Sermon for November 18, 2018

The Way of Graciousness

“That is why I say to you, don’t worry about living—wondering what you are going to eat or drink, or what you are going to wear. Surely life is more important than food, and the body more important than the clothes you wear. Look at the birds in the sky. They never sow nor reap nor store away in barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Aren’t you much more valuable to him than they are? Can any of you, however much he worries, make himself an inch taller? And why do you worry about clothes? Consider how the wild flowers grow. They neither work nor weave, but I tell you that even Solomon in all his glory was never arrayed like one of these! Now if God so clothes the flowers of the field, which are alive today and burnt in the stove tomorrow, is he not much more likely to clothe you, you ‘little-faiths’? So don’t worry and don’t keep saying, ‘What shall we eat, what shall we drink or what shall we wear?! That is what pagans are always looking for; your Heavenly Father knows that you need them all. Set your heart on the kingdom and his goodness, and all these things will come to you as a matter of course. Don’t worry at all then about tomorrow. Tomorrow can take care of itself! One day’s trouble is enough for one day.” Matthew 6:25-34 J.B. Phillips New Testament

Hi, my name is Matt and I am a constant worrier. I know, I know, it’s hard to believe that under this calm, cool exterior there is a bubbling tar pit of anxiety. But it’s true. I’m a worrier. This is the season of worry, is it not? Oh, right – its supposed to be the season of thanks. But the time between Thanksgiving and the New Year is a period for perfectly reasonable, and possibly obsessive, perturbation. There are gifts to buy, meals to plan, gatherings to attend. In our house, there are birthdays and anniversaries to plan on top of it all. Another round of multiple college tuition payment is coming up, along with all the other holiday purchases we put on our credit cards. The New Year begins with an avalanche of debt.

I am a worrier. One worry leads to another.

I worry about my kid’s safety.

I worry about having enough money.

I worry about email.

I worry if I have hurt someone's feelings.

I worry about whether the US will extradite Gulen to Turkey as a trade-off for information against Saudi Arabia.

I worry about wearing the right thing.

I worry about whether I turned the stove off before I left home.

I worry about the fluid levels in my car, because I keep meaning to refill the washer fluid, but then I forget until I the next time I use my windshield washer, and the fluid that dribbles out isn’t enough to do the job, and it just leaves white streaks on the window that pick up the sun’s glare, and it’s already hard enough drive around here as it is, forget about having the added obstruction of a dirty windshield.

I worry if my breath stinks.

I worry about Homeland Security.

I worry about America

I worry about Brexit

I worry that Conspiracy Theories might be correct

I worry about the Big Earthquake scientists tell us to expect

Since we already had snow this past week, I worry that there will be too many snow days this year and the kids will be home too much.

I worry that I’m not going to be able to live up to the selfies I just posted online.

I worry that the dream I had last night might come true and be a premonition of an unbearable dystopian future.

I’m worried that mobile phones are taking over our lives.

I worry that Alexa is really listening in on everything we say at home, even though she keeps insisting she is not.

My house smells funny, sometimes. Should I be worried?

My car was broken into a few weeks ago, in my own driveway. Well, technically, someone just opened the door because I left the car unlocked in my driveway overnight. Nothing was taken, but now I worry about my car, and my wife’s car, and our doors, and our locks, and whether we need video cameras.

You get the idea. It’s not just enough to worry. I feel guilty when I worry too much. I feel guilty that I’m spending time worrying when I should be living my life. And when that starts …

I feel guilty over how much water I use in the shower.

I feel guilty for making mistakes.

I feel guilty for not being a better father.

I feel guilty for getting so angry at other drivers during my commute.

I feel guilty for what my ancestors may have done to others.

I feel guilty when I don't instantly help someone the minute I feel that nudge.

I feel guilty for running a hot yellow traffic light.

I feel horribly guilty for running a red Light.

I feel guilty for not stopping for pedestrians.

I feel guilty for judging others harshly.

I feel guilty for not calling my Parents, my brother, and children more often.

I feel guilty for having enough, when so many around the world don't, but still finding a way to complain about what I don’t have, even though I am blessed in so many ways.

I feel guilty for unanswered emails (I told you it was a problem).

I feel guilty for posting those selfies online in the first place, as if I’m that desperate for validation from others.

I feel guilty for stuff I don't even do!

I feel guilty about worrying because Jesus says don’t worry.  Seriously, Jesus? Isn't your advice a little naive? I do need to plan and know where my next meal is coming from and make sure my family is clothed. I just hear him now.

Jesus: "Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap, nor gather into barns, and yet God feeds them. Are you not of more value than they. Can you add a single hour to your span of life by worrying?"

Me: No, I guess not, but . . .

Jesus: “So why do you worry about clothing?”

Me: Well, because I need to be appropriately dressed for various occasions and at least try to be somewhat up to date. And I don’t like to smell bad.

Jesus: "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. If God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, you of little faith?”

Me: Why do you keep making these nature analogies? And, maybe worry serves a useful function sometimes? I mean, maybe I worry because I care.

Jesus: "Therefore do not worry, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear?'”

Me: All right. I get that you're not going to budge on the worry issue. But tell me this: What am I to do with all that mental free time I used to spend worrying?

Jesus: “Set your heart on the kingdom and God’s goodness, and all the rest of these things will come to you as a matter of course.”

I resist this advice. Jesus’s sounds so immoderate, absolute, and extreme in his guidance about how to live. He says give up all the worry and serve God. I think that’s one of the things you are NOT supposed to say to someone who is having an anxiety attack.

I’ve thought about this passage. I’ve prayed about it and meditated on it. For weeks. I sought after God’s goodness as I prepared for today. One word keeps coming back to me for some reason: graciousness. Be gracious.

At first, the word doesn’t make sense. Why gracious? It conjures up ideas of Victorian-era manners – you know, having a stiff upper lip, being polite so as not to embarrass others unduly, letting trifles go with dignified poise. Graciousness is much more than refined manners, though. The word graciousness, after all, comes from the word grace.

In Judaism and Christianity, grace is the spontaneous gift of affection, mercy and compassion. God shows mercy, even to those who do not deserve it. God consoles the afflicted and raises up the oppressed. That is graciousness. In Chinese philosophy, when the heart feels empathy, in especially for the oppressed, a person has been touched by grace.

Nelson Mandela is often mentioned as a person who showed graciousness towards people, including his former captors. He is often quoted as saying,

“As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still be in prison.”

Gracious people are kind. Grace believes the best of people and draws it out of them. There is nothing cowardly about a gracious person. Grace helps a person face up to ridicule, slander, unforgiveness, and hatred … and even worry.

When worry sloshes around in my head like dirty laundry in my washing machine, grace helps me get out of the spin cycle.  How? By tending to the needs of other people instead of worrying about my own. Oh wait – that’s what Jesus was talking about! Seek first God’s kingdom. Seek first God’s goodness! God’s kindness. God’s graciousness. Gracious people love without condition; despite our political preferences or doctrinal differences; no matter who we love or how we identify ourselves; regardless of our taste in music, clothes, movies, or hobbies; and beyond all our faults and weaknesses. Perhaps we are never more like God than when we give grace to someone else.

The next time I stand on the brink of the sinkhole of worry, I can start to become more aware. By the way, did you know last Friday, New Hampshire Avenue was closed between Chalmers Road and Powder Mill Road due to a sinkhole? Traffic was snarled and school busses were rerouted. With all of this rain, sinkholes can appear anywhere … aaaaand there I go again with the worry. Breathe deeply. Become aware. All shall be well. All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. Now, who needs me to show them some grace today? Some graciousness? Let’s start there. Actually, let’s start with me offering some graciousness to myself. And then, in this season of worry, maybe I can seek God by connecting to Irresistible Grace. Perhaps I can offer acceptance with less conditions. Love without apprehension. More mercy with less worry. Just for today. And then I can let tomorrow take care of itself.

Sources:

https://www.patheos.  com/resources/additional-resources/2011/02/no-easy-answers-reflections-on-matthew-alyce-mckenzie-02-21-2011.aspx?p=2

https://www.bustle. com/p/11-things-to-never-say-to-someone-who-has-anxiety-61031

Sermon for November 11, 2018

The Way of Giving and Receiving

How many of us can remember a November when we haven’t shared in a food drive, or helped serve dinners for those struggling with homelessness, or invited a lonely neighbor over for dinner? How many of us have given money for food or assembled food baskets for those in need? For most of us, this I the time of year when we remember our responsibility to those who live at the edges of society. It says a lot about our character as people of faith that we have an impulse to share with those whose needs are greater than our own; that we share with those who so often feel forgotten.

It is a season of great generosity. But is it also a time of justice? Let’s turn to the example of Jesus to look for some answers. This is from Mark 12:38ff.

Jesus taught: “Beware of these teachers of religious law! For they like to parade around in flowing robes and receive respectful greetings as they walk in the marketplaces.  And how they love the seats of honor in the synagogues and the head table at banquets. Yet they shamelessly cheat widows out of their property and then pretend to be pious by making long prayers in public. Because of this, they will be more severely punished.”

Let’s stop there for a moment. Notice how Jesus describes the Scribes. A Scribe’s primary occupation was writing out copies of the Jewish Scriptures and teaching people about the details of following Jewish religious law. In Mark’s gospel, Jesus makes the point repeatedly that the Scribes, these leaders and law experts, expect privilege and status. Jesus wants those who follow his Way to be last and “servants of all.” But the Scribes use religion as a veil for economic opportunism. Let’s see how this scene plays out.

Jesus sat down near the collection box in the Temple and watched as the crowds dropped in their money. Many rich people put in large amounts. Then a poor widow came and dropped in two small coins. Jesus called his disciples to him and said, “I tell you the truth, this poor widow has given more than all the others who are making contributions. For they gave a tiny part of their surplus, but she, poor as she is, has given everything she had to live on.”

I was always taught that Jesus wants his followers to see the contrast between the religious hypocrisy of the scribes and the genuine piety of the poor woman. The interpretation comes straight from John Calvin, granddaddy of our Reformed tradition. Calvin says the poor should not hesitate to express their devotion to God cheerfully out of their slender means, “for if they consecrate themselves, their offering, which appears to be mean and worthless” is not insignificant to God. According to Calvin, God wants self-denial, and the poor are the prime example. He wrote that around the year 1560. It is part of a long tradition in Christianity. Our exemplars embrace poverty, give their last pennies away to find happiness, boast of sufferings, and befriend suffering in order to find peace.

But here’s the thing: I don’t think Jesus holds the poor widow’s ultimate financial sacrifice up as a model for self-denial. Let’s rethink this.

The Way of Jesus has taken him and his followers to Jerusalem. They may feel a little out of step with the hustle and bustle of urban life. Think about how it feels to visit New York City on a crowded day during the holidays. For me it’s amazing and scary all at the same time. The full array of humanity is there to see: rich and poor, greedy and generous, with religion and commercialism mixed into one onslaught for the senses. Imagine it’s the same in Jerusalem. Swarms of people are there, rich and poor, powerful and powerless. Jesus makes his way to the Temple treasury. The Temple has 13 trumpet-shaped chests along the walls of a space called The Court of Women. Worshippers toss their financial offerings into these chests. Some of the donors are rich people who give from their abundance. But Jesus singles out one woman. We know two things about her. She is poor, and she is a widow. In Jewish law, she is a member of a protected class. Hebrew Scripture clearly calls people to care for widows because they have no support net (Deut. 14.29). Jewish faith understands God’s creation has enough for everyone to flourish. If there is poverty, it’s because some have filled their pockets first. So, instead of being a recipient of Temple funds, the poor widow donates two little coins. She gives all that is left of her whole life.

Jesus says, “She just gave everything she had to live on! She gives from her destitution!” His words are not praise, but a lament for the disgusting injustice that creates the condition for this scene. He watches a woman give her last coins to support the oppressors who keep her in poverty. She helps finance the system designed to keep her poor. Jesus does not admire the poor widow’s generous spirit of self-denial. Jesus is horrified by a religion-supported economic system that creates classes of haves and have-nots. Instead of protecting widows, the Scribes exploit them in order to feed their self-important status. For Jesus, the Temple becomes a symbol of that which preys upon and then devours the resources of the poor. And Jesus objects.

We see the equivalent of the poor widow in our communities. We have lots of cultural stereotypes that go with the word “poor.” One stereotype is poor people are lazy, unintelligent, inarticulate, and overly emotional. Another stereotype is poor people spend money on frivolous things. If poor people just gave up on cigarettes, lottery tickets, and IPhones, they would pop up into the middle class. Have you ever wondered where these stereotypes come from?

The poor are not some lump of people at the bottom of society who are just there as the underclass, permanently outside the mainstream of American life. In today’s American life, the poor are working people. Poverty happens to working-class Americans. In America, we are not just divided by economic status. Economic status is all tied up with social status. I hear a lot about how we are living in a divided nation politically. But politics is all tied up with social status, too. America’s class system is the elephant in the room of our schools, our justice system, our county council meetings, and yes, class is the elephant in the room of our churches. So let’s talk about it.

Martin Luther King Jr. identified three elements working together to cause oppression in America. Each element works separately but in tandem with the other two to create a storm of lost opportunity for millions of Americans. The first element is racism. Racism puts white American men in control of a system that has keeps non-whites, and especially women of color, out of positions of power and opportunities for advancement.

The second part of the triangle of oppression is classism. As he peeled back the layers of American oppression, Dr. King realized racism was not operating alone. How could it be that people of the racially dominant group could be oppressed with a power equal to that of racism? For instance, poverty is not just a problem for African-Americans living in blighted inner cities. We know part of Trump’s rise to power came from expectant, working-class, rural, white, Coal and Rust Belt voters living in poverty. They believed the promise that their jobs and their prosperity would return. A poor white person has a parallel struggle to a poor person of color regardless of white privilege. But, the white working class continues to sink into deep poverty and the white middle class continues to disappear. The oppression and resentment of poorer white Americans is real. How can that be? And how can be that people of color can reach the highest levels in business, education, and government, despite their ethnic and cultural background? King linked it to classism -- the belief that people from certain social or economic classes are superior to others.

Let’s stop here to reflect on how race and class are related. Most of the American lower class is white. Most of the American prison population is white. White privilege does not always overcome classism. However, a lower-class white person still has more opportunities handed to them than a fellow lower-class black person simply on the basis of skin color. The working-class white person may still feel superior and resent non-white groups including black and brown immigrants and Muslims. It is a divide-and-conquer tactic used by those in power to turn marginalized groups against each other to protect the upper class.

The third part of the triangle is poverty. If poverty alone were alleviated, if each person truly had enough food, wealth, healthcare, and a good job, it would ease the oppression caused by racism and classism. But it would not end that oppression. Dr. King said, “In the final analysis, the rich must not ignore the poor because both rich and poor are tied in a single garment of destiny. All life is interrelated, and all [people] are interdependent. The agony of the poor diminishes the rich, and the salvation of the poor enlarges the rich. We are inevitably our brothers'[and sister’s] keeper because of the interrelated structure of reality.”

As I said earlier, I think most Americans are generous people. We want to help. We want to heal. But how do we achieve and maintain equality and embrace diversity? The idea of offering charity for the poor is part of who we are. Charity is an attractive quality. But Generosity is not enough. Charity is not justice. The way for the poor to have a better life is for them to have more power. We stand for generosity with justice. Generosity with justice means we aren’t just charitable toward the poor. Charity can be given in a way that’s deeply hurtful and in the long run counterproductive. Generosity with justice means we offer help that says, "Let’s work together, let’s stand together, in ways that make us fully and equally powerful as we seek to fulfill our common interests and individual needs.” Where inequity exists, we will not accept the widely-held perspective that blames the victims. Generosity with justice allows us to feel the pain of these oppressive and unbalanced social, religious, and economic systems, regardless of our privileged or unprivileged position.

Our generous outreach at this time of year is awesome. It’s good to share our food those who are hungry. It’s even better when we share food and fix that causes of hunger. We feed the hungry and work to make food available to all. We offer a drink to the thirsty, and make sure that water everyone has the right to clean, abundant water. We clothe the naked and remember that only when the necessities of life are met, only then have we all experienced what it means to be fully human. We work for the dawning of a new world in which the powers of domination and inequity are toppled, where the poor are not asked to subsidize their own oppression, where power and equality are restored to the dispossessed. This is the true Way of Giving and Receiving. We dream it. We pray for it. We breathe it. We live it.

 

Sources:

“Classism and Economic Injustice,” http://www.uucr. org/sermons/classismandeconomic.html

Ched Myers, Binding the Strongman, pp.318-323.

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Nobel Prize Speech,  http://evergreenuu. org/LinkClick.aspx?fileticket=CMZGEPaRv9o%3D&tabid=192

“Don’t be charitable to the poor...” http://thewitness. org/archive/oct2001/zweiginterview.html

“Deep Interrelatedness and Transformation,” http://www.classism. org/human-arising

"Thanksgiving 2011” http://spsmw. org/2011/11/16/thanksgiving-2011/

Richard W. Swanson, Provoking the Gospel of Mark.

https://www.therutgersreview.  com/2018/02/10/classism-americas-overlooked-problem

The Politics of Jesús: A Hispanic Political Theology By Miguel A. De La Torre