Sermon: Advent 2b, Dec. 7, 2014

Advent 2B, Dec. 7, 2014

Prepare the Way of the Lord

Like may of you, my Facebook feed these days is full,  with NOT a lot of “Good News”, not of celebrations and Christmas trees strung with lights and glittery ornaments which is typical for the season, but rather with stories one after the other of brokenness, of hatred, of death, of brutality, angst, fear, and more death. 

On Friday morning I was flipping through my feed on my phone and came across the post of one of my friends… he is a graduate of Duke Divinity School, a younger white male, a new father to two twin baby boys, a husband and a non-profit employee who lives in New York City.  He wrote the following, 

“Last night I marched in Chicago.  After an hour of marching, we became boxed in by the police at an intersection.  At this point, the police force threatened to arrest us.  “I have to go to work tomorrow, i’m not from Chicago,” and other excuses entered my head about why I should take that as my cue to head out.  But then a voice from the crowd shouted, “They (the police) think we care if we get arrested?  They are killing us.”  And so I stayed.  We did not get arrested.  We continued to march.  In that moment of that voice crying out, I realized that the discomfort I felt at the prospect of getting arrested was my own admission of my white privilege.  My discomfort was caused by my own choice to enter the march and disrupt the status quo, one which benefits me greatly.  Why wouldn’t I feel discomfort about trying to help usher in a reality that is different than the one that benefits me?  But the reality for those without privilege is that they do not have the choice to exit the oppression they experience for the sake of the status quo.  There is no discomfort at the prospect of getting arrested for those oppressed, because that is their daily reality.  And so I marched.”  

I know this is not the exact narrative running through each of our heads, that there is a different version that plays from beginning to end in each of our minds as we read the headlines, as we think about entering the march ourselves (whether literally, or in some other version of ourselves), as we hear and watch and listen and read and sit quietly, or scream and yell, or cry or find ourselves bewildered and paralyzed by what we do not yet fully understand- or know what to do with.  I know that the word “privilege” for many of us means something much too similar and for others of us it means quite the opposite.  I also know that what divides cannot unite and that what unites most surely cannot divide.  

I can’t imagine a more timely pair of scripture passages to encounter this season of Advent, more prophetic voices to hear than these two dessert prophets who cried out in the streets, who have been crying out and cry out even still…  I hope we can truly hear and feel and experience the words/emotions/power and righteous anger - from this famous prophet, Isaiah.  As you listen allow a word or a phrase or an image to really penetrate your thoughts, open your minds to what this ancient message has to say to those of us here - still trying to prepare the way.

As we read, I will include various commentary from Kristin Wendland of Princeton Theoligical for greater understanding into this this pre and post exilic community:

  “Prior to Isaiah chapter 40 the “good” news spoken in God’s name is a difficult word of judgment. The people have rebelled against God. The people have lived at the expense of their neighbors, putting their own desires above the needs of others, and In 587 BCE Jerusalem fell to Babylon, and a portion of Jerusalem’s population went into exile.”

From chapter 40 of Isaiah and moving forward, this word of judgment is in the past. Now, circa 540 BCE, on the other side of this experience, a new word comes to the people of Judah -- a word of comfort and hope for a new future.  Hear now these words of holy scripture:

Isaiah 40:1-11 Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. ²Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.

³A voice cries out: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. ⁴Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. ⁵Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.” 

     While not everyone living in Jerusalem went into exile, a good number of people did. This passage heralds their return. The most direct route between Babylon and Judea, through the Syrian Desert, is poetically described in verse 3 as a way in the wilderness and a highway in the desert. It is unlikely, however, that any exiles returning from Babylon would have actually made the dangerous trek through the waterless wilderness. 

Rather, the poetic description functions to recall another journey through an inhospitable wilderness. This news of a metaphoric highway in the desert heralds a second Exodus, 

⁶A voice says, “Cry out!” And I said, “What shall I cry?” All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. ⁷The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass. ⁸The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.

The punctuation here suggests a conversation between a Holy messenger of sorts, and “I”.  This divine messenger issues a command to Cry Out, but “I” is uncertain of what she should be crying aloud?!  She is exasperated at the notion that she might call anything to these people who are like flowers that fade and grass that withers… but this divine attendant, makes the claim that God is wholly other, and that the constancy of the people whether like grass or not is less important than that of God.  

⁹Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tidings; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings, lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Judah, “Here is your God!” ¹⁰See, the Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him, and his recompense before him. ¹¹He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.

The place in the Old Testament in which Zion is personified most consistently is in the first two chapters of the book of Lamentations. In Lamentations 1-2 Daughter Zion cries out against the destruction wrought her. She speaks words of accusation against her human enemies and even God. The refrain that comes again and again is, “There is no one to comfort her” (Lamentations 1:2, 9, 16, 17, 21). At the end of her speeches -- and even the end of the book of Lamentations -- Daughter Zion receives no response to her cry.

The response to Zion’s laments comes, rather, in other biblical books. The response comes in verses such as Isaiah 40:1 “Comfort, O comfort my people.” The response comes in verses such as Isaiah 40:9 in which the words for Jerusalem to speak are not those of lament but of good news. She is no longer told to wail but to raise her voice without fear. The message given is confident and hopeful, “Here is your God!” Here is a God who comes to feed the flock, to gather the lambs, to lead the mother sheep -- to bring comfort. Here is God in whom one may have hope.

I know I sometimes feel overwhelmed by the lack of response to what seems like a vicious and endless cycle of hatred, of oppression of racism, and I like many of you am angry.  I, like the daughter Zion have spoken many a word of accusation against the human enemies that line our streets with guns, that bullet the bodies of our babies and fathers that fall too easily to the ground, that turn a deaf ear to the injustices towards the less than privileged faces of beloved people, people whom God called “hers”, not “ours” to do with what we may, but her children, God said, Comfort, O Comfort My People… it has been too long, too much life has been lost, too many bullets have passed this way, too much judgement, too much hatred and too much ignorance, pride and self righteousness.  Oh, that our privilege might fall to the ground, that captivity might encroach upon the unfettered territories of complacent hearts, unexamined egos and ill-defined self worth… that this highway be lifted up not only in the dessert, not only in lieu of the waterless dry land that does not nourish, but where life comes to wither and fade, but that justice comes to the places most beautiful, where the illusion of abundance is rich and where growth is steady and the patriarchy lush and where fields of fortune are ripe for the taking… that a highway might violate all that grows here in vain, that justice might trample upon privilege and crush those who perpetuate this god forsaken system we call “white, policy, law…privilege”.  

I know when we hear these words, sit uncomfortably with these metaphors of hope for justice for all, read these words from the author of Mark’s gospel, “The Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of Man,” and hear the prophet crying out in the dessert “prepare the way of the Lord”, and find a connection much to easily to this metaphorical dessert highway that we can only scarcely imagine as much in our reality that has become a desolate wasteland, a broken order with discriminate value placed upon lives as in a board game with pawns and players that move at our disposal… we find ourselves wanting to just start over, I know I do, to turn the page and see a new beginning or better yet an alternate ending to what has unfolded in these last days.  

But I tell you, If anyone was tired of being the messenger, if anyone was ready to give up and let the people be- who they were going to be… it was this prophet called Isaiah whom God called to basically preach to a wall, to a people committed to killing each other, burning and slaying, lying and beating, eating and devouring everything in sight.  

Sometimes I think the only thing we know is “war”… our history tells us that in order for big changes to occur, for there to be a real “new beginning” people have to die, and lots of people… new leadership has to take over, new faces and voices have to lead… blood has to be shed.  And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but how long O Lord, will this war continue?  I hope and pray we’re not waiting until we finally see that the missiles of racism and the guns of hypocrisy are merely stones lining the battle field…and that what we are really saying is that Selma, and Birmingham, Atlanta, Ferguson, Orlando, New York, Chicago, Durham… are just part of history, and we are going to just sit by and let things unfold as they are meant to?  

God said, “cry out!”  Do you have the courage to march, to prepare the way, my friends?  Or are you still stuck in the conversation, asking “of what shall I cry?”  Are you busy making excuses about why you cannot and will not raise your voice that others might hear, that justice might roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream?  Those people- they’re grass, you say… they won’t listen…I can’t make them change…so why bother?    

Well, you’re right, you can’t… but thank God we serve a Holy incarnate God, a baby soon to be born in a manger… who is ready to be the Good News, again, and again…in and through us.

But God said, the grass withers and the flowers fade, but the word of the Lord stands forever.  Thanks be to God.  Amen and Amen. 

Sermon: Advent 1B "Gate A-4"

Dr. Gail O’Day, writes that “[Advent is a season in which time is measured not linearly as in the rest of the world, but cyclically as the church both re-imagines] God’s already accomplished in-breaking into the world in the incarnation (Jesus), and the not yet complete triumph of God’s eschatalogical age (return of Christ).  From the beginning of its practice in 5th century Europe, Advent had a dual focus and purpose - to prepare joyfully for the first coming of the incarnate Lord and to prepare penitently for the second coming and God’s impending judgement.  To “prepare the way of the Lord” simultaneously, then, attends to these two dimensions of God’s entry into the world.”  

“The connection between time and story”, writes O’Day, “is definitional for the liturgical year.  The movement of time enacts the story of salvation history.  Liturgical time and story move cyclically, rather than linearly allowing the church to annually reimagine its life in relationship to the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.  The church does not calculate its liturgical life in terms of the accumulated passing of days, nor as a series of anniversaries of key events in our past…”

but with the anticipated birth, God incarnate in the baby Jesus, the life and work of Christ, the prophetic witness to the anticipated death of Christ, and the promise of the age to come in the return & eternal reign of Christ… each year, the narrative is re-introduced, and we are invited to live into both the present power of each season’s testimony, as well as the reality of the future outcomes that the present is leading us towards, the ultimate reign of Christ, the eschatalogical vision of Advent.  

Scottish Theologian William Barclay once said that “There are two great days in a person's life - the day we are born and the day we discover why.”  

This Advent Season we are invited to “discover” or “re-discover” why!  The Mark 24 text has traditionally been interpreted as a “preparation” text, getting ready for Jesus, anticipating what’s next, preparing the house, the meal, the tree, the yard, the lights, the presents, even the Advent Calendar encourages us to move from one day to the next…looking to the future as an ultimate reality for redemption and salvation.  

I think, however, rather than being fixated on the anticipation of what is to come, on time’s passing we are invited to discover a new way of orienting time, and ourselves to the passing of such time. Perhaps preparing joyfully for the first coming of the incarnate Lord and penitently for the second coming  means taking a step outside of our linear, finite experiences and finding the places in our lives where time stands still: when laughter and play, and the joyous making of moments are as palpable as our hearts beating, one beat after the other… tic toc, tic toc… O’Day says, “Advent resets the church’s clock, and invites us to participate in this understanding of time which is completely contrary to the contemporary notion that measures time and achievement by what is accomplished and completed” rathern than by what simply unfolds.  

BBC News did a story on Caesium back in October that was all about the passage of time, and the evolution of timekeeping in civilized society and the progressive moves towards the need to synchronize and measure time.  The findings indicate that In 1967, the measurement of “time” as we know it dramatically shifted.  In that year, the official international standard second was redefined based on replacing the element used in the measurement of time- or atomic clocks, from quartz to caesium. Thus, caesium is the chemical element that has redefined time itself...in the modern world… “The truth is that, until about 175 years ago, it was the sun that defined time. Wherever you were, high noon was high noon, and on a clear day a quick glance up into the sky or down at a sundial told you everything you needed to know.”  Time was measured cyclically as in the natural progression from darkness to light, to darkness again.  

But, as the railway was becoming a regular part of an advancing society, keeping railway and international time, was becoming more and more a necessity- to keeping trains on schedule and literally avoiding train wrecks… so as is the case with most technological advancements we took “time” into our own hands , and re-oriented ourselves to time that could be measured, all the way down to a millionth of a second.  

Before the use of Caesium in clocks satellite navigation was impossible. GPS satellites carry synchronised caesium clocks that enable them collectively to triangulate your position and work out where on earth you are at any given time. What would we do without GPS satellite?  Hmmm, perhaps be anonymous for 30 minutes out of our days?  Take a walk without google, twitter, your mother knowing where you are at all times?  Find that our moments are oriented by experiences rather than the minute hand on a clock?  

Palestinian American poet, Naomi Shihab Nye shares a poem she calls Gate A-4 which beautifully illustrates this kind of time re-orientation that I hope we will each consider.    

“Gate A-4 By Naomi Shihab Nye:

Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement: “If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately.” Well— one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.

An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. “Help,” said the flight agent. “Talk to her . What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be late and she did this.”

I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly. “Shu-dow-a, shu-bid-uck, habibti? Stani schway, min fadlick, shu-bit-se-wee?” The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the next day. I said, “No, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late, who is picking you up? Let’s call him.”

We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life, patting my knee, answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies— little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts— from her bag and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single traveler declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the lovely woman from Laredo— we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.

Then the airline broke out free apple juice and two little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they were covered with powdered sugar too. And I noticed my new best friend— by now we were holding hands— had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that gate— once the crying of confusion stopped— seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.

This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

Friends, we are all too ready to take time into our own hands, to look through the people around us, over and under the opportunities before us to be still, to sit beside someone, to buy someone’s lunch- someone who wouldn’t eat otherwise, to put our phones and ipads down, to share a cookie, to simply chat or pass the time with a friend, instead we work incessantly towards perfection and precision, towards limitless discoveries and solutions that always lead to finite results.  Even with our most advanced scientists working in the field of time measurement, we find that caesium too, is finite, and unable to fully capture the passage of time without error.  Maybe the Advent message is not about counting down the days to Christmas or Epiphany, or even managing to come to church every Sunday this season?  Perhaps the heart of what we need to hear is exactly what is written on the page:  

But the exact day and hour?  No one knows that, writes Mark, not even heaven’s angels, not even the son.  Only God knows.

This Advent season we are invited to re-imagine ourselves as part of this  life-giving narrative, to see our stories within the broader story of HOPE and lift it up for others to see… to look up at the sun and remember who we are and upon whose ground we stand…

Understanding that this story is, in fact, laden with labor pangs, and unexpected interruptions, with well charted plans gone ary, with showing up late, and staying too long, with missed opportunities and squabbled moments, and yes with train wrecks here and there, with hurry and haste, with luls and isolation, with joys too many to count and sorrows that are immeasurable.  But This story is our story, the story our God is not afraid to enter into- time and time again, to make a home within, to create room for love to grow and forgiveness to be born anew.  This story is never complete, but always beginning again, never finite, yet fully imagined for us.  This story is the most mysterious and yet familiar to those of us who have journeyed this path together, to those of us whom have taken different routes, but time and time again find ourselves coming back together, for those of us who have fallen down along the way, and for those of us who have dared to stand up again.  Today, I urge you to claim your place in the story, to walk with sun in your periphery, to gaze up at the moon, to take notice of the stars falling from the sky, to see your own existence in each new leaf that is birthed upon the fig tree.  

When “‘the sun will be darkened,

   and the moon will not give its light;

25 the stars will fall from the sky,

   and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.’[a

“At that time people will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory.”   May it be so, this day and every day! Amen.  

Youth Vespers Sermon: Proper 26A, Ordinary 31A 2014

Proper 26A, Ordinary 31A Micah 3: 5-12           

Nov. 2, 2014                        Psalm 107:1-7

United Church of Chapel Hill                     1 Thessalonians 2: 9-13

Jenny Shultz, Vespers                                     Matthew 23: 1-12

                              

“Do As I Say, Not as I Do”

Do as I Say, Not as I Do.

If you you are familiar with farming communities you know that farming cultures tend to live by their own rules.  I have many examples to support this notion, and will share two with you this morning.  When I was maybe 10 or 11 years old and visiting my grandparents farm; I was on one of my Saturday morning “yard sale”-a-thons with my grandmother, what a thrill, we had stopped at the gas station to fill the car with gas. I noticed that when my grandmother got out of the car to pump the gas the car was still running, so I gracefully knocked on the glass to let her know about it and she just stuck sweet little granny smith head back into the car, smiled at me, winked and said “do as I say, not as I do”...and then proceeded to the pump the gas- all the while I sat frozen in the car thinking that we would all likely explode within seconds… Another story is about my grandfather, a 6’3” gentle giant with hands bigger than your head… he was out on his combine one day harvesting corn when some corn husks were caught in the grill… he decided he could show that 2 ton machine a thing or two and tried kicking the husks from the 2 foot metal spikes...and well, he was a toe and a half less happy afterwards…. His famous last words were, you guessed it, “Do as I say, not as I Do.”

We all have similar stories, don’t we? of our parents, teachers, other role models who say one thing and do another, as if they don’t fully believe the words coming out of their own mouths?

Though far from the innocent instruction from my grandparents we find Jesus instructing his disciples in the same manner…. “Do as the Pharisees say, he said, “not as they do”.  

In his teaching, here, Jesus is highlighting two forms of hypocrisy: First, Jesus warns of not “practicing what you preach”... or “putting your money where your mouth is”, and secondly he draws our attention to the motives of these religious leaders, saying they do all of this religious act to be “seen by others”, to gain the glory that comes with wearing the “fancy clothes” the sparkly get-up that make others ew and aw.  We have all known people like this, friends and family members, in whom we’ve observed a slow hollow conformity taking place over time, a hunger for status, money, position, fame…”the life” that greed would have us believe is ours for the taking.  They’re frauds, people who have been taken by fear...so completely consumed with self-interest that their motivations become impure, self-seeking, hollow.

Alyce M. McKenzie, Professor of Preaching and Worship at Perkins School of Theology, writes

“Jesus’ warning embodies the tension that runs all through Matthew's gospel: respect for the Pharisees' making a priority of the law and criticism of their way of living out that priority.- with a focus on who is ”excluded” rather than “who is included”, but here Jesus puts his finger on the pulse, naming it, and creates a pathway for his listeners to move forward- illustrating the challenges we all face as we stare down the injustices of our time, some entrenched within the law, others part of a cultural inheritance, institutional racism, classism, sexism, ableism, heterosexism...and the rest of the isms - we could spend all night… but Jesus creating a pathway for a better future and where I think a “radicalization” for the way of being in the world was introduced, and has yet to be fully understood by humankind, said, “The greatest among you will be your servant. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”  

I wonder what it looks like to make a way forward, today, in the face of systemic judgement, hypocrisy, and hate?  For hypocritical walls, which are really fear-induced crutches, to tumble to the ground, for the chains, keeping us from living into both law and life, to be released, for the exalted to fall to their knees and those who’ve been trampled upon to be lifted up?  

In the last year several hit songs have been released dealing with what I believe is one of this most defining issue of this century… of who is “in” and who is “out”, exposing the myth of conformity, of allowing stereotypes and hollow, hypocritical authority, rather than freedom and integrity to move us forward.  Remarkably, each song climbed the charts with ease and are wildly popular today.  I’m sure you have of one or both of these songs, and if you haven’t I hope you will open your ears and your minds to these words:

In Sara Bareilles’ hit song, Brave, she writes,

“You can be amazing

You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug

You can be the outcast

Or be the backlash of somebody’s lack of love

Or you can start speaking up

Nothing’s gonna hurt you the way that words do

When they settle ‘neath your skin

Kept on the inside and no sunlight

Sometimes a shadow wins

But I wonder what would happen if you

Say what you wanna say

And let the words fall out

Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say

And let the words fall out

Honestly I wanna see you be brave”

and brave is exactly the word I would use to introduce this next song... by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis called  “Same Love”…  many of you know this song and have seen the video from the Grammy’s. Macklemore & Ryan Lewis' "Same Love" anthem became the theme song for 33 newlyweds who wed during the 56th Grammy Awards celebration.-it’s a rap that speaks of a young  male who is dealing with being gay...

Let’s listen to these lyrics together and allow Jesus words to be the backdrop of our hearing- “They tie up heavy, cumbersome loads”, said Jesus, “and put them on other people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them.”  (Watch Video)

When I was in the third grade I thought that I was gay,

'Cause I could draw, my uncle was, and I kept my room straight.

I told my mom, tears rushing down my face

She's like "Ben you've loved girls since before pre-k, trippin'."

Yeah, I guess she had a point, didn't she?

Bunch of stereotypes all in my head.

I remember doing the math like, "Yeah, I'm good at little league."

A preconceived idea of what it all meant

For those that liked the same sex

Had the characteristics

The right wing conservatives think it's a decision

And you can be cured with some treatment and religion

Man-made rewiring of a predisposition

Playing God, aw nah here we go

America the brave still fears what we don't know

And "God loves all his children" is somehow forgotten

But we paraphrase a book written thirty-five-hundred years ago

I don't know

And I can't change

Even if I tried

Even if I wanted to

If I was gay, I would think hip-hop hates me

Have you read the YouTube comments lately?

"Man, that's gay" gets dropped on the daily

We become so numb to what we're saying

A culture founded from oppression

Yet we don't have acceptance for 'em

Call each other faggots behind the keys of a message board

A word rooted in hate, yet our genre still ignores it

Gay is synonymous with the lesser

It's the same hate that's caused wars from religion

Gender to skin color, the complexion of your pigment

The same fight that led people to walk outs and sit ins

It's human rights for everybody, there is no difference!

Live on and be yourself

When I was at church they taught me something else

If you preach hate at the service those words aren't anointed

That holy water that you soak in has been poisoned

When everyone else is more comfortable remaining voiceless

Rather than fighting for humans that have had their rights stolen

I might not be the same, but that's not important

No freedom 'til we're equal, damn right I support it

(I don't know)

And I can't change

Even if I tried

Even if I wanted to

We press play, don't press pause

Progress, march on

With the veil over our eyes

We turn our back on the cause

'Til the day that my uncles can be united by law

When kids are walking 'round the hallway plagued by pain in their heart

A world so hateful some would rather die than be who they are

And a certificate on paper isn't gonna solve it all

But it's a damn good place to start

No law is gonna change us

We have to change us

Whatever God you believe in

We come from the same one

Strip away the fear

Underneath it's all the same love

About time that we raised up... sex

And I can't change

Even if I tried

Even if I wanted to

Love is patient

Love is kind

Hypocrisy.

Can you imagine, the religious or government leaders of our time having a “tendency” to focus more on who to keep out, stumbling over the dogma associated with the “religiosity”, secular and sacred, of our day, putting heavy burdens upon the shoulders of those trying to “come in”, rather than extending  God’s “extravagant welcome” to all through the love of God that is in Christ Jesus. Really?

Is this not the picture of the very debate our American society (and the Big”C” Church as well) finds herself directly in the middle of- once again? The “us” and “them” dilemma, the “What makes them one of us” card?  We preach “the first and greatest commandment, “love God and neighbor”, teach our children the golden rule, Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,…and yet we refuse to welcome the least of these into our lives...into our churches, into our public buildings, into our institutions and institutional life, into our homes, into our privilege… gays and lesbians, people of color, transgender folk, dirty and poor folk,  those seeking public assistance, those living on our tax dollars, who are we kidding folks?   

Friends, ours is not the picture of a system that generously includes, nurtures, and loves our neighbors, or speaks truth, and inclusion. As Pastor Amy Butler, Riverside Church in NYC, reminds us that “Ours is a system in which some people have power and others don’t; in which some of us have so much more than we need and some don’t even have the basics; in which some voices are heard far too often and much too loudly, while others cannot speak at all.  It’s all good and nice to say that we love God, to be good people who follow the rules, who give unto others,” but when half of the people under our care wake up from this American dream and realize they are stuck living in their worst nightmare we need to take a long look in the mirror.    

Are we practicing what we preach or living fraudulent, hollow lives ready to point fingers and keep others out?  

Do we do what we do with pure hearts, for love of God and neighbor, or are we slain by the sins of conformity, of self-interest and personal gain?  

As time will tell, the church is going through another of its identity crises and will depend upon our voices, our work, our commitment and faithfulness to help her live through the tensions of the time, to create a new way forward for being in the world….and as Jesus said, we are called to be students, and we have one teacher, one rabbi, one Messiah...who is with us on the journey.   

As Sara Bareilles said it best,

“You can be amazing

You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug

You can be the outcast

Or be the backlash of somebody’s lack of love

Or you can start speaking up

I want to hear you be brave.”

May it be so.  Amen.

It's About Time

I remember the first time someone called me a "lady".  I don't mean, young lady, or ladies and gentlemen.  I was about 25 years old, and I was coming out of a store when a young girl and her dad were entering the store through the same set of doors.  The man said to his daughter, "watch out, don't run into that lady."  Yikes!  When does a girl become a lady?  And why is it still so vivid in my mind?  The word lady, the feeling of being unknown as that lady by which the world would see me now... not a girl, not a young person, not a college kid, just a lady?  It freaked me out, But the realization, after sitting with it for some time, was a welcome one.  I was a lady, and it was time to act like one.

I think the modern day church is starting to realize that she too is a lady now.  It was all fun and games at Plymouth, the shore-lined adrenaline to turn the tides, fight the frontline battles, start schools, build bridges or let them burn without turning back, dip and dunk, preach and pray, here there and everywhere, all in the name of liberty without a simple look in the rearview mirror...sails flying, banners waving, flags held high the American protestant church was born to be radical, to set free, to cry out, to make bandage the wounds of this world.  Yet, what shadows she now finds herself a mist, what walled up rooms, what small confined spaces, what mannerless abandonment left to throw-up, her hands, her skirt, her majesty punk-rocked and chain worn childless and adorned with ash- she is a lady now...

This lady full of graceless interactions, a prideful inheritance, born of a barbaric lineage, spoiled of an unknown privilege, carries with her the indelible hope of the unborn child. The promised babe of Christmas morn unpackaged and yet pristinely wrapped, timeless and completely unexpected.  Birth itself a scar that leaves the fold in doubtless wonder.  The cry of the wind turned right, the sun in place and the moon to pull the stars to their rightly positions, the waters that creep along the earth, the spheres of ice and dry land, the forested plains and peaks where snow lies, each scream through the night as the pulsing continues, the rise of heat, the drop of water, the blood that sheds from battered days... This lady walks to and fro under the moon-lit sky, heeding the night's mystery to bring forth her babe under the stars each one promised as the watcher waits in peril.

If the Church is a lady upon the birthing stool, the world is in marvel awaiting her first born breath.

Church

I am in a small town in mid-coast Maine just outside of Bar Harbor where Acadia National Park spans the majority of the land.  It is a beautiful, slow-paced and quiet community to spend some time away.  As part of my sabbatical experience I am spending time in mediation, practicing yoga and writing.  This afternoon I attended a pure yoga class, a Hatha practice with about 8 other people.  It was such a refreshing and relaxing experience.  Before the class began a few of us were talking and introduced ourselves.  Two of the young girls in the class who spend every summer in Maine with family had just graduated from UNC this Spring and were excited to hear about my connection to Chapel Hill.  I shared with them that I was a UCC Pastor and that I was at a very progressive UCC church just a few miles down from the University.  Of course, I acknowledged the fact that most undergrads don't attend church on a regular basis and one of the girls admitted she'd only been maybe twice during her 4 years in Chapel Hill.  The third girl who was a friend visiting them from NYC said that she never went to church during college and that nobody ever goes- it's just not something we do.

church...

This past weekend I spent time in the beautiful historical town of Castine, Maine, one of the earliest settlements in this country- I don't think it's changed much since then actually.  Thankfully, I was there for a conference, a gathering of mostly Episcopalian and Presbyterians for the Downeast Sprituality Retreat with guest presenter John Phillip Newell a Presbyterian Theologian whose passions are grounded in Cletic spirituality really.  He is compassionate about two things:
Caring for the Earth, and Finding the Oneness within the various religious traditions.  Such a gentle, peace-filled person John Phillip is.

church...

On the second day, just following a 45 minute time for meditation we gathered as a group and then paired up with one another to discuss our meditative time together.  I was sitting next to a Buddhist, Hindu Professor, he'd been at Bangor Theological Seminary for 25 years, who was also a presenter during the conference.  After exchanging pleasantries we discussed our thoughts on the ideas presented by JPN and the challenges that seem to face the mainline church.  He asked me what I did as a Pastor to encourage oneness, and unification within the different religious traditions.  Again, we talked back and forth about this concept and then about opportunity, but what stuck with me was when he said that if the church had been more open during the 1960's when he left and sought spiritual truth in India he might not have left the church.

church...

Young adults these days are chomping at the bit to flee the church while some never go at all.

7: A Mutiny it WILL Be

So, i am reading the book 7: an experimental mutiny in excess by Jen Hatmaker and I can tell you already that a mutiny it will be.  I mean, don't get me wrong, I am all for purging my closet every once in a while, but when I open that door and see all my shoes in their appropriate cubbies, by style, color and season something inside me flutters and i do a little dance- every single time.  I have major OCD tendencies...don't act surprised.  Why did I pick that book up in the first place?  Moving on to food... I thought for a minute- hey, if i can't play in my closet i'll just spend my creative energy organizing my pantry, with all my glass jars and baskets, the top shelf for wine and baking, the bottom shelf lined with toddler food pouches, boxes of tea and vitamins, and the middle shelf reserved for all the cutesy gluten free items i'm trying this week.  Mutiny.  Excess.  Without excess there is nothing left to organize?  Hmm....  Maybe Jesus and I will make a pact and 7 will become 5?  Jesus, you are not allowed in my closet or my pantry.  Social media...blah, possessions...boring, waste- oh yeah, spending- nothing to spend anyways, stress- uh, ok maybe that will be tougher than i expect.  Let me know if anyone is up for this challenge.  And no, i didn't mean your own challenge with excess...I meant the challenge to "support me" in divesting my life of all things 'leftover, aborted, abandoned, kept but not 'kept', in, but not of the closet, forgotten, misused, abused, and for better or for worse - enmeshed with my life!  Ok, on to other things............

Sermon: Proper 16 Year A- Escaping the Dissonance

August 24, 2014

“Escaping the Dissonance”

It is great to be back within this community following a summer sabbatical.  These last 90 days I focussed on rediscovering harmony…spent time resting, reading and studying, reflecting, writing, practicing yoga and most importantly, of course,  enjoyed wonderful quality with my family. Thank you, United Church, for the gift of sabbatical. My prayer is that this time away will serve not only as a gift for my family, but will be a gift that keeps on giving.  Let us pray…

Holy God, Rock beneath our feet, Messiah, we know that we are limited in our understanding of truth and light, that flesh and bone alone cannot reveal to us the depths of your truth, the magnitude of your love for us, so speak through me, above and below me this day, that we might each know your voice and the harmony that exists within your stead.  May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be pleasing in your sight.  Amen.

While dabbling in home-brewed harmony this summer with a newly walking talking delightful toddler by my side, no matter how hard I tried to create distance between our lives and the obsession with the information infestation that is our society these days I could not escape the fact that in every tabloid on every news station, every backlit screen, status, tweet, photo, the words and images haunting our humanity were anything BUT harmonious.  

As the musicians among us know, Harmony has an opposite…an evil twin… rather than a consonance, a chord or interval which sounds pleasant to the ear and is considered “stable” - MaryBeth?, Dissonance is displeasing to the ear- for most, and is said to be a set of notes in “transition” and, thus “unstable” and without resolution.  MaryBeth?  As you may know my wife, Shannon, is a musician and holds two Master’s Degrees in Music, and she has described dissonance as a necessary means to a perfect resolution.  She states that holding dissonance can be very uncomfortable for some, especially those who are not confident in their own positions- this would be “me”… I am most comfortable standing beside Shannon while singing because I can just blend right in with her… nobody will hear me if I mess up and I can simply “drop out” if it gets too difficult.  But maintaining dissonance, she says, holding your own through the tension, and then resolving in perfect harmony is unlike any other experience.

As when an a’cappella group dazzles us with their showy runs above and below the staff, then invites us into the dissonance  just before each member gracefully resolves into a perfect cadence: many voices, one sound… harmony.

 

The anticipation of resolution, the hunger for stability, the yearning for a society at rest, yet black and brown bodies are still lying-in the streets, Guns are being paraded in and throughout our children’s front yards, we are romanced with celebrity suicides-yet completely avoidant to discussions around mental health….we post videos of torture and death on technological platforms and call it “social-izing”.  Friends, we are a people caught in the dissonance…unsure of our own positions, fearful and oftentimes slave to these transitions, afraid to hold our own until tension gives way to resolve, taken in by the clanging symbols of oppression, pride, of evil threats that leave us nearly deaf to the possibility of Harmony.

But rather than allow a message laced with the possibility of Christological and Ecclesial HOPE, this morning, though clouded with scenes of contempt, in the way of the Holy Spirit, let us look to the lectionary to our Gospel text to guide our steps as we discover new ways to wade through this dissonance together.

The text, found on page 7 of your bulletin, comes from Matthew’s gospel the 16th chapter where Jesus invites Peter, and all of us, followers of Christ, to live into the courage of our convictions.  

The story of Peter’s confession and Jesus’ bold claims about the Church are also found in Mark 8:27-30 and Luke 9:18-22, and are told basically the same way in all three versions.  Jesus had been in the Galilean region performing miracles, gathering and teaching among the gentiles, repeatedly harassed by his adversaries, instructing his disciples with parables, and finally, in chapter 16, during the climax of his Ministry in Galilee, Jesus poses an important question,

Let us hear these words from Holy Scripture,

Matthew 16:13-20

13Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” 14And they said, “Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” 15He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” 16Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” 17And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. 18And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. 19I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” 20Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.

“Who do YOU say that I am?”

This question hits Peter hard.  Having been rebuked over and over again by his rabbi, at Jesus’ question he drops his head hearing the words, “you of little faith” echoing through his mind with the distant image of Jesus on the water, his feet giving way beneath him, and in that very moment his shame and guilt, the dissonance intimidates, threatens to steal the life-giving opportunity that Jesus is offering him even now.  The opportunity to claim his identity as a truth follower, to fill out the shoes upon his own two feet, to tune out those clanging symbols, the slander, the invitation to dismiss with honor the power of God’s living breathing word… “Peter, Who do you say that i am?”  But this time rather than turn in shame and regret what was left unsaid Peter raises his eyes to Jesus and the two see each other and know each other, and Peter owns the only truth he has ever been certain of in his life that this man standing before him is surely the Son of God, the Messiah promised to deliver God’s people.  And with utter resolve, Peter states, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God”.

Not unlike Peter we all have a hard time looking Jesus in the face sometimes and tend to drop our heads when confronted with our convictions.  I don’t believe for a second that the police force of Ferguson, MO teaches their cadets to fire at every black teenager who looks suspicious yet Michael Brown’s body lay dead in the middle of the street with six bullet wounds in the middle of the afternoon.  I am sure that when ISIS leader, Abu Bakr was a 5 year-old boy himself playing in the middle of the dusty streets of Iraq making cars out of tin cans with his friends Genocide and his role in it could not have been more foreign to him. Small town residents of Murrieta, California shouting “Go Back Home, Go Back Home” to mothers, baby's and children who stare wide-eyed out of the glass windows at the dreamless reality that has become the new American Dream.  Even in the state of NC our most experienced teachers, those who have held our children’s hands, tied their shoes, taught them to read, to write, to love math, to excel in the arts and cheered them on at graduation are being demeaned seeing years of their lives spent nurturing our babies cashed in for pennies.  And what is our response?  

Who do YOU say that I am?  

Without envy we, in the majority, tend to empathize with the frontline oppressed among us, we stand-up, we sit down, we get on buses and ride for ours, we hold flags and wave them in the sky, sharing seats, elbow room and even toilet paper with strangers, we paint signs and even our bodies, we shout and sing and dance in the streets, we cry and scream and don’t bathe ourselves, we sleep in tents, we eat sun-baked hot dogs and carry our water bottles, we hold our wrists together and our heads held high as we are led in chains to our tomorrow mornings where we start over, and hope against hope that what we do makes a difference.  

Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Christ, clothed here in a proclamation of faith was as crucial to Peter’s well-being as it was to the rest of Christendom.  Peter is both expressing, with revelatory power, his belief in Jesus as the Christ as well as his belief in himself as a disciple… a worthy disciple no longer a slave to his misgivings, bound by the past, but with an emboldened spirit Peter is able to move forward in faith- claiming the truth which is literally standing right in front of him- not taking his eyes off Jesus this time he proclaims, “You are the Christ!”. Setting himself free to hope against hope, to betray the cowardice of his own flesh, Peter becomes of the Rock out of which Abraham and Sarah were born and reborn.  Like a Hebrew midwife who risked her own life to protect another, Peter’s bold confession of faith, a latitudinal line by which those eating the scraps from under the table could measure their birth rites finding themselves as guests gathered at table as well with a stable place to call home, to rise and fall upon, to be born again and to ultimately die in resolution.  

What is our response? Who do WE say that Jesus is?  Is there room for harmony to infiltrate the caverns of your dissonant soul this day, are there seeds scattered throughout empty vessels in this room waiting for conviction to invite a war within you showering your intimidations with life size drops of courage and a wellspring of HOPE…  Where our thirst and hunger have known no more than a bitter face or a carcassed grave the Christ of our inheritance beckons the will to relinquish her fear, to raise her eyes and look him directly in the face, to rise up out of the waters and walk on steady ground proclaiming “Messiah”, Christ, Son of Man”.

In Romans we hear Paul urging the church, “by the mercies of God, to present their bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which he called their spiritual act of worship.

Present your bodies… marching in the streets alongside the children of Ferguson, MO over 100 clergy and supporters used their bodies to tell the story, to proclaim Truth, Life, and Resolution.  Present your bodies as a living sacrifice, standing as witnesses around the state capital building hundreds of voices for peace and justice, many of you from this congregation, joined in solidarity and were taken to prison.  A living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God… this living sacrifice contrasted with the Hebrew text where bloodshed and an eye for eye meant one life for another… As our very own brothers and sisters are being killed in front of our faces, our beloved aged loved ones tossed aside as scraps as leftovers, we as a nation must consider what sacrifice means…to offer ourselves in dedication, to stand firm through the dissonance, to answer the call of Jesus…to step out in faith. Who do you say that I AM?   

2Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect…and most importantly, if we read on we find an antidote to live this life worthy of our callings, “For as in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, 5so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another

Friends, we can persevere in the face of the evils of our days together, side by side.  I pray that no day stands too long for this congregation, no law too finite, no border too closed, no piece of paper thick enough nor sanctions strong enough to limit the power of your convictions.  Where God has blessed, and believe me we are floating in these baptismal waters even now, let no one not even the innocence of our confusions, like Peter’s, who nearly drowned in his fear, let no one convince you that the dissonance is as good as it gets, because until we have tasted harmony, friends, humanity will NOT let us rest.  What is our response? Let the Psalmists words go before us and behind us, and this be our prayer:

Psalm 124

1If it had not been the Lord who was on our side—let Israel now say—

2if it had not been the Lord who was on our side, when our enemies attacked us,

3then they would have swallowed us up alive, when their anger was kindled against us;

4then the flood would have swept us away, the torrent would have gone over us;

5then over us would have gone the raging waters.

6Blessed be the Lord, who has not given us as prey to their teeth.

7We have escaped like a bird from the snare of the fowlers; the snare is broken, and we have escaped.

8Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

May it be so and every day.  Amen.

Prayer: Messiah, Christ, Son of the Living God: We come to you with open arms, with open hearts, with bodies presented you as living sacrifices. Instruct us this day to the way forward, call upon us to stand firm upon the rock of Christ, give us the keys to the kingdom that we might invite others in.  Challenge us to move beyond our places of comfort, to rise up and look you in the face, to let go of the shame and guilt that keeps up bound up, limited, afraid, and stuck in the dissonance.  

God, where there is pain and suffering, where we feel broken and unable to move breathe peace and wrap your loving arms around us, as your body also has been made a living sacrifice send it once more in flesh and bone to hold, to love, to walk alongside and lead us this day out of crippling pain, bodies that fail us, spirits that need your hand to guide us.  

God, where humanity has refused to care, where violence and hatred are substitutes for peace and love send us to front lines, call us to be your voices, your body, our love…may it be so. amen

Welcome/Offering: Friends, we gather here as a community of faith of friends, and family of visitors and passers through, and what we know to be true is that when we gather in the name of Christ, and call upon the spirit of peace and grace we can find her here.  God invites us all to this beloved community, no matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey… you are welcome here at United Church of Chapel Hill.  We are Open and Affirming, God is Still Speaking congregation of the UCC where to believe is to care; to care is to do.  

In this spirit of Welcome I would like to invite the ushers to come forward for the offering, and to invite you to please sign and pass the friendship registers.  In order for us to get to know you a little bit better, whether you are a long-time member of this congregation or are a new face in our midst, we’d love to get your email address, your snail mail, a note about how we can best serve you, or just simply your names would be nice too.  Please sign those registers and send them down the pews… it’s always nice to get to know the people you’re sitting next to.  Now, let us come to this time of offering with our Gifts, offering ourselves and our tithes back to God.