Sermon for September 23, 2018

The Way: Ancient Journey for modern Times

The Way of Ascent and Descent

Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, you will all see heaven open and the angels of God going up and down on the Son of Man, the one who is the stairway between heaven and earth." John 1:51

When I was growing up, our school regularly took trips to the science museum in Boston. The capstone event was the museum electricity show. We sat in a small amphitheater in front of an enormous dual-sphere Van DeGraff generator – two enormous columns the size of a four-story building with enormous aluminum globes fixed at the top each column. The generator produced static electricity. We would sit in wonder and terror as the machine zapped arcs of lightning, teaching us about the power of electricity. The grand finale of the show was a hair-raising electrical storm with the retina-scorching light and ear-splitting crackle. I think we were supposed to learn about how awesome it is to control and use such power for human benefit. I learned that being in the presence of that kind of power gives me a migraine headache. I always dreaded the electricity show.

One of the demonstrations at the museum was an arc of electricity that travelled up two parallel wires. I’ve since learned it has a name: Jacob’s Ladder. His dream described in Genesis 28 must have felt electric. Jacob is on the run from his brother. Jacob, the impish and impetuous youngest child of Isaac now finds himself in the desert, destitute and cut off with nothing other than what he might find as he goes. For instance, he uses a rock for a pillow. Nothing in the text suggests that Jacob is thinking about God. He’s tired, afraid, and on the run when he stops at the place that will be known as Bethel, or God’s House. At this low point, Jacob dreams of angels ascending and descending on a staircase, then God appears next to him and offers a blessing. Jacob gets a small experience of the wider workings of God. God has more in store for Jacob beyond his own plans and schemes.  God draws close as if to say, “I am with you and I will watch over you.” It must have felt electric. If his experience is at all like mine at the electricity show when one is in the presence of power, I wonder Jacob was in caught between amazement and terror. The text says he woke up afraid. I wonder if experiencing the electricity of God also have him a headache. Or, maybe it was from sleeping on that rock for a pillow.

I was taught that the spiritual life is an upward journey in which I must strive for goodness and perfection in life. We should always be growing. Always learning. Always getting better. Always taming our wild sides and becoming more respectable. These expectations are like upward angels, moving us closer to the unattainable perfection of God. It sure is a lot of pressure, trying to be perfect while knowing we will never get there. The thought of always reaching, always striving, but never getting there this side of heaven – that gives me a headache, too.

Jacob’s dream isn’t just about the upward journey. In Jacob’s dream angels are ascending and descending—going up and down. I experience those upward moments when I sense more of God’s presence and feel transformed. Sometimes, those very same encounters fill me with fear. In my experience, both movements are important to understand out spiritual lives.  The spiritual life if not just about travelling arcs of electricity that always rise. Spiritual life is about rhythm. We travel up and down. We breathe in and out. We expand, and we are emptied.

At times we sense a deep connection to God. The world feels in sync. The journey feels life-giving, even when it’s demanding. It’s as if we are, in those moments, ascending the ladder. We say, “This feels good. I’ll do whatever it takes to be in this place.” Then life hits us hard. We experience pain, doubt, and confusion. We are afraid. We are afflicted by "contracted consciousness" and feel far away from God. People will offer us some religious sounding platitudes, thinking they help us feel better. I hear this especially around grief and dying. “God needed another angel. He is in a better place. Now you will have another angel watching over you.” Those words may be helpful for some people. Not for me. They discount my grief and suffering, making me feel like I’m somehow less resilient because of my pain. Or they are somehow more spiritual than me because they are still climbing the ladder while I am tumbling back down to the bottom.

If two people are on a ladder, one at the top and one on the bottom, who is higher? It depends on which direction each is headed. In other words, there is nothing wrong with this up-and-down process. Descending is an important part of the spiritual journey. Times of descent can lead to fuller and higher ascents. Distance or crisis can lead to a more profound sense of connection and intimacy.

During the 1920s, a young French Catholic Jesuit priest and scientist named Pierre Teilhard de Chardin [te-yar duh shar-dan], worked as a geologist and paleontologist in China. In his spare time, he developed a spiritual focus that integrated all the discoveries being made in science with what he knew about God. He published his ideas in a book called The Divine Milieu. It became a revolutionary book of Christian spirituality -- so revolutionary that his religious superiors refused to let him publish it.

Chardin recognized at every moment we experience the descent. He called the descent diminishments. We experience external diminishments all around us… premature deaths, stupid accidents, weather-related destruction, oppressive political systems. They all work outside of us and hinder our capacity for development. We also face internal diminishments. If an external diminishment gets us asking, “Why him, why her, why now?”, internal diminishments get us thinking, “Why me?” To Chardin, internal diminishments were far more threatening because of the kind of damage they inflict: dealing with failing bodies, sickness and disease, and the pain of moral failings and weaknesses that keep us weighed down. They strike without warning and rob human beings of hope. Can these diminishments ever become for us a source of good and growth?

We respond to diminishments differently. Some people will fear the downward journey and avoid it all costs. They may even blame God or loathe the idea of God.

Some will feel defeated by diminishments. Chardin says no matter how well we resist we will feel the constraining grip of our diminishments gradually gaining mastery over the forces of life.

There is a third way. Chardin called it resignation. He didn’t mean to just give up and accept the pain. He wanted us to resign ourselves to God -- to unite with God when our strength is spent. We resist. We persevere courageously. In the wonder and in dread, in the glory and in the agony, God appears next to us and says, “I am with you.” In our tradition, Jesus is the ladder … the staircase. He is the one who shows us an example of what it feels like to live the upward and downward journey. Christ gathers up our stifled ambitions, our inadequate understandings, our incomplete or clumsy endeavors. He shows us a way to resign ourselves to God when caught between amazement and terror.

Take a minute of silence now. I want us to think a diminishment you experience. Never give up the struggle. This hostile force can become for you a loving moment of transformation. The challenge is to acknowledge that our unwanted and uninvited experiences are happening in the Divine Milieu – in God’s Space. As created beings, we are still incomplete. Every other being is also incomplete and looking for wholeness. Earth itself is still incomplete, still in a state of process. We will experience conflicts, competition, loss and failure. All of this, the upward and downward journey, the blessings and challenges, the embellishments and diminishments, the healings and the headaches, all happen in God’s Milieu. All pain unfolds within God’s Space.

May we come to see we are not alone in our pain… On the downward journey, we are in the company of millions around the world. Even in pain, we can be a blessing to others

We will be tempted to get angry, and rage against the powers and people who cause pain in our lives. Or, the pain might be like a migraine headache that causes us to withdraw and close our lives up. We can convert the energy of fear and rage into something else – something that brings us closer to God and to one another. All of this takes place in God’s Space. We won’t always understand how or why. Instead of downplaying our diminishments with simple answers and unsatisfying slogans, we can resign ourselves to live in God’s Space—to sink into God’s presence.

If two people are on a ladder, one at the top and one on the bottom, who is higher? It depends on which direction each is headed. As we journey along the Way, we remember everyone is climbing Jacob’s ladder. Everyone is moving upward, just like we are. And everyone is also moving descending, just like we are. What can we do but smile at others, and encourage others, and love the person who grips the ladder while frozen in panic? What can we do but address those who try to push others off the ladder, those people around us who cause pain and destruction? They might be wounded at their very core. You never know. What can we do but journey with Christ who is the Ladder, the Staircase, the Way along our insufficient knowledge and our incomplete actions? Our inner failings, our wounds, our pains, our scars – those help us remember what it means to show compassion as we all journey in God’s Space.

Sources:

·          http://spiritualpractice. ca/welcome/how-can-my-ageing-become-a-spiritual-practice/a-spirituality-of-diminishment/

·          Teilhard de Chardin: Theology, Humanity, and Cosmos by David Grumett 89-91

·          http://www.beliefnet. com/faiths/judaism/2000/12/the-ladder-to-heaven.aspx#StvpRhEw5Hgbru2d.99

·          https://rc.library.uta. edu/uta-ir/bitstream/handle/10106/424/umi-uta-1153.pdf?sequence=1

Sermon for September 16, 2018

A Journey and a Return

After this, the Lord chose 72 more followers. He sent them out in groups of two. He sent them ahead of him into every town and place where he planned to go. He said to them, “There is such a big harvest of people to bring in. But there are only a few workers to help harvest them. God owns the harvest. Ask him to send more workers to help bring in his harvest. You can go now. But listen! I am sending you, and you will be like sheep among wolves. Don’t carry any money, a bag, or sandals. Don’t stop to talk with people on the road. Before you go into a house, say, ‘Peace be with this home.’ If the people living there love peace, your blessing of peace will stay with them. But if not, your blessing of peace will come back to you. Stay in the peace-loving house. Eat and drink what the people there give you. A worker should be given his pay. Don’t leave that house to stay in another house. If you go into a town and the people welcome you, eat the food they give you. Heal the sick people who live there, and tell them, ‘God’s kingdom is now very near you!’ But if you go into a town and the people don’t welcome you, then go out into the streets of that town and say, ‘Even the dirt from your town that sticks to our feet we wipe off against you. But remember that God’s kingdom is coming soon.’”

When the 72 followers came back from their trip, they were very happy. They said, “Lord, even the demons obeyed us when we used your name!” Luke 10:1-11, 17

They were light-headed with giddiness! What an honor! What a promotion! What power they would have. What fame would be theirs when the crowds figured out they were the opening act for Jesus the miracle worker. The 72, hand-picked by Jesus, already wove fantasies about the trip. Just imagine thousands of people filling the valley, listening to their message. Ok, it was actually the Master’s message, but in their fantasy, it was the 72 who preached to the multitude. In their wild dreams, flocks of needy people formed lines to be healed while the 72 fixed them all up, and kicked a few demons out while they were at its. They could hardly wait to get going.

First, though, Jesus had some advice … more like conditions. The 72 would go out without Google calendars and smart phones, without even a bag of Chex Mix to nosh along the way. Jesus says, “Don’t bother with suitcases because what you’re wearing is all you will need – and that includes just one pair of shoes. There is no rental car – you will have to walk. And you’re not staying at the Raddison– I don’t care if they do have free continental breakfast. We don’t even have the budget for Airbnb. You will have to ask for free lodging wherever you go. When you enter a town, pick a house and ask for some hospitality. The homeowners might be eager to provide. Then again, they may not be. If it’s yes, go and be a good guest. Eat all your vegetables and don’t worry about the portion sizes or whether you get desert. Give your peace to all who live there. Just as easily, you’ll come across some residents who would host a nest of rats before they invite you in. They will feel scared and threatened by the healing and exorcisms. They will say, ‘Not in my backyard are you going to treat the mentally ill – they must be rapists, murderers, thieves, and, “Hello!” they’re scary.’ They will disrupt your meetings and try to harm you. You won’t be able to convince these people. Don’t try to talk sense into them. Shake the sand off your feet and walk away.

Wow, buzz-kill. Nevertheless, the 72 go off two-by-two to save the world, with glorious, romantic notions about expanding the Kingdom of God.

Jesus’ instructions remind me of Rev. John’s directions to the youth before they left on their Summer mission trip to New Jersey. He said, “We are going to serve God by helping rebuild homes. Don’t take anything extra with you. One suitcase, that’s it. You will sleep on the floor of a school building. You will work hard and get grimy. You might get a shower after work. No phones. No electronics, no valuables. Some people you meet will be grateful. Some will be difficult to work with. Remember, this is not vacation. We are building relationships with each other, with God, and with the people we serve, so let’s not get distracted.” At least, that’s what I heard him say. Our youth and adult volunteers journeyed in small groups to rebuild lives with hammers, paint brushes, and the message that God’s love draws near.

I’ve been on a journey for five months while away on sabbatical and vacation. I did not do much travelling during my time away from CCC. Not in the traditional sense. My journey was less about a destination, and more about learning my bounds, pushing my body and my mind beyond self-imposed limits, and learning how to come back from injury and failure.

Part of my journey included overseeing the final edits and publication of my first book. It’s called The Space Between: Spiritual Activism in an Age of Fear, and it came out last April. I’m proud to say that a few people other than my mother-in-law bought a copy … but not many more. When I started my sabbatical journey, I had big dreams. My book would be an Amazon top seller in the religious social justice sub-niche market. I would develop workshops and webinars on the material in my book, maybe go on a speaking tour, or offer an inspirational conference keynote address … perhaps some book signings. I would grow my audience, network on social media, develop curriculum and trainings, and get my perspective out into the world. I was going to become a one-person PR machine. And, while I did get to preach at two churches, my ability did not match my fantasy. I am horrible at self-promotion. I didn’t have the emotional energy to engineer a podcast. I did not follow through on 90% of that fantasy.

Truth be told, I was tired. So, after a week of switching off between sleeping and pacing frantically around my house looking for something to do, I asked myself, “What, during this sabbatical journey, will be the most life-giving gift I can offer myself?” The answer came to me in the form of endurance racing.

I know this may sound crazy, but I spent a lot of time – I mean A LOT of time — training to race in short-distance triathlons. A triathlon is a race where we swim, then bike, and then run all in one event. You may be familiar with Ironman events where athletes push themselves to extreme distances. I raced in five shorter sprint and Olympic-distance events. The Braddocks also joined some friends and members of CCC in the Defeat DIPG 6k in memory of Elijah Sundell. So, my journey was more about putting miles into training. Since the beginning of May, I swam the equivalent of 62 miles, biked 850 miles and ran 300 miles — not bad for a 47-year old dad who could not stand up straight due to chronic back pain three years ago. Speaking of not standing, I had a big bike accident in May – I skidded out on wet pavement, landed hard on my hip, and gouged up my left side from my ankle to my armpit. It set me back about a month of training and racing. I learned a few things. #1, I am not a good patient. Just ask my wife and the good people at the wound clinic. #2, I am not good with blood, even if it’s my own. Just ask my wife and the good people at the wound clinic. #3, Endurance training is hard and unpitying, and it requires sacrifices. #4, It’s true what my parents taught me: If you ride a bike, you are going to fall. The true test is whether you get back on.

I also used my journey to deepen my spiritual practices. During what feels like endless pool lap, or when I am running for an hour, I spent the time focusing on my breathing, offering prayers for my family, for our world, and for you. It’s true, I did not forget about you while I was away. Even though we were not near each other physically, I prayed for CCC with my breath.

Now that I am back, I will confess, I expected a lot from a sabbatical. At first, I developed a fantasy of what it would be. In my mind everything went together perfectly. There were no falls, no failures, no major plumbing accidents with a broken pipe spraying water into my basement on the day of a huge party we hosted for our son’s graduation (I will save that story for another time). I dreamed that my old self would be shed and a new-and-improved me would return, ready to revitalize the church. My return to CCC would be a grand and glorious vision and I felt ready to get back to the work of ministry.

I did not listen to Jesus any more than did the 72. What was waiting for me? A moldy, flooded social hall, the deaths of some beloved members of our church, ongoing issues of trying to figure out what God wants us to do and who is going to do it and how are we going to finance it, tragedies in families, and all the tough conversations about money and budgets that I secretly hoped would be resolved before I came back – another naïve fantasy. I returned, not joyfully, but cautiously at first. It was not what I had expected. It felt like there was no recognizable change in or in our church.
Then I looked again … More good happened here than I thought at first glance. I saw volunteers who worked heroically, around the clock, to keep our church dry during the flooding. I saw our CCC staff who kept ministry going. I saw people who stepped up to lead worship and provide spiritual nurture. I learned all the guest preachers I lined up actually showed up – no one skipped out or forgot. Some of the most inspiring preachers were our own members who spoke about how faith intersects with their lives. We all learned that we can do more than we thought when we are apart, and it’s a lot easier around here when we are all back together.

The sabbatical journey brought newness. There is some newness to me: a new haircut, a summer tan, a few pounds slimmer. Beyond the surface, the journey provided the space we all needed to think objectively about what’s next for me and for us. After much thought and listening for the Divine Spirit’s guidance, it is clear to me that God is calling us to a new season at CCC. It will not be a season of gathering but a season of sending. Like the 72, God is sending us out together. Jettison the fantasies of greatness and the lure to power. Forget about the dreams of grandeur where we open the doors and hundreds of people flock to Colesville Road to join us on a Sunday morning. I think God about to send us out – sent to heal what is ailing in our community; sent to drive out the demons of abused, malignant, privileged power in our world; sent to proclaim the supremacy of diversity; sent to preach compassionate justice; sent to offer God’s over-the-top welcome to those who feel forgotten, or worse, abused, by Christianity. Our journey ahead will require sacrifice, hard work, and commitment. Sometimes our message will be accepted. Other times it might feel like we injured.

When we go on a journey, we are going to lose our way occasionally. The true test is whether we can get back on the path – whether we can find and follow the Way.

Christian people are sent people. Journeying people. If we want to understand our faith, we must live it along the Way. Some realities only make sense at a soup kitchen, or on the steps of the Capitol, or at a hospital bed, or mentoring children after school, or in any one of the countless of places in the world where people cry out for mercy, for the bread of justice, for the cup of compassion. Even today, Jesus sends his followers, carrying only the message that God’s love draws near.

Sources:

day1. org/1050-the_nearness_of_the_kingdom

www.messiahnh. org/2016/07/i-have-returned-end-of-sabbatical-sermon/

Sermon for January 21, 2018

How Far Would You Go?

1 Samuel 17

I had a sermon all ready to go today. It was a NICE sermon. You would have felt really good about it. Really inspired. I was going to ask you to think about the Goliaths in your life – you know, the immense, giant obstacles that seem unbeatable and impossible to defeat -- the huge problem that just might be your undoing. Sooner or later all of us must face the giant. Maybe it is a giant sickness that threatens life, or a giant wound that festers in a broken heart. Maybe it’s a giant wedge in a relationship that keeps you trapped in lonely silence. Maybe it’s a giant amount of work that stands between you and your dreams, or a giant injustice you have been avoiding. I was going to ask you: How do you respond? I wanted to ask whether you are planning on letting Goliath win, or are you going to take a stand? I was going to ask you how far you would go when called to take on a giant.

Goliath was the “secret weapon” of the Philistine army- a nine-foot nine inch, fearsome gargantuan who taunted the army of King Saul. There wasn’t a soldier in the camp who wanted to take on Goliath.

Goliath stood and bellowed to the ranks of Israel, “Why bother using your whole army? Am I not Philistine enough for you? And you’re all committed to Saul, aren’t you? So, pick your best fighter and pit him against me. If he gets the upper hand and kills me, the Philistines will all become your slaves. But if I get the upper hand and kill him, you’ll all become our slaves and serve us. I challenge the troops of Israel this day. Give me a man. Let us fight it out together!” When Saul and his troops heard the Philistine's challenge, they were terrified and lost all hope.

After hearing these threats, an adolescent shepherd boy named David looked around and asked, “Who is this person who is insulting the armies of God?” David wasn’t afraid of the Philistine giant.

King Saul sent for David and this is the conversation they had:

David said to Saul, “Don’t give up hope, King. I’m ready to go and fight this Philistine.” Saul replied, “You can't go and fight this Philistine. You're too young and inexperienced—and he's been at this fighting business since before you were born.” But David said to Saul, “I've been a shepherd, tending sheep for my father. Whenever a lion or bear came and took a lamb from the flock, I'd go after it, knock it down, and rescue the lamb. If it turned on me, I'd grab it by the throat, wring its neck, and kill it. Lion or bear, it made no difference—I killed it. And I'll do the same to this Philistine who is taunting the troops of the Lord, God, who delivered me from the teeth of the lion and the claws of the bear, will deliver me from this Philistine.” Saul said to David, “Go, and the Lord be with you” (1 Samuel 17:32-37).

Instead of putting on armor and a sword, David chose to dress casually, carrying only a sling in his hand, with five smooth stones that he collected from the stream. With no weapon and no armor, David was ready to win this battle for God.

Listen to what David said when he confronted Goliath:

“You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the LORD Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the LORD will hand you over to me, and I’ll strike you down. Today I will serve up the carcasses of the Philistine army to the crows and coyotes, and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the LORD saves; for the battle is the LORD’s, and God will give all of you into our hands” (vs. 45-47).

David took out a stone, and slung it and it struck Goliath on the forehead and killed him. The young, weak boy defeated his Goliath.

I was going to ask you to think about the five, smooth stones God has given you to face the giants. Because no matter what we may be facing, our problems can be solved by using the tools God gives is defeat giants I was going to ask you how far you would go when called to take on a giant. … until I read the last line of the passage I’m preaching today. Do you know how far David goes to defeat Goliath? The Bible says, “David triumphed over the Philistine with only a sling and a stone, for he had no sword. Then David ran over and pulled Goliath’s sword from its sheath. David used it to kill him and cut off his head.”

And now, I can’t preach that sermon I wanted to, because the story I learned as a kid … the one about the unlikely boy who topples giants, just turned ugly. Our scripture says, “David then displayed Goliath's head in Jerusalem, brandished it before King Saul, and kept his sword in his tent as a souvenir.” Think of those ISIS videos of beheaded hostages. They use decapitation to traumatize and terrorize the enemy. And it works. It is meant to be a public spectacle for those who download replays of the horrifying act on the internet. Decapitation is also a sacrament of civil religion -- a way of making violence holy. The beloved story of David and Goliath is actually a text of terror, and now I’m not sure how to hear God’s voice in this story.

This is not the only terrifying text in Scripture. Read the Bible closely and we read stories endorse using torture against captives (2 Samuel 12:26-31), legal rape of female prisoners of war (Numbers 31:1-18; Deuteronomy 21:11-14), slavery (Deuteronomy 23:15-16, Colossians 4:1), and transferring punishment of sin from the guilty to the innocent (Gen. 3:5-6, Genesis 6:5-13; Leviticus 16:8-34). Our Christian Scriptures are not exempt. In a world where there are those who read texts of terror and commit acts of terror in their name, we need to be explicit about how we handle these passages of Scripture.

You may think I’m being over sensitive here. Why not just take the story of David and Goliath and make it a spiritual story about overcoming the odds? Well, I think that’s a dangerous approach. When take stories about violent heroes and turn them into morality tales about fighting evil, we must be careful. I read a story about a dad watching his sons, ages 7 and 6, play Rock, Paper, Scissors. The dad introduced a new element into the game -- dynamite. Dynamite is made just like the rock, only you lift your thumb to create the fuse. Dynamite utterly destroys rock, paper, and scissors. In response, the oldest boy came up with an ever more destructive weapon – God. After a few rounds of the game, he activated the omnipotent God weapon. “Rock, paper, scissors … GOD!” he yelled. Then he lifted both hands in the air and violently threw them down with the thunderous sound of hell-fire and brimstone on top of his younger brother.

God. The Destroyer.

I know it’s just a game, but I spend a lot of time trying to teach children that God isn’t like that. When we spiritualize violence, we sanction it. The stories we tell begin to justify our actions. We teach that it’s OK to obliterate our enemies with overwhelming, brutal force. For me, as we continue to face the fears of living in a nuclear era, the thought of bombing and being bombed is a horrifying and immature response. It’s up to us to find different stories, and metaphors to talk about conflict, other than battle, killing, and victory.

Is religion dangerous? Do we need to edit our Bibles and eliminate texts of terror? Let’s just get to the point. Religion is not bad. Religion is not evil. Religion is not dangerous. However, people can be bad, evil and dangerous. They can use religion to support what they want to do. Any Muslim who cites the Qur’an or Hadith to support their view that Islam should forcibly convert the world to Islam, stands in direct opposition to every scholarly tradition of Islam. The term jihad, which means “striving”, is primarily meant to mean the heart’s striving to obey God. Jihad as violent force is a secondary meaning. Most Muslim scholars say that violent jihad is confined to the defense of Islam against unjust attack.

Any Jewish leadeer who calls for the conquest of Palestine forgets that the command to take care of foreigners who live in the Holy Land far outweighs any texts conquest and security. I do not hear the voice of God when Jewish leaders quote scripture to justify Palestinian oppression.

I also refuse to listen for God’s voice from Christian leaders who uses Scripture to justify mistreatment of the LGBTQ community, or who uses the Bible to justify the subjugation of women. I refuse to listen for God’s voice when preachers use the Bible to baptize their bigotry. When I look at the human violence of the cross, I’m inspired to stand for freedom and to come alongside victims of oppression. But we remember times when the cross has been twisted into a swastika -- a weapon. The icon of redemption can become an instrument of terror in the hands of bad theology. It’s why I don’t want us spiritualizing violence. Bad theology is not just dangerous. Bad theology can kill.

Of course, we have violent texts that are used by those who are filled with rage and hatred. By selectively choosing certain texts that support their aims, evil people choose hatred and intolerance over debate and dialogue. Religion does not cause intolerance. I think it’s quite the opposite. Intolerance uses religion to give alleged “moral support” to hatred.

We need to learn the warning signs that religion has become evil and evil has become religious. Here are some warning signs:

• Fanatical claims of absolute truth. This includes: Blind obedience to totalitarian, charismatic, and authoritarian leaders or their views that undermines moral integrity, personal freedom, individual responsibility, and intellectual inquiry.
• Identifying and rationalizing “end times” scenarios in the name of religion.
• Any and all forms of dehumanization, including demonizing those who differ from you, construing your neighbor as an Other, and claiming that God is on your side alone.

Sacred terror is almost always complex and bound up with other causes. But at the end of the day, we must admit that there is far too much violence in the world that is justified with a specifically religious rationale. We should commit ourselves to do whatever we can to stop it.

From where I am looking today – religious-sanctioned violence is the giant we must defeat. Most people prefer a sword and spear and javelin to words. Today, we declare that we resist giants not with the sword, but with the five smooth stones:

non-violent resistance,

peaceable protest,

speaking truth to power,

diplomacy, and

restorative justice.

How far will you go? How far will you go to hold each other accountable? How far will you go when our own religions dehumanize and marginalize others? How far will you go, in the name of religion, certain groups are targeted for exclusion? How far will you go when the governments suppress religious activity through harassment or detention? How far will you to go dialogue and explore our differences, respectfully and courageously? How far will you go to pray -- pray that we will be people of peace -- pray and work for a loving, compassionate, just and generous world in which religion brings out the best of who we are, not the worst?

We come together at places like CCC to deepen our spiritual lives and to increase our understanding and our compassion. This work forms us. It helps us to be healthier and more whole people. And it equips and inspires us to do the daily work of building a better world.

Sources:

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/teachingnonviolentatonement/2014/08/rock-paper-scissors-god-children-and-a-nonviolent-reading-of-the-bible/

https://www.journeywithjesus.net/Essays/20060619JJ.shtml

http://religionnews.com/2017/08/28/twisting-the-cross-the-deadly-theology-of-white-supremacy/

Is Religion Dangerous by Keith Ward

Sermon for January 14, 2018

Justice Without Corruption

Then Samuel addressed all Israel: “I have done as you asked and given you a king. Your king is now your leader. I stand here before you—an old, gray-haired man—and my sons serve you. I have served as your leader from the time I was a boy to this very day. Now testify against me in the presence of the Lord and before his anointed one. Whose ox or donkey have I stolen? Have I ever cheated any of you? Have I ever oppressed you? Have I ever taken a bribe and perverted justice? Tell me and I will make right whatever I have done wrong.”

“No,” they replied, “you have never cheated or oppressed us, and you have never taken even a single bribe.”

“The Lord and his anointed one are my witnesses today,” Samuel declared, “that my hands are clean.”

“Yes, he is a witness,” they replied.

“It was the Lord who appointed Moses and Aaron,” Samuel continued. “He brought your ancestors out of the land of Egypt. Now stand here quietly before the Lord as I remind you of all the great things the Lord has done for you and your ancestors.

1 Samuel 12:1-7

They want a king. The people of Israel – they want a king, so they can be like the other nations. In the beginning chapters of the book of 1 Samuel, the leader of the people of Israel is a judge named Samuel. He’s not a monarch. Samuel is known a charismatic and wise leader who hears from God clearly and can communicate God’s will to this loose confederation of cranky tribes known as Israel. The people don’t want Samuel’s sons to take over, now that that Samuel is getting old. The elders of Israel think Samuel sons are corrupt. The do not want the sons of prophets to lead. They want a king.

It’s not just about being like the other guys. At one point, the people cry, “We want our king to go out before us and fight our battles.” In other words, “We have enemies who want to destroy us. They have attacked us before. We are afraid and we need a tough national security strategy. We want a king. We want a military. We want them to protect us.”

God does not want Israel to appoint a king. Even though God expresses feeling rejected by the choice, God does not stand in the way. The people need to understand the consequences of their choices. God will not force them to trust. It’s remarkable, really. God finds them a king – a man named Saul. In our first readings, Samuel anoints Saul with oil as a recognition of his new title. Israel will have a King. And then, as Samuel give up his position, Samuel gives a blistering sermon that reminds the people what a king will do to them. He says, “You want a King who will fight your battles for you? King’s don’t do that. King’s take. They take your resources to enrich themselves. Kings take your children and order them to fight. Kings take your resources and force you to make weapons with your farm equipment. Are you ready to pay the price? Consider what you are asking. Kings take, take and take. God asks. With God we always have a choice. Kings demand allegiance. God requests our faith. Kings enforce laws. God enfolds us with love.”

In the reading from 1 Samuel 12, Samuel, in his old age, defends his term as the last Judge of Israel. He asks, “Have I ever cheated any of you? Have I ever oppressed you? Have I ever taken a bribe and perverted justice? Tell me and I will make right whatever I have done wrong.” The people confess he has been upright and good. Samuel is the kind of leader I want to be and the kind of leader I want to follow. Samuel has clarity about his God-given life purpose and goals. He does not become confused or lost in the swirling emotions of others. Samuel can connect to the hearts of other people by respecting them, engaging with them in healthy debate, loving them, honoring their strengths and bolstering their weaknesses. Instead of making people adhere to rules and policies, he values relationships. Instead of trying to control behavior of others, Samuel is led by an inner sense of what God is saying and encourages others to hear God for themselves as well.

Samuel knows that if the diverse and disunified tribes of Israel want to have peace, they need to make security decisions based on something other than fear. If they want to be taken seriously by their enemies, then their foreign policy must represent the aims of God, which have the best interests of all the people in mind. Foreign policy is not just tied into military affairs, it is directly connected to economics. Will Israel succeed if it a society where a small number of extraordinarily powerful and wealthy special interests exert enormous influence over the survival of the people?

Well, as I said, Israel gets its King – the man named Saul.  Saul represents what could have been but was not. Saul has some good points. He starts out as a dedicated and thoughtful king who defends Israel from its enemies. But as his fame increased, so did his delusion of grandeur. In the end, Saul refuses to obey God because he’s afraid of public opinion – worried about the consequences to his reputation when God asks him to go to war.

Saul’s style of leadership was so different from Samuel’s. Saul wanted people to like him. On top of that, Saul was an insecure and jealous king, to the point of paranoia. He saw traitors everywhere. Many of you know about David, of David and Goliath fame. David will eventually become King. Before his coronation, David was Saul’s aid, confidante, and son-in-law. Saul slandered David, assumed the worst of motives, and eventually made him a blood-enemy. No matter how many times David reconciled with him, Saul’s insecurity and paranoia gnawed at him. Saul became obsessed not by the true enemies of the people of Israel, but by spending his energy on palace intrigue and aggressive revenge, instead of governing and defending the people.

When I think about the times we live in, and the decisions we make when we feel afraid and insecure, I think the dominant expression – the main way we express our fear – is through aggression. In times of crisis, we turn to hostility as the only alternative for dealing with conflict. Consider some of the language we use around problem solving. We attack the problem, tackle the issue, take a stab at it, wrestle it to the ground, and get on top of it. If colleagues argue with us, we complain that they shot down our idea, took pot shots, used us for target practice, or killed us. Facing opposition, we back down, retreat, or regroup. Because aggression is so ingrained in us as a response, we can easily experience it as a positive attribute. Parents and cheerleaders scream from the sidelines of school sports events, “Be aggressive!" Supervisors reward managers for aggressive timelines and plans. Dictionaries define “aggressive” as hostile action, but also positively as assertive, bold, and enterprising. These combative descriptions of relationships and problem-solving point to a startling conclusion: We experience challenges as war zones, we view competing ideas as enemies, and we use problems as weapons to blame and defeat opposition forces

If we want peace, then we need to lead from a different emotional response than fear through aggression. I think we need mercy. Showing mercy can become a way to disengage from the current culture of aggression with a new way of being. We have all done things we regret. Aggressive things. Violent things. We have all had times when we wish we could go back in time and do something over again. The truth is, we all want mercy. But mercy is not given just so we can feel better. Mercy is not pity. God offers mercy as a way for us to restore our relationships. God offers mercy so that we can extend mercy to others.

We must find the means to work and live together with non-aggressive strategies if we are to resolve the serious problems that afflict us. As we become more aware of how the habits of aggression affect our actions, we realize behaviors that support violence; programs that have outlived their usefulness; and policies that don’t work as intended – it’s time for them to be replaced. We can dismantle our outdated, violent ways, we can establish habits of mercy.

Do you remember what Jesus said about mercy? Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy (Matthew 5:7) Jesus did not say, “Blessed are those who are shown mercy, for they will be merciful.” In other words, Jesus does not say you get mercy and then you give it. Mercy is the primary intentional act. You are blessed for being a person who commits compassion. You get mercy once you give mercy. We must lessen our aggressiveness and increase our compassion, just as our God so often does with us. We give mercy. Then we receive mercy.

One of my majors in College was English. I ended up taking many classes with the Chair of the English Department. Dr. Peters was a large, pompous man who regularly intimidated students. He impressed fear into everyone. His authority came from his title, his position, and his ability to scare his students half to death. In a literature course on the age of classicism, Dr. Peters would bellow out, “Braddock, what, according to Alexander Pope, is the requirement for being a British magistrate?” He would scowl at me as I sat in stunned silence. “Well, Braddock, what’s your answer?” I would finally stammer out a made-up answer. “I think Pope says if a man wants to be a magistrate, he has to have a wife who sells Tupperware.” Dr. Peters would shake his head and look at me in disgust before moving on to the next victim.

I was also a teaching assistant for another English professor, Dr. Paul. One afternoon he handed me a stack of papers to grade. As I went though the pile of freshmen English journals, I was disgusted by how poor the work was. Each passing paper was worse than the one before it, and the marks I gave reflected my loathing for their pasty writing. I delivered the graded papers back to the Dr. Paul, shaking my head in repugnance. The next day I went to his office, and he had a stack of papers for me to look through. They were actually the journals I had corrected the day before. Dr. Paul had gone through and changed all of the grades to higher marks. When I asked him about it, all he did was quote an OT prophet: “Matt, in wrath, remember mercy.” That lesson has stayed with me. There is no doubt in my mind why Dr. Paul had a very devoted band of students on campus. Dr. Peter’s authority was fed by the fear of his students. Dr. Paul’s authority was rooted in mercy.

The same should be true with people of faith. If we want to claim the authority to confront unjust systems and oppressive ideologies, if we seek to replace paranoid and fear-driving creeds with inclusivity and love, then our behavior must be established by mercy. This weekend, as we commemorate the life and message of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., we have become ever more aware of the challenges we face as a people to bear witness to God’s mercy and justice in the world. A society that fails in mercy will soon find that it is unable to fight for better working conditions, for the rights of workers, for immigrants, or for the poor. Such a society will find that what is considered fair, what is consider a right, or what is considered an act of mercy will be determined by the small number of powerful and wealthy special interests. It is time for faith communities to reject this ends-justifies-the-means approaches to leadership. We have a role in deconstructing the culture of aggression, and we do it by showing our communities what it looks like to give mercy before receiving mercy.

Saul suffered from moral madness, and that the power he wielded as king of Israel made his paranoia unspeakably frightening. Saul demonstrated no inclination to listen to reason. His suspicious accusations of betrayal and conspiracy grew in range and intensity. His delusions of grandeur swelled with each passing event. And Saul distanced himself from God. Israel could not sustain a materialistic leader who distanced himself from his faith tradition and ignored the belief that God’s world is not soiled but sacred … All of creation is not soiled but sacred … Nations are not soiled. Nations are sacred … People are not soiled. People are sacred.

Saul’s destructive lunacy eventually threw Israel into a civil war. Israel’s enemies, sensing the instability caused by Saul’s weakness, seized the opportunity to invade. Saul died in battle, and his death finally rid Israel of its crazy king – the king they wanted in the first place. Saul nearly destroyed the nation. Like all kings who go morally mad, Saul arrogantly believed himself to be the center of gravity when he was actually the epicenter of disaster.

It’s a good thing Samuel stuck around for a while after turning over Israel’s leadership to Saul. Saul needed a prophet to call him out, to remind him that he was not God, and to urge him either to repent or step down before he brought disaster upon the nation. Someone had to be resist the king’s madness.

In our age of warring aggression, with the fear we have of a nation marching toward madness, may the prophets arise. God give us prophets who show us how to resist. God give us prophets who teach us how to lead. God give us prophets who lead through mercy instead of aggression. God give us prophets who help mend the fabric of our society by weaving a seamless garment of mercy and compassion. God give us prophets who denounce the powers that oppress. God give us prophets who they bring us back to the heart of compassion.

Sources:

https://medium.com/@cainseth/trump-king-saul-for-a-new-generation-6fd58f9051c7

http://floydandsally.com/blog/2012/03/31/samuel-style-leadership-versus-the-saul-style-of-autocratic-leadership

https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/the-madness-of-kings-the-need-for-prophets-and-trump_us_58a59a35e4b0fa149f9ac213

https://rethinkingnationalsecurity.com/tag/peacemaking/

Sermon for January 7, 2018

Samuel the Listener

People often ask me how I got into ministry. How did I know? The question usually comes from new encounters at dinner parties. When guests find out I’m a minister, they start trying to figure it out – at least those who don’t avoid me. Being a minister is a familiar but uncommon occupation, after all. You’d think I’d have a pat answer by now, but the question still makes me stumble. How did I know? Well . . . I just knew. I’ve known since I was 12 years old. Picture a serious, 12-year old boy who hears the voice of God and begins asking for the complete 18 volume set of John Calvin’s Commentaries on the Bible for Christmas so that he can get an early start on his clerical studies; a boy staying up late and reading theology by flashlight long after his parents have told him to turn out the lights and go to sleep; a boy so caught up in the bliss of biblical studies, he cannot focus on world geography and mathematics. Got the picture? Well, that wasn’t me. I was a loud-mouthed, 12-year-old who teased others relentlessly, watched Three’s Company and the Love Boat faithfully, listened to Toto sing Africa endlessly, and did not have much interest in reading anything but Spiderman comics. I was an average kid and an average student living in an average American household. That’s the kid God called into ministry. As I grew, I tried on different ideas for occupations. By my college years, I talked myself into training to be a High School English teacher. But I could not shake the call to be a pastor.

I was ordained to ministry 20 years ago in 1997. It was a big worship service, concluding with me kneeling in front of the sanctuary as 15 or so ministers gathered around me. They were liberal and conservative; Black, White and Asian; male and female; younger and older. The ministers touched my head and shoulders, and prayed, and conferred the time-honored tradition of ordained ministry through the laying on of hands. Since then, I have enjoyed privileges and challenges that many others do not – I have baptized and confirmed my children. I’ve been at bedsides as people take their final breaths. I have presided over funerals that have broken the heart of the community. I have more crazy wedding stories than I should. I get to listen to people’s greatest joys and fears. Being a minister comes with a lot of enjoyment and a lot of heartache. It comes with the territory of partnering with people as we learn to become more compassionate, just, and peaceful. For me, it all began that first time I sensed God saying, “Whom should I send as a messenger to this people?” – the first time I said, “Yes, God, I am here … Speak, for your servant is listening.”?

Do you remember the first time you sensed God calling you?  Because you are a minister too! In the United Church of Christ, we believe God calls each one of us to build a more compassionate, just, and peaceful world. It doesn’t take a seminary degree or an ordination service. Everyone gets to build God’s world. Sometimes that process seems very clear and understandable. Sometimes it seems almost impossible to understand what God wants from us. But make no mistake, in some way or another, God calls each of us. Are you listening?

“Here I am.” In Hebrew it’s just one word: Hineni. We hear it a few times in the Bible. Like in the book of Genesis when God gets the attention of someone by calling out his name: “Abraham.” And Abraham says, “Hineni. I’m here. I’m ready.” There’s no surprise, no hesitation. God speaks, and Abraham responds as if the two of them were just sitting side by side, each fully present to the other. We hear the same phrase in the book Exodus. Remember the story of God speaking to Moses from a burning bush? God calls out, “Moses, Moses.” And Moses says “Hineni. I’m here. I’m ready.” Imagine what it must be like to be so at peace that when God’s calls you by name from a flaming shrub, your first response is, “Hineni. I’m here. I’m ready.”

We hear the phrase in the story of the commissioning of the Prophet Isaiah. Isaiah is probably in the Jewish temple at prayer. In a mystical moment, the Temple is filled with God’s presence, complete with a retinue of angelic creatures who flank God and sing praises. Isaiah falls apart. He knows he is not holy or wholesome enough to see God in all of God’s glory and live to tell about it. One of the angelic creatures takes a hot coal off the Temple’s incense altar and touches it to Isaiah’s lips as a kind of cleansing ritual. Then God speaks. “Whom should I send as a messenger to this people? Who will go for us?” Isaiah has an instant response. Hineni. “Here I am. Send me.”

Hineni. Each time this word is used, it is a pivotal moment. It’s as if God says. “Listen! Pay attention! Something pivotal is about to happen! Something is about to change, but only if you can open yourself up.” If we are here in the moment, if we are open and receptive, then we can begin to see the hand of the Eternal all about us. “Hineni. Yes. God, I am here. Speak for your servant is listening.” Our response opens us to the power of a sacred, imminent encounter with a new reality.

Hineni. We heard it in our readings today from 1 Samuel. Israel relied on prophets to hear and interpret God’s will for the people. But hearing from God was rare in the generations after Moses died, when judges led Israel. Visions were infrequent. Silence is a form of divine judgment, but God finally breaks the silence by calling out to a boy – an apprentice to the Temple priest who sleeps by the Ark of the Covenant, that famous gilded box that holds the law of Moses.

According to the religious hierarchies of the day, the High Priest and his sons are the ones who should hear God speak. They are the authorities. They are the ultimate insiders by birth and by vocation. Instead, God chooses Samuel. A child. A boy on the periphery. One who is not bound by the political interests of his elders. A child who can hear an unfamiliar voice with an uncomfortable message that will overturn the political and religious traditions knows best. “Hear I am. Speak, for your servant is listening.”

To say, “Here I am,” is one of the most important things we can say to God. It’s also one of the most important things we can say to each other. I think we are losing the ability to be present and receptive to others. It’s getting worse in our society because of our electronic distractions—our smart phones, our tablets, our laptops, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, other social media. We can be so plugged in that we are tuning out. Fear of missing out, paradoxically, makes us miss out on what is going on right in front of us. It’s hard for me to admit, but I’ve noticed it in myself. Just one more e-mail and I’ll listen. Let me answer this text while we talk. I even find it hard to watch television without having some other device by my side. You know what I’m not doing as much? I’m not playing games with my kids to taking out my guitar and singing. I’m not talking to my wife about how our days went as much as I need to be. It is not what I hope for and expect from myself. I’m not as hineni as I need to be – not as fully present and receptive to others. I can’t be alone in this. Too many of us are telling ourselves we are multi-tasking, when the fact of the matter is, we are distracted, not paying enough attention to anything. We are becoming less present for others; less hineni.

So how about it? What can you say "yes" to? Can you say Yes to God? To others? To yourself? When have you be able to answer God's call with "Hineni. Here am I. I am ready. Speak, God, for your servant is listening”?

Listen closely, because God calls us by name. Listen, because it may be a still small voice. It may be a soft, steady heartbeat in the turmoil of daily events. It is there. When you hear it, know that you are experiencing a moment of grace. It may be God commissioning you to be part of our commitment to justice, freedom and love. God knows you. God knows us. God calls us. Our response? Well, that’s our chance to be hineni – fully present to God and one another. Here we are. Speak to us. We are listening.