Sunday, September 28, 2014

When Words Aren't Enough

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September 28, 2014
Philippians 2:1-13
1If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, 2make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. 3Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. 4Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. 5Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, 
6 who, though he was in the form of God, 
          
did not regard equality with God 
          
as something to be exploited, 

7 but emptied himself, 
          
taking the form of a slave, 
          
being born in human likeness. 
     
And being found in human form, 

8 he humbled himself 
          
and became obedient to the point of death — even death on a   
cross.
9Therefore God also highly exalted him 
          
and gave him the name that is above every name, 

10  so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, 
          
in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 

11  and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, 
          to the glory of God the Father.
12Therefore, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed me, not only in my presence, but much more now in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; 13for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.

Matthew 21:23-32
23When Jesus entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him as he was teaching, and said, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?”
24Jesus said to them, “I will also ask you one question; if you tell me the answer, then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things. 25Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?”
And they argued with one another, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say to us, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ 26But if we say, ‘Of human origin,’ we are afraid of the crowd; for all regard John as a prophet.” 27So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.”
And he said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.
28“What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ 29He answered, ‘I will not’; but later he changed his mind and went. 30The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, ‘I go, sir’; but he did not go. 31Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you. 32For John came to you in the way of righteousness and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him; and even after you saw it, you did not change your minds and believe him.”


Sermon: When Words Aren’t Enough

Imagine something for me: picture yourself in the dentist’s office (I know, I’m sorry), and that he has a big shiny diploma on the wall, his name on the sign outside and the coat to prove he is who he says he is.  Then, as he reaches towards your mouth holding a drill, he asks you, “Which end of this thing goes where??”

It would not inspire great confidence.  Okay, imagine this:  you go to a fancy 3-Michelen-star restaurant, with awards all over the walls (you know, like Millar’s in Vass).  You had to book a table a month in advance, because this is the best of the best chef there is.  As you sit at your much-coveted table and put your cloth napkin on your lap, that famous chef plops a bowl of mushy cornflakes in front of you for supper.  Again, not very impressive.
If Forest Gump were to talk about authority, he would say, “Authority is as authority does.”

It doesn’t matter that your dentist has a shiny, fancy diploma and his name on the door if he doesn’t know what to do with that authority.  It doesn’t matter that an acclaimed chef is renowned on paper, if she can’t do better than a bowl of mushy cornflakes.

I think this is what Jesus was trying to teach the religious elite in our Matthew passage today.  Those elders and chief priests were a wee bit authority obsessed, and they tried to trick Jesus.  Lesson one: don’t ever try to trick Jesus.  He’s a smart cookie, y’all.

“Who authorized you to do these things?” they ask him, like he’s having a garage sale without a permit.

 “Well, you answer me first -- John the Baptist, who baptized many, where did his authority come from?  Heaven or earth?”

Clever Jesus set a trap, you see.  If they said heaven it meant they agreed with all John the Baptist said about who Jesus was.  They couldn’t do that.  If they said earth, they went against what the majority of their people thought.  They couldn’t do that.

In a singular moment of honesty, they said, “We don’t know.”

“Neither will you know where my authority comes from.” Jesus replied.

And then he told a story about two sons, whose father asked them both to go work in his vineyard: one who said no, but ended up working, and the other who said yes, and didn’t follow through.

The point: one son changed his mind and did something.  The other didn’t.  The one who changed his mind was praised.  The elders and chief priests never could change their mind about the rigid way they perceived God’s authority in the world, and so they missed who Jesus was, and what he was about. 

They couldn’t see past the war of words to recognize that the authority Jesus had as the Son of God had very little to do with words.  Yes, there was that moment when he was baptized by John the Baptist, and a voice from heaven said, “This is my son, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased.  Listen to him.”

Quite an impressive voice of authority coming from heaven, there.  But if Jesus had walked away from the Jordan River and spent the rest of his days eating Cheetos on the couch, those words wouldn’t have meant much, would they?

He proved his authority, not with words, but with actions: turning over tables of greed in the church, welcoming the prostitutes and tax collectors without reservation and showing that grace was for them, too.  Yes, he said the last shall be first and the first shall be last, but even more than that, he put the poor first, and didn’t care what eating with questionable characters did for his reputation.

We in the church spend a good bit of time talking about the authority of Jesus and the authority of scripture (case in point happening right now).
But if this gospel story teaches us anything, it shows us that sometimes words fall short.  If those words – even the most profound words – aren’t wedded with actions, with changing, with doing something, they lose their meaning.  They become just a lingo for church-going folks that we haven’t bothered to translate for those beyond our walls to hear and experience.

And so if we who would follow Jesus are going to speak about his authority in our lives, we’ll have to move beyond just words.  We can say we follow Jesus, but if we don’t give credence to those words with acts of service and compassion, we’re like the son who said he would work in the vineyard but never showed up. 

If we say Jesus has authority in our lives, but that authority never creates change, never leads us to decide to do or be something new, it is possible that Jesus doesn’t have much authority in our lives.

We can say Jesus is Lord, but if we don’t prioritize our lives in such a way that we put the least of these first, as he did, they are just empty words.

We can say the Church is the Body of Christ on earth, but if we don’t extend ourselves beyond our own walls and worries, they are just empty words.

We can say God is with us, but if we don’t show others God is with them when they most need the reminder, they are just empty words.

Words matter.  But actions are where authority is found.   Authority is as authority does.
Perhaps this is why Jesus didn’t answer that question posed by the elders and chief priests.  Perhaps he was simply sick of the words, and ready to get on with the actions of proving who we was, and what he came to do. 

And perhaps more than all, he cared very little about being an authority figure, and very much about being a humble, serving, Savior, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.  And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death — even death on a cross.   Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God.

Yes, we confess that Jesus is Lord.  But if we only confess with our words, we’ve missed the point entirely.  Let’s confess who Jesus was and is, not with even the most clever of words, but with our lives, poured out in service and emptied for others, in his name, amen. 

Sunday, September 21, 2014

When the Manna Comes

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September 21, 2014
Exodus 16:2-15
2The whole congregation of the Israelites complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness. 3The Israelites said to them, “If only we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.”
4Then the Lord said to Moses, “I am going to rain bread from heaven for you, and each day the people shall go out and gather enough for that day. In that way I will test them, whether they will follow my instruction or not. 5On the sixth day, when they prepare what they bring in, it will be twice as much as they gather on other days.“ 6So Moses and Aaron said to all the Israelites, “In the evening you shall know that it was the Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt, 7and in the morning you shall see the glory of the Lord, because he has heard your complaining against the Lord. For what are we, that you complain against us?” 8And Moses said, “When the Lord gives you meat to eat in the evening and your fill of bread in the morning, because the Lord has heard the complaining that you utter against him — what are we? Your complaining is not against us but against the Lord.”
9Then Moses said to Aaron, “Say to the whole congregation of the Israelites, ‘Draw near to the Lord, for he has heard your complaining.’” 10And as Aaron spoke to the whole congregation of the Israelites, they looked toward the wilderness, and the glory of the Lord appeared in the cloud. 11The Lord spoke to Moses and said, 12“I have heard the complaining of the Israelites; say to them, ‘At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread; then you shall know that I am the Lord your God.’”
13In the evening quails came up and covered the camp; and in the morning there was a layer of dew around the camp. 14When the layer of dew lifted, there on the surface of the wilderness was a fine flaky substance, as fine as frost on the ground. 15When the Israelites saw it, they said to one another, “What is it?” For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them, “It is the bread that the Lord has given you to eat.”



Sermon:  “When the Manna Comes”

When least expected,
The manna
Comes.
Like a burst of lightning in a moonless desert night
Suddenly
Allowing you to see all at once in white
The deep ravines and gaping canyons,
The chiseled walls of protruding boulders,
The strangely sculptured statues of mesas,
The huge cliffs
Surrounding you.

When the manna comes,
You taste
(Instead of the dry rations of stale bread)
The most exquisite varieties of ice-cream
And chocolate-covered pastries
Filled with whipped-cream.
When the manna comes,
You drink
(Instead of a stingy, measured allowance of stagnant water)
Bottles and gallons of fruit juices,
From citrus to mango, from apricot to kiwi.

When the manna comes,
You smell
The fragrance of incense
Enwrapping and enveloping you,
Drifting down from the mountains of myrrh
And the hills of frankincense.

When the manna comes,
You see
A black raven perched on a leafless bush
Transform
Into a phoenix
Whose peacock-colored feathers dazzle,
Unscathed
By the halo of flames
Blazing around her.

When the manna comes,
You hear
The noise of traffic (honking horns, drivers’ curses, coughing buses) fade away;
Distant symphonies gradually grow louder and clearer
As chariots of ivory and translucent crystal draw near you,
Their wheels turning
Like gears inside a mother-of-pearl music-box,
Creating crescendos you never heard before:
The music of chariots driven by hosts of angels.
Or are these angels just notes of music:
Semibreves, crotchets, quavers
Somehow come alive.

And when the manna falls,
God's fingertips
Descend and gently
Touch you.

_________________________________


This poem by Yakov Azriel weaves magic out of the story of God raining down manna in the wilderness for the people of Israel to eat.
According to our text, the story is more grim than that, full of displaced refugees wandering in search of a home for themselves and their families.  In these 13 verses, we hear of their complaining 7 times.  It could definitely be seen as a theme.  But this is not just any complaining.

They’re not lamenting the lack of a good parking spot near the door.

They’re not grumbling about paying taxes, or a rude email, or a latte that wasn’t hot enough.

They’re life-and-death complaining, y’all.  They actually tell Moses they wish God had let them die in Egypt instead of making them endure such hardship.  I’m not sure if you’ve ever been in that sort of darkness, but if you or someone you love has, you know that there is one element to this sort of complaining, that makes it almost unbearable.  That element is hopelessness.

These wandering wilderness people felt utterly hopeless.  They couldn’t feed their children.  They couldn’t endure the heat of the sun one more day.  They couldn’t see any end to their struggle.  And so they did the only thing they could do: they complained.

And then a miracle happened – no, not the miracle of manna raining down to feed them—before that there was another miracle.  The miracle was, God heard their complaint.  And God answered them.  Not with words, not with comforting sayings, not with theological statements on suffering and endurance.  With food.

God responded by telling the people to gather together and listen.

“I’ve heard your complaints,” God said.
“And so every night, I’m going to bring you meat to eat, and every morning, you will have bread to eat.  Then, you will remember who I am.”

No, not words, not sayings or statements.  God gave them food, “manna”, the Hebrew word for “what is it?”.  And when their bellies were full, when their hopelessness was met with the extravagant grace of God, they were finally able to remember who God was. 

Who God is.  That God is the One who always hears our complaints.  That God is the one who provides the food we need, meat and bread, but even more than that, the food our souls most need: hope.

Yakov Azriel’s poem tries to get us to imagine what happens “when the manna comes.”  You taste, you see, you smell, you hear, you feel.  All of your senses are caught up in the undeniable reality of God with you.   The numbness of hopelessness gives way to the overwhelming sensation that God has heard your complaints, and God has answered.

I’m not nearly as good at poetry as Yakov Azriel is, but I’m going to try my hand at what I believe happens when the manna comes.

_________________________________


When the manna comes,
the unending monotony of
wilderness
becomes a pathway to something
new and surprising.

When the manna comes,
the frustrations of yesterday
and the worries of tomorrow
become small and fleeting in the face
of the eternal compassion of our
God.

When the manna comes,
what seemed so urgent to get done today
pales in comparison to the more urgent tasks of
loving, forgiving and reconciling.

When the manna comes,
not even death itself,
not even the deepest of darkness,
can damper the brilliance of God,
shining like a guiding moon in the night,
a light that never goes out.

When the manna comes,
tired bones and aching feet
feel their worth and
importance
and human made-in-God’s image-ness.

When the manna comes,
the church becomes not
a club for the comfortable
and not
a hiding place for the faithful
but a shelter
for the seekers
and a family
for the forgotten.

When the manna comes,
the children of God – all of us –
come, eat, drink and are
filled.

Because when the manna comes
God hears our deepest
complaints
the ones we don’t even dare utter to ourselves
of hopelessness
of weariness
of emptiness
of loss
of never being found

And having heard, God
sends
even more manna
tasting like our mother’s apple pie
smelling like the first cool whiff of Fall
sounding like the laughter of a child
looking like sun breaking through dark, troubled clouds
and feeling like the place from which it
came,
heaven.

The manna comes.
It always comes,
because God Is.
and God hears.
and God acts.

Thanks be to God!  Amen.


Sunday, September 14, 2014

God Has Welcomed Them

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September 14, 2014
Romans 14:1-12
1Welcome those who are weak in faith, but not for the purpose of quarreling over opinions. 2Some believe in eating anything, while the weak eat only vegetables. 3Those who eat must not despise those who abstain, and those who abstain must not pass judgment on those who eat; for God has welcomed them. 4Who are you to pass judgment on servants of another? It is before their own lord that they stand or fall. And they will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make them stand.
5Some judge one day to be better than another, while others judge all days to be alike. Let all be fully convinced in their own minds. 6Those who observe the day, observe it in honor of the Lord. Also those who eat, eat in honor of the Lord, since they give thanks to God; while those who abstain, abstain in honor of the Lord and give thanks to God.
7We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves. 8If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. 9For to this end Christ died and lived again, so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living.
10Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God. 11For it is written, “As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to me, 
and every tongue shall give praise to God.”  12So then, each of us will be accountable to God.
 
Sermon: “God Has Welcomed Them”
It was a warm summer Sunday morning, a couple of years ago. I was doing all the little things I do right before worship begins (make sure the candle is lit, sound system on, jot down announcements to make, print out sermon copies) and as I rushed though that routine, I noticed there was a man sitting in a pew, all by himself, except for the large Bible he had with him. Worship was to start in about twenty minutes.
I walked up to him and greeted him, “Hello, welcome to our church!” “Thank you!” he replied cheerfully. “I’m the pastor here, my name is Whitney,” I said as I extended a hand. The smile froze on his face. He did not shake my hand, but did look me up and down like I’d just announced I was from Mars. “But this, this is a Presbyterian Church, right?” he asked. “Yes it is, Presbyterian Church USA.” “Ah,” he said, like one might say “ah” after learning your favorite athlete was on enhancing drugs or your favorite musician was lip-synching. He clearly thought we were a Presbyterian Church of America church, which is the sort of Presbyterian that does not ordain women as elders or ministers. I know this because of what he said next.
“Well,” he said as he squared his shoulders, “I’m a 1 Timothy man.” I assumed he did not mean, “let no one despise you because of your youth,” but instead the, “let a woman learn in silence with full submission” bit.
Here’s what I wanted to do:
I wanted to explain that this particular letter was written to address a particular situation in a particular church in a particular time, and was never meant to be the blanket statement so many have made it to mean, after all, Jesus had female followers. Paul referenced other female leaders in the church like Phoebe in his same letters. (Presbyterian Women, you’ll hear more about that tonight at 6!)
But that’s not what I did. I took a deep breath, smiled at him and said, “I understand. Well, I know you may not feel comfortable here, but please know you are welcome to stay.” I did not add “you just might change your mind,” though, I confess I wanted to.
Without a word, he picked up his large Bible, got up and left. And he hasn’t been back, nor do I really expect that he will (though I wish he would).
I’ve felt a call to the ministry since I was a little girl. I spent years in discernment before even beginning the process of ordination, and then dutifully went through hoop after hoop to take that call seriously. I took ordination exams, was examined again and again by the Committee on Preparation for Ministry of my presbytery. I answered God’s call to me, and try my darndest to keep answering that call everyday.
And this man, well, in five words, citing scripture no less, he negated all of that. In five words, he judged me as being unbibilical, unfaithful to God, and unfit to lead this community. Not that I ever would, but if I had asked him to leave the church, that might have been within my right to do so. Instead, I welcomed him. (through gritted teeth perhaps)
Because what else can we do? What else are we called to do? Scripture, not just 1 Timothy but all of it, is pretty clear. Love God. Love your neighbor. And unfortunately there’s not a footnote that says “love your neighbor if they agree with you on theology, politics and social issues, or if they show love to you first.” Nope, just love. Period.
Our text in Romans today calls us to be a people of radical welcome. And it seems to give special emphasis to vegetarians. At first glance, it sounds like Paul was just getting hungry when he wrote this, drifting off into some obscure speech about meat and vegetables. But there’s something deeper going on.
You see, in Paul’s day, it was understood that the meat people would eat had first been sacrificed to a god. Some Christians decided that eating such meat was, in a way, worshipping that god. (In other words, idolatry.) Other Christians said that there is only one true God, so you can eat all the steak you want, guilt-free, because you can’t be worshipping a god that doesn’t exist.
His point was this: you two groups (meat-eaters and vegetarians) are getting carried away with this issue of meat, and letting it divide you. The question isn’t whether or not you eat meat. The question is whether you do all things for the glory of God or not. The question is whether you welcome someone without trying to trap them into an argument. The point is we are all accountable to God, the one and only judge. So get a veggie or steak burger already and get over it! Just eat together, be the body of Christ you are supposed to be.
Now, take “eating meat” out of the equation and fill that spot with any number of contentious issues in the church of our time and the message is the same. The church has, since its very beginning, become confused in what our role is. We have, from the very start, tried to stand in the place of Judge.  And time and time again, that has torn the church apart.
This letter in Romans tells us -- in ways that will make many of you crave a steakburger from Davidsons after -- something essential. Are you ready? Here it is: our opinions are not nearly as important as we think they are. Even those opinions having to do with faith, scripture and church.
What is important is that we welcome…the idea that Sarah Chase is awesome. (Sarah helped me write my sermon this week, in case you were wondering.)
Since I was catching up with Sarah the same afternoon I usually write sermons, she wanted to help. Sarah’s awesome that way. So, listen now to the Gospel According to Sarah, y’all:
What is equally as important as welcoming people, is that we need to “chill and live and let live. Don’t stress about others so much, focus on being the kind of person you want to be. You can’t change anyone else, only yourself. You can’t force your beliefs on someone because it doesn’t make them change, it pushes them away.”
I’m going to have Sarah help me write my sermons a lot more often!
God is our judge, and God is the only one really qualified for that job. We’ve been given plenty else to do – the welcoming bit, the figuring out how to eat together bit. Don’t let differences – be they theology, politics, opinions or even eating meat – keep us from coming to a table together, especially to this Table.
Here, we come, vegetarians and meat-eaters. Here, we come, conservatives and liberals, Democrats, Republicans and Others. Here, we come, women, men, young, not-so-young. Here, we come, retired, working, looking for more or better work. Here, we come, changing, all of us, by the grace of God.
Here, we come, not because we’ve figured out how to be good and kind and forgiving to one another, but because we want to. Here, we come, because Jesus Christ has already welcomed us. Here, we come. Amen.