The Rhythm of Spiritual Activism

St. Augustine of Hippo once wrote, “There are two ways of life that God has commended to the Church. One is through faith, the other is through vision. One is in pilgrimage through a foreign land, the other is in our eternal home; one in labor, the other in repose; one in a journey to our homeland, the other in that land itself; one in action, the other in the fruits of contemplation” (Tract. 124, 5, 7).

Augustine draws on two biblical characters to describe these two ways of life: The Apostles John and Peter.  Augustine says, “The first life, the life of action, is personified by the Apostle Peter; the contemplative life, by John. The first life is passed here on earth until the end of time, when it reaches its completion; the second is not fulfilled until the end of the world, but in the world to come it lasts forever.”

As illustrated by Peter, the first way of life is the way of contemplative action. It is the verve and dash that responds to the call of Christ to “follow me.” The life of action seeks to live into God’s aims for the world by doing what God is doing and going where God is going.

Of course, one can only do what God is doing and go where God is going by listening to God. For Augustine, this second way of life is active contemplation, demonstrated by John. While Peter is the “do-er,” John is the one who leans on Christ’s chest, listening to the divine breath, feeling the heartbeat of God, and enjoying the reality of being God’s beloved.

We need both at CCC. Even in this Summer season, we are an active group. We are already planning events to help us live into our covenantal commitments in the Fall. We are preparing to pass Maryland’s Marriage Equality referendum. We are planning anti-racism discussions and events on Middle East peace. Summer has just started, and I’ve already met with groups who are preparing Fall Sunday School and Youth Group calendars, New Member events, the Capital Campaign, Gifts and Callings classes, and Senior events. We are an active church. But I didn’t need to tell you that.

Go out there and act, CCC! I’m right there with you. Let’s meet the needs of the world, preaching, teaching, nurturing, feeding, singing, liberating, stewardship-ing, and following the living Christ. And in the midst of our contemplative action, let’s not forget active contemplation. Activism has a spiritual rhythm. We plan for the pauses. We act together, and then we draw together to pray, dream, and listen for the breath of the Divine Sprit. Only then do we engage the community again. We act and then we listen. We engage and then we pause. We move and then we become still. As we take part in this rhythm, we do not think ourselves into a new way of living, but we live ourselves into a new way of thinking.

Blessings on you all this Summer season.

Pastor Matt

Sermon for July 8, 2012

Lessons from Creation
Genesis 1:1-2:4a

Our Scripture reading is a paraphrase of the opening words of Genesis, pieced together by David Blementhal of Emory University from the commentaries of Rashbam, otherwise known as Rabbi Samuel ben Meir (1083-1174). Click on the link to read.

If you want a glimpse of some of the worst of global warming, scientists suggest taking a look at U.S. weather in recent weeks. Horrendous wildfires in Colorado. Oppressive heat waves, droughts and  all-time heat records. One observer described our D.C. heat wave as “being in a giant wet mouth, except six degrees warmer.” And then there was that powerful freak wind-storm-for-the-ages that blew through last Friday. First there was the roaring wind --blowing dust, and debris and tumbleweeds -- followed by an explosive display of thunder and lightning that left hundreds of thousands of people without power.

As terrifying as that storm was, the aftermath reminded me of my younger days. The next morning, my street had no electricity, and therefore not as much of the noise that comes with power consumption. There were no whining generators, no a/c units, no humming of transformers. The chirping birds, singing in the morning heat and humidity brought me back to my childhood experiences on my family’s farm in Jerico Springs, Missouri, population 259. Many summers we would visit my great grandfather on the farm. Missouri summers are hot and steamy. Grandpa Hudson had a few antique desk fans to cool the kitchen – the kind that would lop off a limb if you got too close. My grandmother would set up shop in the kitchen frying hearty meals for family farm workers over the kitchen stove. She suffered through those visits to Jerico Springs. For her, a visit to Missouri meant a week of hard labor and sweat. As for me . . . I remember trying to sleep on the downstairs couch in the old farmhouse, waiting for a breeze as I checked in with the jar of fireflies I had caught and kept near my pillow.

The morning after our D.C. storm brought me back to Jerico Springs, MO. It also got me wondering what might happen if these weather events become a regular feature of modern life. These are, after all, the kinds of extremes scientists predicted will come with climate change. In the days following the wind and heat, I’ve heard more people wondering whether this is what global warming looks like at the regional or personal level. As one scientist noted, "The extra heat increases the odds of worse heat waves, droughts, storms and wildfire. This is certainly what I and many other climate scientists have been warning about." The head of climate analysis at the National Center for Atmospheric Research in fire-charred Colorado said these are the very record-breaking conditions he has said would happen, but many people wouldn't listen. So it's I told-you-so time.

Last week, The Washington Post reported that just 18 percent of those polled name climate change as their top environmental concern. Maybe we hear about it so much, it’s becoming too easy to tune the message out. As one woman told the Post, “I really don’t give it a thought.” We don’t always think of ourselves as intertwined with our environment. It’s as if we humans are no longer part of creation. We stride the earth as gods, and the ground beneath our feet serves our desires. In the wake of yet another weather-related calamity, we face the same lesson once more: short-term advantages can be gained by exploiting the environment. But in the long term we pay for it. When we consume the natural world as a commodity, we alienate ourselves from the earth, from each other, and also from God. I don’t think this is the relationship God intended.

Martin Buber was a rabbi, philosopher and social activist. In 1923 he came out with a groundbreaking book called I and Thou. He talked about two different types of relationships. Some people have I-Thou or I-You relationships. An I-You relationship is a true dialogue. A person relates to another with mutuality, openness, and directness. There are also I-It relationships. In an I-It relationship, a person learns about another, and experiences another, but never enters into a relationship. I-It relationships are entirely objective. I have an I-It relationship with my doctor. We don’t get together and enter into one another’s profound hopes and fears. He doesn’t really  know me. He looks me over and objectively compares my health to other males of my age.

Or, take the example of a tree. You see a tree in the middle of summer – a rigid green pillar in a flood of light. You can feel its movement and sense the flowing veins around the sturdy, striving core. You can sense the sucking of the roots and the breathing of the leaves. You can name put the tree in a category– call it a maple, an oak, a birch. You can tell with some predictability how it will grow and when it will lose its leaves. But, up to this point the tree remains an object – an It. You have only experienced the tree.

But, it can also happen, when will and grace are joined, that as you contemplate the tree you are drawn into a relationship. The tree ceases to be an It. All of the sudden you notice the unique features of this tree. It is not just a maple. It has original features that make it different from other maples. It still has a predictable form, color, and chemistry. But now, it’s as if you are confronting this maple as an individual. As the breeze tickles its branches, the leaves shake and the limbs sway, and all of the sudden this tree is dancing with you. You are in a relationship. And relation is reciprocity.

Many of us have I-It relationships with creation. We think that if we have enough objective knowledge and experience and science and can pour it all into new technology, then we will be saved. Many of us feel stuck in a cheap and impotent synthetic world. Our ability to enjoy one another, and the rest of creation is dammed up by greed, corruption, fractured relationships, boredom, and injustice. But God’s creation will not be tamed. Leonard Bernstein reminds us of this in some words from his Mass:

You can lock up the bold men,
Go and lock up your bold men,
And hold men in tow.
You can stifle all adventure
For a century or so.
Smother hope before its risen.
Watch it wizen like a gourd.
But you cannot imprison
The Word of the Lord.
No, you cannot imprison
The Word of the Lord.

Buber plays on the words of the creation story and writes, “In the beginning is the relation.” This is one lesson of creation. If we want to recover health and harmony, our broken relationships need healing. The process begins when we can see the image of God around us. I’m not talking about pantheism here. Pantheism is when you look at a rock and think, that rock is a god. So is that tree. So are you and I. Pantheism states that everything is God and God is everything. But, the lesson I’m learning from creation is to add one word to this formula: God is in everything, and everything is in God. That includes you and me. Creation reveals God to us and allows us to experience God’s presence.

I’m talking about I-You relationships with creation – transforming every experience into a unique connection. I-You relationships draw us closer to one another and to God. Nature’s abundance and beauty reveals God’s generosity and majesty. Creation’s healing, nourishing and life-giving properties reveal divine love.

The question is whether we can relate back to God. Martin Buber says,  “Relation is reciprocity.” A new relationship with God and creation means being vulnerable to God’s Word-- the ongoing, creative energy of God. Our spiritual task is to get out of the way enough so that we might be filled and renewed with God’s Word so that we can go about our work of healing, celebrating, and co-creating.

What I’m really talking about today is the power of love. I’m asking us to love creation and to love one another, and to love God. The love I’m talking about involves some risk. Think of a two people who fall in love. In a moment of passion, one partner says, “I love you.” And the other partner says, “Wow, I love you too.” I see it in the movies all the time. One partner might say “I love you” and mean it with all of her soul. But she is only into experiencing the moment: the rush of excitement. A partner might say, “I Love you,” but he might really mean, “I love how you look,” or “I love how I feel right now.” If that’s the case, then what he calls love is really using the other person as an object to fulfill his so-called “needs” at that moment. How many people do you know who have heard the words “I love you,” and then left the relationship feeling cheap and used? We might call it love, but it’s not a relationship.

Think of what happens with another couple when they say “I love you.” They look, and listen, and touch one another, and they know that what they see, hear, and feel has been kissed by God. This is not just any person. This is not just MY Partner, MY wife, or MY husband, or MY lover. This person represents the kiss of God.

We can do the same with the natural world. We can say, “I love the earth,” but really mean, “I love how we can take what’s around us and make our lives comfortable.” But think of what happens when we feel the breeze and sense the kiss of the Divine Spirit, when we dig our hands into the dirt and realize that the elements that make up the topsoil are the same elements that compose human life. This is not just air, soil, and water – these are images of God.

There was once a traveling rabbi who had the ability to answer every question he was asked. One day he arrived at a town where thousands came to hear him. A little girl in the crowd raised her hand. "I have the question you can't answer," she said. "I have a bird in my hand. Is it alive or dead?" Whichever answer the rabbi chose, the girl knew she would prove him wrong. If the rabbi said the bird is alive, she would close her hand and kill it. But if he said the bird was dead, then she'd open her hand and let it live. The rabbi was well aware of the trick behind this question, yet still found himself stumped. Perhaps this truly was the question he couldn't answer. Then suddenly the answer hit him. Tears came streaming down his cheeks, even as his face broke into a smile. Looking at the girl in the midst of the huge crowd, he said, "My precious, precious child. You hold in your hand a bird and ask if the bird is alive or dead. I can only tell you one thing. The fate of this bird lies in your hands. You can let it live, or you can let it die."

We can let creation live or we can let it die. Her fate is in our hands, yours and mine. Sure, we can suck the life out of our earth, and its resources, and inhabitants until we are bloated and satisfied while others are tossed aside like second-hand remnants after they’ve served their purpose. There is another way.

We can approach one another, and the creation around us with reverence, realizing that that we see, and hear, and touch is a single unique being, interconnected yet unique. The very least we can do is look -- really look. And listen. And touch. And know that what we see, and hear, and feel, has been kissed by God.

Sources:
http://www.js.emory.edu/BLUMENTHAL/GenTradRashiRashbam.html
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/07/03/climate-change-us-heat-wave-wildfire-flooding_n_1645616.html?utm_hp_ref=green#slide=1172845
http://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/global-warming-no-longer-americans-top-environmental-concern-poll-finds/2012/07/02/gJQAs9IHJW_story.html
Martin Buber, I and Thou (New York: Charles Scribner, 1970), 56-58.
 “The Call of Creation: God's Invitation and the Human Response,” http://www.catholic-ew.org.uk/resource/GreenText.
 http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/07/03/bill-mckibben-on-the-global-warming-hoax.html /
Some ideas in this sermon were freely lifted from Original Blessing by Matthew Fox (New York: Putnam, 1983).
Avraham Weiss, Spiritual Activism: A Jewish Guide to Leadership and Repairing the World. Kindle Edition.

Sermon for June 24, 2012

Five Ideas That Can Change Your Life: Love is the Thing
You Are Never Set Apart from the Connective Current of Life

Dear friends, let us continue to love one another, for love comes from God. Anyone who loves is a child of God and knows God. But anyone who does not love does not know God, for God is love. God showed how much he loved us by sending his one and only Son into the world so that we might have eternal life through him. This is real love -- not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins. Dear friends, since God loved us that much, we surely ought to love each other. No one has ever seen God. But if we love each other, God lives in us, and God’s  love is brought to full expression in us. And God has given us his Spirit as proof that we live in him and he in us. 1 John 4:7-13

How do you define yourself? I am a married, white, straight, educated, 41-year-old child of the ‘80s with four children, who enjoys variety in my menu, who likes to dress in mis-matched plaids and who enjoys a relatively good amount of health and happiness. You could say something similar about yourself. Each of these descriptions is a code to more understanding. When I was born, what I eat, how I dress, how much money I make, where I live and with whom – you form assumptions based on what you see and hear about me.

But I am more than any of that. I am defined by my consciousness. I think. I evaluate. I act on decisions. I am aware of my world. However, I don’t always know why I do the things I do, so something else must be at work.

So, am I defined by my sub0conscious? Sometimes I sense unknown motives and desires behind what I do. Sometimes these things just pop out and shock me. How can we explain an urge to suddenly call an old friend or to take a drive alone? How can I explain why I want to cross my legs when I sit down? Sometimes we can find triggers for our impulses, but usually we just move from one subconscious impulse to another without any real awareness of why we do what we do. So I know there are two parts of me, conscious and subconscious. But I don’t know enough about these parts and how they work to form a good picture of who I am.

There is a spiritual me -- driven by unseen forces and universal realities that are bigger than I can fathom. There is the me that others see.  People have an opinion about me when they get to know me.  Am I any of this? Can I know the real me? Can you know the real me?

When people try to explain something, we use two different kinds of languages. Let’s call them Day Language and Night Language -- two different but complimentary sides of our experience.

Day Language is the realm of objective reality. Day Language talks about what is empirically true. There is another reality, communicated to us through dreams, poems, metaphors and stories. It communicates a subjective reality. It wants to be interpreted. Let’s call this Night Language. In Day Language terms, I can explain that the average 150 lb. adult human body contains approximately 6.7 x 1027 atoms and is composed of 60 chemical elements, although only 24 or 25 of those elements are thought to play an active positive role in human life and growth. There are about 210 distinct human cell types. There are between 50 and 75 trillion cells in the human body. Each of those cells contains thousands of protein molecules.

So, I can understand myself in terms of mammal biology, but this doesn’t explain how I got to be me. I also need some Night Language -- some images, metaphors and symbols to convey reality. I can say I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am a child of God. God leads me to green pastures and beside still waters. I believe these things to be true, but I can’t prove them with the scientific method.

A Surgeon named Sherwin Nuland tries to tie Day and Night Languages together to understand the human spirit. Nuland looks at the world and sees the tragedies humankind has visited on itself, the havoc we have wreaked on our planet.  Even though we have made a mess of the world, humans have developed a transcendent quality that gets bigger, generation upon generation, overcoming our tendency toward self-destruction. Through trial and error, humans gradually found within ourselves, over the course of millennia, what we call the human spirit.  Over time, human beings have chosen to value beauty, harmony, integrity, oneness, rhythm, and predictability. Through thousands of years, we have evolved what we call the human spirit, or soul.

We need both Day Language and Night Language to better understand who we are. Consider this biblical image: You are dust and to dust you shall return. What does this mean? Well, it turns out that all of the elements that make up my body are also part of the earth’s crust. We are dust. Or, instead of earth dust, we can think of ourselves as star dust. The elements in the earth’s crust had to come from somewhere. Our atoms were created from supernova explosions of distant stars, blown out in stellar winds from massive explosions that soared for millions of years through space to become part of the birth of our solar system. Our bodies have billions of bits of information that have been encoded and preserved in each of us -- stored right in our bodies. We are dust, of the day and of the night. We are connected to the earth and the cosmos in love. Or, as Native American elder, named Black Elk said, “The first peace, which is the most important, is that which comes within the souls of men and women when they realize their relationship, their oneness, with the Universe and all its powers.”

We need both Day Language and Night Language to better understand who we are. We seek clarity in measurable facts, and then we express our understanding in poetry and stories. You are earth dust, connected elementally to the earth as her grandest expression. You are a star child, an expression of the blazing light and explosive power of the sun.

Perhaps this is how we begin to understand the love of God -- the evolving, breathing, life-giving connection that unites us. We need Day Language and Night Language to understand the fundamental affirmation of our Scripture: God is love. Far from being removed from the world, God is in every single atom of the cosmos, including you.

Both science and spirituality are beginning to affirm there are connections between everything in the universe that we can no longer afford to ignore.  A biologist named Rupert Sheldrake created a controversial concept called morphic fields. Sheldrake claims each individual both draws upon and contributes to the collective memory of the species. This means that new patterns of behavior can spread more rapidly than would otherwise be possible. For example, if rats of a particular breed learn a new trick in a lab at the University of Maryland, then rats of that breed should be able to learn the same trick faster all over the world. If enough chimpanzees learned to ride a bike, then it should be easier for the entire species to learn, no matter where they live. Wild idea, isn’t it?

Habits are subject to natural selection; and the more often they are repeated, the more probable they become, other things being equal. Animals, including humans, inherit the successful habits of their species as instincts. We inherit bodily, emotional, mental and cultural habits, including the habits of our languages.

In other words, we are never apart from the connective current of life. Everything is related. If humans practice violence and the habits of hatred, then it becomes easier for all humans to become disciples of death. But . . . if we practice love . . . if we live with compassion, if we see ourselves united with God and others, if we work for a more humane world . . . then we enable the entire species to do it.

I think a lot about our interconnectedness, and I think perhaps now more than ever we, it's beginning to dawn on us that our the ways in which we define ourselves, the choices we make about the foods we eat, the clothes we wear, and the cars we drive have effects on people all over the world, and even the waters, the skies, the soil, and the animals we share this planet with.

Love comes from God. Anyone who loves is a child of God and knows God. But anyone who does not love does not know God, for God is love.  As I think about this scripture, I began to wonder if we're not all in covenant with one another. I’m talking about a covenant between God, humans, plants, animals, skies, oceans, rivers, earth. We're all in this together. The more we begin to look around and realize the world's problems: famine, rising waters, global warming, human trafficking, worker injustice and abuse, extinction, loss of resources, you name it — we begin to make the connection that who we are has an effect on the world. We are responsible. But the thing is, we've got a covenant to live up to. It all comes down to love. Love is the thing. For it is out of love that we were made out of the dust of the earth, and it is with love that we are given back to the earth. We are in a love covenant. If we love God, we cannot help but to love God’s earth. If we love God, we cannot help but to love God’s earthly creations.

Last week, as I was loading my car and getting ready to come to church, my neighbor called me over. Pointing down the street, she showed me a bird – maybe a catbird or a mockingbird – flopping around in the middle of the road. It looked like its wing was broken. My neighbor said, “Can you move it out of the road. I’m too scared to go near it. I don’t want it to get run over, but I don’t want to touch it.” Mustering all my bravado, I said, “I don’t want to touch it either.” She looked at me. I looked at her. Then I went to look at the bird. I stood over the bird and it calmed down. I reached down, and stroked its back. The bird sat in absolute stillness, neither trying to flop around or peck at me. I pushed on its back tail feathers, and then, as I went to cup the bird in my hand, it gathered its energy and flew away to the relative safety of a nearby thicket. I walked away feeling such a connection with that little gray bird – as if it were my sister, as if we shared a moment. I was reminded of the words of William Blake:

To see the world in a grain of sand
And heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.

Think of the times you have had the privilege to cup infinity in the palm of your hand, as if it were a small, wounded gray songbird – the times you had the power of healing or destruction at your fingertips – the times when you understood your connection to the connective flow of life. What a privilege. What a joy. What a responsibility. To respond in ways that generate life and unity, that is love.

Today I’m asking us to fall in love again. Like a partnership between two people who love each other, who make a promise for better or for worse, I’m asking us to fulfill a promise rooted in love, a covenant made between our God and our world that we might love so deeply that we act not out of our own self-interest, but out of the elemental connections that we have with each other and the world around us. We have a covenant based on love. Love is the thing. So, FALL IN LOVE! Or, as John says, No one has ever seen God. But if we love each other, God lives in us, and God’s  love is brought to full expression in us.

Sources:
http://www.sheldrake.org/Articles&Papers/papers/morphic/morphic_intro.html
Margarate Wheatley, Leadership and the New Science, 57.
Krista Tippet, Einstein’s God, 41-67.
http://progressivechristianity.org/resources/a-covenant-of-love.
http://helpyourselftherapy.com/topics/realyou.html
Michael Dowd, Thank God for Evolution, 48-117.
Roger Housden, Ten Poems to Change Your Life, 31-41.

Sermon for June 17, 2012

Five Ideas That Can Change Your Life: Only This Moment
Jump Into Experience While You Are Still Alive

This is the story of The Mustard Seed Medicine . . .

Once upon a time there lived a young mother. She had a son whom she loved above all else in the world. She loved him when he was happy and cooperative and she loved him when he was grumpy and whiney. She even loved him when he had tantrums.

There came a time when the young boy became very ill. Doctors and healers were not able to cure him, and he died. The young mother was beside herself with grief. She picked up the boy's body and wrapped it in blankets, carrying it about the village asking everyone she met if they knew how to bring her son back to life. One kind friend suggested that she visit the Enlightened One, who would surely be able to help her. The young mother approached the Buddha, carrying her son's body and weeping. “Please help me! Please tell me how to bring my son back to life.”

The Buddha looked at her and felt great compassion. “I can help you,” he said. “But first you must bring me some mustard seed from a home where no loved one has ever died, no parent or grandparent, no brother or sister, no child or much-loved friend.” Sensing hope for the first time since her son had died, the young mother set out to find some mustard seed.

The first place the young mother visited was the house next door. When the neighbor came to the door, the young mother asked for a handful of mustard seed. As the neighbor was about to hand her some mustard seed, the young mother remembered to ask if anyone from the household had ever died. The neighbor said, “Don't you remember? My father died a year ago, and we were sad for a long time. We still miss him.” Dejected, the young mother went away without taking the mustard seed.
When she visited a second house and asked for mustard seed, that neighbor reminded her that a beloved niece had died in that house five years ago. Sadly, the young mother went away without any mustard seed.

So she proceeded from house to house, visiting every home in the village. At each stop, the family spoke of a nephew, a mother, a grandparent, or a beloved child who had died. Each family told a tale of grief and loss. When she had visited the last house in the village, it became clear to the young mother that what the Buddha had asked her to do was impossible. She was overcome with sadness and could not go any further. She found a tree at the edge of the village and sat down to cry.

She cried for hours. . . .

Over time, though, a strange peace came over her. She thought about all the stories she had heard that day, of loved ones who had died and of families who had experienced terrible sadness. She realized that she was not alone in experiencing the death of someone she loved. She was not alone in her grief and her sadness. The next day she returned to the Buddha. When she told him of her search for the mustard seed that could not be found, he nodded. “Our lives in this world are not permanent. Each one of us must die, some at a young age and some older. All of us will know times of great happiness and times of deep sorrow. Do not try to keep yourself free from these human experiences. Try instead to be kind and compassionate to all beings, enjoying all the gifts that life brings.”

As time passed, The woman became a comforter of all who experienced sadness and death. Even though she always missed her son, she learned to accept his death and to take comfort in knowing that she was not alone in her grief.

We all have struggles. We all bear the ravages of grief and the toll of sickness in our bodies and in our relationships. For the Buddhist, pain is inevitable. Growing old. Illness. Dying.   Even love is full of pain.

Most religions deal with the question of human finitude. If we are all going to die, then how do we keep on living? How can humans be saved from pain? The Buddha asked: What might happen if we stop struggling against the pain in our life? For Chinese Taoism, the sacred principle behind the universe is like a river. You can choose to swim against the current or you can choose to be saved by simply going with the flow. For Ancient Judaism, the answer was to turn to community and guarantee the survival of the tribe. Through keeping covenant, Jews are saved as a people for a prosperous and reproductive life here on earth. The basic problem with human nature, as Islam sees it, is injustice.  The Prophet Mohammad’s world was torn apart by blood feuds between rival clans, threatening his people’s security and prosperity. Muhammad’s revelation demanded that every person submit to God alone, leaving behind vengeance killings and other injustices in favor of a single consistent sacred law, regardless of that persons social station or tribal affiliation. For Islam, salvation is achieved when the just society is established.

Christians also deal with human finitude. Christianity taught that because of human sin, human life is hard and short. The fix is accepting the atoning work of Christ, enjoying abundant life here on earth and eternal life in the hereafter. Jesus will return, gather the faithful and bring them to Heaven. We hear it in our reading from 1 Thessalonians. Paul writes to a little church in modern-day Greece. The members of the church have been persecuted for their faith. Paul has reports that they are losing their way. So he writes a letter to encourage them. Towards the end of the letter he says:

And now, dear brothers and sisters, we want you to know what will happen to the believers who have died so you will not grieve like people who have no hope . . . We tell you this directly from the Lord: We who are still living when the Lord returns will not meet him ahead of those who have died.  For the Lord himself will come down from heaven with a commanding shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trumpet call of God. First, the Christians who have died will rise from their graves. Then, together with them, we who are still alive and remain on the earth will be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Then we will be with the Lord forever.                    1 Thessalonians 4:13-17

Christianity has spawned many movements of people who wait out the final return of the Lord. In America, some of them were Utopian communities. Others, like the Adventists, are still with us today. They all play on a theme that has been with us for a long time. Jesus will return and reward the virtuous for their courage. Jesus will also punishing evil-doers, with a clear separation between saints and sinners. A future moment will come when all tears will be wiped away, sorrow forgotten, joy restored, and the faithful will live in the light of God forever. We hear this theme in spirituals, the music of the enslaved, exiled African community longing for freedom in a foreign land. We hear it in Ozark Mountain hymns like “I’ll fly away,” written by a man who dreamed of soaring away from the cotton fields of Oklahoma.

But wait a minute. I’m not a persecuted Christian. In fact, I am blessed. By pure luck, I’m a straight, white, married man enjoying the privileges of the dominant culture. I don’t know much about persecution and slavery. Here’s what I do know. I know pain. I know loneliness and depression. I know grief. I’ve sat with and listened to a hundred people who grieve from the depths of their being. I’ve witnessed prejudice against my children. I’ve seen hatred against my and gay and lesbian friends who are treated as second class citizens. And in the midst of it all, I must say, I am not going to wait for heaven for it all to get better. I want to know salvation NOW. I want my world to experience healing NOW. I want tears to be wiped away NOW, sorrow comforted NOW, love’s joy restored NOW.

Barbara Brown Taylor, the Episcopalian priest and author, puts it this way: “In the Bible, human beings experience God’s salvation when peace ends war, when food follows famine, when health supplants sickness and freedom trumps oppression . . . Salvation is a word for the divine spaciousness that comes to human beings in all the right places where their lives are at risk, regardless of how they got there or whether they know God’s name.” She continues saying, “Few of us can choose our circumstances, but we can choose how we respond to them. To be saved is not only to recognize an alternative to the deadliness pressing down upon us but also to be able to act upon it.”

A spirituality disconnected from real life and real suffering is vanity. And vanity is a luxury that Christians can no longer afford in today’s world.

That’s why I love this poem by the mystic Kabir. He lived around the year 1500 CE. Kabir was a Muslim who tried to reconcile Sufi Islam with Hinduism. He wanted people to leave aside the Qur'an and Vedas, and people’s entrenched assumptions, so they could follow the simple way of oneness with God. Here is one of his poems, translated by Robert Bly.

Friend, hope for the guest while you are alive.
Jump into experience while you are alive!
Think . . . and think . . . while you are alive.
What you call salvation belongs to the time before death.
If you don’t break your ropes while you are alive,
Do you think ghosts will do it after?
The idea that the soul will rejoin with the ecstatic just because the body is rotten—
That is all fantasy.
What is found now is found then.
If you find nothing now,
You will simply end up with an apartment in the City of Death.
If you make love with the divine now,
In the next life you will have the face of satisfied desire.
So plunge into the truth, find out who the Teacher is.
Believe in the Great Sound!
Kabir says this:
When the Guest is being searched for,
It is the intensity of the longing for the Guest that does all the work.
Look at me, and you will see a slave of that intensity

Did you hear what Kabir suggest? Jump into experience while you are still alive. If we don’t break our ropes NOW, how will it happen later? Don’t wait for some future healing of our mistakes and bad decisions. Don’t let pain paralyze us into inaction. What is found now is found later.

Without even being aware of it, we can easily slip into living life as if it were a rehearsal for the real thing. We only have this moment. You know where I get glimpses and little reminders of the reality of NOW? For me, it’s in the simplest treasures: A supporting hand upon my shoulder or a loving brush of my cheek; the softest whisper of truth spoken in adoration; the early morning orchestra of music from the birds outside my window; the refreshment of the breeze, the contagious laughter of those we love;  the pain of loss; the miracle of healing; the unstoppable toil for a better world; the constant reminders of how precious each moment truly is; the moments when I experience kindness and compassion.

Jump into experience while you are still alive.
Break the ropes
Plunge into truth
Fall into love.
Cry YES! To the immensity of life.
Say YES! To sharing the power of beauty.

As we become present to ourselves and God and others, we begin a journey without end. All we are asked to do is start down that road.

Sources:
http://progressivechristianity.org/resources/823/
http://uustoughtonma.org/Sermons/Archives/20020331-DancingWithEternity.htm
http://www.namethathymn.com/hymn-lyrics-detective-forum/index.php?a=vtopic&t=177
http://throughaglass.net/archives/2012/02/24/saving-my-life/
Roger Housden, Ten Poems To Change Your Life, pp. 53-62.
Ernest Best, The First and Second Epistles to the Thessalonians, Blacks NT Commentary.

Sermon for June 3, 2012

Five Ideas That Can Change Your Life: Liberation
The Only Life You Can Save is Your Own

Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The LORD, the LORD, is my strength and my song; God has become my salvation. Isaiah 12:2

But now, O Jacob, listen to the Lord who created you.
    O Israel, the one who formed you says,
“Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you.
    I have called you by name; you are mine.
When you go through deep waters,
    I will be with you.
When you go through rivers of difficulty,
    you will not drown.
When you walk through the fire of oppression,
    you will not be burned up;
    the flames will not consume you.
For I am the Lord, your God,
    the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” Isaiah 43:1-3a

Jesus did not die to save you. There, I said it. I needed to get that out of my system. Let me say it again. Jesus did not die to save you. He died to save himself. Don’t look to Jesus to save you (or God, or me, or your family, or your new diet, or your IPhone, or anyone or anything). The only person who can save you is yourself.

Now that I hopefully got your attention, let’s unpack what I just said.

One traditional stream of Christian theology teaches us that Jesus willingly dies on behalf of human sin. God requires compensation for the dishonor created by human sin. The way to offset the dishonor is the death of a perfectly sinless god-man who represents all of humanity. Without the shed blood of the ultimate, perfect sacrifice, there is no hope of salvation. But, if you follow a theory of substituionary atonement, Jesus stands in for us, suffers God’s wrath on our behalf, and opens the way for us to be saved. Many of us were taught that there’s a rupture between God and us. We live in the world of the rupture, where every creature walks alone, feeling split off from the Whole, cut off from holiness and goodness, severed from the Source of life and power. Christ’s death becomes the final atonement for all sin, past present and future.

I’ve had a problem with this theory for a long time. The fundamental problem is that it puts God the Parent, co-equal and co-eternal person of the Trinity #1, as the one who sacrifices an innocent person, namely co-equal and co-eternal person of the Trinity #2. I choose to believe that God is not like that. I prefer to listen to these words from 2 Corinthians: The Lord is the Spirit, and wherever the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. So all of us who have had that veil removed can see and reflect the glory of the Lord. And the Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like the Lord as we are changed into God’s glorious image (3:18). The Greek translation of the word “image” is eikon. I think the atoning work of Jesus is designed by God to restore cracked eikons into glory-producing eikons. Salvation means that we can be renewed in the true image of God. Salvation restores our relationships between God, others, and the self. Salvation frees to be new creations – people who sparkle and shine, and reflect God’s glory. And don’t you worry. God shines through you. Through cracks and wrinkles, through spare tires and stretch marks, through faults mistakes and regrets, God shines through you.

So, no, I don’t think Jesus died to save us, but Jesus did die to show us how to experience salvation. Jesus did not die FOR sin. He died BECAUSE of sin. He died to expose the human potential for corruption and the human tendency to cover our mistakes. He died to show us what it looks like to shine in a world where evil abounds. In a world where religions marginalize others and fight for supremacy and kill innocent people, in a world where the some Syrians can murder scores of their own innocent people and show no remorse, in a world where a person accused of crimes against humanity can thrive off of fear and brutality, like Charles Taylor, Jesus shows how broken, tortured, and betrayed people, like him, can shine. He did not come to save you. He came to show that you, and only you can find healing. You and only you can find freedom. You and only you can show the world our greater potential for peace, compassion, and loving-kindness. You and only you can save yourself.

When we can live into that truth, when we can stop seeking validation from external sources, when we can stop living for others and begin living into being our authentic selves, then we can tap into an idea that can change your life: liberation.

The heart of ministry is freeing people to find their authentic selves, their inner essence, and then helping them to live their lives in ways that express this authentic selves. We can find the freedom to experience our own internal power. Each one of us has this power, but many of us deny it. My job as your pastor (and I think the first and foremost jobs of Pastor Amy, Nae and Sue) is (1) to help each of us in our congregation find who we are and (2) to help us be comfortable with who we are. It's a never-ending process because who we are always changes as you grow and learn new things.

The only life you can save is your own. You know who has a hard time with this? People Pleasers. You know who you are. People Pleasers often feel intimidated approaching others, especially those they see as particularly powerful. Their tendency is to try to get someone else to do the difficult work of dealing with those they perceive as controlling. I'm angry with Janelle, but I see her as powerful, so I share my anger not with Janelle but with Hal. Hopefully, Hal will share my anger with Janelle, preferably without mentioning my name. It’s a sure recipe for chaotic and destructive interpersonal relationships.

You know who else has a hard time with owning one’s inner authority? Authority Bashers -- those who attack anyone they view as possessing abundant authority. Authority Bashers confront and reject perceived authority at every opportunity. Police officer, government leader, principal, teacher, minister, parent -- anyone who is given influence by others becomes a target. The Authority Basher comes from the same place as the People Pleaser. Both have not come to terms with the potential of their own authority.

When I recognize and own my authority, I can say three very important statements: I know who I am, I am who I am, and I am good enough. My inner authority tells me that I am a powerful person and I don't need the approval of others or the disapproval of others. Validation comes from inside me, not from others on the outside.

I love the imagery that comes from a poem by Mary Oliver entitled, “The Journey.”

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Mary Oliver reminds me to listen to my own voice and not the voices of everyone else around me telling me who to be and what to do. When do we say goodbye to regrets, to sadness and old grudges? How long will we keep on sleeping, missing our own passionate, urgent heart cry? How much of our lives will we spend in anxiety and worry over others, even when it means discarding our own needs? When do we realize that we cannot shoulder another person’s soul work for them? When do we get to experience the joy and shining and liberation that our faith keeps telling us is real? As Keats said, “Each one of us must take the charge of our lives upon ourselves.” This is not selfishness. This is the most compassionate act you can do for anyone: to stand by the truth of your own life and live it as passionately and as fully as you are able.

The only person you can save is yourself. If you can be true to that small voice within, you are being of service to others and to the world in the most profound way possible. No one else can walk the journey for you. You and you alone can respond to your call.

When you go through deep waters, God will be with you. And you will know that you don’t have to go it alone. God doesn’t save us from hardship, but God does promise to be with us, to never leave us and never forsake us.

When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown because you will know who you are and that you have the power to make it through any current that tries to pin you down and hold you back.

When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned. The flames will not consume you. Actually, let me rephrase Isaiah. You will get scorched in life. At some time or another, you will feel consumed by pain. But the fires of life do not get the last word. To paraphrase Nazi death camp survivor Victor Frankl, everything can be taken from you, except for one thing. No force of nature, no hostile element can take the last of human freedoms: to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.

The day of liberation has come. Now go forth and shine!


Sources:
http://www.fvuuf.org/index2.php?option=com_docman&task=doc_view&gid=95&Itemid= you are bb127
http://www.uucmc.org/uucmc/monmouth-county-sunday-service/podcast-a-past-sermons/486-a-fresh-start-september-25-2011.html
Roger Housden, 10 Poems To Change Your Life, pp.9-20.
http://www.religioustolerance.org/chr_atone5.htm

Sermon for May 27, 2012 / Pentecost

Hello faithful reader. If been a bad blogger. Actually, I haven't really preached since April, so I have not had much to post here. However, the furlough is over. Today I post the first of five sermons in a series I'm calling, Five Ideas That Can Change Your Life. --mbb

Five Ideas That Can Change Your Life: Beauty for Ashes

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is upon me,
   for the LORD has anointed me
   to bring good news to the poor.
God has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted
   and to proclaim that captives will be released
   and prisoners will be freed.
God has sent me to tell those who mourn
   that the time of the LORD’s favor has come,
   and with it, the day of God’s anger against their enemies.
To all who mourn in Israel,
   God will give a crown of beauty for ashes,
a joyous blessing instead of mourning,
   festive praise instead of despair.
In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks
   that the LORD has planted for his own glory. Isaiah 61:1-3

I lose my patience with stupidity. I know it sounds terrible. But in the name of honesty, I need to tell you that I agree with Albert Einstein who said, “Only two things are infinite - the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former.”

I also need to tell you that lately I’ve been thinking, “What if the problem is not them, but me?” My revelation came when reading about the “Lake Wobegon Effect.” Most of you know about Lake Wobegon where “all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average.” That's the status quo in the town of Lake Wobegon, where Garrison Keillor escorts us each week on A Prairie Home Companion.

Here’s how Lake Wobegon Effect works. We have a tendency to overestimate our abilities and to underestimate our faults. Let’s use mobile phones as an example. When it comes to using a mobile phone while driving, most American drivers are overconfident about their ability to do it safely.  Most Americans have zero tolerance for other drivers who chitchat on a cell phone while driving. 88 % of drivers said they consider talking on a cell phone while driving a serious threat to their personal safety. 71 % of drivers said they consider it unacceptable to chat on a handheld phone while driving.

But they are talking about other drivers, not themselves. 67 % of drivers admit that they have talked on a cell phone while driving in the past month. Deep down inside we think the rules apply to everyone else, not us. When it comes to self-appraisal of our ability to drive safely, we think we are above average drivers in comparison with other drivers on the road.

I’m realizing that people like me who "don't have the patience for stupid people", who think our stars burn brighter than others’, may be masking some deep insecurity.  Losing patience with others is a cheap and convenient way to prop ourselves up at the expense of others. Life just feels better if I can blame some problems on the stupidity of others.

It turns out, I am not only critical of others; I can also be hard on myself. When faced with my own failures, I can move to self-judgment. Self-criticism can spiral out of control. I can turn my anger inward. That’s when my back pain flares up. That’s when I turn mean. Real mean. That’s when I get more upset at myself because I can’t do the things I want to do. It’s a terrible feeling. Hurt. Trapped. Stuck.

Most of us get stuck, from time to time. We get stuck to jobs, to circumstance, to children, to spouses, to singleness, to childlessness, to the economy, to addictions, to infirmities; stuck in expectations, hopes, fears, regrets, uncertainties, and grief; we get stuck in worn ideas and futures that have not arrived; stuck in feelings of shame, in apathy, in regrets, in greed.

Speaking of stuck, imagine the disciples hiding in a house during the Feast of Pentecost. Imagine what they must be feeling . . .
Grief:     “We miss Jesus and feel lost without him.”
Anger:    “Rome continues to terrorize us, robbing us of our humanity each day.”
Fear:       “Will we be the next ones to die for putting our hope in change?”
Shame:   “What do people say when they see us, knowing that we gave up everything to  follow a  
                 dead Messiah?”
Regret:     “I should have done more to save Jesus. I could have done more.”

God has a word for us today. It’s a word of freedom. The Sacred Spirit’s wind breathes refreshing Good news to the stuck. Comfort to the brokenhearted. Release to the captives. Favor for those who mourn. Beauty for ashes.

I recently learned a new word.  Maitri. It’s Sanskrit for “unconditional friendship with one’s self.” Maitri is the seed of happiness and the basis for compassion.  Maitri is Gladness for life. And it’s hard to come by. It’s much more common for us to disapprove of and belittle ourselves. We feel grief, shame, fear, anger and regret, and we look outside of ourselves for some validation (spiritual practice, exercise, food). A lot of this has to do with our relationship with pain and difficulty. In Buddhism, the Buddha’s great spiritual insight was a realization that in all human life pain is inevitable. Growing old. Dying.  Illness. Even love. The more you love, the more you open your heart to sadness and grief. Life has a lot of pain.

What might happen if we stop struggling against the pain in our life? This is not the kind of question we like to answer. We want to fix pain. Eradicate. Eliminate. Exterminate. Decimate. Remove. Abolish. Purge. Ignore. When we try to ignore pain, we ignore part of our very selves.

Pema Chodron tells this story: One time when I was a child, I was feeling very upset and angry at one point. I think I was around seven or eight. And there was this old woman, who I later become very close to. But the first time I ever met her, I was walking down the street kicking stones with my head down, and I was feeling very lonely. I was basically feeling that nobody loved me very much and that people weren't taking care of me. So I was walking along angry at the world, kicking stones. And this woman said, "Child, don't let the world harden your heart." When our lives are difficult, in small ways or large ways, when we're going through a lot emotionally, or when difficult things are happening in our environment, does life cause us to become more uptight and afraid? Or do those very same events, soften us and can open us to the renewing Breath of the Sacred Spirit?

That’s the message of Pentecost in Acts 2, isn’t it? Think about it. The world outside where the disciples hid was exactly the same before and after the gift of the Spirit. People worked, ate, played, made love, and struggled for survival exactly the same way before and after the gift of the Spirit. So what changed? Maitri. A change in perspective. Softening to compassion instead of hardening to fear. Like us, the disciples did not know what would happen to them tomorrow. We never know what's coming next. That's what makes us scared. We spend a lot of time trying to control the future, but the truth is that we don't really know. The question is how do we relate when things are uncomfortable? How did the disciples do it? That stepped into their discomfort with Spirit-inspired boldness. They lived into the words that Jesus said before he died, “I know longer call you servants, but friends” (John 15:15). No longer servants of fear. No longer taking orders from insecurity. They befriended their situation and reframed their suffering.

Here is our first idea that can change your life: You can love the stranger who is you. When you walk up to a mirror, what do you expect to see? Many times, the image looking back at you is critical and harsh. You’re older. You’re flabbier. You’re wrinkle. You’re not as robust as you used to be. You’re tired. Imagine what might happen if you look at your face in the mirror and your reflection greets you with generosity and respect. Your image smiles at you in compassion and welcome. You can love again that stranger who is yourself. You can give back your heart to that stranger who has loved you. Maitri. Befriend yourself once more.

Perhaps you absorbed yourself in confusion and self doubt for a couple of decades.  Perhaps you followed the wrong footsteps for too long. Perhaps you have become too satisfied with a comfortable but empty life of conformity. Yes, you have covered yourself with a veil of loss. Yes, you have known anger, fear, grief, shame, and regret. Yes, you have fed on old memories that no longer nourish your soul. There is always time to step out and sense the breath of the Spirit. That time is now. Now is the time to love. Now is the time to feast on your life. Now is the time to take beauty for ashes, blessing instead of mourning, praise instead of despair.

Sources:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7s-rRMUl04I
http://beingbuddhist.net/2011/05/22/maitri/
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/john-b-townsend-ii/the-lake-wobegon-effect-a_b_1163246.html
http://www.quora.com/How-do-I-get-over-my-low-tolerance-for-stupid-people
http://www.shambhala.org/teachers/pema/maitri1.php
Roger Housden, Ten Poems to Change Your Life, pp. 96-102.

Sermon for April 1, 2012

Is This a Joke?
Mark 11:1-11

I think someone sent me a passive-aggressive subscription to Martha Stewart Living. It comes addressed to me here at the church – it followed me here from CT. My best guess is someone came to visit our home on one of those utterly chaotic days, decided the Braddocks need some home organization help, and sent Martha into our lives to do some triage. I pretend not to like her magazine, but truth be told, I read it cover to cover. With Easter coming up, I realize, now, there are two ways to entertain: Martha Stewart’s Way and My Way.

Martha’s way: Stuff a miniature marshmallow in the bottom of a sugar cone to prevent ice cream drips.
My way: Just suck the ice cream out of the bottom of the cone. You are probably lying on the couch with your feet up eating it anyway. Just drip it on yourself.

Martha’s way: To get the most juice out of fresh lemons, bring them to room temperature and roll them under your palm against the kitchen counter before squeezing.
My way: Sleep with the lemons in between the mattress and box springs.

Martha’s way: To easily remove burnt-on food from your skillet, simply add a drop or two of dish soap and enough water to cover bottom of pan, and bring to a boil on the stovetop.
My way: Have your Easter Dinner at Outback Steakhouse and let them do the dishes.

Martha’s way: Wrap celery in aluminum foil when putting in the refrigerator and it will keep for weeks.
My way: Celery? Never heard of the stuff.

Martha’s way: Don’t throw out all that leftover wine. Freeze into ice cubes for future use in casseroles and sauces.
My way: Leftover wine?

Martha’s way: Potatoes will take food stains off your fingers. Just slice and rub raw potato on the stains and rinse with water.
My way: Mashed potatoes will now be replacing the anti-bacterial soap in the handy dispenser next to my sink.

Speaking of Easter, I know in my house my wife and daughters have already been thinking about Easter outfits. I once heard about an unemployed single mom with three young daughters who lived near a UCC congregation. The pastor went to visit and invited them to Easter services. “We would love to come,” said the woman, “but we don’t have any Sunday clothes.” The pastor went back to the church and talked to some of the deacons in the church who bought and delivered a nice Sunday outfit for the woman and each of her three daughters. On Easter Sunday, the whole congregation watched for the family, but they never showed up. Disappointed, the pastor went to their house after the service and asked why they did not attend church. “Well,” the woman said, “we got all dressed up in our new clothes, and we looked so nice that we went to the Episcopalian Church instead!”

How many Congregationalists does it take to change a light bulb?
Change! My grandmother donated that light bulb!

How many Congregationalists does it take to change a light bulb?
1 to change it and 3 to stand around talking about how much they’ll miss the old one.

How Many members of CCC does it take to change a light bulb?
Before we answer that, we need to have a series of town hall meetings and informal discussions, in which we will explore a number of light bulb traditions, including incandescent, fluorescent, 3-way, long-life, and LED, all of which are equally valid paths to luminescence. After some careful listening, we will present our ideas in a motion vote on it in a congregational meeting. We will probably write a covenant and celebrate it annually at a Light Bulb Sunday Service.

Struggling to make ends meet, a pastor was livid when she confronted her wife with the receipt for a $250 dress she had bought. “How could you do this?!”
“I was outside the store looking at the dress in the window, and then I found myself trying it on,” she explained. “It was like Satan was whispering in my ear, ‘You look fabulous in that dress. Buy it!’ ”
“Well,” the pastor replied, “You know how I deal with that kind of temptation. I say, ‘Get behind me, Satan!’ ”
“I did,” replied her wife, “but then Satan said, ‘It looks fabulous from back here, too!’”

How often does it happen that Palm Sunday and April Fool’s Day both fall on a Sunday? Today we stop to remember two things. One, there are hard things in life like death, disease, warfare, and poverty. Two: when life is hard, it’s OK to laugh. I want to reassure visitors that we rarely laugh in church on Sundays. We usually try to look serious. Today is different. Today is our chance to prepare for the divine folly of the Easter surprise. Easter is the morning when the Lord laughs out loud, laughs at all the things that snuff out our joy, all the things that pretend to be all powerful, like cruelty and madness and despair and evil. Jesus sweeps them all away with resurrection laughter.

On Palm Sunday, we get a little glimpse of the laughter to come. Ahead of us is a week of reflection on death, torture and suffering. We will spend a few days in morbid thought, trying to come to grips with the awesome love of a man who would willingly lay down his life so that we would know God’s love. Sometimes The world seems stuck on Good Friday, putting love to death at every opportunity, clinging to the belief that might & money rule the day. But today, Palm Sunday, is the day I remember take a deep breath, and laugh at myself. Palm Sunday has always been a kind of spiritual check up day. How are you doing? Are you happy? Do you believe you can live your life with joy, even when the future seems dead serious? It is so easy to get caught up in causes, to be over-scheduled to distraction, to have such important things to say that we can forget what really upset the Pharisees the most about Jesus was that he seemed to enjoy people and life and celebration, and all those things you can’t do when you are deadly serious.

When I think of Palm Sunday, I think of people like Annette. Annette was a stick of a woman. Her skin was shriveled from too many hours in the summer sun. Annette single handedly kept an entire town in potted flowers, flowerbeds, and whiskey barrels exploding with annuals. When the paper decided to do a feature story about her, she stunned the photographer who came to take her picture. He told her to look at the camera and she said, “Don’t take a picture of my face, no one will know who you are talking about. Take a picture of my back side. Then they will know it’s me.” And so he did.

Annette never stopped. If she wasn’t planting, she was crafting, if she wasn’t crafting she was cleaning. People loved to have Annette decorate the sanctuary of their church for weddings. She was a storehouse of ivy, and ribbons, and birdcages painted to match with twinkle lights. Annette was also fighting cancer. The remission, recovery, and the chemotherapy were always intermingling. In spite of her health, she kept going, kept doing for others, and mostly she kept smiling. You would always leave a better person after visiting with her, even when she was at her lowest. She just had a way of laughing and crying and smiling all at the same time that made people want to go home and hug their families and slow down and be sure to be a good person.

During her cancer, Annette was asked to decorate for a wedding. She agreed, even though her chemotherapy brought her as low as it can take a person. She said, “I’ll just go slow and start early in the week. Do it as I can and hope for the best.” And that’s what she did. Each day something would be different in the sanctuary, some ribbons would appear, the next day the ivy would be trailing off the chancel. However, two days before the wedding, everything was gone. The janitor had come in that morning and assumed the wedding had already taken place since the decoration had been there the last time, so she took them all down and threw them in the garbage. When Annette found out she smiled, laughed, rolled her eyes and went to the dumpster, took all the decorations home, ironed the ribbons, straightened out the ivy and put them all back the next day. No shouting, no blaming, no need to say serious things to people. No one knew it had happened, no one heard of it. The gift was the beauty not the toil.

There are moments in life that demand we take them serious. Yet, if the truth were told, we try to make too many moments serious so that we can feel in control or in charge. I have met many people who believe it is their responsibility to be serious, when in fact what they are truly being called to be is caring. Let me put it this way: in the dozens of funerals I have led or attended, I have never heard a eulogist say, “You know what I admired most about this person? His serious side. I’ve never heard someone say, “If my mother was anything she was serious.”

Palm Sunday is for me the day I set aside to check my spiritual wellbeing. Today, I want to be able to smile and laugh and cry all at the same time. If I grieve, I want it to be deep in the truth that I loved much. If I suffer, I want it to be faced with dignity and assurance. Today I want to remember that, yes . . . Easter laughter is coming. But joy can be found on both sides of the cross.