14^th Pentecost; 9/2/12. U. Christian

Ps. 15; Js. 1:17-27; Mk. 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

Bill Kirlin-Hackett

 Grace and peace to you from our God who creates, redeems, and sustains us all. Amen.

 Before I was ordained and for some of my early years of ministry, I spent time in men’s groups where we shared what it was like to be a man. Later I spent time leading men’s retreats.  One of the most common perspectives we shared was how we men were both defined by others and by ourselves by what we do.  Usually this meant what profession we were in, although at times the sharing extended to what we were good at, those things we did or could do that reached that vaulted plateau of being “handmade.” But mostly, it was what we did for our livelihood.  For me, being ordained sort of changed a lot of what others expected me to say. “Oh yeah, Bill is ordained,…” and that alone in the view of those listening seemed to say it all.

 When I moved to Washington state, I became interested in helping to end homelessness, mostly because of a conference held in 2001 at St. Mark’s Cathedral. It took 6 months for someone to phone me about the “I am willing to volunteer” card I turned in at that first event. When I came to the first meeting with many men and a few women, all were asked to tell people our name and to what we were connected. As I listened to people go around the room, most if not all had connections, an organization they were a part of, be it a congregation or a nonprofit, and many had business cards they started to circulate. Finally my turn came. I said my name, and had to explain it’s hyphenated. I realized I needed an affiliation, and as yet I had not joined any local congregation. I was Lutheran clergy but I was what Lutherans call “Off Roster,” which meant I was a lay person who happened to be ordained. Rather than explain all that, I simply said, “I am here representing All Lutherans Everywhere, which I call ALE for short, so I expect a lot of fellow members.” It’s true this said little about who I was and what I did, but maybe what said the most about me is that I was there. I was at a meeting, in fact the first meeting, of the Interfaith Task Force on Homelessness, in December 2001. Now I am its Director, business cards and all, even if my business cards are handmade at home. And oh yes, next month we’ll have our 12^th Conference.

 We know this book of James before us today. He’s the one who urges us to be doers. He writes, “…welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls. But be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.”  He goes on, “For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and on going away, immediately forget what they were like..”

 While I am now very glad to be clergy in the UCC, this last section of this text reminds me of Martin Luther, who also used the image of the mirror. Luther did not like James since he thought it conflicted with his and what he declared as Paul’s view as to not having to earn grace. But Luther did say seeing ourselves in a mirror is the role the law plays…. Allowing us to truly see ourselves and to change by driving us to the Gospel.

 We live life with these mirrors. Sometimes the mirror is a room full of strangers who came for the same reason I did but who one by one were complete strangers to me, but we had one thing in common driving us to be the people God asks us to be. Not people who merely hear, but people who do.    One Pastor describes in comment on today’s James text how in his childhood as a Southern Baptist he would come to church and right away have to fill out the 6-point record envelope in the pew. First he put his name and his offering amount, and then there were 6 boxes, asking for a check mark about worship attended, Bible brought, Bible read daily, Sunday school lesson studied, prayer daily, and gave an offering. He said before long people would sort of escalate some of the conditions informally, like, “You see that? They don’t have Bibles. Must be Presbyterians!” He said even how large the Bible was soon became worthy of judgmental comment.

 Later in his youth this Pastor says he met the Book of James, whom he never really noticed hiding back in that Bible behind Paul. When James asked him about his faith he proudly showed him the envelope with check marks in all the boxes. “Six out of six!” he wrote. But he said James laughed, and said, “I think you need some new boxes on that envelope.” James mentions “care for orphans and widows in distress,” and the young man who’d later be a Presbyterian Pastor said, “There were no boxes for them” on the 6-point record system envelopes.  He could make a handmade report but in truth it was worthless.

 He writes, “James even goes as far as to say that religion without action is ‘worthless.’ ”  He thought back to his childhood, and learning to love the word as he did was not something that he felt was worthless, but he writes, “I needed James to teach me to do the word, to take it out to a hurting world.”   And then he writes what I measure as one of the most profound sentences I have read in a long time. He writes, “Apparently, then, it’s not about whether you’ve brought your Bible, but about where your Bible has brought you.”

 Mark’s Gospel has Jesus quoting Isaiah, who said, “This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching human precepts as doctrines.” Then Jesus adds, “You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition.” The commentary isn’t absolutely clear as to the “commandment of God” to which Jesus refers, although for me Jesus always lifts the greatest commandment, love God, love neighbor as self. And no matter how we try to make it about words, it is about actions, about what we do, those things we do with our hands.

 I recently finished one book from the long list of what’s been suggested I read. It’s by Robin Meyers, a pastor in the UCC, titled, “Saving Jesus from the Church: How to Stop Worshipping Christ and Start Following Jesus.” Needless to say, the author of the Book of James would mostly nod approval.  Meyers says that too often most of us are part of “a church that caters to the individual soul and individual success, rather than building the beloved community...”  Meyers decries what he calls “the 1-way transaction shaped as the belief that God sent Jesus solely to purchase our salvation with his death.”  His are tough words because from our youth we have all been raised to believe this – that Jesus may have said some really great things while alive but it is only his death and resurrection that matter in the end -- raised to believe this as if it is core to our very salvation. We’ve been taught all too often that what we do as people of faith, in living our own faith, is icing on the cake. “Yeah, James is a curiosity to be sure, but not much else,” many of us might think. But then Meyer adds, “The best seats at the banquet mean nothing if at the final banquet God starts serving at the back of the line.” For most Christians, this is inconceivable. “My faith is handmade! It’s premium grade! How can this be?” we wonder.

 Meyers adds, “Faith is something we do, against all odds, in loving defiance of a world gone mad.” Last week I met that world gone mad once again, but sadly, I meet it every week. Now 11 years after that first meeting when I declared I represented All Lutherans Everywhere, I heard a local TV commentator report that the Ten Year Plan to End Homelessness “must have been written by people who drank the kool-aid thinking that they could end homelessness.” I suppose my wife saw the steam exit my ears when I was listening to that comment on the web, since my name is in that report as one of its authors. But I was reminded, since I was reading Meyer at the time, that faith is something I do against all odds. It is what those of us in that upper room at St. Mark’s Cathedral did 11 years ago in starting a Task Force to End Homelessness and calling it Interfaith, since we believed that people of faith were not just wrapped up in individual salvation and sought not just to check boxes but sought to address the harm that surrounds us. I was reminded by a Presbyterian Pastor of where my Bible has brought me.

 I won’t name her, but she’s been living in her vehicle. We heard from her about 5 months ago. She called a colleague, but when we tried to follow-up, it was hard to reach her. She was at risk of losing her vehicle, and as it turns out, her place to sleep. Word came to us she’d flown back to the Midwest, and we thought, “Guess she isn’t as broke as we thought.”  But then we got another call in August. She needed funds to get tabs and a license, without which she could lose her home. A nonprofit lawyer was helping. Our ITFH fund was now an appropriate fund, the one we keep to help mitigate harm to those living in their vehicles threatened by the Scofflaw law and/or losing their vehicle. When she called we set a day to meet, but I awaited another call before noon as to where and when. She had no phone, and so on that day I drove into Seattle, not sure where she was, thinking I’ll get a few other items of business done. She didn’t call. It was past noon by an hour. The frustration of our first efforts with her filled me, and I recalled how my colleague and I both thought, “should we help her? She seems so unrelentingly unreliable.” So I drove back home to Lynnwood. I went to the Fred Meyer and bought fruit. And as I got back into my car, she called. What could I do? What she needed was sitting beside me on my passenger seat,,,, a check from the ITFH. I went back, winding my way across Seattle to Sand Point, no less. OK, I cursed a little. “God? Come on!”  We were to meet at a 7-11…. I parked. No sign of her. I get back into my car and see someone approaching from across the street, younger than I’d imagined. I stood and asked if it was her…she said yes. I said, “hope this helps, and I need to scoot. I’m a little late.” In truth, I was. I had afternoon obligations. She thanked me and I drove home not as happy as one might have expected.

 About a week later my colleague and I got an email from this woman. In part it read,

 I would like to thank you so very much for your financial assistance on obtaining tabs for my vehicle. I really needed the help and appreciate you all for making this happen. It has been helpful for me to have use of my car. Especially at this time for even being able to use it as shelter.  I believe your assistance in helping me and others like myself is work not done in vain. May you all reap the benefits of giving yourselves in time and money be rewarded back into your lives.

 Robin Meyer says, “what biblical justice does is restore what is denied, whether it’s freedom, human dignity, or the essentials of existence itself.”  Sometimes in doing our faith, we are restored too.

 There’s a story about a certain preacher serving a tiny rural mission among the poorest of the poor.  The congregation had an Easter evening custom of baptisms by immersion in a nearby lake, and they’d gather afterward around a campfire where the newly baptized sat closest to the fire. Those members in the outer circle would make offers to the newcomers. “My name is… and if you ever need somebody to do washing and ironing…”   “My name is… and if you ever need anybody to chop wood…”   “My name is… and if you ever need anybody to babysit…”   “My name is … and if you ever need anybody to repair your home..”   “My name is…and if you ever need anybody to sit with the sick…”   “My name is… and if you ever need a car to go to town…”  Those inside the circle who had “died and risen to Christ” in Baptism were officially adopted. They ate, folks left, the lay leader kicked the fire out and said to the preacher, “Craddock, folks don’t ever get any closer than this.” Now Fred Craddock became a very well-known preacher and preaching professor. Years later he told his students, “Once, when I told this story to a group of city folks, they looked amused, but confused. One of them said, ‘Fred, what do they call that where you come from?’ Craddock replied, ‘I don’t know what you call it where you come from. But where I come from we call it…church.’ ”

 “Apparently, then, it’s not about whether you’ve brought your Bible, but about where your Bible has brought you.” It’s about where your bible has brought all of you.   Where, indeed…..

 And now may the peace of God that passes all understanding keep our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus and the people of God say. AMEN.

          Sermon at University Christian Church, July 15, 2012

                                  Rev. Eugene Kidder

While walking with a man in the flow of the river of healing energies during a therapy hour one day recently I heard myself in an unrehearsed moment speak a word which crystallized for him the essence of his experience dealing with anxiety. Somehow my expression provided him the word picture of his condition and led him into what we fondly call the "aha" experience.

While later savoring the morsel of this well-voiced insight at dinner with some colleagues I had to acknowledge that I could only remember that

I had spoken something transformative but could not remember what it was.

(This HAD to be  profound, right? :-)                                                                       

This reminded me that the elements of the spirit travel not from the healer, but rather through the one presuming to give aid, requiring a surrender of ego attachments to one's own actions.   

          The poet Mary Oliver has this word to say about surrender in her poem "In Blackwater Woods" :

                   Every year everything I have ever learned in my lifetime

                   Leads back to this: the fires and the black river of loss

                   whose other side is salvation, whose meaning none of

                   us will ever know.

                   To live in this world you must be able to do three things:

                   to love what is mortal;

                   to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends

                             on it;

                   and when the time comes to let it go, to let it go."

My choice of this theme for today's sermon is occasioned by an upcoming  annual retreat in which Barbara and I join with colleagues for the 30th and final year providing a premium healing and growth weekend experience for persons in our care.  As staff we have spent countless hours all through each year in preparation for the retreat, first setting a theme, then devoting artistry, imagination and varied creativity to allow this to be a watershed therapeutic experience for those who attend. So as the realization fell upon us this year that it is time to bring to a close our pilgrimage, we began to face the meaning of a finality --- that we needed to let go --- to surrender what we have held so close and dear all these years.

So let's consider together what we mean by surrender.  A psychiatrist named Emmanuel Ghent has written an illumining paper about this in which he distinguishes surrender from submission.  He states, "The meaning I will give to the term "surrender" has nothing to do with hoisting a white flag.  In fact, rather than carrying a connotation of defeat, the term will convey a quality of liberation and expansion of the self as a corollary to the letting down of defensive barriers".  In developing his definition he holds that surrender is primarily an inward process, may happen in the presence of another, but not  "to another" as in the case of submission.  One cannot make it happen yet can host an attitude which allows it to occur. In the process one discovers more of who one is, gains a sense of self, wholeness and unity with other human beings. This is not anything like the puppet experience of submission in which there is dominance and control.

Barbara called my attention this morning to a piece in the Pacific NW magazine.  I man recalls when, at the age of 9, he was immersed in baptism. He was terrified and said he would never go near the water until now! He is taking swimming lessons at the Green Lake pool, where he says it is crucial that he "surrender to the experience".   

Studies of very young children reveal that one may fashion what is termed a "false self" to satisfy expectations of others, sometimes called a caretaker self, while missing the real self, which is subverted for the time yet stored away until that self can re-emerge.  The cure for this "missing " is to become whole through surrender, to come alive, to be present in full awareness, authentic and holy.  The author finds these psychological ideas consistent with the Hebrew definition of sin as "missing the mark". 

If the child has found it dangerous to come out into such aliveness, he/she may yet find a faith and hope that by going back to trying again to be real, even fighting adverse influences of outside authority. A surrender of the false self may then occur and the real person becomes authenticated.

The Psalmist in our scripture for today finds a place of ascendancy in which souls are genuine, uplifted, pure if you will.  

Then we have the transfiguration scene which I selected to align with our theme. Peter, James, John and Jesus walk into this life-changing light. In the ancient world this would have been a very realistic event, as Mark wants us to understand, even though the romantic, psychological, subjective world of modern time would call this a mood-driven mountain top peak experience.  We are located in the beginning of the messianic era, in which great anxiety, anticipation and hope is held for post resurrection times.  It is a "between times" where everything is uncertain. The end is coming. Moses, having been the prototype of the Messiah and himself transfigured, appears with his forerunner Elijah, who was rapt to heaven in a fiery chariot. So Peter, characteristically and as usual, is torn between clinging with false certainty to Jesus while alternately denying his faith in Jesus.  He recruits the other boys, John and James to turn these three heavenly persons into permanent residents on the earth. He would cast bobbleheads of Moses. Elijah and Jesus to sell or give away at booths for folks attending the annual transfiguration mountain street show. Here is the characteristic attempt to freeze an experience and make it timeless, when the reality of life calls for living the moment and then letting it go.

As so often is true in Hebrew scripture the divine presence is represented in a cloud, suggesting that to  pretend matters are perfectly clear when we find ourselves in turbulence and distress is indeed folly. (Thus, after some such sunny days we have arranged a cloudy day for this service)            

A song by the Kennedys, called "Live" has lines saying

"Come on and live, eternity is now

Come on now, live, I can show you how

No, you can't move on unless you learn to forgive

when you die to every moment then you know how to live." 

A most dramatic incident to highlight what we mean by surrender is the true story about the famous tightrope walkers, The Flying Wallendas.  One of the Wallendas was starting to walk across the rope between two skyscrapers, a daring feat with no safety net.  He took his first tentative steps onto the rope, clutching the balance beam over his shoulders. Then a gust of wind blew, knocking him off balance. He uses the beam to try to compensate. Then he is falling, falling past the rope, still clutching to the balance beam. 

The balance beam had been his good friend and had saved his life on numerous occasions. But in this instance, he needed to let it go, and try to make a grab for the rope. Instead he held on to what he knew and fell to his death.

This is not too strong a statement of the meaning of our choice to cling to obsolete sources of support and security.

A deeply heart rending novel by Joseph Monninger is titled Eternal on the Water.   Mary Fury and Jonathan Cobb meet at a camp on the Allagash River in the Maine wood. Both are naturalists and educators. Mary is alumnus and mentor of the Changamunga girls, a river running camp for girls with life threatening diseases. Mary and Cobb are in love at first sight with a major complication.  She is very likely to be heir to her family history of the dreaded disease Huntington's chorea.  For this reason she has, until now,  counted herself out of permanent loving partnership.  She explains to her now heartthrob Cobb that 200,000 people have died of Huntington's since World War II. It is different from a lot of diseases. Mary describes how, if she has the disease, she will lose her balance. She will make strange movements and odd grimaces. She points out that Huntington's doubles and slips into the next generation, then the next. It's always fatal.  It is called chorea because of the dance effect, tremors and flailings, with violent twists and turns, which result in serious decline and harsh effects on families and caregivers.  I have vivid personal memories of patients writhing and crying in the State Mental Hospital where I worked in 1951.

Mary pleads with Cobb that when the disease takes hold she wants to end things without him, for him not to be constrained.  She wants him to let go of her.  In the spirit of the Cungamunga girls, she wants to make her last journey in dying upon the Allagash river. Her mantra for the girls and for herself as a veteran Cungamunga is "If one goes over the falls, she has to believe she will be a girl again and surrender (sic) herself to the falls.  She is eternal on the water."  

Mary has not been tested to determine if she will die of the disease, because she does not want to know. But her mother knows she will. Mother Joan sez to Cobb, "...you're in love and you can be together on an island in one of the most beautiful places in the world. Say yes to good things in life. Grab them. Don't hesitate. Maybe there will be pain in the end, but there usually is anyway.  Say yes not for me, not for Mary, but for yourself if you love her as I believe you do. You don't value a fire any less because some day it will go out."

As the disease progresses and she has completed a hospital visit, she says, "We start from where we stand. That was my father's motto. With her ending approaching, she tells Cobb, "I will not haunt you.  Don't make me into a ghost.  When you let me go at last don't regret anything. You have a long life ahead of you. ...It's not an easy thing, but I'm asking  you to put more into going forward than into looking back. Do you promise me that?  He answers, yes."

          So what is the promise in surrender?

          There is promise that one will be relieved of having to control life.

          There is promise of liberation from a fabricated false self into the  wholeness of one's real self.

          There is promise of a full acceptance of one's mortality and that

                   henceforward one's life is exploration into God.

Intro:

As you know, I was away from Seattle for 5 months, for my teaching assignment in Arizona and for our annual escape from rainy Seattle winter weather and a relaxing refuge in the warm desert sun and some time with Karen’s family.

My first Sunday back was June 10^th, I didn’t quite know what to expect. (Would our attendance be down to 30-35?) I was so pleased to find a vigorous group of about 55- 60 engaged in worship that morning, followed by an interesting and satisfying congregational meeting with a promising budget and plan for the year ahead.   In summarizing my thoughts, the words from the Jewish dispersion came to mind, and I concluded: “this is our faithful remnant.”  This is the faithful core of individuals and families who will take University Christian Church into its unfolding future as we seek together to discern God’s call and direction amidst the changing scenes and circumstances of our neighborhood, our city, and our larger world.

With this in mind, I approached the scriptures in today’s Lectionary.  I could have chosen Psalm 9 “I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart” for we have much to be thankful for.  I also reflected on the gospel, Mark 4 and the story of Jesus calming the sea when he was awakened by his disciples who feared the boat would capsize. . . and thought about the stormy seas we have faced that have rocked our boat as a congregation.  However, I chose instead to use I Samuel 17, the story of David and Goliath---and II Corinthians 6, the words of the apostle Paul to the church at Corinth.

No doubt, you will find my reasoning transparent, but if not, I shall try to make it so as we reflect together upon these two scriptures and seek to evoke not only their original meanings, but how these messages might help us today, in our own time, to find meaning and direction.

I.  David and Goliath

I Samuel, 17   The story of David and Goliath (about 950 BCE) is one of the most popular and well known stories in the entire Bible.  Even folk who don’t claim to “know their Bible” have heard this story.  Even in the secular world, the metaphor of “David and Goliath” is applied to sporting events when the smaller, underdog team is pitted against a larger, more famous, opponent with greater resources.

            Looking back into the context of I Samuel, we find it was a period in the life of the developing nation of Israel where the prophet Samuel wanted only God to be king of Israel---yet, the people demanded a flesh & blood king that they could see and identify with---like the other nations.  They wanted a king who could lead them in battle against their enemies.  So, we discover that Saul was chosen because of his height—he had the stature of a warrior.  He was one whom the army could rally around in battles with their enemies.  In the preceding chapters there are stories of Saul falling into a very dark and melancholic mood.  It was written that David was summoned by the king’s court to play the lyre---and the music soothed the king and relieved him of “the evil spirits” that troubled him.  Yet, in the story before us, Saul doesn’t seem to know who David is and has to ask, who is the father of this boy?”

As the story unfolds, we witness David evolving from a shepherd boy—to a warrior-man.

The Philistines are a relentless enemy for the tiny nation of Israel and there has been a running war, over many years, with the lead going back and forth between these neighboring countries. The current battle site is near the Philistine border with Israel.  The Philistine army has occupied one high hill nearest their border; the Israelite army has occupied the opposite hill, with a valley separating the two armies.  Small skirmishes have broken out around the edges between soldiers on patrol---but the major battle has not yet begun.   Each day, a very large Philistine warrior named Goliath comes down into the valley and challenges Israel to send down a warrior to meet him---claiming that the fight could be settled by the two opponents—and the losing side should become submissive to the other nation.  The scripture claims that he had come forth to make this challenge for 40 days.  (Our OT scholar, professor Smith, claimed that the Hebrew term that was translated into “40 days” simply was intended to mean, “for quite a while”, for “several days”  for “a period of time.”

Read verses 4-7:  “And there came out from the camp of the Philistines a champion named Goliath, of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span.  He had a helmet of bronze on his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail and the weight of the coat was five thousand shekels of bronze.  And he had greaves of bronze upon his legs, and a javelin of bronze slung between his shoulders  And the shaft of his spear was like a weaver’s beam and his spear’s head weighed six hundred shekels of iron. . . and his shield bearer went before him.”     What an awesome figure Goliath must have been—arrayed in all of his armor and weapons.  One text claims 6 cubits & a span, another 4 cubits plus a span---6’ 9” very tall for a Palestinian in those times.  It was said he was from a family of giants.  (Geneticists might wonder---Did he have a diagnosis of Marfan’s Syndrome?)

In addition to his size and strength, he wore seemingly Impregnable armor—what chance did an opponent have against him in one-to-one combat?  There was no challenger in the camp of Israel. 

About this time, David is asked by his father Jesse to put the sheep under the care of another and to go to the encampment with food for his elder brothers and a gift of cheese for the commandant.  David is still a youth, and shepherding his fathers flock is his main occupation.

When David hears Goliath’s challenge—he asks, “who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God?”  David adds a theological dimension to the conversation.  David interprets Goliath’s challenge as a reproach, not just to the army of Israel, but a reproach to their God as well. 

When word of David’s desire to fight came to Saul, the king’s first reaction was “you can’t do this!”  “You are only a youth.”  Yet, when David insisted on challenging Goliath, Saul dressed David in his own armor.  But it was useless—David was unaccustomed to armor, and recited his attacks upon the lion and the bear in defense of the sheep.  He now claimed that God (Yahweh) would deliver him from the Philistine, even has God had delivered him from the paw of the lion and the bear.

Saul had assumed that the power for deliverance must lie in military might—armor—size—strength.  David demonstrates courage from other sources—practical & spiritual.  --I will oppose this one who has defied the armies of the “living God.”

 “You come against me with a sword, a spear and a javelin—but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel.”  So this unorthodox battle begins, but it is over almost immediately.  David plucks a smooth stone he has taken from the brook, places it into his sling, and zips the stone through the air, striking and penetrating Goliath’s forehead.  He then takes the fallen warrior’s own sword and beheads him---the shocked Philistines are then routed by the Israelite army.

We have other examples of victories that grew from faith and courage---the small against the powerful.  One might remember the early days of the farm-workers union, the fall of the Berlin wall; the collapse of apartheid in South Africa.  The story of David and Goliath is inspiring to this day, reminding us that the power and resources of a “living God” can overcome the principalities and powers of this world.  The small and courageous can overcome giant challenges and adversities.  How do we as a small congregation face our challenges?

II. The Story of Paul and the Corinthians

Let us turn now to our second scripture from Corinthians 6.  Have you ever come across letters written years, or decades, ago by your ancestors or older family members?

After my mother’s death—going through papers, I found old letters—my father wrote to my mother in their courting days.  It gave me some new and interesting insights into their relationship at that time, so long ago.  I saw a romantic side that was practically invisible by the time his sixth child had been born into the world.

Karen—when her grandmother died, discovered letters written to the grandmother when she was a young girl—by the young man who would later marry her. Her Grandfather had been quite a letter writer—and his writing was an important part of his courtship in an era where transportation was slow and difficult.

Old letters are Interesting:  A snapshot in time, sometimes rich in detail, but leaving much to the imagination due to lack of description.  In some ways, the meaning was made clear by our awareness of the historical developments in the relationship.

 I invite you to think about our scripture from  II Corinthians in just that way.   The apostle Paul was writing (about 55 CE) with a particular audience in mind.  Paul, whose conversion experience led him to halt his career as an ardent persecutor of Christians to become one of the most powerful ambassador’s for Christ in the Gentile world.

 Paul was first a Jew.  He had a position in the synagogue.  He had standing in the Jewish religious community.  He was also a Roman citizen---he had standing in the “Gentile”  (non-Jewish) community.  When he became a Christian---it was a time of social turmoil because this new Christian religion was disputed by the Jewish community and by the Roman leaders in the empire.  The Christian church was in its infancy.  In the Greco-Roman world it was in competition with cults and temples and sects that were well established and prolific.

Paul, along with Timothy and Titus in particular, have been working industriously to preach the gospel and to establish the church—especially now in Greece.  His work in 50CE has given rise to the establishment of a church in Corinth—a prosperous city.  After establishing the church in Corinth—he has both visited and written previous letters to encourage and edify these new Christians.

Although things went well in the early days of the new church in Corinth---some new preachers came to town---who began to question the authority of Paul, and to promote themselves as the more appropriate leaders of the congregation.  They not only challenged the authority and leadership of Paul, but appear to have led the church in a different direction.  Paul had written a more harsh and critical letter earlier.  Now, prior to his next visit, he writes this letter to encourage reconciliation, to provide a corrective to the troublemakers who had stirred up the church and to set the record straight.

We take up the story in Chapter 6 “Working together, we entreat you not to accept the grace of God in vain.”

--this is a “wake up call” to the church
--you have not been paying attention
--now is the day of salvation
--there is urgency about the church’s mission that has lapsed.

We put no obstacle in any one’s way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry, but as servants of God we commend ourselves in every way:   (Paul had supported himself as a tent maker, and did not accept a salary from the leaders in Corinth, apparently, not wanting to be seen as a client of wealthy patrons---whereas the other leaders had accepted money from those whom Paul had refused.)

--This is an apologetic that Paul felt was necessary in these circumstances, with division in the church, competition among leaders.

--Notice, he uses the plural pronoun, “we”  suggesting that he is likeminded with others such as Timothy and Titus, that he is including the church in Corinth in the “we,”  and God is included in the “we”  since they are acting as servants of God

How are Paul and his colleagues commended?  He enumerates:

--through great endurance,

--in afflictions, hardships, calamities

--beatings, imprisonments,

--tumults, labors, watching, hunger

Paul continues—now stressing the “active” nature of their work and ministry:

--by purity, knowledge, forbearance, kindness

--the Holy Spirit, genuine love, truthful speech,

--and the power of God

--with weapons of righteousness for the right and left hand

--in honor and dishonor, in ill repute and good repute

--treated as imposters---yet TRUE

--as unknown---yet WELL KNOWN

--as dying—and behold, WE LIVE

--as punished, and yet NOT KILLED

--as sorrowful—yet ALWAYS REJOICING

--as poor---yet MAKING MANY RICH

--as having nothing---YET POSSESSING EVERYTHING

What an injunction---an invitation to look beyond the surface and into the deeper aspects of life in the Spirit.  What is it that makes such suffering and sacrifices meaningful?

Next---he brings it right down to his relationship with them:

--Our mouth is open to you, Corinthians

--Our heart is wide

--You are not restricted by us but restricted in your own affections

--IN RETURN—I SPEAK TOYOU AS CHILDREN—

WIDEN YOUR HEARTS ALSO!

We are the faithful remnant of this once large and dynamic congregation.  We are small in numbers and face some giant challenges.  Like the church at Corinth, we may have differing ideas about leadership and direction.  What do we experience as restrictions? Are we limited as Paul said at Corinth “by our own affections?” Paul’s admonition can serve us well, “widen your hearts” find ways to support one another, minimize any contentious spirit in favor of a spirit of reconciliation, affection and encouragement.  Paul and his apostle colleagues suffered much to keep the spark of the gospel message alive and to ensure its passage across nations and generations.  The torch has been passed to us.  Let us widen our hearts and take up the work that is at hand.

Amen.

The Rev. Bill Kirlin-Hackett; 6/10/12; 2^nd after Pentecost

2 Cor. 4: 13-5:1; Mk. 3: 20-35; University Christian, Seattle

//Grace and peace to you from our God who creates, redeems, and sustains us all. Amen.

The reality of what can be seen and what is not seen has long been in front of me. Likely for you, also.  We are all different, of course. Some prefer the “out of sight, out of mind” mode. Others prefer the “can’t stop thinking about it” mode, even when whatever it is happens to be too far away or too long gone to change.

In today’s 2 Corinthians text,…  St. Paul writes about a “slight momentary affliction” that is present among that congregation. As his way of leading them he says the affliction prepares them for “glory beyond all measure,” and that it helps to “look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen.” It would be very easy to take his words out of their context and perhaps start the Ostrich Club, or something similarly named,… to indicate that what is present before us is simply too much to deal with, and what we must instead do is focus solely on what cannot be seen. The “it’ll end OK Club.” St. Paul is, better read, indicating that it is God’s Spirit,… within, between, and among us, that disruptive and also comforting Spirit,… in whom we ought to rely.

All this had me thinking, … a good thing since you invited me to preach, … about one line in chapter 3 of Mark, where it’s written, “…people were saying (about Jesus), ‘He has gone out of his mind.’ ”

We are, like those in the days Scripture was written, people who default to our minds, and hope for the same from others. I don’t raise this critically. The Spirit knows that we are beset all around us by mindlessness. That case is evident, even nearby in shootings that have paralyzed and shocked us. Someone “out of his mind” scares us. The bumper sticker, “the mind is a dangerous thing,” that once encouraged us to use our minds, has now taken on so many less worthy meanings.

We can make our preference for a sound mind a problem, however. We attach to “mind” what we consider the product or outcome of a sound mind; that is “knowledge.” I see this as I work to end homelessness and it takes the form of, “if we get enough good data,” or maybe the catch-phrase “best practices” is used, or even more frequently, “desired outcomes.” It is all quasi-scientific, and don’t get me wrong, science is valuable. At the same time, we get so caught up in all of it that before long it seems what we’re really doing is playing what we know as “mind games,” just trying to be “data-driven.” Even a virtue we measure as “common sense” becomes a casualty, because your see, common sense makes use of not only what is seen but also what is unseen.  And while common sense uses our mind as its anchor, most often it gains its power and focus from our heart’s playground.

 Author Wendell Berry writes a bit about this when he writes, “Within limits, we can learn and think; we can read, hear, and see; we can remember. We don’t have to live in a world defined by professional and political gibberish…But…our ignorance is irremediable,…some problems are unsolvable and some questions unanswerable – that, do what we will, we are never going to be free of mortality, partiality, fallibility, and error. The extent of our knowledge will always be, at the same time, the measure of the extent of our ignorance. Because ignorance is thus a part of our creaturely definition, we need an appropriate way: a way of ignorance, which is the way of neighborly love, kindness, caution, care, appropriate scale, thrift, good work, right livelihood… The way of ignorance …is to be careful, to know the limits and the efficacy of our knowledge. It is to be humble and to work on an appropriate scale.”

 For me, all of which Berry writes points me to my heart.  He doesn’t ask me to abandon my mind, my head, my knowledge, but he suggests that what is seen has its most value when paired with what is unseen.

 St. Paul writes to the Corinthian congregation, “So we do not lose heart.” He of course means in the face of “this slight momentary affliction.” We know in our minds and hearts that afflictions, be they momentary or sustained take a toll on us and on those we love. It can be medical, mental, job-related, relational,… so many sources of affliction, and the struggle to not lose heart is one we know when we experience it. More, it is one we know when we see it in those near us.  At least, we say we know it, and yet sometimes, it is more a case of seen and unseen.

 In his book, “Healing the Heart of Democracy,” Parker Palmer has several timely sections about our heart. I want to begin with one where he quotes a monologue by comedian George Carlin, whose wit could be funny as well as, in this case, revelatory. Carlin said,

 “There’s a condition in combat. Most people know about it. It’s when a fighting person’s nervous system has been stressed to its absolute peak and maximum. Can’t take anymore input. The nervous system has either snapped or is about to snap. In WW1, that condition was called ‘shell shock.’ Simple, honest, direct language. Two syllables, shell shock. Almost sounds like the guns themselves. By WW2, the name has morphed into ‘battle fatigue.’ Four syllables now. Takes a little longer to say. Doesn’t seem to hurt as much. Then the Korean War came, and the condition was now ‘Operational exhaustion.’ The humanity has been squeezed completely out of the phrase. Sounds like something that might happen to your car. Then came Vietnam and we all know what shell shock has been called ever since… post-traumatic stress disorder. Still eight syllables but we’ve added a hyphen! And the pain is completely buried under the jargon. I’ll bet you if we’d still been calling it shell shock, some of those Vietnam veterans might have gotten the attention they needed at the time.”

 Palmer follows Carlin with this: “Carlin missed a precursor to shell shock…During the Civil war, traumatized combatants developed a condition that they called, ‘soldier’s heart.’ The violence that results in soldier’s heart shatters a person’s sense of self and community, and war is not the only setting in which violence is done: violence is done whenever we violate this integrity.”

 What is seen. What is unseen. What can be seen. What cannot be seen. Knowledge. A way of ignorance. It is all before us. Sure, as St. Paul writes, “we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” This is God’s gift to us. We have no “slight momentary affliction” about God’s promises, which are sure and certain, which are indeed a covenant with us.

 But, we live today. Right now. We cannot hold our breath when the waters of crisis submerge us. We must breath. We must recognize the Spirit among us, between us, and within us, and we must let that breath, that holy breath of grace, be ours.

 How?  Again, toward gaining a better grasp of what is seen and unseen,  and how our heart leads, Palmer describes two conditions. The first is the broken heart. Many of us, at least in confidence, would admit to something in our lives that has broken our heart. Sure, maybe we recovered quickly, or maybe we didn’t. Maybe it is a healed memory, or maybe it is an ongoing affliction. Palmer says a broken heart “shatters into a thousand pieces. And it is violent since violence is what we get when we don’t know what to do with our suffering.”  When we are broken-hearted, one of the things we avoid is saying so. We make sure the condition of our heart remains unseen. But hiding can be tough.

 The second condition Palmer describes is a heart broken open. He says that when we allow this, when we are willing to be this vulnerable,… to expose and open our heart to another, we discover “a greater capacity to hold our own and the world’s pain…” We find “greater compassion.”

 In my work to end homelessness, we in the ITFH have a curriculum, for the mind and heart by the way, called, “Affirming Charity, Compassion, and Justice.” Briefly, we recognize those who do charity and those who do justice have a gift from God. Those good at doing charity are not always good at doing justice, and vice-versa.  No offense,..just the way it is,… blame God. What has consistently been absent,… in one’s expression of charity, and in one’s expression of justice, has been compassion.  Those who do charity with compassion, with an ability to listen and enter into the suffering, do better charity, don’t burn out, or get resentful.  Same for those who do justice with compassion, less shrill, more on-focus, more humble and compelling.

 A heart broken open, as Palmer describes, can happen more easily with two habits of the heart he encourages. The first is chutzpah. In our common usage, we’d look at Wikipedia and find it says this:  

“the quality of audacity, for good or for bad. The Yiddish word derives from the Hebrew, meaning ‘insolence,’ ‘audacity.’ ”  Palmer writes this of chutzpah, “knowing that I have a voice that needs to be heard and (knowing that I have) the right to speak it.”

 Well, I’ve served quite awhile in congregations and if there’s one thing I can gain concurrence about from fellow clergy, it is that it is not always the most blessed of moments when a particular congregational member asserts, “I have a voice and I have the right to speak.”  Things too often just don’t proceed well from that. But hold Palmer’s definition with some favor for a moment, because he pairs it with a second habit of the heart, and the two must be inseparable.

 The second habit of the heart to which Palmer points us is humility. According to Palmer, this is “accepting the fact that my truth is always partial and may not be true at all – so I need to listen with openness and respect.” Recall Berry also said the way of ignorance is humility.

 I have a voice I ought use, and I need to listen with respect, knowing I may be wrong. My knowledge may be insufficient and I may not be practicing a way of ignorance that honors what I don’t know. What is seen,… what is not unseen.

 I confess that I have forgotten many quotes from books I’ve read over the years. One sticks. From “The Little Prince,” by St. Exupery, … “Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”  I serve as clergy in a tradition that still, yes, defaults to the mind…maybe old habits. And yet, so much of what I see that awakens folks, that makes of them those who practice charity, compassion, and justice, is the work of their heart along with their mind.

 This is wisdom before us not trapped in dogma or tradition or denominations or constitutions or even Robert’s Rules of Order. Here is something known by all of us who live and breath, both in and not within congregations. As E. F. Schumacher wrote, “the heart has the capacity to turn tension toward constructive ends, but there’s nothing automatic about it. The powers we need will be released only if the heart has been made supple by practice so that it breaks open instead of apart under stress.”

I suppose this is why I conclude every sermon I preach with these words…

 May the peace of God that passes all understanding keep our hearts and our minds in Christ Jesus. And the people  of God say. AMEN.

University Christian Church

December 18, 2011

Luke 1: 46b - 55

Luke 1: 26 - 38

Prayer:  God of grace, we remember the words of Mary who said, “Here I am the servant of the Lord.  Let it be with me according to your word.”  Holy One, our prayer just now is that we may be like Mary, that we might embrace your will and your word today and live in faith, through Jesus Christ.  Amen.

        A couple of years ago, when he was three, our grandson Jack was eager, although a bit nervous, as he prepared to be in his first Christmas pageant.  He was slated to be one of the shepherds and would be joining in song with the heavenly host when the bright star appeared to announce the birth of baby Jesus.  At the practice session that morning, he had been outfitted with a shepherd’s robe and a rope belt, sort of like this one.  The practice went well, and so his Mom and the rest of us thought all would go smoothly when the time came for the pageant to begin.  But when he went to the church fellowship hall to get dressed in his shepherd robe, he noticed that one of his fellow-shepherds was taking off his new navy blue blazer.  Jack was impressed with that blazer!  It must have lined up really well, in his mind, with what it meant to be dressed up for church.  So, Jack reasoned, why would I want to put on this strange looking robe to welcome the baby Jesus?  I ought to look really special.  Well, Jack decided to “borrow” his friend’s coat for the pageant that afternoon.  And that is why, when the shepherds appeared in church to sing their praises to the infant Jesus, all but one of them were dressed in ordinary shepherd robes.   The one who stood out, though, was wearing a beautiful navy blue blazer, with gold buttons, and a rope tied around his waist.

        I remember other Christmas pageants, too.  I remember the one when our son Tom played the role of Joseph, paired up with cute little Carolyn Pyle as Mary.  Everyone in the congregation thought they would make a great couple when they got to be a little older. Everyone was mistaken.

        I suspect that each of you could tell a story or two about a pageant that you remember, involving your children, or grandchildren, or even you yourself – maybe one that took place downstairs in the Social Hall, or up in the old parlor.  Do you remember the roles you played?  Were any of you chosen to play the role of Mary?

        Christmas pageants are really important in the life of the church.   They are so important for re-telling the Christmas story to each other, for reminding each other of the dramatic story of Emmanuel, and for passing the faith on from generation to generation.  And just think of all of the inter-related stories that surround the birth of Jesus!  And all of the characters who appear in all of those stories.  Elizabeth, Mary’s older cousin, who gave birth to John – who later became known as John the Baptizer and played a key role in proclaiming the identity of the Savior.  And Joseph, a skilled carpenter, about to marry his young bride, who cared for her so gently and protected her on their long journey to Bethlehem.  And the shepherds keeping their flocks.  And the three wise men from the East, who traveled a great distance to bring their gifts. And the sly king Herod, who convinced them to promise to tell him where the baby was, and who later issued the orders to kill every boy-child in the country to protect his claim to rule the people.  And don’t forget the inn keeper, who offered Mary and Joseph some space in his stable.  So many stories and so many characters that we all share in the Christian family.

        Today the lectionary readings invite us to reflect especially on Mary, and the role she played in the Incarnation, the salvation of the world.

        You may have noticed that we read today’s two Gospel readings from Luke in reverse order.  Tom began by leading us in a responsive reading of the Song of Mary – the Magnificat - and then I read the account of the visit by the angel Gabriel to the young Mary.  I have wondered why it is that in virtually every listing of today’s lectionary readings the Song of Mary in verses 46 to 55 is listed before the passage about the angel’s visit in verses 26 to 38.  I don’t know why that is, but my hunch is that it may be important for us to hear where the story is going so that we catch the significance of the original dialogue between Mary and the angel of God. 

        For this is a story of a dramatic transformation!  Here is a young unmarried girl in a little, out of the way place where nothing of significance has ever happened, and she is given the astonishing news that she has been chosen to be the bearer of the Son of God.  The news is delivered by the angel Gabriel himself, in Hebrew mythology one of God’s favorite angels.  And not surprisingly Mary is both perplexed and terrified.  “Be not afraid” says Gabriel, “for you have found favor with God.”  And then, after hearing just a few details and only beginning to absorb this news, Mary responds, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord.  Let it be with me according to your word.”  And then, just a few verses later, Mary is on a visit to her cousin Elizabeth, and she sings the prayer that is known as the Magnificat – “My soul magnifies the Lord…” she sings, echoing the song of Hannah in the book of Samuel, when Hannah announced the birth of a new king. 

        The movement here is from being a powerless, probably illiterate, very young peasant woman, to being a powerful proclaimer of the coming reign of God.  Mary’s song has become one of the church’s most potent prayers.  In the more liturgical churches, it is most often sung as a part of Evening Prayers.  Kathleen Norris writes that “…it invites us to reflect on how well we have responded, that very day, to God’s call.  Have we tried to ignore it, relying instead on our status, wealth and power?  Or have we been poor and simple enough to receive it and take it to heart?”

        The Nobel Peace Prize was presented a week ago in Oslo, Norway to three women who fought injustice, dictatorship and violence in Liberia and Yemen.  One of them is a 39 year-old activist mother named Leymah Gbowee, who led a women’s movement to challenge Liberia’s warlords and to bring an end to a long war.  Another was Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, the 73 year old president of Liberia, elected in 2005 as the first female president of an African nation and just re-elected in October.  The third recipient was Tawakkul Karman, at 32 the youngest peace Laureate ever, a Muslim, a journalist and founder of Women Journalists without Chains.  All three of their stories follow the movement of Mary’s story – beginning as young women, taking on huge, terrifying, overwhelming responsibilities, and in the process finding their voice and proclaiming and leading dramatic change in their worlds. 

        Let me tell you a little more about Leymah Gbowee.  She had come to the capital city of Liberia when she was just 17, and she worked for years as a trauma counselor, especially with ex-child soldiers who had fought in their unending wars to protect their dictator, Charles Taylor.  After 14 years of war, she joined with other women to create a dramatic protest for peace.  Every day a thousand or more women would come to sit down on a soccer field on the highway that the dictator Charles Taylor travelled on his way to his office.  The women, both Christians and Muslims, all wore white, and they sat on the soccer field from 6:00 in the morning until 6:00 at night, knowing that every day they could be shot and killed by the President’s men.  And they sat there, building power through their visibility and their demonstrations, until the dictator granted them a meeting and they could demand that peace talks move forward.  They gave the three warring factions three days to deliver an unconditional ceasefire, to accept an intervention force and for the government and rebels to sit down and talk.  And soon thereafter, a peace accord was signed. 

        Ms. Gbowee was in New York City to visit the National Council of Churches and to speak at the Interchurch Center in October, on the very day when the announcement was made that she would be one of the recipients of the Nobel Prize.  She was still overwhelmed by the news of her selection when she entered the auditorium to a standing ovation.  As she thought about what to say about the unexpected honor she was going to receive, she just started to sing – like Mary perhaps.  She sang “This little light of mine” and many in the crowd joined in the chorus.  And then, here is some of what she said:

        “…I don’t feel like I’ve done anything extraordinary but to take my little light and shine it in darkness.  The journey has been tough…this reinforces our message that women’s roles, women’s needs, women’s priorities in peace processes throughout the world is crucial; it’s important and can never be minimized.  There is no way you can fix a community and say you are bringing solutions to a community if you use half of that community.  When men make peace, it’s not total peace.  When women and men make peace, that’s what we call a holistic peace because we’re not just talking about guns coming down.  It’s talking about children going back to school.  It’s talking about the broken women becoming whole again…”

        I think that the experience of Mary - the dramatic movement from a sense of powerlessness to one of bold empowerment when she heard and then responded to God’s call – I think that experience can happen to people in our time, and to small groups and to congregations too.

        Several of us met with the pastor of Our Redeemer Lutheran Church in Ballard on Monday, and heard about a new project that their church is undertaking after the first of the year to serve homeless families living in their cars.  They’re calling it a “Safe Parking” program, and it will allow four or five families at a time to use the church’s parking lot, with access to facilities inside, while they work with a social worker to find some more permanent place to live.  In this case, the City came to the church and asked them to consider doing this as a pilot project that might expand to churches in other neighborhoods.  The congregation has accepted the challenge, but they are going to go into it with the intention of using the program to empower their members and their neighbors to learn how to speak out with power and credibility regarding the need to expand housing opportunities and to address poverty and economic disparity that causes homelessness in the first place.  That is, they are not just going to provide a safe place for a family to camp in their cars for a few days.  They are going to take that experience and what they learn from offering that service and take it to the next level, to demand justice. 

        So what about you and me?  Does the angel of God only approach little twelve year-old girls and ask them to be Mary?  Or is that word from God something that we too can hear?  When a good friend or a neighbor unexpectedly becomes very ill and needs daily help.  When a life partner slips into dementia and needs constant care.  When you learn that your child or your grandchild has a severe learning disability or a mental illness, and is going to need special care.  Are we able to hear in those situations the call of God? 

        And if we do hear the angel telling us that we have been chosen to play a very critical role, are we able to respond like Mary?  – “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”  It’s a real question, isn’t it?  Is God just foolish to choose human beings to work to establish God’s reign?  We are so easily distracted and so unfaithful.  In the noise of our busy lives, we give God a deaf ear.  Kathleen Norris points out that while it is true that it’s the innocent Marys and Lehmahs who hear and believe, nevertheless God has put us together with them on the road to Bethlehem.  It is never the right time, and we are never ready.  We have other, more important things to do and places to be.  But once we say, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord”, the angel will depart, and the path will open before us.  And we can trust that even in this violent, unjust world, God’s word of hope is true, and we can sing with Mary, from generation to generation.  

Dr. Thomas R. McCormick

November 27, 2011—University Christian Church

Have you heard the news? 

US economy takes a hit with the news of the debt panel’s failure.

Legislators appear to be deadlocked along partisan lines, preventing progress toward reasonable solutions.

The occupy Seattle movement continues, with demonstrations against the inequalities of wealth in this country.

400 families in America possess as much wealth as 50% of our population

Over 1,700 homeless in Seattle, about one-third are living in autos.

US stock market drops on word of a debt crisis in Euro-zone countries.

Rise in murders in Northern Mexico attributed to drug cartels—fueled by a seeming insatiable demand for drugs coming from the US.

Economic sanctions have not halted Iran’s nuclear program.

> > > > >

        So, much of the news hitting our newspapers and television screens can clearly be classified as “bad news.”  The world picture looks pretty bleak and the future doesn’t appear to offer many viable solutions to the problems confronting us as individuals, states, or nations. Ordinary Americans face a winter of discontent.  Workers who desperately want to work cannot find a job.  Many university students graduate in debt from student loans and are unable to find a job.  Many laid-off workers remain unemployed.  Many older citizens have seen their retirement funds dwindle and face the threat that Social Security and Medicare benefits they have counted on may be significantly reduced in the future by a national economy hobbled by recession and debt..  Our world picture looks bad---editorials claim that our good days are behind us.  How do Christian people make sense out of this world picture and where is God in all of this?

        Can anyone find a parallel, bad-news situation, in our Old Testament Scripture this morning, from the 64^th chapter of Isaiah?

        Around  740 BC, Isaiah began his work as a prophet and continued for about forty four years, he outlived Hezekiah, the king. His foray into prophesy coincided with the time when the Assyrian empire was beginning its westward expansion. A threat to Israel, the expansion was proclaimed by Isaiah as a warning from God to his people to forsake their sinful ways and to return to the Lord.  “Behold, you were angry and we sinned; In our sins we have been a long time, and shall we be saved?”

        Although a member of the aristocracy, with access to the royal family and the ruling class, Isaiah often spoke against their corruption and the oppression of the common people.  He also warned the rulers of Judah to trust in God and not to form alliances with other countries.  Some in Israel favored an alliance with Egypt, others favored an alliance with the Assyrians---in hopes of finding security under the protection of a more powerful military force.  Under their alliance with Assyria, the people chafed under the imposition of Assyrian bondage.

        Then, Hezekiah, contrary to the wishes of Isaiah, formed an alliance with the Egyptians. Isaiah had advised the king to turn only to Yaweh for assistance, calling upon the people for repentance and a return to God. Hezekiah, along with Egyptians, planned a revolt against the oppressors, only to face disastrous consequences. As a result, the Kingdom of Judah was almost destroyed. Finally, the people turned to God, begging Him for help.  Isaiah said that they could find a respite only by mending their evil ways.

        Beginning in verse 3, the prophet recalls times when God had shown up in the past in a game-changing way. However, the prophet also acknowledges that the reason that the people of God find themselves in their current situation is their own sin and God's consequent abandonment of them into exile. He confesses this openly in verses 5b-7. It is on the basis of this confession of sin that the prophet makes a second appeal for God to act. Yes, the people are surely sinful, but they also are God's handiwork. Remember us, he cries, and come to us if only because you made us and we are yours. Isaiah invokes God’s Covenant with Israel—“I will be your God and you will be my people. . .”  A covenant often broken---but never forgotten by the prophets, who see their work as calling God’s people back into relationship.

 Here are the words of Isaiah:

Yet, O Lord, thou art our Father; we are the clay, and thou art our potter; we are all the work of thy hand.  Be not exceedingly angry, O Lord, and remember not our iniquity for ever.  Behold, consider, we are all thy people.”

        Is this not a powerful metaphor---God is the potter---we are the clay?  Similar ideas are scattered throughout scripture, particularly in the poetry of the Psalmists.  Consider, for example, Psalms 8:3----“When I look at thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast established;  what is man that thou art mindful of him, and the son of man that thou doest care for him?”  The Psalmist pondered how a God who created the far flung universe had time or interest in the particular problems of humans, yet he was convinced of such care.

        Or, consider Genesis 2:7---“And the Lord God made man from the dust of the earth, breathing into him the breath of life: and man became a living soul.”  Again, notice the beauty and the poetry of scripture;  Science speaks in a different language, claiming that after the Big Bang, about 14 billion years ago, and after the first million years, the temperature dropped enough that atoms could begin to form.  Our sun, a second or third generation star, was formed about 5 billlion years ago and the earth and planets were formed from materials not swept up into the coalescence of the sun.  Our earth gradually cooled and became potentially hospitable to living things by about 4 billion years ago.  About 150 million years after that, the earth became teeming with life. About 100,000 years ago, our human ancestors walked upon the earth. (Collins, Francis S., The Language of God. 2006, Free Press)

Psalms 139:13---“For thou didst form my inward parts, thou didst knit me together in my mother’s womb”

        In is book, The Language of God, Dr. Francis Collins describes how he went from being an atheist to becoming a Christian.  He recounts an incident when he was a 3^rd year medical student, caring for a woman in North Carolina, suffering daily pain from untreatable angina.  Yet, she had a serenity and peacefulness about her that she attributed to her faith in God.  One day, she asked Collins, “do you believe?”  Collins recalls stammering: “I’m not sure. . .”  From this encounter, one of the foremost scientists of our time began a journey that led him to become a Christian, with a world view that allowed a synthesis of his understanding of science and his belief about God. 

        Dr. Francis Collins and Craig Venter stood in the East Room of the White House on June 26, 2000 to announce to then president Clinton, and to the world---that a first draft of the human instruction book had been determined.  President Clinton claimed: “Today we are learning the language in which God created life.”  The Human Genome project was completed and all of that information entered into the computer shortly afterward, in April, 2003---50 years after Watson and Crick had first described the double helix of DNA.  Francis Collins describes his sense of awe claiming, “This book was written in the DNA language by which God spoke life into being. 

        It also turns out, that when there is (could we call it a typo—a spelling error), a “G” instead of a “C” in a specific position—the error causes an inborn genetic illness. (fetal hemoglobin) or, (cystic fibrosis from a faulty gene sequence on the 7^th chromosome) or an extra chromosome in the 21^st pair  resulting in (Down Syndrome.) Genetic illnesses are indeed a source of suffering in our world and medical scientists are working to determine if we can use our new found information to prevent, or to remove genetic illnesses.

        Over the years, the ever questioning methods of science have helped provide a clearer picture of the origins of the earth and its people.  What we have learned does not refute the existence of God and in fact may offer us a deeper sense of awe and wonderment about the creative processes of God.  It helps us see something of the patience of God if God waited a billion years for the earth to cool, another 150 million for life forms to evolve, and finally the emergence of human kind.  

        If God is the Potter---and we are the clay---then that potter gave an amazing gift to human kind, the gift of free will.  It means we may choose God and choose to follow in his paths---or we may reject God and go our own way. In the words of the hymn, “Have Thine Own Way Lord” the author writes, “mold me and make me, after thy will, while I am waiting, yielded and still.” I think that is far too docile a picture.  In granting human beings a free will, it is up to each individual to shape his or her will in harmony with God’s will—and it turns out that this is a mighty struggle.  Who among us is without sin?  We have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.  Yet, it seems to be within our nature to seek God; it seems to be in our nature to seek to follow the moral law; it appears to be in our nature to be able to perform acts of altruism. 

  The stories of the prophets—like this account from Isaiah in this morning’s scriptures---shows a history of the people of Israel where rebellious disobedience occurred over and over.  The prophets called their people back to the covenant, to repent and to choose God’s way.

        Most of the suffering we observe in the world today is a result of human beings choosing to use their freedom of choice to pursue their own narrow goals—resulting in the suffering of others.  For example, the fact that people are starving in our world is not because we can’t raise enough food---it is the mal-distribution of food or the resources to buy food.  It isn’t because we don’t understand medicine that leads to the deaths of so many---but the lack of access to medical care.  Today in Africa, one million children could be protected from malaria by a treated mosquito net, that costs $10.00 each.

        It is in this context that we observe the season of Advent, the in-breaking of God into the powers of this world, bringing light in the midst of darkness and hope in the midst of despair.  We read again, this Advent: “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.  God’s incarnation in Jesus is a radical step in God’s effort to bridge the gap between God and his human creation.  In Jesus, we not only have an example of one who chose to live a life of obedience to God, but the conviction that “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself.”  We see the power of God’s presence when Schindler risked his own life to save over 1,000 Jews during the holocaust; when Dietrich Bonhoeffer returned to German to confront the Nazi regime, leading to his own imprisonment and hanging just 3 weeks before the war ended; or Mother Teresa, devoting her life to the care of the poorest poor.  Startling examples of agape---of God with us---of God becoming flesh, reconciling the world to himself.

 Hubert G. Locke

Joshua 4: 1-7

 I like to preach from the lectionary – that semi-sacred rotation of readings from the Good Book that cover the entire Christian year. Preaching from the lectionary forces one to wrestle with texts one might not ordinarily choose; it’s one way of forcing the preacher to remember that s/he is obliged to try and bring forth God’s word - not his or her own - to God’s people. And so I found myself fairly well along in thinking about what today’s message ought to be when I discovered that I had been wrestling with the wrong lectionary reading! I thought about blaming the Holy Spirit for my error but I suspect as I’m most certain you do that either dyslexia or an early onslaught of what my dad used to call the “old-timer’s disease” is more likely to blame– whatever the reason, for those of you who do follow the lectionary, the Scriptures read this morning are not those that are assigned for this Sunday and for that you have my apologies. Let me quickly add, to compound my error, that today’s sermon also comes in two parts – you get half today and the remainder next Sunday.

 The mistaken reading from Joshua tells of one of those dramatic moments in the saga of the children of Israel’s escape from Egypt when they were crossing the Jordan river, and God once again performed a hydrodynamic miracle and cut off the waters of the Jordon so the Israelites could cross over on dry ground – just as God had done earlier we are told at the Red Sea. And Joshua is told to select twelve chaps, one from each tribe, who then are told to each carry a stone across the river which they pile up on the other side of the river as a kind of memorial so, Joshua says, “in the future, when your children ask what do these stones mean” you can tell them of the miracle God did in bringing us to this place on our journey.

 What do these stones mean? Do you think, at some distant moment in the future, our children’s children –five, six, ten generations hence – will ever ask that question about these stones that our spiritual forbearers erected as a memorial to God?  Might there come the day, when all of us are long gone that people will ask, I wonder what or  who that old place represented and what stories it might tell if its walls could speak?

We come here Sunday after Sunday, month upon month, year in and year out and today I ask us to stop for a moment and ask ourselves: what does it all mean? Why do we do it –gather for an hour to sing a few hymns, hear several passages read from the Bible, listen to the choir and the sermon, partake of an ancient ritual called the Lord’s Supper and leave a contribution – but what’s it all really mean? Do we do it out of sheer habit – something our parents taught us to do so we do it almost on automatic pilot? Is there some need- either mildly or deeply felt – that brings us here? Are we running from something that haunts our every waking moment and this is the one time in the week when we manage to center our thoughts on something else – something other than our worries and anxieties?

 I suspect these stones – this old house of worship, this sacred space in the midst of this bustling city and this throbbing neighborhood – these old stones have as many different meanings as the number of people who come here to worship. But there is one thing they ought to mean to all of us, for as long as we gather here. They ought to be a constant and continual reminder of who we really are and what we are meant to be and do. It is here, you see, that we come face to face with the fact and the reality of our humanness – that our time on this earth is really quite brief, that we sometimes have to face problems of poor health and fractured relationships with others, and that we often find it just plain difficult to cope with it all. And yet we try to do the best we can, with all our manifold limitations. We sing the hymns because they carry messages of hope and strength and we listen to the Scriptures because they talk about the lives of people just like ourselves – striving, hoping, struggling, occasionally happy, now-and-then disappointed, sometimes dispirited, often uncertain of what comes next …

 These old stones form a peculiar kind of place for those who come here. If we go up the street we may be praised and prized for our intellectual brilliance or our skillfulness in mastering the various human professions; a few blocks away on automobile row or down in University Village we are eagerly welcomed in the hope that we have lots of bucks to spend; here we are asked: how goes the struggle of your life? What are you doing with it and is what you are doing with it really worthwhile?

 Ah, we say, I’m trying my best to be a good spouse or parent or grandparent or in-law or co-worker or business person - and all that is fine and commendable but that’s being commendable toward those who are close to me, with whom I enjoy special bonds or relationships. What about the stranger, what about that ill-clothed, peculiar-acting person I pass on the street downtown or with the cardboard sign at the traffic light? What about the idea that somehow, as we go about our daily rounds, we ought to reflect in our lives what life in the kingdom of God is really like?

 Sunday after Sunday, every time we enter these sacred precincts and fall under its spell, these stones force us, to ask ourselves – again and again – who we really are and whether we engaged in the things of true importance in this world and what the church should really mean and be in the midst of what Paul called “a crooked and perverse generation.” And that brings us to the heart of the matter. 

 This place is a memorial – a monument to a glorious past when its pews were filled every Sunday and some of our denomination’s most renowned preachers filled its pulpit. The question we face as a congregation is whether that’s all it will be – a grand old pile of stones, a monument and a memorial of a glorious past or whether we will get with it and search earnestly for whatever the future holds.

 I submit to you, dear friends and dear congregants, that in one respect, at least, the answer to that question is already before us. Whatever we do in the future, the present stares us boldly in the face. Just look around us! Our Disciples tradition is one of unerring commitment to ecumenism – to the idea that the church of Jesus Christ – in all of its manifold variations – is essentially and substantially one body of believers. We have been wrestling with that ecumenical challenge now for several years, in concert and in conversation with other churches in this university community. But look at what has happened here in this old pile of stones over the course of the past year! Over in the chapel, the Baptist tradition is faithfully followed each Sunday. Upstairs a small space has been transformed into a chapel for one of the oldest of the Christian traditions –followers of that tradition meet for worship as members of the Church of the Holy Wisdom while in the old church parlor – in what was the original worship space for our congregation eight decades or so ago, a congregation of the Jacobite Syrian Orthodox Church meets to celebrate its divine liturgy.

 And scattered through the old north building, what we term the Peace and Justice Center houses all sorts of groups and causes devoted to trying to make this society just a bit more decent and compassionate than it is – a group collecting and distributing books for prisoners, another trying to abolish the barbaric practice of the death penalty in this state, a neighborhood food bank, a group working on the challenge to create an equitable health care system….

 My friends, God has already made us into an ecumenical community– not as a future dream but as a present reality! Whatever our future is here, it ought to begin with this wonderful, glorious fact: all sorts of people of God, united only by their faith in Jesus Christ, speaking different languages and expressing that faith in all sorts of different liturgical forms are gathering in this grand old space to praise the Creator of us all and to do his work in the world. Thanks be to God for this unspeakable gift!

 And so the only question before us is: what’s God going to do with us next? This has been the story of God’s people in every age, ever since the church of the first days. Paul was so sure he was doing what God wanted him to do as a righteous Pharisee, persecuting the little sect of Jews who called themselves Christians till God grabbed him in the middle of a Damascus street and pointedly made clear that he had a better way for Paul to follow. Peter had an eye-opening experience at the home of Cornelius and was reminded that God had a larger and different idea for the kingdom of God than Peter thought was proper.

 We each have our ideas of where we ought to go and what we ought to be and what we ought to do as a congregation. But the real question is whether we’ll hear the voice of God in our midst – whether we will both listen with love and discernment to one another and be awake and alive and alert to the movement of God’s Spirit among us. More of that next week.

If I am ever fortunate enough to create a class on discipleship for a church I serve, it would be based on the Beatitudes – the word Beatitudes meaning “blessed,” or in a “privileged position.” These 9 steps have been called the 12 steps of Christian living. Practiced together, they form a person, orient them to the ways of God. Blessed are the poor is not unlike the 1^st step of AA – in which a person acknowledges their powerlessness in their situation and their dependence on God. The poor have been a characterization of the true people of God, those people who understand that their lives are not in their own control and that they are dependent on God.]]>http://www.uchristian.org/sermons/rss-comments-entry-13615546.xmlJanetta Cravens BoydJanettaSun, 30 Oct 2011 18:19:00 +0000http://www.uchristian.org/sermons/2011/10/30/aiming-for-the-kingdom.html387173:4287190:13524571

A 3 hour meeting. 

Not about, he said, 

the state of the church, 

or the details around the job description for the new associate pastor, 

or about the planning for the Fall Festival they would be doing for the neighborhood.

A 3 hour meeting

about dirty bathrooms.]]>http://www.uchristian.org/sermons/rss-comments-entry-13524571.xmlJanetta Cravens BoydJanettaSun, 23 Oct 2011 18:00:00 +0000http://www.uchristian.org/sermons/2011/10/23/your-lifes-story.html387173:4287190:13430971

Moses dies.

I’ve been preaching on the Old Testament, tracking the progress of the Israelite people from their origins in the book of Genesis, through their enslavement in Egypt, and finally their trek across the wilderness,

and they have arrived.

Finally.

We’re at the end of the story.

And this is my last sermon in the sermon series on the Israelite people.

Their story isn’t done of course, but this part of the chapter in their life is coming to a close.

I thought about Moses, hiking to the top of the mountain, after having led his people through the wilderness for 40 years and able to see the promised land

but not able to go there himself

he had brought the people this far

to the point of being able to view the land that God had promised them

he had led them to the point of introducing them to the next chapter of their life together as a community

but he wasn’t able to go there himself.

and I thought,

it’s too bad this isn’t the text for my last Sunday.

I could preach that sermon.

This could be a sermon about our journey together as pastor and congregation. How we have journeyed together for a little over 3 years, trying to find the destination promised for this congregation, searching for this church’s purpose and mission. I journeyed with you as far as I could take you, but the future, which is yet to be determined, isn’t something I will be able to walk with you into. With only 2 more Sundays together, I couldn’t help but]]>http://www.uchristian.org/sermons/rss-comments-entry-13430971.xml