maybe you would like to be able to move like Jagger.  Maybe you would like to sing like Streisand, or Sinatra, or Pavarotti.  Maybe you would like to play like Ellington, or Armstrong, or Yo Yo Ma.  To want to emulate the talents of a well-known and successful person can be a good thing.  Most of us will never achieve the kind of fame of a Jagger or Sinatra or Pavarotti.  Most of us will never play in a World Series, or a Super Bowl or the Masters.  Some from among us may play Carnegie Hall someday, but most of us will not.  All of us, though, can develop the unique gifts that we have.  Each of us can make the most of our experience, of being who we are in this time and place.

            Perhaps we do that, however, by looking at others who made the most of their lives.  We may not have the moves like Jagger, but we can have a faith like Moses.  We need not strive to be a Moses.  That may be impossible.  Never since has there arisen a prophet in Israel like Moses, whom the Lord knew face to face.  He was unequaled for all the signs and wonders that the Lord sent him to perform in the land of Egypt, against Pharaoh and all his servants and his entire land, and for all the mighty deeds and all the terrifying displays of power that Moses performed in the sight of all Israel.  (see also Numbers 12:3 – “Moses was very humble”)  Yet these words come just a few verses after Moses is told by God, “I have let you see it [the land] with your eyes, but you shall not cross over there.”  Why? We may wonder.  We are told just a chapter earlier.  “You shall die there on the mountain that you ascend and shall be gathered with you kin, as your brother Aaron died on Mount Hor and was gathered to his kin; because both of you broke faith with me among the Israelites” (32:50-51) Moses was not perfect.

            We can move like Moses, have a faith like Moses.  What is that like?  I want to describe the faith of Moses in terms of four faces.

            Moses faced himself – his fears, his shortcomings.  Do you remember the story of Moses calling in the wilderness?  (Exodus 3)  Moses is in the wilderness, tending the flocks of his father-in-law Jethro.  He is a long way from his upbringing in the household of Pharaoh.  In fact, he left in disgrace.  He had killed a man who was beating another man, and he had little respect among his people, the Hebrews.  God calls to Moses out of a burning bush, calls him to be part of freeing the people from slavery in Egypt.  Recall Moses’ response.  “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” (3:11)  Moses objects for a number of reasons.  He is not eloquent (4:10).  Moses has fears. 

Moses knew himself.  He explored his inner depths.  He did some inner work.  There is something about the life of faith that invites us to know who we are deeply, to reflect on our gifts, to know our fears, to do the necessary inner work so we can grow, so we can serve.  Moses knew himself, and trusted God.  We can do that to.

            Moses knew God face to face.  He is one “whom the Lord knew face to face.”  Last Sunday we read that beautiful and tender story of God walking past Moses, covering Moses’ face until he had passed by, then giving Moses a glimpse of God’s backside.  There follows a short time later another lovely passage in Exodus that describes Moses and his on-going encounters with God.  Moses came down from Mount Sinai.  As he came down from the mountain with the two tablets of the covenant in his hand, Moses did not know the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God (34:29).  Whenever Moses went it before the Lord to speak with him, he would take the veil off, until he came out; and when he came out, an told the Israelites what had been commanded, the Israelites would see the face of Moses, that the skin of his face was shining (34:34-35).

            So the skin of our faces may not shine, but we, too, can know God intimately.  We can spend time with God, “face to face” as it were.  We do that in praying – praying in all its forms.  We do that in reflecting on the stories of our faith.  We do that in worship together.  We do that as we see the grace and goodness of God in the world.  We do that as we join God in creating grace and goodness.  When we pay deeper attention to our relationship with God, something may just shine through us – something like love, something like compassion, something like joy, something like resilience, something like courage, something like peacefulness.

            Moses faced his people and he led them.  An important part of his leadership was hanging in there with his people – Moses knew how to hang with his peeps.  Throughout Exodus there are a number of wonderful places where God and Moses discuss the people that have been liberated from slavery in Egypt.  They are an interesting bunch.  They complained quite a bit – about provisions for the journey: bread, meat, water.  They wondered if it would not have been better to still be slaves in Egypt (ch. 16)  They gave into their fears sometimes.  When Moses was gone too long, they decided that they needed a new god, a golden calf (ch. 32).  That last one caused a stir.  The Lord said to Moses, “Go down at once.  Your people, whom you brought up out of the land of Egypt, have acted perversely….  I have seen this people, how stiff-necked they are.  Now let me alone, so that my wrath may burn hot against them and I may consume them; and of you I will make a great nation.”  But Moses implored the Lord his God, and said, “O Lord, who does your wrath burn hot against your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt with great power and a mighty hand.

            One of the things God seems to be about is bringing people together.  We grow as we live our faith together.  We support each other.  We question each other.  We challenge each other.  We walk with each other through difficult times.  We share our joys together.  Moses was willing to hang in there with these people, even when they were frustrating and exasperating.  He understood God was up to something with people together.  We can hang with our peeps in faith.

            Finally, Moses faced the future with courage.  At some point in the story, Moses is told that he will die before the people enter the land.  He will not go with them.  What does Moses do?  He sings.  He blesses.  I cannot read this story of Moses, looking over the land to which he has led his people, knowing that he will not go with them without thinking about courage, and without thinking about Martin Luther King, Jr.

            The night before he was killed King spoke.  Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now, because I've been to the mountaintop.  And I don't mind.  Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land! And so I'm happy, tonight.  I'm not worried about anything.  I'm not fearing any man!  Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!!  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oehry1JC9Rk

            With God, there is hope as we face the future, and because there is hope, there is courage, and because there is courage, there is the strength to love.  Like Moses, we can have courage as we face the future, and we can love.

            This Moses seemed to know something about love, and that’s what it’s all about.  “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?”  He [Jesus] said to him, “’You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’  This is the greatest and first commandment.  And a second is like it: ‘you shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”

            The Power of Love.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VkAVfsw5xSQ

Our children are hearing that song, from “Back to the Future.”  They are learning stories from our past, faith stories that bolster us for the future – stories about the power of love.  In hearing these stories, God’s Spirit encourages our faith, our hope, our love.

            And we can move like Moses with the power of love.  Amen.

Sideways Glance

Sermon preached on October 19, 2014

  

Texts: Exodus 33:12-23

            “God.”  It is amazing how three simple letters put together in this way can be so powerful.  Some think this combination of letters is a meaningless symbol, or a word pointing toward nothing that really exists.  If polls are any indication, these folks are in a minority.  For most of us, “God” is a word that denotes a reality.

            For Christians, God matters.  There is no Christian faith without God.  Even the theologian who in the 1960s wrote a book entitled The Gospel of Christian Atheism, and was rather famous for being part of the “death of God” movement which made the cover of Time magazine, which meant more then, than it probably does today, even Thomas J. J. Altizer who wrote about the death of God continues to write and think about God.  The primary calling of the theologian is to name God….  While silence is now the primary path of the theologian, particularly silence about God, this is a silence which I have ever more deeply and comprehensively refused, for I am simply incapable of not naming God. (Living the Death of God: a theological memoir, xvii-xviii).  Whatever Altizer meant by the death of God, he continues to struggle with the reality of this God.

            And for followers of Jesus, we are incapable of not naming God.  Jesus spoke often of God, and of “the kingdom of God.”  Jesus makes little sense outside of some notion of God, and for Christians one of our affirmations about Jesus is that in him, we know something more about God.  The theologian Marcus Borg, in his book about God, writes, “As a Jesus scholar, I have found it impossible to say very much about Jesus without also talking about God” (The God We Never Knew, vii).

            God is central to Christian faith, and we look to the Bible, and especially to Jesus, to try and understand more about who God is.  When we do that, though, we discover that the God of the Bible, and the God of Jesus is a God of the glimpse, the soft breeze, the gentle touch, the sideways glance.  I appreciate how theologian Marjorie Suchocki writes about “the whisper quality of God’s creative word.”  It can easily be drowned out by the sheer weight of the past with which and through which it must work.  It is clothed in the past, even as it bespeaks a future, and it leads us not through extraordinary leaps and bounds, but most often through a quite ordinary faithfulness in the midst of things.  God’s word is hidden incarnationally in the world.  It is a whisper. (The Whispered Word, 6)

            God is present everywhere and at all times, but the presence of God can be elusive, hard to name.  God’s presence is the soft breeze.  God’s voice is the whisper.  Seeing God is the glimpse, the sideways glance.

            One biblical story that speaks about this so eloquently is the one we read this morning about Moses.  To set some context: the people have been led to freedom from Egypt.  They are making their way to the promised land, but not without some hiccups along the way.  They have complained about food and drink.  They have gathered around Mount Sinai, and Moses has ascended to speak with God and receive commandments.  In his absence, the people decide to create a god, a golden calf.  Moses comes down the mountain, and breaks stone tablets with the commands when he sees what the people have done.  God and Moses continue to have conference, however, this time in Moses’ tent.  That’s where today’s scene takes place.  Moses and God are conversing, and Moses asks to see God’s glory.  God tells Moses that he has found favor and that the request will be granted.  The scene is filled with some tenderness and some humor.  No one can see the face of God, so God passes by, covering the face of Moses until God has passed, then taking away his hand so Moses could see his backside.

            God is a God of the glimpse, of the sideways glance.  God can be a little cheeky, pun intended.  As with Moses, our own speech about God, our own experiences of God, have an indirectness about them – the glimpse, the glance, the breeze, the whisper.

            Writer Patrick Henry is helpful to me here, when he writes about the grace of “a God of surprises.”  The grace of this God is mysterious, sneaky.  Some Christians chalk things up much too easily, much too quickly to the grace of God….  I trust God’s grace, but hesitate to identify it in particular places.  It often blindsides me, regularly catches me off guard, seldom hits me square in the face.  When I know the grace of God, it’s nearly always after the fact, usually long afterward. (The Ironic Christian’s Companion, 1-2).  God touches our lives in surprising ways.   God can be a little saucy, can be bold, can be playful – in short, a little cheeky.

            Part of our task as a church is to help each other see God at work in our lives and in our world.  Part of our task as a church is to help each other be more open to the Spirit of God in our lives.  This is how we love each other into life.

            So where are some of the places we help each other see God, feel God, know God – even if it is a glimpse, a sideways glance?  For many of us, the songs of the church, traditionally called “hymns” from the Greek word for “song of praise,” are places where we glimpse God.  Last week Ron Yardley led a discussion of the hymnal and he collected some favorite hymns.  We are going to sing some of them in a bit.  For some of you, they will provide a glimpse of God.

            For others, the traditional language in some of the songs of our faith can be a barrier to connecting more deeply with God.  Perhaps one of the tasks of the church is to help re-vivify some of that traditional language, to help make it so it can speak to us, to make it a conduit for a sideways glance of God.  Yet we also need to acknowledge some limits to some traditional religious language.  In his book written following September 11, 2001, Rowen Williams, who later became the Archbishop of Canterbury, wrote this:  Last words.  We have had the chance to read the messages sent by passengers on the planes to their spouses and families in the desperate last minutes; and we have seen the spiritual advice apparently given to the terrorists by one of their number, the thoughts that should be their minds as they approach the death they have chosen….  The religious words are, in the cold light of day, the words that murderers are saying to themselves to make a martyr’s drama out of a crime.  The nonreligious words are testimony to what religious language is supposed to be about – the triumph of pointless, gratuitous love, the affirming of faithfulness even when there is nothing to be done or salvaged. (Writing in the Dust, 3).  Perhaps the failure of some of our traditional religious language to connect deeply with life and with love is a reason communities of faith are struggling these days.  I will admit that sometimes a secular song helps me glimpse God even more vividly than a purportedly religious song.  Music, in itself can help us get a sideways glance at God.

            So where else have there been some God-sightings and grace happenings?  The English poet William Blake, in his poem “The Divine Image” wrote, “Where Mercy, Love and Pity dwell/There God is dwelling too.”  Acts of kindness give me glimpses of God and recently the great potato giveaway was a kind of glimpse of God.  The Ruby’s Pantry organization had potatoes they wanted to distribute, on short notice.  One member of our local committee was excited by the opportunity.  I was concerned.  This was to happen early in the week of our Roast Beef Dinner.  Would all the potatoes be gone by Thursday?  I was going to be out of town the day the potatoes were to arrive, and so was not going to be any help.  The potatoes came, and they went quicker than anyone might have imagined.  People are being fed.  A sideways glance toward God.

            Renewed connections can be glimpses of God.  Last week, a young man who had been a part of the youth group I led when I was a youth pastor in Dallas contacted me.  It turns out that he is now in seminary, and part of what he wanted to do was tell me that I had been an important part of his spiritual journey, even though he told me he would have described himself as an atheist while he attended youth group.  A sideways glance toward God.

            Poetry often helps me hear the whisper of God, though I know it has the exact opposite effect on some.  A well-turned phrase or image in a poem penetrates to the depth of my heart and soul.  Here is a Mary Oliver poem I bumped into the other day.

Who Said This?    (Red Bird, 58)

Something whispered something

that was not even a word.

It was more like a silence

that was understandable.

I was standing

at the edge of the pond.

Nothing living, what we call living,

was in sight.

And yet, the voice entered me,

my body-life,

with so much happiness.

And there was nothing there

but the water, the sky, the grass.

Perhaps that’s often how we get a glimpse of God, are granted a sideways glance, hear the whisper, feel the gentle breeze – as something whispering something that was not even a word, more like a silence that is understandable. 

            Where are you glimpsing God?  Where is God inviting you toward a sideways glance?  How are we helping each other catch glimpses of God, hear God’s whisper?  Amen.