Friday, August 31, 2012

"Will God Dwell on Earth?"

St. Anne's Cathedral in Belfast (also called the Belfast Cathedral).
Source: http://www.irishviews.com/belfast-cathedral.html

August 26, 2012
Old Testament Reading: 1 Kings 8:22-24, 27-30, 9:1-5

Solomon’s Prayer of Dedication
22 Then Solomon stood before the altar of the Lord in the presence of all the assembly of Israel, and spread out his hands to heaven. 23He said, ‘O Lord, God of Israel, there is no God like you in heaven above or on earth beneath, keeping covenant and steadfast love for your servants who walk before you with all their heart, 24the covenant that you kept for your servant my father David as you declared to him; you promised with your mouth and have this day fulfilled with your hand.
27 ‘But will God indeed dwell on the earth? Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you, much less this house that I have built! 28Have regard to your servant’s prayer and his plea, O Lord my God, heeding the cry and the prayer that your servant prays to you today; 29that your eyes may be open night and day towards this house, the place of which you said, “My name shall be there”, that you may heed the prayer that your servant prays towards this place. 30Hear the plea of your servant and of your people Israel when they pray towards this place; O hear in heaven your dwelling-place; heed and forgive.
God Appears Again to Solomon
9When Solomon had finished building the house of the Lord and the king’s house and all that Solomon desired to build, 2the Lord appeared to Solomon a second time, as he had appeared to him at Gibeon. 3The Lord said to him, ‘I have heard your prayer and your plea, which you made before me; I have consecrated this house that you have built, and put my name there for ever; my eyes and my heart will be there for all time. 4As for you, if you will walk before me, as David your father walked, with integrity of heart and uprightness, doing according to all that I have commanded you, and keeping my statutes and my ordinances, 5then I will establish your royal throne over Israel for ever, as I promised your father David, saying, “There shall not fail you a successor on the throne of Israel.”


SERMON: “Will God Dwell on Earth?”

Churches can be incredibly uncomfortable places.  People either talk a bit too much or no one greets you at all.  You either know the responses by heart or it feels like you’ve suddenly entered another planet where everyone speaks the same foreign language.  In our fast-paced world, the notion of even sitting still for an hour can seem impossible. You’re either too hot or too cold (and sometimes both in the same service).  And let’s not even talk about these summer gnats!

One of the most uncomfortable experiences I’ve had was in a church.  A cathedral, actually.  It is called St. Anne’s Cathedral in Belfast, and is a Church of Ireland (Anglican) church.  A massive, ancient, stone structure, it was one of the few places a PCUSA gal could find a Good Friday service (Presbyterians in Ireland rarely observe Maundy Thursday or Good Friday). 

I decided to really give it my all: I went to a Service of the Hours, which was a three-hour ordeal in which we contemplated the last three hours of Christ’s life.  There were about a dozen of us in a sanctuary built to house five hundred.

Halfway through the first hour, my toes went numb with cold.  By the end of that hour, my teeth were chattering as I feebly tried to wrap my scarf more tightly around myself.  By the second hour, most of the liturgy was lost on me as my mind constantly repeated, “It’s sooo cold.”

But for some reason, I still sat there.  It was a time in my life when I was desperate for a concrete confirmation that God was with me.  I knew God was with me in subtle ways, but I was looking for a neon sign that the plans of my life were going to work out, that I wasn’t on my own. 

But neon signs and churches don’t exactly go together.  So I sat there, reading the assigned readings, praying the assigned prayers, all the while getting stiff and cold and just…plain…frustrated.

What did I expect to happen?  The Spirit to descend like a nice electric blanket and warm my soul and body?  A booming voice from heaven to confirm that I was on the right path?  I’m not sure I expected anything, other than inevitable frostbite.

I almost left after two-and-a-half hours.  After all, what was the use of another half hour?  I could have been warming up with hot chocolate in Starbucks instead of freezing in the name of some Silent God.  Perhaps it was because I was too stiff to move, but I stayed.  And then in the last five minutes, in that arctic cathedral, I got what I was waiting for. 

Jesus’ suffering on the cross was finished with: “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.”  We prayed a prayer that said that God held us completely.  And after three frigid hours of waiting, I heard what I already knew but would not have been able to hear anywhere but there.  I felt in my chilled heart that I was completely held by a loving God, and the worries of my mind gave way to that reality. 

I’m not sure why I had to be in that place to see that God was with me.  I don’t know why I needed to be so uncomfortable to accept God’s presence.  I just know that God was there – in the cold, in the waiting, in the frustration, even in my numb toes…in all of it.  

As I read this morning’s text, where we come back in conversation with that complicated, sometimes-wise Solomon, we hear his prayer for God to dwell in the Temple he’s built.  He prays that God would make that resplendent building more than just a golden shell by filling it with God’s very presence: God’s ears to hear the prayers of the people, God’s eyes to watch over them with care and steadfast love.  It is a bold prayer.  So bold that Solomon questions himself halfway through it:

‘But will God indeed dwell on the earth? Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you, much less this house that I have built!
Will God dwell on earth?  In fire and cloud leading the people of Israel to safety, in the God-child born to re-define what living is all about, in the Spirit poured out on all at Pentecost, we see that the answer is yes.  But will God be contained by earth?  That answer is no.  If the highest reaches of heaven cannot contain God, neither can this world, or my opinions, for that matter.

This wild God answered Solomon’s prayer with a promise:
‘I have heard your prayer and your plea, which you made before me; I have consecrated this house that you have built, and put my name there for ever; my eyes and my heart will be there for all time.

This golden house was consecrated, set apart, made holy by God.  So is this house.

God’s eyes and heart dwell here.  But you only need to look at the eyes of one you love or hear the sound of rushing waves or feel the coolness of an early-autumn breeze to know that God dwells there, too.

So what makes this house so special?  Why come here to connect with God when God is so much beyond this place?  Does God dwell here more than in the rest of creation?  Is God present here in a way that God is not in other places?

This is a question many of my generation ask, and often the answer that arrives is something along the lines of being “spiritual but not religious”, where our faith in God is only personal and can happen as easily in Starbucks as in a traditional church service.  Or some days, more easily.

But if God wanted faith and worship to be acts of isolation, why call for the Temple to be built, why pour the Spirit upon a fragile, diverse Church?

No, God is not more present here in this building than anywhere else. But we are.  In a world where we pause only as long as it takes for the next text or email to arrive, this place is set apart for dwelling.  And dwelling is a radically counter-cultural act of patience.  We can easily spend Sunday mornings fishing or reading a great book and feel deeply filled by God’s presence.

But those fish and that book won’t sit next to us when we lose someone we love.  I can read the Bible on my iPhone, but it won’t bring those words to life in loving community.  And as friendly as I may be with the person who makes my coffee, he will not appreciate me sharing my deepest doubts and fears over and over again.

God dwells here, not to be contained by our tradition and theology, but so that we will learn what it means to dwell in a world where people mostly just hover through their days.

This dwelling place opens us up to what we would be unable to hear otherwise, what I could not hear in a Starbucks in Belfast but what had to be heard in a freezing cold, ancient church.  God holds us completely.  God dwells with us.

This is what God was saying in response to Solomon’s prayer for the Temple, that God would always hear the cries uttered in that place, always see the beloved community gathered there.  And God reminded Solomon to dwell with God and God’s people just as completely, following the ordinances to care for the orphan and widow, to walk with integrity and honesty. 
Whether we come to this place each Sunday out of habit, or to see good friends, or out of curiosity, we each of us are seeking something here.  I don’t know what word from God each of you are desperately listening for.  But I do know that you have come to the right place.

Will God dwell on earth?  God already does, but the question really is, will we?   Will we lay aside our to-do lists, obligations and appointments long enough to dwell with God and each other in this place?   Will we gather here in comfort and discomfort, in clarity and deep doubt, in times where our hearts are overflowing with joy and in times when they are breaking with sorrow? 

Will we come again and again to re-learn how to dwell in this world as our Savior did, bringing forgiveness, generosity and hope to a world desperate for community?  Empowered by the Spirit, filled with our common longing, we will, because somewhere deep within us, beneath the layers of cold and impatience, we know that this is home.  Amen.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

"A Wise Wish"

http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=54977


August 19, 2012
Old Testament Reading: 1 Kings 2:10-12, 3:3-14
10Then David slept with his ancestors, and was buried in the city of David. 11The time that David reigned over Israel was forty years; he reigned seven years in Hebron, and thirty-three years in Jerusalem. 12So Solomon sat on the throne of his father David; and his kingdom was firmly established.
3:3Solomon loved the LORD, walking in the statutes of his father David; only, he sacrificed and offered incense at the high places.
4The king went to Gibeon to sacrifice there, for that was the principal high place; Solomon used to offer a thousand burnt offerings on that altar. 5At Gibeon the LORD appeared to Solomon in a dream by night; and God said, "Ask what I should give you." 6And Solomon said, "You have shown great and steadfast love to your servant my father David, because he walked before you in faithfulness, in righteousness, and in uprightness of heart toward you; and you have kept for him this great and steadfast love, and have given him a son to sit on his throne today. 7And now, O LORD my God, you have made your servant king in place of my father David, although I am only a little child; I do not know how to go out or come in. 8And your servant is in the midst of the people whom you have chosen, a great people, so numerous they cannot be numbered or counted.
9Give your servant therefore an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil; for who can govern this your great people?" 10It pleased the Lord that Solomon had asked this. 11God said to him, "Because you have asked this, and have not asked for yourself long life or riches, or for the life of your enemies, but have asked for yourself understanding to discern what is right, 12I now do according to your word. Indeed I give you a wise and discerning mind; no one like you has been before you and no one like you shall arise after you.
13I give you also what you have not asked, both riches and honor all your life; no other king shall compare with you. 14If you will walk in my ways, keeping my statutes and my commandments, as your father David walked, then I will lengthen your life."



Sermon:  “A Wise Wish”

America is a great nation.  We have the distinction of having many peoples made into one, we care for each other with generosity and compassion...(and we have Sonic, Cookout and the Pik n Pig!).

But from time to time, we find ourselves a bit embarrassed by our leadership.  Wisdom can seem to be on short supply in the White House: let me give some examples.

Ronald Reagan once said, 'I have left orders to be awakened at any time in case of national emergency, even if I'm in a cabinet meeting'. 


Bill Clinton possibly regrets this statement: "I may not have been the greatest president, but I've had the most fun eight years."
George Bush’s gaffes include this one:
"Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we."

Barack Obama may at times have the gift of gab, but while holding a press conference outside of Honolulu, he spoke of meeting with world leaders “in Europe or here in Asia.”

We long for wise leadership.
The people of Israel were no different.  After the headstrong but effective leader David, they hope to continue with a wise leader.  When we read this morning’s text, Solomon seems to be the man for the job. 

Solomon sat on the throne of his father David; and his kingdom was firmly established. (After killing off his rivals and marrying Pharaoh’s daughter to ensure his support, of course.)

Solomon loves the LORD, walking in the statutes of his father David; and the LORD appeares to him in the middle of the night, sounding an awful lot like some kind of Cosmic Genie.  “Ask what I should give you” says that Genie God. 

Solomon may be a young 20-year-old, and new to the political arena, but he has the smooth tongue of a politician already:

"You have shown great and steadfast love to your servant my father David…and you have kept for him this great and steadfast love (don’t stop now, God), and have given him a son to sit on his throne today (that’s ME!).

And now, O LORD my God, you have made your servant king in place of my father David (repeating himself just in case God forgets he was chosen), although I am only a little child; I do not know how to go out or come in. (a little humility goes a long way) And your servant is in the midst of the people whom you have chosen, a great people, so numerous they cannot be numbered or counted. (Way to stroke God’s ego a bit in building up such a great people.)

After being carefully nestled within flattery and claims divine favor, Solomon finally names his wish.  But this wish is where he differs greatly from the rhetoric of a politician.
Give your servant therefore a listening heart to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil; for who can govern this, your great people?"

A listening heart.   I did not see that coming.  And I want to give Solomon the benefit of the doubt that here, in the beginning of his reign, he really did want God’s wisdom to guide him.  He felt the vulnerability and inadequacy of such a monumental task, and rather than fill that insecurity with wealth and worldly power, he sought to be filled with the wisdom of his Maker. 

If God carried around gold stars, Solomon would’ve received one that night.  Grateful that this young man has asked for what he really needed instead of what he simply wanted, God is happy to oblige, and threw in a few extra goodies for good measure.

Solomon would have his wisdom.  In the next scene of our story, that wisdom is put to the test when two women come to the new king over a dispute about a child.  These women are, well, prostitutes, and live in the same house.  Somehow, they both got pregnant, but one of their children died.  The remaining child was claimed to be the biological child of both of them.  Solomon took a dramatic approach to settle the debate:

“Bring me a sword!” he said.  “Let’s just cut this baby in half and give each woman her fair share.”  Watching their reactions carefully, he could tell that the woman who reacted most strongly was in fact the child’s mother.  And the renown of his wisdom grew throughout his kingdom because of this judgment.
Now, I may be wrong, but I’m not sure the President calling for a prostitute’s baby to be cut in half would do much to further his career today.  But it worked for Solomon.

With that wisdom came fame, with that fame came money, with that money came new offices, a sparkling-new Temple, and then...women.  Here’s where Solomon’s wisdom ran out.

You see, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.  His Dad David had issues with women, and Solomon inherited his womanizing ways.  He “acquired” 700 princesses as wives, and because, that’s just not enough, he also bought 300 concubines.  As you might expect, God was not pleased.  Now, polygamy was common in those days, but Solomon practiced it on a new scale, and married with foreign woman who worshipped other gods, something Yahweh (who was trying to preserve a Chosen People) frowned upon. 

Seeing that Solomon’s political capital was running out, his adversaries rose up against him, he eventually died and the kingdom fractured as it was led by worse and worse leaders.

Solomon made many mistakes in his life.  But, if we can’t learn something from a person who messes up, we’ll never learn anything from anyone.  Though he became enticed by the ways of this world, here in our text, we see a young man earnestly seeking the wisdom only God can bring. 

Asking to have God’s heart for God’s people is the heart of wisdom.  And though we understand wisdom to be something of the mind, the people of Israel, including Solomon, knew it was something of the heart. 

We do not often trust our hearts, but instead tame them with the rationality of our minds.  We read books on how to really connect with God instead of spending time in silence, opening ourselves to the Mystery beyond us.  We watch politicians entangle one another in arguments no one can really win, where the only feeling allowed in the room is anger.  We follow the rational steps that are supposed to lead to a happy life, rarely stopping long enough to reflect on what we’re building and whether it’s all for ourselves or for others.
Hearts are unpredictable, emotional, risky.  But without listening hearts, we will never feel what those around us are going through.  Without listening hearts, we will easily miss the Voice that calls to us beneath all the clutter of our days.  Without listening hearts, we will be so busy contributing to Us and Them that we will forget that we are all human beings, made and loved by our Creator. 

And so, when God awakes us in the middle of the night with heart-centered, irrational feelings of uncertainty, loss, worry, inadequacy or numbness, we do not respond by shutting down those feelings.  We respond with a prayer: “Give your servant a listening heart.”
God is not a Cosmic Genie.  But I whole-heartedy believe that when we pray in this way, when we make the wise wish of Solomon, God will open our hearts to hear God and our neighbor in a new way. 

If I told you I always knew exactly what God says all the time, I would sound like just another politician.  I cannot fully know God’s mind.  But what I do know of God’s voice is that it is always surprising, always opening our eyes to a bigger reality, always calling us to see this world and our lives differently.

Middle-of-the-night wisdom is not found in the response we get from our Creator.  Wisdom is found in a heart open enough to ask the question in the first place, to dare believe that God cares enough to help us, and not only us, but everyone.

I don’t know why Solomon stopped opening his heart to God’s wisdom.  But his story is a common one: we all of us have, at one time or another, strayed from the path of wisdom to follow the folly of self-serving lives.

But God will always call us back.    Because as lucrative as worldly success and a developed intellect can be, we were made for something greater: relationship.  And that, my friends, is a matter of the heart.

Thanks be to the God who speaks wisdom into our middle-of-the-night worries, who opens our hearts to listen and fills us with the capacity, not just to lead, but to love.  Amen.

Monday, August 13, 2012

"Re-embodying the Table"

Sermon preached August 12, 2012 by Joanna Hipp, a Louisville Seminary student who is a member of Cameron.


"Re-embodying the Table"

As a child growing up in this church, I have to confess that I would offer refer to Communion as “Snack Time.” And I would remember reading the bulletin and seeing “Communion.” I would, with dread, think, “Great, now the service is going to be even longer.” And now, you don’t have to raise your hand, but I am pretty sure some of you are thinking the same thing. As Presbyterians, we are ready to be in and out within an hour.

Often, sitting in the pew Communion would add length, but not real meaning. As I heard those familiar words, I affirm that when we take these elements, when we perform this sacrament, that we are re-enacting and re-membering, Jesus Christ, his saving grace, and his mercy to his people through the cross and crucifixion. I remembered that this was a time of celebration of the future Kingdom of God. I did not realize the magnitude of this sacrament until I liked it in college, and fell in love with it in seminary. So, being able to be a part of this is something that I hold with high honor, love, and compassion. It is in seminary that I began to re-embody Communion, and understand how it is so much more than a mid-service snack.

Our text today is the beloved John passage where Jesus shows his divinity and humanity. Jesus reflects on Exodus 16, which ironically I studied all summer through my Clinical Pastoral Education work as a chaplain at the University of Louisville Hospital. Jesus returns to the struggle of the Jewish people in Scripture, saying: “Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died.” How morose. Great uplift there Jesus.

Actually I believe there is more to Jesus words than the death of God’s chosen people. Providing everlasting manna, Jesus is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. Jesus Christ shows his divinity of eternal life, and his humanity that will be sacrificed on the cross, at the crucifixion. Just as the Israelite people were fed and nourished, today, and every day of our lives including the life to come, we will never be hungry or thirsty. Jesus Christ is the sustenance that we need to survive. This is what we need to survive in our Christian faith.

This sacrament is an involvement of all of our senses. This is where the re-embodying comes into play. Jesus says, “ Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” This is Jesus saying, “I am going to give my life, my body, my whole self for you.” How more meaningful can we get?

This is the reason I love Communion so much. We are re-embodying the saving life of Jesus Christ. It takes all of our bodies: our whole selves, all of our senses to perform and partake of this sacrament. We engage our eyes to see, noses to smell, ears to hear the Word proclaimed, hands to re-enact, and our tongues to taste the sweet mercy of Jesus Christ. We engage our whole self to participate in this process of remembering and reliving Jesus Christ himself.

It is here that we witness Jesus’ humanity and divinity. It is written in the prophets that “I will raise that person up on the last day.” The divine realm of heaven and the human world of earth are experienced together, in this moment.

The importance of the sacrament of Communion is found in our experience of the divinity and humanity of Jesus Christ, while we ourselves we embody his life and mission. As important as this is, it is still not why I find great comfort and hope at this Table. For you see, when we invite people to the table, we invite “all believers,” and this means we do not discriminate. We do not push away the outcast, the marginalized, those viewed as “less than,” or the Other, we join together in one moment where all persons are equal before our God. This is the unity we celebrate each time we gather together at this Table.

Our unity is also expressed beyond the four walls of this sanctuary. It is expressed when we take mission trips, when you support me in my seminary dreams, and when you help the neighbor across the street whom you barely know. Communion is meant to be lived out. It is not simply taking bread and juice: it is re-membering, re-embodying the life of Jesus Christ and all that he did here on this earth, and will one day do again. Jesus Christ is the bread of life and the cup of salvation.

He gave up his body on earth: his fleshy body, to save us, his people. Christ was, is, and will forever be the bread of life, the living bread of life amidst us, his people. Whenever we take the bread and the cup, we are doing a lot of “re”’s we are re-living, re-membering, re-embodying, and re-imagining Jesus Christ. It is also in this act that we are becoming a part of Jesus himself. We will live forever, through Jesus Christ, and in Jesus Christ.

For me, each time I take a piece of bread and sip of juice, I feel a sense of humility;  it is something that as soon as it enters my body I feel humbled, I feel motivated, that Jesus is present not only at the table, but inside of me. I feel inspired to do the work Jesus did. I find peace in the knowledge that I am following God’s call for my life.

I am called to this place, with these people, in this moment. I am called to serve Christ in the church. I am called. I am called, and so are you. We are called here, together, to this place, to live, breathe, and explore all that this story teaches us. Jesus Christ is the blood of life and the cup of salvation. May you experience these elements, may you live out the meaning, and may you know everlasting joy in the love, mercy, and peace of Jesus Christ.
           
But the love, mercy, and peace of Jesus were not tame. While we remember the good stories of Jesus, Jesus’ sermon on the mount and the plain, cleansing lepers, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, etc. it is important to remember Jesus was also a rebel. Jesus went into the temple turning tables saying, (or as I perceive screaming) “Get these out of here! How dare you turn my Father’s house into a market!” (John 2:16).  So, the calm, humble, simple Jesus is overturned here. This is how we are called to act. Now, while we may not go into temples overturning tables, we are called to stand up against the injustices we see: metaphorically overturning tables. We are called to remember Jesus acts of love and mercy, but also his acts of standing against the opposition, of being a rebel rouser.

At this Table, we are fed the courage to be different, just as our Savior was different. The difference Jesus made at this Table means that we are all invited. The redeeming grace of Jesus means that while we have no reason to be worthy, we already are. It is through this grace that the love of God is experienced in each one of us. This is what challenges me everyday I see people on the streets, hear about tragedy on the news, or read about pain in the newspaper. I am called to a life of service by the One who will never stop entering into situations like these. We are all called to a life of service. I cannot stand up here today, preaching this sermon, reading and proclaiming the Word to you, without remembering, re-embodying, re-living all that Jesus has done, and therefore, I have to help my brothers and sisters who are marginalized, who are cast down, who are listed as the Other, a foreigner, a stranger, a nobody, a no-body. We are our bodies. We are who God has made us, and we are called to join hands together, around this Table, Christ’s Table, to move beyond the walls of this church.
So, my challenge to you today, is to not simply take the elements, not to just pray to God thanking God for the life of Jesus Christ, for the service Jesus performed here on earth, for the divinity and humanity of Jesus, but pray that you find comfort in healing those around you, pray that you share this Good News with all you meet, pray, believe and enact Communion out there, in the world, with all peoples you come into contact with. Live a life of service, because that is exactly what Jesus did, and that is exactly what this is all about. For as often as we eat the bread, and drink the cup, we are remembering Jesus Christ until He comes again. Wendell Berry writes, “To live, we must daily break the body and shed the blood of Creation. When we do this knowingly, lovingly, skillfully, reverently, it is a sacrament (The Gift of Good Land: Further Essays Cultural and Agricultural 1981, 281). Let us remember, re-member, re-embody, re-live all that this Table means outside these doors. Our role is not passive; let us live into our active role not only during Communion but each day. Let no one be ostracized or feel unwelcomed at this Table. Let us re-embody what Jesus did in the temples, and what we are called to do in the world, and let us do it with the greatest virtues of peace, justice, humility, and love. It is in Communion that we join together as a community, a broken community, a disjointed community, a sinful community, a joyful community, a community of many words…a community of many actions. All of these actions grow out of this Table, where we not only remember who we are, but we re-imagine who we are called to be.