cordeliaknits

"Fishing for People"

This sermon was delivered Sunday, January 22, 2012.

Mark 1:14-20

Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news." As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea — for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, "Follow me and I will make you fish for people." And immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.

***

What does it mean to be a disciple?  I feel like, as people who may have grown up going to church, or who have spent much of our lives in a Christian community, many of us hear the term ‘disciple’ and we don’t think much about it.  Perhaps, if we give them any thought at all, we think of the disciples as hangers-on, twelve guys who followed Jesus around, occasionally asking questions, occasionally making fools of themselves, eventually betraying the man they loved and followed. 

But actually, the disciples were ordinary people from all walks of life who brought their skills together to help Jesus in his ministry.  They listened and learned from him, yes, but they also helped him in his work, teaching, healing, feeding, and organizing.

In this short passage, we hear a story that is a bit confusing.  Jesus is walking along the shore, sees a few fishermen and calls out to them, inviting them to come along with him.  Immediately, we are told, they drop their nets and run to join him.  If this weren’t strange enough, a bit further down the shore, he does it again and two more men join him, giving up their family business and the source of their livelihood to follow this strange preacher around the country. 

Now, reading this, we might first wonder what were these guys thinking?  What could have possessed them to drop everything and follow Jesus?  Had they heard him preach already?  Did they already believe he was the messiah?  Or did he just possess so much power and charisma that they were compelled to follow him?  We don’t know. 

Mark doesn’t waste words on petty details like that, explaining why these fishermen were so willing to join Jesus, changing their lives forever and giving up everything they knew.  Mark merely tells us that they did it, and that they didn’t waste any time. 

Jesus called, and they answered. 

I believe we all have stories of being called.  Some are epic and surprising and life-changing, and some are gentle, small enough that it can be easy to miss their importance.  In seminary and throughout the ordination process, potential ministers are asked to tell and retell their story of when they first heard the Call to ministry.  I remember some of my colleagues describing it as being hit over the head with a 2x4, while for others it was a still small voice nudging them ever closer to ministry until they couldn’t ignore it any longer.

My own Call was a mix of the two.  Although I would never use violent terms to describe it, there was a suddenness to my first feeling of being Called…I wasn’t hit over the head—instead, I felt like the Holy Spirit was rushing into me, filling me with hope and excitement.  It was such a powerful feeling that I can still remember exactly where I was walking the moment it happened, the feeling of the leaves under my feet and what the sky looked like. 

That feeling of joy lasted for a few minutes until the doubt came seeping in.  This was crazy, wasn’t it?  How could I be called to ministry?  I didn’t even identify as Christian at the time, didn’t know what I believed about God and Jesus…so God couldn’t really be calling me to be a minister…right?

But, the initial feeling had been so strong that I had to pursue it, to let myself imagine that it was possible, and to seek advice from my pastor.  And that is when the slightly less dramatic, but ever more persistent Calls came.  Opportunities to try ministry fell into place, mentors and friends voiced their belief in my Call, and even though it was scary, it always felt right.

I didn’t immediately drop my fishing nets and leave everything behind to follow Jesus, but I did start walking towards him, changing my priorities and my focus until those feelings of doubt were edged out by certainty.  That feeling of certainty that I was on the path that God was leading me on must have been something like what those first disciples felt when they were called by Jesus.  Mark doesn’t tell us whether or not they were afraid, but he does make it clear that they were certain.  They must have been, to leave all that they knew behind.  Once you have felt the Call, there is no going back.

We are not all called to be pastors, but we are all called to minister to God’s creation, to be disciples...  Because we each have different gifts, our specific callings are different.  When Jesus called these four fishermen, he said “I will teach you how to fish for people…”  He knew what their skills were, and he apparently knew how they could translate into the work he needed them to do.  They didn’t know what they were getting into, they didn’t know how to ‘fish for people,’ but he promised to teach them, and so they went.  Jesus saw potential in them that they perhaps hadn’t seen in themselves, and that is often the way a calling works.

In the United Church of Christ, there are many requirements for ordination, but the most basic two, the ones you must have to even start on the path, are that you feel a personal calling to ministry, and equally important, that other people confirm that you have that calling.  It’s not just between you and God, but also between you and your community.  This is one of the reasons that being in Christian community is so important, because we help each other to recognize where and how God is calling us.

 I think about our friend Yael, who will be ordained here in our church next month.  Did she have any clue the first time she stepped into this sanctuary that she would be starting a life-changing journey?  Did she already know that she had such amazing gifts for preaching and ministry?  I’m sure God had started calling her already, but it was entering into this space, worshipping and ministering with you, being encouraged and affirmed by this community that helped to move her from where she was that first Sunday morning to where she is going, to lead a very lucky congregation in Maine. 

What does it mean to be a disciple?  What does it mean today, for us?  It does not mean that we are all called to be preachers—thank goodness!  Some of us are called by God to be healers, teachers, artists, parents, or activists.  The important thing to do is to follow those calls, listen to your community, take the risk to throw down your net and follow Jesus where he’s asking you to go, and trust that you will learn what you need to along the way.  That is the way we can change the world, one call at a time.  AMEN

 

 

Too Wonderful

This sermon was delivered on Sunday, January 15, 2012

Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18

O God, you have searched me and known me.
  You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from far away.

You search out my path and my lying down,
  and are acquainted with all my ways.

Even before a word is on my tongue,
  O God, you know it completely.

You hem me in, behind and before,
  and lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
  it is so high that I cannot attain it.

For it was you who formed my inward parts;
  you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you,
  for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
  that I know very well.

My frame was not hidden from you,
  when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.
In your book were written all the days
  that were formed for me, before they existed.

How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God!
  How vast is the sum of them!

I try to count them —
  they are more than the sand;
I come to the end —
  I am still with you.

I have preached on this Psalm several times.  It is, in fact, my favorite Psalm, partly due to the allusion to knitting, but also because of the clear message that God is with us everywhere we go, no matter what.  Throughout my own spiritual meanderings as a child and as a teenager, one thing was always clear to me… God loved me, for exactly who I was, and no matter what.  This is what eventually brought me back to Christianity—the memory of that assurance of God’s love.

This Psalm tells us of the ever-present love of God, the amazing, unfathomable knowledge of God, and the assurance that God knows us better than we can ever imagine.  In this way, it reminds me of one of my favorite Rumi poems in which he writes, “When you look for God, God is in the looking of your eye…”  It’s a bit of theology that is central to my understanding of God, and that you might recognize from my prayers and blessings on Sunday mornings.  I think few things are as important as realizing how close God is to us, how much God loves us, and how intimately God understands us.

This is why Psalm 139 is my favorite… not just because of knitting, but because it rings so true to me.  Now, for some reason the psalm is chopped up in our lectionary, but I think it’s important to hear those lines in the middle. 

Where can I go from your spirit?
   Or where can I flee from your presence?
⁸ If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
   if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
⁹ If I take the wings of the morning
   and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
¹⁰ even there your hand shall lead me,
   and your right hand shall hold me fast.
¹¹ If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me,
   and the light around me become night’,
¹² even the darkness is not dark to you;
   the night is as bright as the day,
   for darkness is as light to you.

The psalmist says, in every way possible, that God is always there, always with us.  There is nowhere we can go where God is not.  In our times of greatest accomplishment, when we “ascend to heaven,” God is there, and in our worst, most shameful moments, when we “make our beds in sheol,” God is there too.  Even in the depths of depression, when we feel like the darkness is going to cover us for good, God is there.

Now, God is always with us, but God doesn’t necessarily intervene in the ways we would hope.  This is one of the frustrating mysteries about the Divine.  Today is the anniversary of the birth of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King—a man who was certainly aware of God’s presence and God’s love.  God was there when he was writing speeches and organizing marches.  God was there when he was in prison and when he was in church, and God was there when he was assassinated. 

As we mourn the death of such a great leader, we might wonder why, if God was there, why couldn’t God have stopped it?  Why couldn’t God have prevented his death?  Why is it, if God is always with us, and loves us, and knows us better than we know ourselves, that God doesn’t always protect us from harm, or prevent us from harming others?

These questions are painful to ask, and risky to try and answer.  Some people will say that it’s because whatever happens is God’s will, and we shouldn’t question it.  Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe God wills for children to be abused or people to be bigots or bombs to be dropped.  A loving God does not cause suffering and pain, but suffers with us. 

Humanity is broken in many ways.  We have an endless capacity for love and creativity, but we also have an amazing capacity to hurt and destroy.  I think this is part of what the psalmist means when he writes, “I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”  Fearfully and wonderfully…somewhat contradictory, perhaps, but it certainly rings true. 

I think this is where faith comes in, where religion can be a force for good in our lives.  As a Christian community, we strive to learn from and follow the teachings of Jesus, who challenges us to transform ourselves and our lives, to make change where it is needed, and to treat even the lowliest people with care and respect.  We do not need to be famous to do these things.  We do not need to be ordained or have a PhD.  We just need to be willing and open and take risks in the name of love.

At Martin Luther King’s funeral, they played a recording of his last sermon at Ebenezer Baptist Church.  In that sermon he made a request that at his funeral no mention of his awards and honors be made, but that it be said that he tried to "feed the hungry," "clothe the naked," "be right on the [Vietnam] war question," and "love and serve humanity."  

He got it.  He understood that the important things in his life, the things he wanted to be remembered for, had nothing to do with the letters in front of his name, but with the ways in which he strived to follow Jesus’ example and help others to do the same.

God was there when Martin Luther King was assassinated, loving and caring and weeping along with his family and all those who loved him.  But God was also there with his killer, loving and caring and weeping for the choices he made.  God loves the civil rights organizers and God loves the Klansmen, and that is all part of the mystery.

 For it was you who formed my inward parts;

  you knit me together in my mother's womb.

 I praise you,

  for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Wonderful are your works;

  that I know very well.

 We are fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God… God who is ever present.  God who knew us as we were being formed, who has knowledge of us that we don’t even have of ourselves… and that can be a bit overwhelming.  When we try to comprehend that vastness of God, the immense love and understanding that God has, it is too much for our human brains to fathom—it is “Too Wonderful.” 

It is also unnecessary.  We don’t need to understand everything about God to have faith in God’s love and presence.  We only need to feel it, to see it all around us in the beauty of God’s creation and the love we have for each other. 

  When we see suffering and hatred, we can work to make it better, knowing that God is there with us in the work… and when we fall into the darkness of depression, or feel hopeless in the face of seemingly insurmountable troubles, we can read a psalm like this and remember that we are each and every one of us, incredibly precious and deeply loved by a God that will never let go.  AMEN.

 

On blogging sermons...

So, I just posted my two most recent sermons (see below), and I feel the need to write a bit about sermon writing, sermon sharing, etc.

Sometimes (often?) I write a sermon that I am not very excited about.  Maybe I never felt it gelled, maybe I felt distracted while writing it, or maybe I'm just not sure it makes any sense.  It's not a great feeling to be driving to church on Sunday morning thinking your sermon will be boring, or so-so, or just plain bad. 

But here's the thing...often, it's those sermons that people seem to appreciate the most.  This can only be attributed to the Holy Spirit, because I know it's not just me writing those things, and it's not just me preaching them either.  I'm frequently surprised by people's reactions to my sermons, whether it's that they really liked one that I didn't, or that the one sentence that rocked their world was something I barely thought about when I wrote it.

And now, by popular request, I'm posting my sermons to this blog, in all their un-edited glory, and that's a whole other layer of vulnerability.  The grammar and punctuation is not perfect.  A sermon is written to be preached, not to be read on a page.  And yet, people seem to want to read them, and I think it's only right to post them just as I wrote them.  I often want to make excuses for the way they are written, or encourage people to imagine me preaching while they are reading them, but really, they are what they are, and I suppose if I trust the Holy Spirit to help them make sense when people hear them, then I should also trust Her to get the point across when someone reads them on the screen.

 

"The First Day"

This sermon was delivered Sunday, 1/8/2012.

Genesis 1:1-5

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.

Then God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

***

“In the Beginning” … It’s such a perfect way to begin the Bible, isn’t it?  Those first three words carry with them such tension, such promise of the incredible story to come.  How did we get here?  How did all this come into being… that is the great mystery that all peoples of every culture and religion have been trying to answer since the beginning…and this is the way our story starts. 

“In the Beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep…”  It sounds like the start of an epic adventure, doesn’t it?  It’s mysterious and dark, there is a formless void, which is something that’s hard to fathom, and there’s that slightly ominous image of ‘the deep.’

But it’s not completely still, because ‘a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.’  So, what is intriguing about these first few sentences in the Bible is that while it is the story of creation, we are told that there was already something there before God starts the creative process.  There was water and wind… and there was darkness…and, of course, there was God.

The first thing God does is to call light into being.  God says ‘let there be light’ and there is light.  God speaks and creates something new, something good, but there cannot be light without darkness to counteract it, and while we may at first assume that because light was good, darkness was bad, that is not necessarily true.  God creates by speaking, calling the light day and the darkness night, and it is clear that one could not exist without the other.

That was the first day.

The first day…it’s interesting, isn’t it, that God didn’t just make everything at once.  She took her time, created each aspect of the world with care and intention.  One assumes that if God is all-powerful, then God could have chosen to create everything with a divine snap of the fingers, called it good and been done.  But that’s not the way the story goes.  God takes time to create, and time to reflect as well, seeing what had been created, and each day proclaiming it good before moving on to the next thing. 

I think this signals to us, as listeners of this ancient story, that creation is a process, perhaps even a process without a finished product.  It is a long-term project, always in the process of becoming what it is meant to be.  Volcanoes erupt, creating islands…tectonic plates shift, separating continents…rivers slowly wash away rock to form canyons…forests burn and new forests are born…

We are also co-creators with God, and when I say we, I don’t just mean people, I mean all the subjects of God’s creation—people, volcanoes, trees and birds—we each have our own part to play in the continuing, continuous, creation of God.

During Bible Study this week, we talked about the poetry of this passage, and of this whole version of the creation story, what a beautiful way it is to tell the story of creation.  We also talked about the folks who want to be able to take this story literally, who are convinced that the world was actually created in exactly seven days…how sad it is for them that they spend so much energy trying to prove it’s literally true that they miss the real truth entirely. 

I won’t pretend to know the whole point of this story being told this way, but I feel sure that one thing that is vitally important is that creation is a process that requires reflection and evaluation along the way. 

God creates something, and sees that it is good before he moves on to create the next thing.  It’s not the exact timeframe that matters, it’s that there is one in the first place.

So, there was darkness and a void, and wind, and then one day, there was light.  The darkness was necessary for the light to come into being.  God names both—the light is named day and the darkness is named night, because God knew that they were both important.

What do we do in the dark?  Well, the most basic thing is, we sleep.  Our bodies are made to prefer darkness for sleeping, and during sleep, our brains work through things, our bodies heal and grow, and we are rejuvenated.  Without sleep, we would die.  Without darkness, we wouldn’t recognize light.

I often tell the story of how, in my first year in Berkeley, there was not one cloudy day between the time I arrived in August and Thanksgiving.  It was sunny and warm and beautiful every single day.  Thanksgiving week, I came down with the most terrible flu. 

As I lay there on the couch, miserably sick, forced to miss classes and fun, I had a bit of a revelation.  I had gotten so sick because my body was telling me it was time to slow down.  The sun and beautiful, unchanging weather had made me feel like I needed to be on the go and busy all the time, and I was used to the changing seasons signaling a time to change routine.

In Minnesota, where I grew up, the seasons change dramatically, and when the days start getting shorter in the fall, and the air gets colder, your behavior changes.  The changing light signals a time to go deeper, to stay inside more, to slow down the frantic pace of summer and ease into the deeper, quieter, cozy pace of winter.

I decided, in my fevered haze, that my body had been waiting and waiting for me to start that transition, and when I didn’t, it decided to force me to rest by knocking me down with the flu.  Light might signify productivity, but darkness signifies rest and healing.

Now, there can be other kinds of darkness in our lives.  The darkness of depression, of grief, of anger…and as human beings, we often want to get out of that darkness as quickly as possible, rushing through too fast to see what the benefits of it might be. 

But sometimes the darkness can teach us a lot about who we are and what we need.  It can bring revelations and healing if we are able to sit with it, to work our way through it, instead of burying it or denying it or covering it up with temporary solutions.

Just as it may not have taken exactly one day for light to be created, it may take a long time for us to find the light in our times of darkness, but we can still be creating and evolving through that darkness.  The important thing is not to find the light as quickly as possible, but just to keep working through the dark, knowing the light will eventually be called into being. 

Instead of focusing on that formless void, focus on the wind of God sweeping over the waters.  Instead of feeling helpless in the dark, focus on the fact that you are a co-creator with God—in the world, and in your own life.   And when change or light does come, take time to look, to reflect, and to recognize it as good.

AMEN

“Looking for Redemption"

This sermon was delivered on 1/1/2012.

Luke 2:22-40

When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, "Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord"), and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, "a pair of turtle-doves or two young pigeons."

Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord's Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying,

"Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,
   according to your word;
for my eyes have seen your salvation,
   which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles
   and for glory to your people Israel."

And the child's father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, "This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed — and a sword will pierce your own soul too."

There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband for seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshipped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.

***

It’s the first Sunday after Christmas, and today we read about Jesus and his parents going to the temple to perform their duties as observant Jews.  It’s an interesting juxtaposition, as last week, on Christmas eve, we read about Joseph and Mary travelling to Bethlehem to be counted in the census—their civil duty as people living under the rule of the Roman empire.  Today, they do their religious duty, and baby Jesus is at the heart of both stories.  Political and spiritual.

That is Jesus in a nutshell—political and spiritual.  Too often, we are tempted to focus on just one of those aspects and ignore the other.  But to do that is to miss the point.  Jesus’ politics and his spiritual teachings were intertwined. 

In this story, we hear about two elderly people in the Temple, Simeon and Anna, a man and a woman, and each of them recognize in baby Jesus hope for the future and the possibility of salvation and redemption for their people.  Salvation and redemption…two words whose meaning has been confused in the years since this story was written…

I’ve been working my way through Marcus Borg’s latest book, Speaking Christian: Why Christian Words Have Lost Their Meaning and Power—and How they can be Restored.  This book is full of wonderful insights, and today I want to tell you a bit about what he says about salvation.

What comes to mind when you hear the word salvation?  For most people it is bound up with the idea of sin.  We are sinful, and need to be saved from that sin.  It creates an ‘us and them’ mentality—those who are saved and those who aren’t.  In fact, most dictionary definitions define salvation as ‘deliverance from sin.’  But what is so important to understand is that this is not the Biblical meaning of the word. 

When salvation is mentioned in the bible, in both testaments, it rarely has anything to do with sin and forgiveness, or heaven and hell.  In a Biblical framework, salvation is almost always about both personal transformation and political transformation.

In the story of Exodus, salvation is used to describe liberation from bondage and slavery.  In Isaiah, salvation is used to describe a return from exile—coming home.  And in the Psalms, salvation is used over and over again to describe being rescued from danger.  God as savior in the Hebrew Bible is God being present, God helping the people, delivering them not from their own sins, but from oppression and injustice.  These themes continue into the New Testament and the story of Jesus.

When the angels announced the birth of Jesus to the shepherds, did they say, “Behold, we bring you tidings of great joy!  A baby has been born who will save you from your sinful ways so you can go to heaven!”  Of course not.  They spoke of a savior; they spoke of peace on earth and goodwill among all people. 

Jesus is a savior who brings justice where there was injustice, a savior who brings peace where there was violence, and a savior who brings a return from spiritual exile—bringing us closer to God, in whom we live and move and have our being.

Personal salvation and political salvation.  These themes are underscored by the two holy people that meet Jesus and his parents in the temple.  Simeon says, “…my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”  While Anna speaks about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem. 

Looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.  Salvation for the city, for all the people…not because they were sinful, but because they were oppressed.  Extreme economic injustice, an oppressive government, religious repression…Jesus was born into a world with all of these problems, and as I’ve said before, he is born into a world with all those problems still today.

There are many stories in the Gospels where Jesus provides salvation on a personal level as well, but most of these have nothing to do with any sinfulness.  Jesus brings people from sickness to health, from death to life, from blindness—both physical and spiritual—to a new way of seeing, and from fear to trust.  This personal salvation is not about waiting for something that will happen after we die, but about how we live now, creating the kingdom of God on earth and in ourselves now.

As we continue to celebrate Christmas, remembering and rejoicing in the promise inherent in one little baby’s birth, let us remember the kind of salvation that he really came for: The personal and political transformation of a broken world into the kingdom of God.  AMEN.

 

On December Knitting

So, this month of December, which was a pretty terrible one for me, is coming to an end, and I have to say, the last few days did redeem it a bit.  So many things to do--church, shopping, knitting, church, wrapping, sewing, church, cooking, coughing, church church church!!!

Of course, church is a constant, always so much to do--some fun, some hard, some exhausting, some inspiring...and it never ends.  Three big services this last weekend, and now I'm working on my sermon for Sunday, and planning a memorial service for Saturday, oh, and don't forget the Epiphany service a week from Friday!  Eek!

But, in the midst of it all, I have been knitting (of course), and it has helped to keep me sane.  Last Friday, the 23rd, after my sewing machine broke while I was sewing presents and my Christmas eve sermon was still in the pit of no inspiration, I decided to find solace in a cup of tea and this intriguing little combo:

What can I say about it?  How could I resist a book with a cover like that?  And there is really nothing like doing fair-isle on size zero needles to make a girl forget her troubles and get focused.  After an hour or so I had this:

Then, it was time to get back to writing and cooking and wrapping and all those other December 23rd tasks.  The next day, Christmas eve, I needed to leave the house with a finished sermon, a shower, and a festive outfit by 3:00.  Thankfully I had my sermon mostly done by noon, and so I allowed myself some more knitting in pj's time before I had to get ready.  An hour and a half or so later, I had this:

And then, there was Christmas.  Two big services on Christmas eve, lots of singing and praying and preaching, and back at church again the next morning to do another one.  Thankfully, after one service Christmas morning, I was able to go home and meet Liz, who came to visit me for Christmas.  After opening presents, I roasted a chicken and made lots of side dishes while she worked on her annual Christmas puzzle, and I ended up having a bit of time while everything was in the oven to finish up my ball!

The blocking and stuffing I did on Boxing Day.  This was a fun little project, but I do wish my fair-isle skills were a tad better.  Blocking helped, but there are a few bunchy places that a sister knitter would notice.  Despite its flaws, it is a sweet little ornament that helped me through a trying weekend.

Thanks, Arne and Carlos!

You Will Find A Child

My Christmas Eve sermon, 2011

“This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” (Luke 2:12)

This story is so familiar to most of us…this story of Mary and Joseph and a little baby in a makeshift cradle…This story of glorious angels and fearful, hopeful shepherds… and there’s so much to say about it, too.  I could talk about the oppression of the Roman Empire…I could talk about the teenage mother and her fiancée who were forced to travel and sleep with animals…I could talk about the shepherds who were poor and disenfranchised…but the one thing I really want to talk about tonight is the baby.  That sweet, tiny baby, in whom was God.

You see, as I was working on this sermon, struggling a bit and not feeling very inspired, I got a text message from my friend Zora, who happens to be about five weeks old.  Embedded in the message was a short video of Zora wiggling around on her back, smiling at the camera and making quiet baby noises.  Her little arms waved and her eyes sparkled.

I love Zora, even though the last time I was in her presence, she was still in her mama’s belly.  Whenever I see a picture of her or read about her baby antics, my heart swells with that love, and I can’t help but smile.  This is what babies do for us, and this is how I think about the Christmas story.

 I have cared for many babies over the years, and there are few things as wonderful as holding an infant in your arms, kissing his cheek, and feeling your heart open up with love for him.  I hope that you have all been able to have that experience at least once, and if you have, I’m sure you will agree that you can’t hold a new baby and not be moved by the experience. 

We have been blessed to have several babies born into our church family this year.  One of the best days of my job so far was when I went to the hospital a few hours after baby Evelyn was born and held her. Touching her soft cheeks, marveling at her tiny hands, I whispered in her ear about how much we all loved her already.

So when I think of Jesus, I think of all of our babies.  His birth was a miracle—but so was Evelyn’s and Zora’s, and yours and mine.  I picture Mary holding this miraculous baby, her heart opening up, the love almost too powerful to bear, and then, I think… she was nurturing God.  The love she felt—that heart wrenching, instinctual, unconditional love she felt was for God.  God, who is Love, born in her baby.  God, who is Love, born in all babies…Love incarnate. 

This is a concept at the heart of Christian faith—Jesus is called Emmanuel: “God With Us.”  Jesus came to show us the awesome power of God’s love for us, to be an example of how God is always with us.  His healings, his teachings, his radical actions, his life and death, all began with Mary and Joseph holding this tiny, fragile, brand-new baby and feeling their hearts open up with love for him.  What would it be like if we were to love and nurture God in that same way?  Can you imagine?

At Christmas, when we retell this familiar story, when we see images of a baby in a manger, or sing carols about his birth, I hope we are reminded of how much Jesus needs us.  Once, he too was a small, vulnerable baby, needing food and warmth and to be bathed and held, but especially needing to be loved.   Babies need to be nurtured and loved—they cannot survive without it. 

Now, we usually think of ourselves, of humanity, as needing Jesus.  We need his help, his strength, and his teachings to inspire us, guide us and heal us.  But this Christmas, I want you to consider the ways that Jesus needs us.

Jesus needs us to be his hands in the world, to teach and heal and be like Christ to each other, and of course, just like that baby in the manger, Jesus needs our love.  This charge is not as simple as it might first appear.  While most of us may know how to take care of the basic needs of a baby, any caregiver can tell you that figuring out what a baby needs when she’s crying in the middle of the night is not always as easy as we’d like it to be. 

Knowing how to nurture God is not so simple either.  Of course, we’ve heard the basics—love your neighbor, turn the other cheek, pray without ceasing…but it’s never as easy as it sounds, is it?   Nurturing God is something that we need to work at, every day.  And it may mean different things for each of us. 

Some of us nurture God by working for justice and peace.  Some of us nurture God by using our resources to help those less fortunate.  Some of us nurture God by working to heal the earth—God’s imperiled creation… and then, for some of us the act of nurturing God must begin with taking more time to nurture ourselves.  What would it be like if we loved and respected ourselves as much as God loves and respects us?  If we based our decisions on the understanding that we are God’s own beloved, infinitely cherished… 

…Would it be easier to see the innate worth of another human being if you saw it in yourself?

What would it take, for you to nurture God?

Now, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that not every baby is treated like the miracle that they are.  I spent two and a half months this fall in a class with 28 other prospective foster parents learning about all the children in our county who, by no fault of their own, are neglected and abused and end up in the foster care system.  Each week, we would hear about the effects of trauma on children, and it was often bleak. 

Each week, I would look around at all of these other hopeful foster parents and wonder if we were all crazy to be signing up for this work, to be jumping through all kinds of hoops just for the privilege of caring for children who other adults had neglected or hurt.  But every week, we were there.  Anxious, sometimes doubting if we were up to the task, and yet hoping for that call from a social worker someday saying “you will find a child… Maybe not wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger, but you will find a child.”

For me, and for those other parents, this is a calling—one way we strive to nurture God.  We hope that by taking care of children who are given to us, loving them and helping them heal, even if we only have them for a short time, we will make a difference in their lives—help them to understand what a miracle they each are.

The story of Jesus begins with his birth, begins with explaining that he was a poor, helpless baby who needed his parents love and care… and that part of his story is important, because this is not the last time we are told that Jesus needed others.   Jesus wasn’t a Ruler like anyone had known before or since.  He didn’t govern with an iron fist, forcing people to bend to his will. He did not kill people, wage wars, make money off of others’ suffering or deny any person’s inherent worth.

Jesus was the leader of a community.  He listened and he taught, he fed and he healed, he protested and he spoke out against injustice… and he did not do it alone.  Throughout his life, Jesus needed his parents, his friends, and his disciples to nurture and help him, to work with him and love him, just as he needs each of us today.

It’s just a simple story, about a young mother, her tiny baby, and the community gathering around to celebrate his birth.  Christmas is when we are reminded of this, of how simple and yet miraculous it is that we are here, that God is with us.  I hope that tonight this story also helps us remember that God needs us, that Jesus needs us, and that as we care for others, if we can act with the understanding that each person is beloved of God, then our actions, our prayers, and our love are Nurturing God.

AMEN

He Came to Change the World

A Sermon for the Second Sunday in Advent

Mark 1:1-8

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

As it is written in the prophet Isaiah,
"See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,
   who will prepare your way;
the voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
   'Prepare the way of the Lord,
   make his paths straight,'"
John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, "The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."

***

When we think about Jesus coming, especially at this time of year, we think of the stories about Mary and Joseph and shepherds and angels.  Advent is all about preparing for the birth of Jesus, yet, in Mark’s gospel, we hear nothing about it.  Mark begins the story of Jesus with this scene—a strange man standing in a river, proclaiming that the Messiah is about to arrive, and he’s not talking about a tiny baby, but a 30 year old man.  It might seem a bit strange for us to focus on this scripture during Advent, since it has nothing to do with Jesus’ birth.  But I think it’s here for us to remember…remember what that beautiful birth led to.  It wasn’t just Jesus’ existence that was miraculous.  It was his teaching, his example, his whole life.  So we remember the beginning of his ‘career’ as the Messiah, and listen to the prophets who said he would come to change the world.

Let me be honest: this has been a hard week.  Fights with loved ones, a terrible cold, and several days without power left me exhausted and discouraged. 

The worst thing about this last week for me was that I didn’t feel like decorating for Christmas.  Now, Christmas is my favorite holiday, and I usually do all my decorating the day after Thanksgiving, if not before.  I love listening to Christmas music, making Christmas crafts, and watching Christmas movies.  I grew up getting a present for every day of Advent.  Christmas is in my blood.  But this past week, I was in no state to decorate, or prepare, or even feel excited about Christmas.  I was sick, and tired, and grumpy, and my house was dark.  Candlelight is only romantic if you don’t need it.

So today, I’m making correlations between this first, difficult week of Advent and the reading from Mark we had today.  Neither is what we would expect or hope for…neither fits with what we think we are supposed to be feeling as we prepare for Christmas. 

A crazy-looking man standing in the middle of a river preaching about a coming Messiah is about as festive as washing your hair in a pot of water warmed on a propane stove! 

John the Baptist is a character who shakes things up…his persona and his message were unexpected, and yet, people listened to him.  We wouldn’t have this story if he had been standing in the river all alone, ranting and raving to himself.  We know the story because people were there to hear it.  People came to be baptized by him in the river Jordan, even though he was strange, even though he wasn’t a religious authority, even though he ate bugs!  John was a prophet on the margins, and he was preaching about a Messiah who would be on the margins as well. 

That’s the thing about Jesus, the thing that many Christians tend to forget…Jesus was as anti-establishment as he could get.  He was a rebel, he didn’t fit in.  Jesus spoke out against those in power.  He challenged people who claimed to have religious and political authority.  Jesus spent his time and energy on people outside of the inner circle, on people who were also on the margins of society.  The whole birth narrative of Jesus underscores that point.  He was born poor and homeless, to a teenage mother…yet people listened to him, too.

Again, this may not be what we expect to hear about during Advent, but the liturgical year is interesting that way.  We don’t really tell the story of Jesus in a linear fashion.  It’s all tangled up, almost as if it can’t be told in just one way, and one part doesn’t make much sense without remembering both what comes before and what comes after. 

We need to remember that the world Jesus was born into desperately needed a savior.  People were crushed by an oppressive government, tired and hopeless.  They lived hand to mouth, and couldn’t see a way out.

The world that Jesus is born into today is much the same.  Wars, epidemics, terrible financial inequity and governments run by people who care more about money than people.  As much as we try to make it one during Advent—this is not a perfect, glittering world.  It’s a world that needs Jesus, needs his radical teachings, his inclusive love… that’s why he came, and why he is coming. 

***

I’ve been rereading Marcus Borg’s book The Heart of Christianity lately, and recently I came to a chapter where he talks about thin places.  He starts out with a quote from the Trappist Monk Thomas Merton:

“Life is simple.  We are living in a world that is absolutely transparent, and God is shining through it all the time.  This is not just a fable or a nice story.  It is true.  If we abandon ourselves to God and forget ourselves, we see it sometimes, and we see it maybe frequently.  God shows himself everywhere, in everything—in people and in things and in nature and in events.  It becomes very obvious that God is everywhere and in everything and we cannot be without him.  It’s impossible.  The only thing is that we don’t see it.”

And Borg continues,

“But occasionally, we do “see it,” do experience God shining through everything.  “Thin places” are places where these two levels of reality meet or intersect.  They are places where the boundary between two levels becomes very soft, porous, permeable.  Thin places are places where the veil momentarily lifts and we behold God, experience the one in whom we live, all around us and within us.”

 Borg says there are many kinds of thin places.  Sacred spaces, certain people, worship services, and even whole seasons can be thin places where the closeness of God is more obvious to us.  Advent can be one of those thin places, if we let it.  Sometimes, the glittering lights and the family traditions and the Christmas carols do help to make Advent a thin place.  For those of us with good memories of the holidays, those cozy feelings and familiar sights can remind us of the magic in the world, of our closeness to the Divine. 

But that’s not the only way.  Sometimes, it takes a really crummy week to remind us how close God is… For me, being sick and without power forced me to slow way down…my evenings felt luxuriously long as all I could do was knit by candlelight.  I got a lot of knitting done!  It was quiet in my house without the hum of the refrigerator or the noisy companionship of the TV, and I had to sit in the silence and contemplate it.  Even at Starbucks, where I was on Friday morning to charge my phone and get hot coffee, people were different.  It was a madhouse, with everyone charging devices and working on laptops, but there was a camaraderie, a sense of community, that I rarely feel at a coffee shop. 

Strangers were commiserating with each other about their power loss, sharing power strips so everyone had a plug, sitting at tables with strangers and chatting about what they were doing to cope.  Now, you wouldn’t think that a bustling Starbucks could be a thin place, but as I sat there on Friday, charging my phone and knitting on my day off, I realized that it was.  Neighbors were sharing space, sharing smiles, being kind to each other.  This tiny cross-section of humanity from the Santa Cruz mountains had come together for coffee and electricity, and God was palpably present. 

 Advent is about preparation.  Preparing the way for Jesus…preparing ourselves for the coming of Christ into our hearts, into our lives, and into our world.  Sometimes Advent is full of glitter and sweetness and fun…and sometimes it is a dark and grief-filled wilderness.  Whatever it is for you this year, be present to it. 

Pay attention to the unexpected prophets…  Pay attention to the voices from the margins…Pay attention to the silence...  Prepare the way. 

This is a thin place, this season of Advent. 

“God is everywhere and in everything …the only thing is that we don’t see it.”

AMEN.

 

 

on babies, cats, and cooking

Well, it's been a while since I've posted anything personal...partly because facebook has become my go-to place online for personal updates, and partly because so much is going on and I'm not entirely sure what to make totally public...that's the downside of a blog, especially one that's linked to the church website!

But, I know some of my readers don't really care much about reading sermons, and would rather hear about all the fun and juicy details of my life in the woods, so here is a long-overdue post for you!

The biggest news around here is that I am well on my way to becoming licensed to foster/adopt a baby!  My classes are done, my application is submitted and my references are being checked.  I'm still waiting for my home visits to be scheduled, but hopefully that will happen soon and I will be licensed before the year is out.

My plan is to wait for an infant girl, so I may have to wait quite a while, and I will begin as a foster parent, so there is a possibility that I might foster a baby for a while and she would then go back to her birthparents.  I am hoping for the right baby to come into my life, and accepting the fact that I may get to parent her for a few months or many years.  It's a wild and scary process, but it's the way I'm going to create my family, so I have faith it will all happen as it's meant to.

I've been sewing blankets and knitting toys and sweaters for the someday baby, and perhaps I'll get it together soon to actually take some pictures of it all!

But, for now I have a juicy picture for you!  Here is Deacon snuggling with his secret lover--my leopard print Snuggie.  He adores this Snuggie and can knead it for hours, purring and drooling.  Nisse is harder to catch in a picture, as he is still very shy around people--even me--but he does adore his big brother and they often wrestle and cuddle each other, when Deacon allows it.

And, now, on to cooking.  One of my favorite ingredients this fall has been Purple cauliflower.  Just look how beautiful it is!  How could anyone resist it??  This picture is of a Cauliflower soup in progress, and it was oh-so good!  I'm happy that fall/winter/the rainy season is/are upon us (it's all the same thing here) because it is perfect soup weather, and I love to make soup!

In big cooking news, I'm hosting Thanksgiving for the first time (for a small but interesting group), so I've been planning and preparing for weeks!  I have some meat eaters coming, a gluten free vegan, a vegetarian toddler, and a pregnant former vegan...so it has been a bit of a challenge planning all the dishes to make to accommodate everyone and feed them well!

I'm excited to do it, though, because few things make me happier than feeding people well in my cozy home.  All the groceries have been purchased, along with a few new cooking implements and appliances (I can't believe I didn't own a rolling pin!), my wonderful cleaning lady is coming tomorrow to get the house ready, and my trusty new houseboi Jd is coming to be my sous chef and co-host.

So, I'll leave you with a picture of me and Jd from a few weeks ago when she escorted me to the local Diversity Center's Casino Night fundraiser.  I think it's safe to say we were the best looking couple there.

 

 

“Many Are Called, But Few Choose”

A sermon delivered on October 9, 2011

Matthew 22:1-14

Once more Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying: "The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding banquet, but they would not come. Again he sent other slaves, saying, 'Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding banquet.' But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his slaves, maltreated them, and killed them. The king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he said to his slaves, 'The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.' Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad; so the wedding hall was filled with guests.

"But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing a wedding robe, and he said to him, 'Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?' And he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, 'Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.' For many are called, but few are chosen."

***

          “We are all invited to the banquet!”  “We practice radical hospitality and extravagant welcome!”  “No matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, you’re welcome here!”

These are all phrases that we use to describe our church and our mission.  We believe in an inclusive God, a God who loves all of her children equally—a God who expects us to love each other despite our differences, and we hope, as a church, as progressive Christians, that that intention is clear in our interactions, in the ways we present ourselves to the community, and especially, to visitors who join us on any given Sunday.

How then, can we read such a passage as this parable from the Gospel of Matthew?  How can we stand up here and read something that sounds so exclusive, so judgmental, and say that these are Jesus’ words—words we are meant to live by?!  Well, I have struggled with this parable for two weeks now…deciding several times to give up and use a different passage for this Sunday, and then talking myself out of it. 

The fact is, reading the Bible, preaching, making sense of ancient stories is not always easy.  If you are doing it right, it’s a challenge.  If you think it’s really easy, you are probably missing the point entirely.

 So here we have a parable about a wedding banquet that the king is hosting.  He sends invitations to a bunch of people—we might assume these were the wealthy folks in his kingdom, the businessmen and landowners and scholars—much like the people that Jesus is telling this parable to, the Pharisees and chief priests.  But when the party is ready, the invited guests refuse to come!  They not only refuse, but some make a joke out of it, while others kill the servants who have come to deliver the message that the party is beginning! 

It’s shocking behavior, and the king retaliates by killing them and burning their city, even though, presumably, it is his city too, as he is the king.  Even after all this happens, there is still a wedding banquet to celebrate, so the king orders his servants to go out and invite everyone they can find—the good and the bad—to join them at the party. 

So far, this parable makes sense.  It feels inclusive and we can imagine that the king learned his lesson about only inviting the fancy rich folks to his party…but then, it gets weird.  As the king wanders through his party hall, he comes upon a guest who is not wearing the right robe, and he has him thrown out—not just to the streets, but into “outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth!”  It seems like a pretty harsh punishment for wearing the wrong outfit, doesn’t it?

 Now, when I was trying to decide whether to use this parable or not, I read it through with Lori Rivera.  When we finished it, I threw the book down and said, “no way!  I cannot make sense of that, and I certainly can’t find the Good News in this passage”—the nugget of hope that I always hope you will be able to take with you. 

As we talked about it, I questioned the robe situation, and decided it made no sense, made me mad, and was totally beside the point.  Still, I was not ready to give up quite yet and then Lori had to remind me about my sermon on clothing, and the importance of how we dress our outside to let our inside show through. 

Well, shoot.  She was right.  I do happen to think clothing is important…and here is a parable with a robe.  The robe must mean something more…because the thing about parables is that they are a bit mysterious.  This is not really a lesson on how to dress if you suddenly find yourself invited to a wedding no one else wanted to go to!  Unlike me, Jesus wasn’t big on giving fashion advice.

This is a story about the responsibilities that come with accepting the invitation to the kingdom of God.  Many are invited—everyone is invited eventually—but not all of them choose to come.  Some make excuses, and some are downright hostile.  Of those who accept the invitation, certain things are expected.  In this parable those expectations are represented by a robe—dress appropriate for the banquet. 

The man in question did not put on a wedding robe.  He chose to accept the invitation, to enjoy the party, but he also chose not to fulfill his end of the agreement, and in so doing, showed disrespect for his host.

Now, there are serious pitfalls in preaching about this parable in a progressive Christian setting, and they make it very tempting to avoid it all together.  It can be read as anti-Semitic, and has been used that way throughout history.  Jesus is telling it to the Pharisees, and it can be read that all the initial guests who were invited but refused to come were Jews.  The burning of the city is generally believed to be referring to the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD.  The gentiles are the second group to be invited, and they are the ones who come. 

When we read this passage and deconstruct it, it’s important to acknowledge that historically it has been interpreted as a judgment against Jewish people who did not accept Jesus as the Messiah.  And that last line, “many are called but few are chosen” has been used to exclude people from the Church based on human judgment. 

The problems with both of those approaches are obvious, but I also think they are way too simplistic.  They also don’t take into account the particular focus of the author of this Gospel, known as Matthew, who had a sense of eschatological urgency.  He believed that Jesus was coming back very soon, and that it was very important for people to understand and accept him as the Messiah before it was too late.

This parable is similar to others found in Luke and in the gospel of Thomas, but neither of those include the last bit about the man and his robe, so we must infer that Matthew included that extra detail to really bring home his point.  So what is his point?  We are unfortunately not given a specific set of criteria for how we are to behave at the banquet—the kingdom of God—because that would just be too easy.  But we are left with the notion of accountability and responsibility. 

It is not enough to say you are a Christian.  It is not enough to accept the invitation to the body of Christ.  You must also choose to participate.  You must walk the walk.

So what does that look like?  How do we know what that walk is?  Obviously, Christians all over the world disagree about what constitutes appropriate behavior, even though we claim the same scriptures and roots of our traditions. 

There are Christians in this world who I disagree with on fundamental issues of behavior and morality…but as hard as it is to remember sometimes, this does not make them bad people.  Nor do I have the right or the responsibility to decide how God sees them.  All I can do, all I can control, is my own walk.  My own behavior.  My own interpretation of what God expects of me.

 What does that mean for you?  What’s does your ‘robe’ consist of?  Mine includes living and acting with as much integrity as I can in any given moment.  Apologizing when I make a mistake and standing up for my decisions when I feel they are right.  Keeping an open mind and heart and expecting the best from people until they show me otherwise, doing my best to nurture myself and others, and prioritizing spirituality in my life. 

Your robe—the way you live out your faith—might look different from mine.  Your beliefs about God and Jesus and Spirit might be very different from mine.  But the question to ask yourself is this: what does the robe mean to me?  What is my robe?  Am I fulfilling my responsibility to the kingdom of God, or am I just here enjoying the party?

It’s not about judgment, it’s about self-examination.

When a person wants to be a minister, we talk about feeling a ‘call’ or being ‘called.’  And every minister has their own story of how they were called to this work—we get very good at telling it, because in our training and examinations, we are constantly asked about it.  But it is in fact a principle of Christianity that by virtue of our baptism, we are ALL called to be ministers in the church.  We are all called to minister to each other in our own ways, to use the gifts we’ve been given to help create the kingdom of God on earth.

So as I’ve been thinking about that last line from our parable, “many are called but few are chosen,” I’ve decided the wording is slightly off.  I think it should instead read, “many are called, but few choose.”  We have the choice to put on our robes.  We have the choice to accept God’s invitation, to accept the call to minister to each other, to care for each other, to nurture our communities.  We are all called, but we don’t all choose.

This morning we baptized baby Andreas.  We welcomed him into the community of God, we promised to help him grow in his faith and to nurture his spirit.  Andreas has been called.  He will get to choose for himself, however, how to answer that call.  He will get to choose what religious beliefs resonate most deeply in his heart.  He will get to choose how to live, and how to use his gifts in this lifetime.  And that is a beautiful thing.

So, this morning, whether you have arrived in ripped jeans or a suit and tie, I invite you to think about what your robe looks like.  What does it mean for you to be called, and how will you accept that call?  What do you need from us to be able to accept that call, and how can you help others to accept theirs?  We are all in this together.  We are all invited to the banquet.  AMEN.