Good News That Connects: Listening
Acts 10:1-18
Real men will eat anything, right. I remember attending a game dinner many years ago. It must have been a bad year for venison, because the real men ate fowl and skewered pieces of marinated raccoon meat. Yes, I tried it. No, I didn’t have seconds. And no, there was no voice from heaven commanding me to eat it – no booming voice saying, “Matt, do not call something unclean if God has made it clean.” What the most disgusting meat you’ve ever eaten? Does the thought of it turns your stomach?
You’ve heard about dining on insects, right? This is an old news story, but media outlets won’t let it go. A report published by the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization says that insects and insect products should do more towards improving the food security of the world. Certain entrepreneurs are picking up on this trend. Like the company Chapul that makes energy bars. They state, “[Our] Bars are delicious, all-natural bars with protein from crickets-one of the planet's most amazing, energy-efficient creatures. No soy. No dairy. Just our innovative flour made entirely from crickets.”
Here is another stomach turner for me. Lab-grown meat. A lab in London grew a hamburger in a Petri dish. Some call it the Frankenburger. The meat, which contained no fat, was fried in a pan with copious amounts of butter by an English chef and presented on a plate with a bun, lettuce and tomato slices. The concept has enormous environmental and ethical benefits. But here’s the problem – who wants to eat a burger grown in a lab from stem cells? It’s kind of cool. And kind of gross. It has definitely has the “yuck factor” for me. On the bright side, it can’t be worse than raccoon.
In the Book of Acts, chapter 10 God shows Peter a vision of a boondocks banquet coming down out of heaven. There’s some snakes and a bunch of reptiles. According to Jewish law, they are all unclean animals. Eating them will defile you. God says, “Go on, Peter, have a bite.” I don’t know if anyone here has ever eaten snake before. The outdoorsmen of the world tell us that snakes, racoons, possum, squirrels -- all that stuff is tasty when it’s prepared correctly. Apparently, Peter was disgusted by it all. Maybe Peter just didn’t have a good recipe.
In the first century, the great question was one of boundaries. Where would the lines be drawn that would determine who should hear the gospel and who would not. It is a question the church has not yet answered. Marcus Borg writes about this in his book Meeting Jesus Again for the Very First Time. He says, "The struggle between compassion and purity goes on in the churches today. In parts of the church there are groups that emphasize holiness and purity as the Christian way of life, and they draw their own sharp social boundaries between the righteous and sinners. It is a sad irony that these groups, many of which are seeking very earnestly to be faithful to Scripture, end up emphasizing those parts of Scripture that Jesus himself challenged and opposed. An interpretation of Scripture faithful to Jesus and the early Christian movement sees the Bible through the lens of compassion, not purity."
In the earliest church, some Believers assumed that God’s recipe for a good church was limited to those who followed the commandments and rituals of Judaism. The first church members called themselves Jews. They worshiped like Jews. They did not associate with anyone who was not Jewish. It was against Jewish law to be in contact with Gentiles and their traditions. You can imagine how Peter’s horror when God sends Peter to the home of Cornelius – not only an unclean Gentile, but a Roman army officer.
As the author Luke tells the story, Peter visits Cornelius and tells him the story of Jesus. The Holy Spirit immediately fills Cornelius. He and his entire household convert to Christianity. The opportunity comes through listening. Peter listens to God. Peter listens to Cornelius. Peter realizes that God’s love is not defined by social boundaries. God’s love reaches farther than Peter ever dreamed.
I think we need a reminder of who the church is, and what we are called to do. Since we were kids, someone told us that God loves everyone. The membership rolls of the early church sound more like roll call of a detention camp. The early church attracted people who were seen as low-lifes – religious zealots, the poor and oppressed, helpless charity cases, and foreigners. Rich patrons, working class laborers and those in abject poverty held common property and took care of each other. The church has always been place for people with real pain to hear words of healing and hope.
An inclusive vision of the church means that we restlessly commit ourselves to listening for the ways God wants to expand our horizons. We listen and then we preach and teach the message of God’s extravagant love.
In 1999 a little church in Decatur called Oakhurst Baptist Church was ejected by the Georgia Baptist Convention for a variety of issues having to do with Biblical interpretation and inclusiveness. In the 1960's this congregation took a stand against segregation and had lost two-thirds of its members. In the 1980's the church opened its doors to the homeless, who have been welcomed and have worshiped there ever since. In fact, the pastor tells about the time when he and his young son were visiting another church facility and his son asked, “Dad, where do the homeless live here?” He assumed that you could not have a church without a place for your homeless friends. One day, when the congregation was in the news, a developmentally disabled church member saw a TV camera and hurried over to offer to be on television. The reporter extended his microphone and asked, “Tell me, what do you like about this church?” John grinned and answered, “They love everybody here.”
I’ve been to similar churches. I think of one church in that regularly opens its doors to anyone. I mean ANYONE. On any given Sunday, this church has business professionals, college professors, group-home residents, families with children and homeless street people all worshiping together, praying for one another and celebrating each other’s lives. Another church I know sends out its “Worship Wagon.” The Worship Wagon goes to the homes of homebound members and others who can’t get to church. The worship wagon drives people to the church and brings them home afterwards. Churches like these are trying to live out a belief that we are not fully the body of Christ until everyone is included.
Preaching professor, Fred Craddock, once told about a church he knew. He remembered it as the status church – First Church Downtown, it was called. Everybody who was anybody went to that church when Fred was a boy. Not just anybody could walk in there and join. Income and proper attire was a membership requirement at First Church. People in need were out of the question. People of Color need not apply. As you might imagine, First Church did not receive many new members. Its members simply grew older.
Much later, as an adult, Fred learned that First Church had closed. Too few people of the “right type” existed, he guessed. He had occasion to go back to that town, and he discovered that old First Church was still standing. But now it was a restaurant, a fish restaurant oddly enough. He walked in the big gothic doors and, sure enough, where there had once been pews, now there were tables, and waiters, and diners. He looked down the nave of the old church and where the communion table had once stood, now there was a salad bar. He walked out the front door, back down the steps, muttering to himself, “Now, I guess everybody is welcome to eat at the table.”
There are some questions for us lurking behind today’s text from Acts. Can we allow the Holy Spirit to prod us – to give us ears to hear – to drag if necessary, all the way to the wideness of God’s mercy? Or will we hunker down right here, and limit our listening? Do we opt for safe and secure? Do we keep our limits firmly fixed? Who is today’s equivalent of the gentiles? Who are the one’s we call unclean – the one’s God insists belong?
Maybe the most important question that we need to think about is this: What kind of meal are we going to offer? A safe one or a risky one? A buffet or a banquet?
Sources:
http://chapul.com/
http://www.npr.org/2013/05/17/184775920/insects-may-be-the-taste-of-the-next-generation-report-says
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/08/06/science/a-lab-grown-burger-gets-a-taste-test.html?ref=science
http://revandylittle.com/2009/10/03/buffet-or-banquet-acts-111-8/
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Monday, August 5, 2013
Sermon for August 4, 2013
Good News That Connects: Welcoming
The story of Saul of Tarsus from Acts 9 begins at least two centuries before we ever even hear about him. Our story begins around the 170 years before the birth of Christ. A greedy and desperate king ruled what was known as the Seleucid Empire – one of the subdivisions of the Empire of Alexander the Great. This king needed money to pay tribute to Rome. The king heard gossip that the Temple in Jerusalem overflowed with riches. It served as a bank where the private deposits of widows and orphans were kept secure. Since this king needed money, he sent his treasurer on a journey to raid the holy place. The treasurer’s name was Heliodorus. Heliodorus set off with armed guards to plunder the temple. When the people of Jerusalem heard about it, they began to panic. The priests in the Temple threw themselves on the ground and called to heaven for help. People burst from their houses and gathered in crowds to plead for divine intervention because the temple was about to be dishonored.
As the story goes, when Heliodorus and his spearmen approached the treasury, the God of Israel made an awesome display. Heliodorus saw a vision of a horse with a fearsome rider, decked in gold armor. Two young men also appeared before him—of superb beauty, wearing magnificent robes and unmatched in bodily strength. It turned out to be more than a vision. These beautiful men stood on either side of Heliodorus and beat the tar out of him. Heliodorus fell to the ground unconscious. Some of the warriors from his entourage picked him up and placed him on a stretcher. The bully Heliodorus, who was on his way to rob God’s treasury with a fully armed bodyguard, was carried away helpless – rendered blind and speechless by his visit from heaven.
Some of Heliodorus’ companions rushed to ask the High Priest in the Temple to pray for their boss. The high priest was afraid that the Seleucid king might think the Jews had done something evil to his treasurer. So, with fear and trembling, the High Priest offered a sacrifice for the recovery of Heliodorus. While the high priest was praying, the two beautiful, angelic brutes who had given Heliodorus a heavenly whipping once again appeared by the side of the royal treasurer. The angels said, “You owe the high priest your gratitude. Because of him, the Lord has graciously given life to you. But you who suffered a beating from heaven must proclaim the great power of God to all.” Then they disappeared.
Heliodorus was a new man His sight and voice returned. He returned home, singing the praises of God. He reported to the King, “The one who lives in heaven watches over that place and will strike and destroy anyone coming with evil intent.”
Does this story sound a little familiar? A villainous persecutor with an armed escort is knocked down on the road, blinded, repents, and is healed by a holy albeit reluctant servant of the Divine? Change the names and a few minor details, and we get Luke’s story in the book of Acts -- a dramatic scene in which the risen Jesus knocks Paul off his horse on the road to Damascus. Paul, the would-be killer, is blinded by the light, comes to Jesus, is healed by a reluctant servant and becomes Christ’s spokesperson and defender. I think Luke “borrows” an older story from Jewish history and reworks it for his own narrative. So, either Luke is a really bad historian or he has a different agenda in mind. Given Luke’s tendency to rewrite much of the Greek Old Testament and Apocrypha, I vote for the latter. The story of Heliodorus comes from the book of 2 Maccabees. But the story itself is much older. The basic idea of a persecutor being converted despite himself by direct fiat of the God whose followers he has been abusing appears 500 years earlier, from the ancient Greek play The Bacchae by Euripides. Come on now – you remember it from your college English Lit. class, don’t you?
So, what’s Luke up to? If Luke’s description of Paul’s conversion to Christianity is not historically accurate, then why all the drama? In volume one of his writings, the Gospel According to Luke, we hear the story of Jesus, a Jewish leader who is baptized and anointed with the Spirit, goes about doing good, heals the sick, raises the dead, casts out demons, preaches in synagogues and finally making his way to Jerusalem where, after a uproar at the Temple, he is taken into custody. He is put on trial before the Jewish courts and Roman officials who declare him innocent but execute him to keep the peace.
In volume two, The Acts of the Apostles, Luke tells us about Paul, a Jewish leader who is anointed with the Spirit, goes about doing good, heals the sick, raises the dead, casts out demons, preaches in synagogues and finally making his way to Jerusalem where, after a uproar at the Temple, he is taken into custody. He is put on trial before the Jewish courts and Roman officials who declare him innocent. Luke implies Paul is later executed in order to keep the peace. Paul’s life path mirrors Jesus. Luke is making a point – What Jesus began, Paul fulfills. The movement that Jesus started is best interpreted by Paul.
Some scholars think Paul might not have even been a persecutor of the early church in the first place. It was a legend that was added later. Why? Luke knew there was a movement to discredit Paul. And who would do such a thing? All of the stories seem to point to one person – a man named James the Just. It seems Paul and James never got along. James led the Church in Jerusalem. Oh yeah, he was also the brother of Jesus, by some accounts. Talk about name dropping, right? This James, the brother of Jesus, was friends with the Apostle Peter. Peter was appointed as the head of the entire church by Jesus. Peter claimed the right to rule with what the church called “apostolic authority.” As Peter and James oversaw the new Jesus movement, it was very Jewish oriented.
When Paul came on the scene, he broadened the message of Jesus to include the Gentile world. He was so successful, Christianity became more Gentile than Jewish. As Paul's churches grew in number, the traditional leadership in Jerusalem probably felt their influence diminishing. With explosive growth, there was less control. It couldn’t be expected that everybody, everywhere would believe the same beliefs, sing the same hymns, read the same scriptures and tell the same story. So what did conflicting leaders do? They attacked each other and wrote letters and books to confirm their own version of the story. Paul wrote his first letter to confront his opponents and tell his personal story about how the Jewish law dissolves in the midst of God’s grace and forgiveness. Paul declared stridently, “We are saved by faith, not Jewish law.” James the Just wrote a letter and said, “That’s fine, but faith without the law is dead” (James 2:17). James disputed Paul, expressing the belief that Christians must show their devotion to God by following Jewish law and performing good deeds. We can see this political proof texting in the Gospels. The Gospel According to Matthew is very Jewish-oriented and seeks to make a case for the authority of Peter. Luke Gospel and The Acts of the Apostles are more Greek oriented and ultimately make the case that Paul walks in the footsteps of Jesus and fulfills Christ’s commission to bring the Gospel from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth.
We tend to romanticize the beginnings of the early church. We were taught that in the midst of persecution, the church was all of one accord. A closer read of the texts tells a different story: fights and fraction, politics and polemics, popularity contests and power struggles. Some historians and theologians propose that the early church was characterized by “radical diversity.” We can’t speak of a unified “Christianity” during that time. The early church consisted of competing “Christianities.”
The Church eventually found ways to define orthodoxy and tamp down all these opposing versions of Christianity. Christendom created communities of conformity. But that was not the experience of the earliest church. Even though Peter and Paul disagreed, something held the church together. It was not a creed. It was not a droning doctrinal debate. It was a common spirit.
Instead of conformity, I am much more interested in creating communities of welcome. We pray with Jesus that we all may be one. But maybe the job of the church is not to be united in our theology. Maybe the job of the church is to unite around what we do rather than what we believe. Peter and Paul’s theologies of mission conflicted, but they found common ground in creating communities of welcome, communities of radical inclusiveness that redistributed wealth, rejected violence, and invited the “nobodies” to worship elbow-to-elbow with the “somebodies.” Maybe that’s still the job of the Church. We need to get over our tendencies to divide over doctrine as we offer true welcome – even if it means doing God’s work side by side with those whom we disagree.
If anyone can change community of conformity to communities of welcome, it should be the UCC. I typed in the words “unified church with diverse theology” into Google, and guess who came up first? The UCC. As individual members, we are free to believe and act in accordance with our perception of God’s will for our lives. At the same time, we are called to live in loving relationship with one another – gathering in local communities of faith. In the UCC, each congregation or local church is free to act in accordance with the collective decisions of its members, guided by the working of the Spirit in the light of the Scriptures. But each local church also lives in covenantal relationship with other congregations. We find ways to exist in these expanding levels of covenant, even if we don’t always agree with each other. Our ultimate vision is to welcome people – to invite people to enhance our worship life and mission life as full partners:
Believers and agnostics
Conventional Christians and questioning skeptics
Homosexuals and heterosexuals
Males and females, and those who are discovering or uncovering their gender identity
Those of all races and cultures
Those of all classes and abilities
The optimists and the pessimists
Traditionalists and Progressives
Those who despair and those who have hope
We think the way we treat one another and other people is more important than the way we express our beliefs. We find more grace in the questions than in the answers. We discover the resources required for our work in the world: striving for justice and peace among all people, bringing hope to those Jesus called the least of his sisters and brothers.
We recognize that God’s Good News story includes and welcomes other stories -- more than we can imagine. The stranger, the forgotten, the weak, and the dispossessed – we make certain that there is room for all at the table. We make certain that we practice our belief that it’s more important to be loving than to be right.
Sources:
http://topicalbible.org/h/heliodorus.htm
http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2+Maccabees+3&version=CEB
http://www.robertmprice.mindvendor.com/art_legend_paul_conv.htm
http://www.churchhistory101.com/century1-p6.php
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/religion/first/diversity.html
http://www.harrington-sites.com/History.htm
The Underground Church by Robin Meyers
The story of Saul of Tarsus from Acts 9 begins at least two centuries before we ever even hear about him. Our story begins around the 170 years before the birth of Christ. A greedy and desperate king ruled what was known as the Seleucid Empire – one of the subdivisions of the Empire of Alexander the Great. This king needed money to pay tribute to Rome. The king heard gossip that the Temple in Jerusalem overflowed with riches. It served as a bank where the private deposits of widows and orphans were kept secure. Since this king needed money, he sent his treasurer on a journey to raid the holy place. The treasurer’s name was Heliodorus. Heliodorus set off with armed guards to plunder the temple. When the people of Jerusalem heard about it, they began to panic. The priests in the Temple threw themselves on the ground and called to heaven for help. People burst from their houses and gathered in crowds to plead for divine intervention because the temple was about to be dishonored.
As the story goes, when Heliodorus and his spearmen approached the treasury, the God of Israel made an awesome display. Heliodorus saw a vision of a horse with a fearsome rider, decked in gold armor. Two young men also appeared before him—of superb beauty, wearing magnificent robes and unmatched in bodily strength. It turned out to be more than a vision. These beautiful men stood on either side of Heliodorus and beat the tar out of him. Heliodorus fell to the ground unconscious. Some of the warriors from his entourage picked him up and placed him on a stretcher. The bully Heliodorus, who was on his way to rob God’s treasury with a fully armed bodyguard, was carried away helpless – rendered blind and speechless by his visit from heaven.
Some of Heliodorus’ companions rushed to ask the High Priest in the Temple to pray for their boss. The high priest was afraid that the Seleucid king might think the Jews had done something evil to his treasurer. So, with fear and trembling, the High Priest offered a sacrifice for the recovery of Heliodorus. While the high priest was praying, the two beautiful, angelic brutes who had given Heliodorus a heavenly whipping once again appeared by the side of the royal treasurer. The angels said, “You owe the high priest your gratitude. Because of him, the Lord has graciously given life to you. But you who suffered a beating from heaven must proclaim the great power of God to all.” Then they disappeared.
Heliodorus was a new man His sight and voice returned. He returned home, singing the praises of God. He reported to the King, “The one who lives in heaven watches over that place and will strike and destroy anyone coming with evil intent.”
Does this story sound a little familiar? A villainous persecutor with an armed escort is knocked down on the road, blinded, repents, and is healed by a holy albeit reluctant servant of the Divine? Change the names and a few minor details, and we get Luke’s story in the book of Acts -- a dramatic scene in which the risen Jesus knocks Paul off his horse on the road to Damascus. Paul, the would-be killer, is blinded by the light, comes to Jesus, is healed by a reluctant servant and becomes Christ’s spokesperson and defender. I think Luke “borrows” an older story from Jewish history and reworks it for his own narrative. So, either Luke is a really bad historian or he has a different agenda in mind. Given Luke’s tendency to rewrite much of the Greek Old Testament and Apocrypha, I vote for the latter. The story of Heliodorus comes from the book of 2 Maccabees. But the story itself is much older. The basic idea of a persecutor being converted despite himself by direct fiat of the God whose followers he has been abusing appears 500 years earlier, from the ancient Greek play The Bacchae by Euripides. Come on now – you remember it from your college English Lit. class, don’t you?
So, what’s Luke up to? If Luke’s description of Paul’s conversion to Christianity is not historically accurate, then why all the drama? In volume one of his writings, the Gospel According to Luke, we hear the story of Jesus, a Jewish leader who is baptized and anointed with the Spirit, goes about doing good, heals the sick, raises the dead, casts out demons, preaches in synagogues and finally making his way to Jerusalem where, after a uproar at the Temple, he is taken into custody. He is put on trial before the Jewish courts and Roman officials who declare him innocent but execute him to keep the peace.
In volume two, The Acts of the Apostles, Luke tells us about Paul, a Jewish leader who is anointed with the Spirit, goes about doing good, heals the sick, raises the dead, casts out demons, preaches in synagogues and finally making his way to Jerusalem where, after a uproar at the Temple, he is taken into custody. He is put on trial before the Jewish courts and Roman officials who declare him innocent. Luke implies Paul is later executed in order to keep the peace. Paul’s life path mirrors Jesus. Luke is making a point – What Jesus began, Paul fulfills. The movement that Jesus started is best interpreted by Paul.
Some scholars think Paul might not have even been a persecutor of the early church in the first place. It was a legend that was added later. Why? Luke knew there was a movement to discredit Paul. And who would do such a thing? All of the stories seem to point to one person – a man named James the Just. It seems Paul and James never got along. James led the Church in Jerusalem. Oh yeah, he was also the brother of Jesus, by some accounts. Talk about name dropping, right? This James, the brother of Jesus, was friends with the Apostle Peter. Peter was appointed as the head of the entire church by Jesus. Peter claimed the right to rule with what the church called “apostolic authority.” As Peter and James oversaw the new Jesus movement, it was very Jewish oriented.
When Paul came on the scene, he broadened the message of Jesus to include the Gentile world. He was so successful, Christianity became more Gentile than Jewish. As Paul's churches grew in number, the traditional leadership in Jerusalem probably felt their influence diminishing. With explosive growth, there was less control. It couldn’t be expected that everybody, everywhere would believe the same beliefs, sing the same hymns, read the same scriptures and tell the same story. So what did conflicting leaders do? They attacked each other and wrote letters and books to confirm their own version of the story. Paul wrote his first letter to confront his opponents and tell his personal story about how the Jewish law dissolves in the midst of God’s grace and forgiveness. Paul declared stridently, “We are saved by faith, not Jewish law.” James the Just wrote a letter and said, “That’s fine, but faith without the law is dead” (James 2:17). James disputed Paul, expressing the belief that Christians must show their devotion to God by following Jewish law and performing good deeds. We can see this political proof texting in the Gospels. The Gospel According to Matthew is very Jewish-oriented and seeks to make a case for the authority of Peter. Luke Gospel and The Acts of the Apostles are more Greek oriented and ultimately make the case that Paul walks in the footsteps of Jesus and fulfills Christ’s commission to bring the Gospel from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth.
We tend to romanticize the beginnings of the early church. We were taught that in the midst of persecution, the church was all of one accord. A closer read of the texts tells a different story: fights and fraction, politics and polemics, popularity contests and power struggles. Some historians and theologians propose that the early church was characterized by “radical diversity.” We can’t speak of a unified “Christianity” during that time. The early church consisted of competing “Christianities.”
The Church eventually found ways to define orthodoxy and tamp down all these opposing versions of Christianity. Christendom created communities of conformity. But that was not the experience of the earliest church. Even though Peter and Paul disagreed, something held the church together. It was not a creed. It was not a droning doctrinal debate. It was a common spirit.
Instead of conformity, I am much more interested in creating communities of welcome. We pray with Jesus that we all may be one. But maybe the job of the church is not to be united in our theology. Maybe the job of the church is to unite around what we do rather than what we believe. Peter and Paul’s theologies of mission conflicted, but they found common ground in creating communities of welcome, communities of radical inclusiveness that redistributed wealth, rejected violence, and invited the “nobodies” to worship elbow-to-elbow with the “somebodies.” Maybe that’s still the job of the Church. We need to get over our tendencies to divide over doctrine as we offer true welcome – even if it means doing God’s work side by side with those whom we disagree.
If anyone can change community of conformity to communities of welcome, it should be the UCC. I typed in the words “unified church with diverse theology” into Google, and guess who came up first? The UCC. As individual members, we are free to believe and act in accordance with our perception of God’s will for our lives. At the same time, we are called to live in loving relationship with one another – gathering in local communities of faith. In the UCC, each congregation or local church is free to act in accordance with the collective decisions of its members, guided by the working of the Spirit in the light of the Scriptures. But each local church also lives in covenantal relationship with other congregations. We find ways to exist in these expanding levels of covenant, even if we don’t always agree with each other. Our ultimate vision is to welcome people – to invite people to enhance our worship life and mission life as full partners:
Believers and agnostics
Conventional Christians and questioning skeptics
Homosexuals and heterosexuals
Males and females, and those who are discovering or uncovering their gender identity
Those of all races and cultures
Those of all classes and abilities
The optimists and the pessimists
Traditionalists and Progressives
Those who despair and those who have hope
We think the way we treat one another and other people is more important than the way we express our beliefs. We find more grace in the questions than in the answers. We discover the resources required for our work in the world: striving for justice and peace among all people, bringing hope to those Jesus called the least of his sisters and brothers.
We recognize that God’s Good News story includes and welcomes other stories -- more than we can imagine. The stranger, the forgotten, the weak, and the dispossessed – we make certain that there is room for all at the table. We make certain that we practice our belief that it’s more important to be loving than to be right.
Sources:
http://topicalbible.org/h/heliodorus.htm
http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2+Maccabees+3&version=CEB
http://www.robertmprice.mindvendor.com/art_legend_paul_conv.htm
http://www.churchhistory101.com/century1-p6.php
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/religion/first/diversity.html
http://www.harrington-sites.com/History.htm
The Underground Church by Robin Meyers
Monday, July 29, 2013
Sermon For July 28, 2013
Good News That Connects: Embracing
Acts 4:34 offers the clearest reason why the early church found it necessary to hold everything in common. The leaders of the church were concerned that there was no one needy among them. No one who becomes part of this new Jesus movement should be deprived or disadvantaged. In the church, we take care of our people.
Six little verses from Acts hold up a high bar for us. I think what was true for the early church, in this case, is still true today. No one among us should be needy. I know it’s hard to imagine, because our systems work in ways that minimize or exclude the existence of those who have little or nothing. We tell ourselves that people who are deprived or disadvantaged are that way because it’s their own fault. They did not work hard enough or they have the wrong attitude. The practice of exclusion is not a rare event in our homes, our schools, our work places, our politics, and our international relations, and even our churches. We all exclude others. We see it in the headlines of our newspapers almost daily:
And if we take the stories of our spiritual family tree seriously, then we might want to begin to reverse systems of exclusion by embracing those who are poor. Because there should be no one in need. A careful reading of the Bible reveals over 2,000 clear verses specifying that the people of God must care for the poor. Most theologians will point out that God has a preference for the poor. And if God has a preference for those who are poor, then shouldn’t that preference also be at the heart of the church's mission and ministry?
The Talmud, the compendium of Jewish civil and ceremonial law, outlines a few ways to help the poor. Out of all of them, the Talmud states that the least desirable way to help is the all-too-typical handout. People will take a handout when they are desperate, but they sometimes resent the givers. I see this with our Deacons Fund. We have a charitable fund in our church – those yellow envelopes in the pew. We use the money to help people in our church and community who need some immediate financial help. We use it a lot. It is helpful. But it does not help alleviate need. If we are talking about embracing those in need, let’s call our Deacons Fund an entry-level hug – you know – the polite hug where people act like they’re trying to hug you without touching you. It is usually accompanied by the ‘polite smile’
According to the Talmud, the first and best way to someone who is poor is to find or create a real job. That way the person can escape poverty with one’s self-respect intact. If we can’t create jobs, The Talmud says we should give the poor what they need. But there’s a catch. We should give, but see to it that they have no idea who it was that provided for them. That’s the story behind the project called 52times52. A couple resolved to give $52 a week to charitable causes for all 52 weeks of the year. The brilliance of 52times52 is captured in story in which they describe how they spontaneously decide that their gift for the week should be a $52 tip to the waitress who had been serving them in the restaurant. The post on the site says that after they wrote the tip on the credit card receipt, they decided to run away without watching their waitress's expression as she opened the leather folio. This couple have their critics.Their point is to learn how to give with the intent of blessing others while seeking nothing in return -- no recognition, gratitude or praise. It’s a form of embrace.
I would add one thing. What’s most powerful, to me is embracing within relationships. If giving hand outs is the equivalent of a polite hug, now I’m talking about the Bear Hug. You know what I’m talking about. This the real thing; you wrap your arms around each other and hold on tight. What does this mean? We need each other. I adore you. I couldn’t wait to see you. It’s the essence of our Christian message. It’s good news that connects.
When people begin to embrace those who are poor in our communities, it can have disturbing results. I read about a group of students from a college in Pennsylvania who became deeply involved with the homeless population of Philadelphia. At first, they took food and clothing to those who lived in the streets in an all-too-typical middle-class way of helping the poor. They came with the handout. Soon they recognized that their new homeless friends were victimized by police who harassed them. Business owners wanted the homeless away from their shops. The students championed the cause of the homeless against the city's establishment. When the police tried to keep the homeless from sleeping in public places, these students slept out in the streets with them. They were arrested. Some of them dropped out of school so that they could give more time to helping their new friends. Some who were very talented graduates gave up professional careers to live their lives with these socially disinherited street folks. Together, these young people rented a house in one of the most derelict sections of the city, where they live in community and run a non-profit where the homeless can come for help.
Obviously, this kind of counter-cultural behavior stirs criticisms and concerns. I’m sure their parents weren’t thrilled. Religious leaders of the city became upset. Some churches kept their youth groups away from these radical Christians, lest their young people get what they consider to be the "wrong idea" of what Christianity is all about.
Here’s what I think: Deep down, we know Christianity is not about keeping a nice building, listening to a sermon, and going to a church board meeting. Don’t get me wrong, I like all those things (well, maybe not all the meetings), but the essence of Christianity is embrace – making sure that all are included and none are in need.
Francis of Assisi, the beloved 10th-century saint, embraced what he called Lady Poverty. He actually thought of the poor as sacramental, not just objects of pity. What Francis meant by the term sacramental is that the eternal Christ somehow infuses those who are poor so that, as we meet face to face, we meet not only a poor person, but the very presence of Christ. It’s how, as Christians, we transforming exclusion to embrace.
Tony Campolo, the Evangelical social activist and sociologist tells a story about an embrace with poverty. He was walking down a street in Philadelphia when a homeless man approached him. Tony says he was a dirty, filthy guy, covered with soot from head to toe. You couldn’t believe what a mess he was. The man had a huge beard and there was rotted food stuck in his whiskers. As he approached Tony, he held out a cup of McDonald’s coffee and said, “Hey mister, want some of my coffee?” Tony looked at this dirty, filthy man and said, “Thanks, but that’s okay,” and he walked by him. The minute Tony passed him, he knew he was doing the wrong thing, so he turned around and said, “Excuse me. I would like some of your coffee.” He took some of the coffee and sipped it and gave it back to the man. Then Tony said, “You’re being generous. How come you’re being so generous today?”
The dirty, filthy-looking, coffee drinking man looked at Tony and he said, “Because the coffee was especially delicious today and I think that when God gives you something good, you ought to share it with people." Tony didn’t know how to handle that, so he said, "Can I give you anything?" He thought that the man would hit him up for five bucks.
The man said, “No.” Then, after a pause, the man said, “Actually, Yeah, yeah. I’ve changed my mind. There is something you can give me. You can give me a hug.”
When Tony tells the story he says, “I was hoping for the five dollars! He put his arms around me and I put my arms around him. And as I in my suit and tie and he in his filthy garb hugged each other on the street, I had the strange awareness that I wasn’t hugging a bum, I was hugging Jesus. I found Jesus in that suffering man.”
That’s the bear hug of Christian love. Good news that connects. Good news that embraces. Good news that heals. Good news that says, “The divine in me honors the divine in you. We need each other. I love you. Let there be no one in need among us.”
Sources:
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/takeandread/2012/11/a-how-to-for-intentional-christian-community/
http://www.patheos.com/Progressive-Christian/Holding-All-Things-in-Common-John-Holbert-04-09-2012.html
http://www.evergreenuu.org/LinkClick.aspx?fileticket=rlL1uQTrgSA%3D&tabid=198
http://www.ncccusa.org/poverty/sermon-campolo.html
http://www.sermoncentral.com/sermons/gods-heart-for-the-poor-ken-ritz-sermon-on-poverty-86838.asp?Page=6
http://www.52times52.com/
The community of believers was of one mind and one heart. None of them claimed anything as their own; rather everything was held in common. The Apostles continued to testify with great power to the resurrection of Jesus Christ, and they were all given great respect’ nor was anyone needy among them, for those who owned property or houses would sell them and give the money to the apostles. It was then distributed to any members who might be in need. Acts 4:32-37Acts 4:32-35 is good stuff. Or maybe it’s scary stuff -- all this talk about sharing resources and holding common property. For some, it is a call to serious Christianity. I know people who live in what they call intentional Christian communities. People of all ages buy a house, or a cluster of houses. They share an evening meal together each day. Each member is expected to share in household chores. They contribute to a common purse from which the community buys food and household supplies, and pays for utilities. Most of the people who go for this are idealists. They see it as a way to do justice and seek peace in a local neighborhood. For others, sharing property and co-mingling money is a dangerous call to a life of socialism. So, which is it: Christianity at its most demanding or Karl Marx on steroids? Or neither? Or both?
Acts 4:34 offers the clearest reason why the early church found it necessary to hold everything in common. The leaders of the church were concerned that there was no one needy among them. No one who becomes part of this new Jesus movement should be deprived or disadvantaged. In the church, we take care of our people.
Six little verses from Acts hold up a high bar for us. I think what was true for the early church, in this case, is still true today. No one among us should be needy. I know it’s hard to imagine, because our systems work in ways that minimize or exclude the existence of those who have little or nothing. We tell ourselves that people who are deprived or disadvantaged are that way because it’s their own fault. They did not work hard enough or they have the wrong attitude. The practice of exclusion is not a rare event in our homes, our schools, our work places, our politics, and our international relations, and even our churches. We all exclude others. We see it in the headlines of our newspapers almost daily:
“Islamic Brotherhood: Exclusion breeds RadicalismExclusion of others is part of the legacy of the human race. In our time, exclusion and it’s twin cousin, violence, have grown into epidemics that threaten the lives of men, women and children both here and in every corner of our globe. I don’t think it well get better. In future decades, as the human race begins to feel the increasing pinch of economic distress, environmental degradation, resource depletion, and population expansion, exclusion and violence will probably get worse. That is, unless we can do something different – until we can transform exclusion into embrace!
“Decorated Marine Captain Resigns Commission—Blames Anti- Gay Sentiment”
“Military Rape Survivor Says Decades of Failure to Improve Sexual Assault Policies Re-Victimizes Woman”
“Local Groups Call On Company To End Racially Discriminatory Hiring Practices”
And if we take the stories of our spiritual family tree seriously, then we might want to begin to reverse systems of exclusion by embracing those who are poor. Because there should be no one in need. A careful reading of the Bible reveals over 2,000 clear verses specifying that the people of God must care for the poor. Most theologians will point out that God has a preference for the poor. And if God has a preference for those who are poor, then shouldn’t that preference also be at the heart of the church's mission and ministry?
The Talmud, the compendium of Jewish civil and ceremonial law, outlines a few ways to help the poor. Out of all of them, the Talmud states that the least desirable way to help is the all-too-typical handout. People will take a handout when they are desperate, but they sometimes resent the givers. I see this with our Deacons Fund. We have a charitable fund in our church – those yellow envelopes in the pew. We use the money to help people in our church and community who need some immediate financial help. We use it a lot. It is helpful. But it does not help alleviate need. If we are talking about embracing those in need, let’s call our Deacons Fund an entry-level hug – you know – the polite hug where people act like they’re trying to hug you without touching you. It is usually accompanied by the ‘polite smile’
According to the Talmud, the first and best way to someone who is poor is to find or create a real job. That way the person can escape poverty with one’s self-respect intact. If we can’t create jobs, The Talmud says we should give the poor what they need. But there’s a catch. We should give, but see to it that they have no idea who it was that provided for them. That’s the story behind the project called 52times52. A couple resolved to give $52 a week to charitable causes for all 52 weeks of the year. The brilliance of 52times52 is captured in story in which they describe how they spontaneously decide that their gift for the week should be a $52 tip to the waitress who had been serving them in the restaurant. The post on the site says that after they wrote the tip on the credit card receipt, they decided to run away without watching their waitress's expression as she opened the leather folio. This couple have their critics.Their point is to learn how to give with the intent of blessing others while seeking nothing in return -- no recognition, gratitude or praise. It’s a form of embrace.
I would add one thing. What’s most powerful, to me is embracing within relationships. If giving hand outs is the equivalent of a polite hug, now I’m talking about the Bear Hug. You know what I’m talking about. This the real thing; you wrap your arms around each other and hold on tight. What does this mean? We need each other. I adore you. I couldn’t wait to see you. It’s the essence of our Christian message. It’s good news that connects.
When people begin to embrace those who are poor in our communities, it can have disturbing results. I read about a group of students from a college in Pennsylvania who became deeply involved with the homeless population of Philadelphia. At first, they took food and clothing to those who lived in the streets in an all-too-typical middle-class way of helping the poor. They came with the handout. Soon they recognized that their new homeless friends were victimized by police who harassed them. Business owners wanted the homeless away from their shops. The students championed the cause of the homeless against the city's establishment. When the police tried to keep the homeless from sleeping in public places, these students slept out in the streets with them. They were arrested. Some of them dropped out of school so that they could give more time to helping their new friends. Some who were very talented graduates gave up professional careers to live their lives with these socially disinherited street folks. Together, these young people rented a house in one of the most derelict sections of the city, where they live in community and run a non-profit where the homeless can come for help.
Obviously, this kind of counter-cultural behavior stirs criticisms and concerns. I’m sure their parents weren’t thrilled. Religious leaders of the city became upset. Some churches kept their youth groups away from these radical Christians, lest their young people get what they consider to be the "wrong idea" of what Christianity is all about.
Here’s what I think: Deep down, we know Christianity is not about keeping a nice building, listening to a sermon, and going to a church board meeting. Don’t get me wrong, I like all those things (well, maybe not all the meetings), but the essence of Christianity is embrace – making sure that all are included and none are in need.
Francis of Assisi, the beloved 10th-century saint, embraced what he called Lady Poverty. He actually thought of the poor as sacramental, not just objects of pity. What Francis meant by the term sacramental is that the eternal Christ somehow infuses those who are poor so that, as we meet face to face, we meet not only a poor person, but the very presence of Christ. It’s how, as Christians, we transforming exclusion to embrace.
Tony Campolo, the Evangelical social activist and sociologist tells a story about an embrace with poverty. He was walking down a street in Philadelphia when a homeless man approached him. Tony says he was a dirty, filthy guy, covered with soot from head to toe. You couldn’t believe what a mess he was. The man had a huge beard and there was rotted food stuck in his whiskers. As he approached Tony, he held out a cup of McDonald’s coffee and said, “Hey mister, want some of my coffee?” Tony looked at this dirty, filthy man and said, “Thanks, but that’s okay,” and he walked by him. The minute Tony passed him, he knew he was doing the wrong thing, so he turned around and said, “Excuse me. I would like some of your coffee.” He took some of the coffee and sipped it and gave it back to the man. Then Tony said, “You’re being generous. How come you’re being so generous today?”
The dirty, filthy-looking, coffee drinking man looked at Tony and he said, “Because the coffee was especially delicious today and I think that when God gives you something good, you ought to share it with people." Tony didn’t know how to handle that, so he said, "Can I give you anything?" He thought that the man would hit him up for five bucks.
The man said, “No.” Then, after a pause, the man said, “Actually, Yeah, yeah. I’ve changed my mind. There is something you can give me. You can give me a hug.”
When Tony tells the story he says, “I was hoping for the five dollars! He put his arms around me and I put my arms around him. And as I in my suit and tie and he in his filthy garb hugged each other on the street, I had the strange awareness that I wasn’t hugging a bum, I was hugging Jesus. I found Jesus in that suffering man.”
That’s the bear hug of Christian love. Good news that connects. Good news that embraces. Good news that heals. Good news that says, “The divine in me honors the divine in you. We need each other. I love you. Let there be no one in need among us.”
Sources:
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/takeandread/2012/11/a-how-to-for-intentional-christian-community/
http://www.patheos.com/Progressive-Christian/Holding-All-Things-in-Common-John-Holbert-04-09-2012.html
http://www.evergreenuu.org/LinkClick.aspx?fileticket=rlL1uQTrgSA%3D&tabid=198
http://www.ncccusa.org/poverty/sermon-campolo.html
http://www.sermoncentral.com/sermons/gods-heart-for-the-poor-ken-ritz-sermon-on-poverty-86838.asp?Page=6
http://www.52times52.com/
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Sermon for July 21, 2013
Good News That Connects: Including
I’ve walked by the beggar a thousand times. He is with us today. He stands at the intersections in Silver Spring with a scrawled piece of cardboard that says homeless, please help. He makes a bed on a bench on Pennsylvania Avenue in D.C. -- it’s one of the safer places to sleep because of all the security cameras, at least until 5 AM when the police rouse him to move on. Yes, I’ve seen this beggar. She looks me in the eyes and says, “Please help me feed my children” as she collects change in a used coffee cup on MLK drive in Baltimore. What do I do? Look away – don’t make eye contact? Lock my car door? Suddenly have the urge to check my Facebook newsfeed again? Give a buck? Give a sandwich? Start a conversation? There are a lot of possibilities. Each choice either humanizes or dehumanizes the other. And each decision either humanizes or dehumanizes me.
For whatever reason, Peter responds to this man who sits outside the religious and political system that is unwilling help him. Peter takes this beggar by the hand and makes him part of God’s good news story. Notice what Peter does not do. He does not give the man what he asks for. Peter does not give money. All Peter has to offer is Jesus. He says, “Stand up and walk.” The lame man gets up and moves around. He leaps and twirls his way right into the very Temple courts from which he was previously excluded.
The crowd is amazed. Some call it a miracle; a lame man hears the good news and gets healed. I think part of the miracle happens in Peter. Instead of turning away and yet again ignoring the pain around him, Peter stops to listen. He can finally hear the need beyond the words. Peter resonates with the need of this man and the wind of the Divine Spirit who seeks to breathe wholeness into creation. The miracle is a change in perspective – the ability to find out what God is doing in the lives of others. It’s about paying attention and making room for the ways God’s story plays out in the lives of others. Finally, the victim gets heard. Finally, the invisible drifter on the fringe of society is humanized because Peter listens and reaches out.
We know this doesn’t happen often. More often than not, our experience is defined not by empathy and outreach, but by rivalry and desire. At least that’s what a French literary critic and philosopher named René Girard says. Imagine three toddlers who play quietly. A grown-up introduces a new toy into the play room. As one of the toddlers approaches the toy, suddenly all three toddlers want it. Seeing the toy’s attraction and its uniqueness, each toddler becomes an instant rival for its possession. According to René Gerard, when the supply of desirable objects is limited, we get conflict. Rivalry and violence are visible at the beginning of all human culture.
To overcome these twin problems, early societies turned to sacrificial violence. An individual or group was deemed guilty of starting the rivalry. The larger group, the majority, united to sacrifice the ones supposedly guilty of stirring up the original conflict. After the sacrifice, anxiety decreased for a while. Eventually, though, conflict arose again and the sacrifice needed to be repeated. Someone must be blamed. Atonement must be made. Society coheres around an individual or group it can despise and blame for all its problems. Girard called this figure “the scapegoat.” Frightened people produce scapegoats -- people who fear rivals for limited resources; people who want things to stay as they are; people who want to hang onto their power. An effective scapegoat has to be someone weaker, someone more vulnerable.
Here’s the important catch: The scapegoat is an outsider, but still lives inside the border of society. The victim belongs to the community but has traits that send her or him to the edges of the community. Those in the majority are brilliant at creating outsiders: the difficult person; the odd-one out; the member with the "wrong" skin color or sexual orientation; the incorrect gender or religion; too smart, or too rich or too poor. It's difficult to be the one who stops the scapegoating because through this courageous action he or she immediately becomes the next victim in a circular human activity of destroying those who symbolize challenge to the status quo.
It’s difficult to stop scapegoating, but not impossible. Peter does it. He listens to a beggar, an outsider, a victim. Peter offers the outcast what he really needs. And then, like a good apostle, Peter preaches a sermon. We did not read his sermon in today’s scripture lesson, so here’s my paraphrase of what Peter preaches to the crowd: “Hey onlookers, why are you amazed? You are the ones who create victims and watch innocent people die. You did it to Jesus, and God raised him from the dead. So the healing of a lame beggar should be no surprise! Turn away from your wicked ways.”
So, here is where we are at. Evangelizing, sharing our good news, has to do with including everyone in God’s story. Inclusiveness begins with awareness and deep listening. And listening means not giving answers until we ask lots of questions. If I want to know someone, I need to tune in to the story he or she is living. And i I want to break the cycle of invisible victimhood, I need to recognize the divine in the scapegoats whom society puts on the periphery.
This past week has given us an opportunity to put this into practice. I’ve been trying to listen and listen hard to the voices around the Zimmerman verdict in the shooting of Trayvon Martin. There is more to this story than any one of us can know. We need others to join in the conversation and show us what we are missing. One set of the voices I think we need to listen to attentively are those in the African American community.
I do not want to get into the legality of the verdict today. I don’t know whether the jury’s decision was racially biased or not. I don’t know Florida jurisprudence any more than the average media consumer has found out this past week. I never heard about Stand-Your-Ground Laws until this trial. Here’s what I do know: The African American community, by and large, hurts. And grieves. I’ve heard stories of African American children weeping themselves to sleep when the jury announced its verdict. Black parents are pulling their teenagers aside and having The Talk yet again. The Talk is the conversation that African-American parents have with their children—mainly their sons—about what to do when approached by an armed police officer or public official. As a friend and colleague of mine writes, The Talk goes something like this:
Trayvon Martin has become the face of all these feared and often-nameless young men. Whatever the circumstances of his death, I think Trayvon became a victim of fear, paranoia and the will to power. He became a casualty of our death-dealing love of guns and our inability to think of a different way to confront our differences. I think Trayvon became the latest in a long line of young African Americans to die as a scapegoat.
Before we proclaim good news to anyone, we need to start paying attention to what kind of good news they need. I think our African American sisters and brothers need to hear some good news from Whites. As a faith community, we can start some difficult conversations about race in order to uncover truths that can lead to powerful change. I know we want to think racism is behind us. My listening over the past week indicates to me that it isn’t. So it’s time for us to listen deeply. To reach out sincerely. To think of creative, non-violent strategies for reconciliation. My favorite non-violent response to the death of Trayvon Martin comes from Tom Crabtree, a football player for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. He tweeted, “How cool would it be to live in a world where George Zimmerman offered Trayvon Martin a ride home to get him out of the rain that night.”
René Girard worried that without the scapegoat mechanism, our culture would fall once again into rivalry and violence. Vicious political rifts and intractable racial divisions seem to support his fear. There is only one hope of change and that’s the power of non-violent love. It’s the only way to confront our fears and end our dependence on blood and violence. It’s the only way to heal our scapegoating and defy our will to power. I don’t want to be naïve about this. I know humanity’s adolescent love of violence. I know our juvenile addiction to power, especially the power of the gun. But I also know the redeeming power of God. I know the possibility of repentance and reconciliation. I am not optimistic. But I have hope.
My hope begins with listening for brokenness. Can we offer good news to those who are broken, those who ache and grieve deeply? Speaking very personally – speaking just for me – I cannot until I do the difficult work of listening to my own brokenness in the events I wish to condemn. You see, I know something about myself. I know that when I see somebody else do something wrong, I self-righteously call on God for justice. But when I do something wrong, I self-righteously call on God for grace. How can I ask for justice and also be a grace-filled person? When it comes to awareness of discrimination, as a White person of privilege, the problem is not whether I love people who are different than me. The problem is whether I unknowingly participate in and benefit from systems of racism. I need to admit that I have an inner, self-righteous George Zimmerman who has inherited a whole bunch of stereotypes and fears. When I allow myself to take part in an “us versus them” system, if I insist on justice for wrongdoers and forgiveness for myself, then I run the risk of denying my participation in brokenness. There can be no reconciliation within myself, forget about with other people. If I simply denounce violence instead of using it as a mirror to see inside of myself, I’m just externalizing the problem onto a societal scapegoat.
Christ Congregational Church covenants to be an anti-racist congregation. But here’s the thing: Can I promise that our anti-racism covenant and a willingness to explore touchy conversations about race will solve anything? Not with confidence. But, I can pray for it, work for it, encourage it, and when opportunities come I can be part of a miracle. No matter what, I can at least listen to the grief and pain of our sisters and brothers in our family of faith and respond with humility and repentance.
I’m not just talking about dismantling racism. I’m talking about sharing the kind of good news that includes everyone – EVERYONE – in God’s story. Can I promise a physical cure to all who are ill? Not with integrity. But I can pray for it, work for it, encourage it, and when God sees fit to bestow it, I might be part of a miracle. No matter what, I can at least offer the hand of healing, the presence of the Spirit, and the kind of personal care that is only possible to those who see the image of God in the face of the other.
Can I offer good news to those who are spiritually impoverished – to those who want fulfillment without transformation? Not with any honesty. But I can speak about Christ, and rebirth, forgiveness and radical welcome and the rich life of service to others. I might be surprised when God opens my own ears to hear. And, like the Apostle Peter in the book of Acts, I might be astonished at how the Divine Spirit chooses to transform us when I listen for the presence of God in the margins of life, not just the center.
Sources:
http://additionalmarkings.blogspot.com/2013/07/trayvon-martin-as-scapegoat.html
http://jbyas.com/2012/03/26/trayvon-zimmerman-our-hypocrisy/
http://trivialdevotion.blogspot.com/2012/07/beautiful-gate-acts-32.html
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/arthur-d-colman/evil-and-the-scapegoat_b_2863029.html
http://www2.luthersem.edu/fgaiser/Sermons/acts3.htm
http://ubuntuhappenshere.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-talk.html
http://www.consumerhealthfdn.org/index.php/chf-blog/post/benefit_of_the_doubt/
http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/early-lead/wp/2013/07/14/george-zimmerman-verdict-draws-emotional-reaction-from-sports-world/
Evangelism in the Inventive Age by Doug Pagitt.
Peter and John went to the Temple one afternoon to take part in the three o’clock prayer service. As they approached the Temple, a man lame from birth was being carried in. Each day he was put beside the Temple gate, the one called the Beautiful Gate, so he could beg from the people going into the Temple. When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he asked them for some money. Peter and John looked at him intently, and Peter said, “Look at us!” The lame man looked at them eagerly, expecting some money. But Peter said, “I don’t have any silver or gold for you. But I’ll give you what I have. In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene, get up and walk!” Then Peter took the lame man by the right hand and helped him up. And as he did, the man’s feet and ankles were instantly healed and strengthened. He jumped up, stood on his feet, and began to walk! Then, walking, leaping, and praising God, he went into the Temple with them. Acts 3:1-8An impaired beggar sits outside the Temple courts in Jerusalem. He’s a regular feature at the Temple Gate called “Beautiful.” Don’t miss the irony. The beggar does not live a beautiful life. Because of his disability, he is forbidden to enter the Temple. His stark condition contrasts with the opulent setting where he is left to do the only thing he can: beg for money. I bet the worshippers going to the 3:00 prayer service view him as an eyesore to the site’s magnificence; a beautiful gate offset by an ugly beggar. Worshippers with their offerings for the Temple treasury hurry past him, or look the other way when he asks for handouts. The Apostle Peter may have been among those who turned away from the beggar. Peter had been in the Temple many times. Just a few months earlier he was at the Temple with Jesus. We have no record that Peter or Jesus did anything to help this man before. Peter arrives at the Temple and he’s about to pass by the beggar again. The panhandler asks for money. Any small amount will help buy food, or pay for shelter, or help him get from here to tomorrow.
I’ve walked by the beggar a thousand times. He is with us today. He stands at the intersections in Silver Spring with a scrawled piece of cardboard that says homeless, please help. He makes a bed on a bench on Pennsylvania Avenue in D.C. -- it’s one of the safer places to sleep because of all the security cameras, at least until 5 AM when the police rouse him to move on. Yes, I’ve seen this beggar. She looks me in the eyes and says, “Please help me feed my children” as she collects change in a used coffee cup on MLK drive in Baltimore. What do I do? Look away – don’t make eye contact? Lock my car door? Suddenly have the urge to check my Facebook newsfeed again? Give a buck? Give a sandwich? Start a conversation? There are a lot of possibilities. Each choice either humanizes or dehumanizes the other. And each decision either humanizes or dehumanizes me.
For whatever reason, Peter responds to this man who sits outside the religious and political system that is unwilling help him. Peter takes this beggar by the hand and makes him part of God’s good news story. Notice what Peter does not do. He does not give the man what he asks for. Peter does not give money. All Peter has to offer is Jesus. He says, “Stand up and walk.” The lame man gets up and moves around. He leaps and twirls his way right into the very Temple courts from which he was previously excluded.
The crowd is amazed. Some call it a miracle; a lame man hears the good news and gets healed. I think part of the miracle happens in Peter. Instead of turning away and yet again ignoring the pain around him, Peter stops to listen. He can finally hear the need beyond the words. Peter resonates with the need of this man and the wind of the Divine Spirit who seeks to breathe wholeness into creation. The miracle is a change in perspective – the ability to find out what God is doing in the lives of others. It’s about paying attention and making room for the ways God’s story plays out in the lives of others. Finally, the victim gets heard. Finally, the invisible drifter on the fringe of society is humanized because Peter listens and reaches out.
We know this doesn’t happen often. More often than not, our experience is defined not by empathy and outreach, but by rivalry and desire. At least that’s what a French literary critic and philosopher named René Girard says. Imagine three toddlers who play quietly. A grown-up introduces a new toy into the play room. As one of the toddlers approaches the toy, suddenly all three toddlers want it. Seeing the toy’s attraction and its uniqueness, each toddler becomes an instant rival for its possession. According to René Gerard, when the supply of desirable objects is limited, we get conflict. Rivalry and violence are visible at the beginning of all human culture.
To overcome these twin problems, early societies turned to sacrificial violence. An individual or group was deemed guilty of starting the rivalry. The larger group, the majority, united to sacrifice the ones supposedly guilty of stirring up the original conflict. After the sacrifice, anxiety decreased for a while. Eventually, though, conflict arose again and the sacrifice needed to be repeated. Someone must be blamed. Atonement must be made. Society coheres around an individual or group it can despise and blame for all its problems. Girard called this figure “the scapegoat.” Frightened people produce scapegoats -- people who fear rivals for limited resources; people who want things to stay as they are; people who want to hang onto their power. An effective scapegoat has to be someone weaker, someone more vulnerable.
Here’s the important catch: The scapegoat is an outsider, but still lives inside the border of society. The victim belongs to the community but has traits that send her or him to the edges of the community. Those in the majority are brilliant at creating outsiders: the difficult person; the odd-one out; the member with the "wrong" skin color or sexual orientation; the incorrect gender or religion; too smart, or too rich or too poor. It's difficult to be the one who stops the scapegoating because through this courageous action he or she immediately becomes the next victim in a circular human activity of destroying those who symbolize challenge to the status quo.
It’s difficult to stop scapegoating, but not impossible. Peter does it. He listens to a beggar, an outsider, a victim. Peter offers the outcast what he really needs. And then, like a good apostle, Peter preaches a sermon. We did not read his sermon in today’s scripture lesson, so here’s my paraphrase of what Peter preaches to the crowd: “Hey onlookers, why are you amazed? You are the ones who create victims and watch innocent people die. You did it to Jesus, and God raised him from the dead. So the healing of a lame beggar should be no surprise! Turn away from your wicked ways.”
So, here is where we are at. Evangelizing, sharing our good news, has to do with including everyone in God’s story. Inclusiveness begins with awareness and deep listening. And listening means not giving answers until we ask lots of questions. If I want to know someone, I need to tune in to the story he or she is living. And i I want to break the cycle of invisible victimhood, I need to recognize the divine in the scapegoats whom society puts on the periphery.
This past week has given us an opportunity to put this into practice. I’ve been trying to listen and listen hard to the voices around the Zimmerman verdict in the shooting of Trayvon Martin. There is more to this story than any one of us can know. We need others to join in the conversation and show us what we are missing. One set of the voices I think we need to listen to attentively are those in the African American community.
I do not want to get into the legality of the verdict today. I don’t know whether the jury’s decision was racially biased or not. I don’t know Florida jurisprudence any more than the average media consumer has found out this past week. I never heard about Stand-Your-Ground Laws until this trial. Here’s what I do know: The African American community, by and large, hurts. And grieves. I’ve heard stories of African American children weeping themselves to sleep when the jury announced its verdict. Black parents are pulling their teenagers aside and having The Talk yet again. The Talk is the conversation that African-American parents have with their children—mainly their sons—about what to do when approached by an armed police officer or public official. As a friend and colleague of mine writes, The Talk goes something like this:
Son, I’m about to tell you something that might keep you out of trouble and that might save your life. It’s something that our sons have been told for generations. If you are ever stopped by the police or a public official, make yourself as small and as non-threatening as possible. Make sure they can see your hands, speak very clearly, and respond to them with yes sir or no sir. Don’t make any sudden moves, speak with a cheerful voice and most of all smile if you can.Black parents give The Talk because they know that African-Americans have been among the most convenient, the most hated, and most ill-treated of our scapegoats. Enslaved and abused for centuries, Black people who bear the image of the Divine were kept uneducated, powerless, and impoverished. And yet they were feared. They still are. Young African-American males have been among the most feared and despised. This is not political correctness talking. This is not race-baiting. This is not false victimhood. This is the daily reality with which African Americans live in our country, even in the most progressive of places.
Trayvon Martin has become the face of all these feared and often-nameless young men. Whatever the circumstances of his death, I think Trayvon became a victim of fear, paranoia and the will to power. He became a casualty of our death-dealing love of guns and our inability to think of a different way to confront our differences. I think Trayvon became the latest in a long line of young African Americans to die as a scapegoat.
Before we proclaim good news to anyone, we need to start paying attention to what kind of good news they need. I think our African American sisters and brothers need to hear some good news from Whites. As a faith community, we can start some difficult conversations about race in order to uncover truths that can lead to powerful change. I know we want to think racism is behind us. My listening over the past week indicates to me that it isn’t. So it’s time for us to listen deeply. To reach out sincerely. To think of creative, non-violent strategies for reconciliation. My favorite non-violent response to the death of Trayvon Martin comes from Tom Crabtree, a football player for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. He tweeted, “How cool would it be to live in a world where George Zimmerman offered Trayvon Martin a ride home to get him out of the rain that night.”
René Girard worried that without the scapegoat mechanism, our culture would fall once again into rivalry and violence. Vicious political rifts and intractable racial divisions seem to support his fear. There is only one hope of change and that’s the power of non-violent love. It’s the only way to confront our fears and end our dependence on blood and violence. It’s the only way to heal our scapegoating and defy our will to power. I don’t want to be naïve about this. I know humanity’s adolescent love of violence. I know our juvenile addiction to power, especially the power of the gun. But I also know the redeeming power of God. I know the possibility of repentance and reconciliation. I am not optimistic. But I have hope.
My hope begins with listening for brokenness. Can we offer good news to those who are broken, those who ache and grieve deeply? Speaking very personally – speaking just for me – I cannot until I do the difficult work of listening to my own brokenness in the events I wish to condemn. You see, I know something about myself. I know that when I see somebody else do something wrong, I self-righteously call on God for justice. But when I do something wrong, I self-righteously call on God for grace. How can I ask for justice and also be a grace-filled person? When it comes to awareness of discrimination, as a White person of privilege, the problem is not whether I love people who are different than me. The problem is whether I unknowingly participate in and benefit from systems of racism. I need to admit that I have an inner, self-righteous George Zimmerman who has inherited a whole bunch of stereotypes and fears. When I allow myself to take part in an “us versus them” system, if I insist on justice for wrongdoers and forgiveness for myself, then I run the risk of denying my participation in brokenness. There can be no reconciliation within myself, forget about with other people. If I simply denounce violence instead of using it as a mirror to see inside of myself, I’m just externalizing the problem onto a societal scapegoat.
Christ Congregational Church covenants to be an anti-racist congregation. But here’s the thing: Can I promise that our anti-racism covenant and a willingness to explore touchy conversations about race will solve anything? Not with confidence. But, I can pray for it, work for it, encourage it, and when opportunities come I can be part of a miracle. No matter what, I can at least listen to the grief and pain of our sisters and brothers in our family of faith and respond with humility and repentance.
I’m not just talking about dismantling racism. I’m talking about sharing the kind of good news that includes everyone – EVERYONE – in God’s story. Can I promise a physical cure to all who are ill? Not with integrity. But I can pray for it, work for it, encourage it, and when God sees fit to bestow it, I might be part of a miracle. No matter what, I can at least offer the hand of healing, the presence of the Spirit, and the kind of personal care that is only possible to those who see the image of God in the face of the other.
Can I offer good news to those who are spiritually impoverished – to those who want fulfillment without transformation? Not with any honesty. But I can speak about Christ, and rebirth, forgiveness and radical welcome and the rich life of service to others. I might be surprised when God opens my own ears to hear. And, like the Apostle Peter in the book of Acts, I might be astonished at how the Divine Spirit chooses to transform us when I listen for the presence of God in the margins of life, not just the center.
Sources:
http://additionalmarkings.blogspot.com/2013/07/trayvon-martin-as-scapegoat.html
http://jbyas.com/2012/03/26/trayvon-zimmerman-our-hypocrisy/
http://trivialdevotion.blogspot.com/2012/07/beautiful-gate-acts-32.html
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/arthur-d-colman/evil-and-the-scapegoat_b_2863029.html
http://www2.luthersem.edu/fgaiser/Sermons/acts3.htm
http://ubuntuhappenshere.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-talk.html
http://www.consumerhealthfdn.org/index.php/chf-blog/post/benefit_of_the_doubt/
http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/early-lead/wp/2013/07/14/george-zimmerman-verdict-draws-emotional-reaction-from-sports-world/
Evangelism in the Inventive Age by Doug Pagitt.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Sermon for July 14, 2013
Good News That Connects: Inviting
Some people will insist God commands Christians to share their faith to save non-believers. For others, the most tasteless aspect of church life is that dirty little “E” word – evangelism. Evangelism isn’t only a foul word, it’s confusing. We lack clarity on what it means to share faith with others. Some might ask, “What gives someone the right to force faith on others?” Others insist that all must believe the Christian message or risk eternal punishment without God.
The E-word literally means “good news.” But for some reason, evangelism rarely feels like something good. In most of the episodes I’ve been involved with, faith sharing feels like an effort to make a person change. Now that I am in a different place in my faith journey, it turns out I am now the recipient of other’s evangelizing. I guess I’ve gone rogue in the eyes of some of my old friends in the faith. When other Christians evangelize me, they don’t look for common ground. They don’t usually tell me what they love about their faith. They tell me what’s wrong with mine. They don’t share something life-giving or hopeful about what they’ve found. They warn me about the dangers of continuing down my current path.
In one paradigm, evangelism is about conformity to a set of beliefs and practices. In nearly every conversation I have with someone who evangelizes me, there’s an external model of faith they want to impose on me. An approach like this rarely takes into account who I am or what I’m about – my hopes, my dreams, my fears, my passions. It seeks to get my life in line – to fit my behavior into a one-size-fits-all faith.
There has to be something else. There has to be a way to share life-giving, soul-altering, community-building, faith-nurturing, earth-shaking, inclusive-and-inviting news. I think people want it. I think people want to know that churches aren’t all made up of closed-minded, rule-bound, joyless homophobes. And I think churches like ours have something important to offer to the public discussions of the day. Outside of Christian churches few consider faith voices to be relevant to any discussions about the tough issues such as human rights for women, or climate change, or corporate malfeasance, or prison injustice, or poverty or war. A church like CCC has something meaningful to say in these conversations, don’t we? My experience is that when I tell people who I am, what I do, what I stand for and the kind of church I minister at, many are genuinely surprised and joyful that such a place exists. Why would we ever want to hide who we are and what we stand for?
What would happen if our communities could see and hear alternatives to the feel-good-prosperity-based, exclusive, retribution-supported self-righteousness that passes for evangelism? Instead of demanding belief in a story about a resuscitated corpse who scares people into proper behavior, progressive Christians can witness to what many scholars are telling us was Jesus’ original message: not hellfire and damnation, but the realm of God where distributive justice and compassion rule.
Instead of evangelism as conformity, I’ve been challenged to think of evangelism as resonance. The idea comes from a minister named Doug Pagitt who pastors a postmodern Christian community called Solomon’s Porch. His idea of resonance is based on the idea that everything has a frequency. Everything emits vibrations of energy. Resonance occurs when the vibrations from one object meet up with other vibrations on the same frequency. When that happens, there’s a sharing of energy between the objects. The classic example involves a tuning fork. You hit it and it emits a musical pitch – a particular frequency or wave pattern. Scientists have found that if you take two identical tuning forks, mount each on a wooden box and then strike one fork to make it sing its note, the other un-struck tuning fork with start to sing as well. There’s a sharing of energy between the two forks. One resonates with the other. Everything in all creation is vibrating. Every particle. Every cell. Every flash of light. Every sound. The entire cosmos sings with vibration. What good news! As one poet says:
That’s what I love so much about the story in Acts 2. We read this dramatic story every Pentecost. It’s about wind, fire, smoke and heavenly voices. It’s about waiting, watching and wondering. The text also suggests that there’s something important about telling the story of God in every language. Notice that we are never given a transcript of what the disciples say in all these languages they begin to speak. It seems that the content of the words is not the most important part of the message. What’s significant is that each listener hears something that resonates in her own language -- in his own way of understanding. The listeners are surprised and bewildered. Their listening is multi-lingual. Not just the talking, but the listening -- the sharing of stories. When we can listen in the language of others, we have an opportunity to vibrate good news that resonates.
These times we live in surely need some good news. And we know we have some to contribute to the common good. So, for all the times you went through hell so someone else wouldn’t have to, you have some good news to offer.
When CCC opens our church doors to the LGBT community and say, “You don’t have to be alone. We will worship God and do justice together. We celebrate your marriage. We covenant with you to baptize and nurture your children. We receive you as members into our family of faith,” -- when we do that, we send out vibrations of hope and healing. That’s some good news.
How about that time you taught a 14 year old girl she was powerful and the time you taught a 14 year old boy he was beautiful? You resonated good news.
For saying I love you to people who will never say it to us . . .
For scraping away the rust and remembering how to shine . . .
For the dime you gave away when you didn’t have a penny . . .
For the many beautiful things you do . . .
For every song you’ve ever sung whose melodies send sensations of expectation . . .
For all those times and more, you have lived and breathed good news.
The world needs us right now -- more than it ever has before.
This is our time for saying YES.
So strum all your strings.
Play every chord.
Beat your drum to the cadence of life.
Play loud. Never hush the percussion of your heart.
You have a beat in your chest that can save us.
You have a song like a breath that can raise us.
If you’re writing letter to the prisoners, start tearing down the bars.
If you’re handing our flashlights in the dark, start handing our stars.
Sing out like you know the clouds have left too many people cold and broken and you’re their last chance for sun.
Live like there’s no time for hoping brighter days will come.
Sources:
http://progressivechristianity.org/resources/call-for-progressive-christian-evangelism/
Doug Pagitt, Evangelism in the Inventive Age
http://progressivechristianity.org/resources/say-yes/
When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, ‘Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? . . . Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved. Acts 2:1-6, 43-47In my younger, zealous days, my friends and I used to go to the local mall to persuade shoppers to accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. We would approach unsuspecting bargain hunters with their Abercrombie and Macy’s Bags, hand out Gospel tracts, try to share our personal testimonies and begin faith conversations with a lot of talk about hellfire and judgment scattered in. Or we would find someone chowing down on Taco Bell in the food court, sit at an adjacent table, and after an earnest whispered prayer we’d casually ask, “Hi, um, if you were to die right now, are you sure you would spend eternity with God in heaven?” Let me tell you first hand that mall security does not approve of this.
Some people will insist God commands Christians to share their faith to save non-believers. For others, the most tasteless aspect of church life is that dirty little “E” word – evangelism. Evangelism isn’t only a foul word, it’s confusing. We lack clarity on what it means to share faith with others. Some might ask, “What gives someone the right to force faith on others?” Others insist that all must believe the Christian message or risk eternal punishment without God.
The E-word literally means “good news.” But for some reason, evangelism rarely feels like something good. In most of the episodes I’ve been involved with, faith sharing feels like an effort to make a person change. Now that I am in a different place in my faith journey, it turns out I am now the recipient of other’s evangelizing. I guess I’ve gone rogue in the eyes of some of my old friends in the faith. When other Christians evangelize me, they don’t look for common ground. They don’t usually tell me what they love about their faith. They tell me what’s wrong with mine. They don’t share something life-giving or hopeful about what they’ve found. They warn me about the dangers of continuing down my current path.
In one paradigm, evangelism is about conformity to a set of beliefs and practices. In nearly every conversation I have with someone who evangelizes me, there’s an external model of faith they want to impose on me. An approach like this rarely takes into account who I am or what I’m about – my hopes, my dreams, my fears, my passions. It seeks to get my life in line – to fit my behavior into a one-size-fits-all faith.
There has to be something else. There has to be a way to share life-giving, soul-altering, community-building, faith-nurturing, earth-shaking, inclusive-and-inviting news. I think people want it. I think people want to know that churches aren’t all made up of closed-minded, rule-bound, joyless homophobes. And I think churches like ours have something important to offer to the public discussions of the day. Outside of Christian churches few consider faith voices to be relevant to any discussions about the tough issues such as human rights for women, or climate change, or corporate malfeasance, or prison injustice, or poverty or war. A church like CCC has something meaningful to say in these conversations, don’t we? My experience is that when I tell people who I am, what I do, what I stand for and the kind of church I minister at, many are genuinely surprised and joyful that such a place exists. Why would we ever want to hide who we are and what we stand for?
What would happen if our communities could see and hear alternatives to the feel-good-prosperity-based, exclusive, retribution-supported self-righteousness that passes for evangelism? Instead of demanding belief in a story about a resuscitated corpse who scares people into proper behavior, progressive Christians can witness to what many scholars are telling us was Jesus’ original message: not hellfire and damnation, but the realm of God where distributive justice and compassion rule.
Instead of evangelism as conformity, I’ve been challenged to think of evangelism as resonance. The idea comes from a minister named Doug Pagitt who pastors a postmodern Christian community called Solomon’s Porch. His idea of resonance is based on the idea that everything has a frequency. Everything emits vibrations of energy. Resonance occurs when the vibrations from one object meet up with other vibrations on the same frequency. When that happens, there’s a sharing of energy between the objects. The classic example involves a tuning fork. You hit it and it emits a musical pitch – a particular frequency or wave pattern. Scientists have found that if you take two identical tuning forks, mount each on a wooden box and then strike one fork to make it sing its note, the other un-struck tuning fork with start to sing as well. There’s a sharing of energy between the two forks. One resonates with the other. Everything in all creation is vibrating. Every particle. Every cell. Every flash of light. Every sound. The entire cosmos sings with vibration. What good news! As one poet says:
when two violins are placed in a roomWhen an idea or an experience hits us deep in our center, we say it resonates with us. Something about what we have witnessed strikes the frequency of our lives just right. And when that happens, we vibrate with the same energy. If we are going to be people who proclaim good news, we’d better make sure that message resonates. Evangelism is about finding out what God is doing in the lives of others. It’s about listening and commitment. It’s about paying attention and making room for the ways God’s story has been playing out in the lives of others. It’s about speaking faith in languages that other people will understand.
if a chord on one violin is struck
the other violin will sound the note
if this is your definition of hope
this is for you
the ones who know how powerful we are
who know we can sound the music in the people around us
simply by playing our own strings
for the ones who sing life into broken wings
That’s what I love so much about the story in Acts 2. We read this dramatic story every Pentecost. It’s about wind, fire, smoke and heavenly voices. It’s about waiting, watching and wondering. The text also suggests that there’s something important about telling the story of God in every language. Notice that we are never given a transcript of what the disciples say in all these languages they begin to speak. It seems that the content of the words is not the most important part of the message. What’s significant is that each listener hears something that resonates in her own language -- in his own way of understanding. The listeners are surprised and bewildered. Their listening is multi-lingual. Not just the talking, but the listening -- the sharing of stories. When we can listen in the language of others, we have an opportunity to vibrate good news that resonates.
These times we live in surely need some good news. And we know we have some to contribute to the common good. So, for all the times you went through hell so someone else wouldn’t have to, you have some good news to offer.
When CCC opens our church doors to the LGBT community and say, “You don’t have to be alone. We will worship God and do justice together. We celebrate your marriage. We covenant with you to baptize and nurture your children. We receive you as members into our family of faith,” -- when we do that, we send out vibrations of hope and healing. That’s some good news.
How about that time you taught a 14 year old girl she was powerful and the time you taught a 14 year old boy he was beautiful? You resonated good news.
For saying I love you to people who will never say it to us . . .
For scraping away the rust and remembering how to shine . . .
For the dime you gave away when you didn’t have a penny . . .
For the many beautiful things you do . . .
For every song you’ve ever sung whose melodies send sensations of expectation . . .
For all those times and more, you have lived and breathed good news.
The world needs us right now -- more than it ever has before.
This is our time for saying YES.
So strum all your strings.
Play every chord.
Beat your drum to the cadence of life.
Play loud. Never hush the percussion of your heart.
You have a beat in your chest that can save us.
You have a song like a breath that can raise us.
If you’re writing letter to the prisoners, start tearing down the bars.
If you’re handing our flashlights in the dark, start handing our stars.
Sing out like you know the clouds have left too many people cold and broken and you’re their last chance for sun.
Live like there’s no time for hoping brighter days will come.
Sources:
http://progressivechristianity.org/resources/call-for-progressive-christian-evangelism/
Doug Pagitt, Evangelism in the Inventive Age
http://progressivechristianity.org/resources/say-yes/
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Sermon for June 16, 2013
agape
In some ways we are all frustrated lovers, wanting to be understood but feeling alone. We want to love and be loved, but we can feel incompetent, inadequate and insecure. Some will say, “If I can only do something to make myself more likeable or desirable . . . if only I can be successful . . . if only I can make myself more beautiful . . . if only I can be more self-sacrificing to serve another, THEN all our relationship problems will be solved.”
We know all about imperfect love. We have examples all around us. Today, we are going to look at an example of different kind of love in the story we just heard from Luke’s gospel.
Jesus reclines at a table. He’s at dinner with some of the movers and shakers in the neighborhood – the important people. Suddenly an uninvited guest comes in -- a woman with (ahem) a reputation. She follows a common practice of the lower servant class, not only washing Jesus’ feet which are dusty from walking with sandals on dirt roads, but washing them with her perfume and drying them with her hair. The important people object. But Jesus says this woman has more right to be there than many others. He says, “This woman had more sins forgiven than others so she is being extravagant with her love.” The writers of the Greek New Testament have a word for his kind of love: agape.
Some of us have heard this word before; agape. We are told it means unconditional love, or selfless love, like the love God has for us. I have a problem with this definition. The idea of selfless love perpetuates a dangerous idea. Is the woman who washes the feet of Jesus showing selfless love? At first glance, we see a woman subordinate herself to Jesus, as if being a woman is of secondary value to the community. We see a system in which women and men must remain divided by sexism, racism, economic injustices and imperialism.
We still live in that system. We expect women, especially mothers, to be selfless saints who give up their dreams in order to fulfill the needs of others. Some men and dads are expected to do it, too, but it’s preached strongly to women. Often these goodly "saints" are revered by those whom they serve because of their caring ways. What better way to promote this useful servitude than by continually commending self-sacrificers as "moral," "saintly," "devoted," and "virtuous"?
It turns out, people who act out of selfless love may in be in danger of losing the very Self they ought to be developing. And, they may end up hurting the people for whom they care. Think about it. If a moral saint is spending all her time feeding the hungry, healing the sick and raising money for OXFAM, and packing peanut butter sandwiches for the homeless, then she’s not taking time to read a good book, go for a brisk walk, or enjoy the smell of warm wet earth after a passing Summer thunderstorm. If a moral saint is giving all of himself to save the world, he has no time to be an artist, or a good parent, or a skilled listener. There’s no chance for a truly selfless person to have the time or moral permission to develop the skills, talents and personalities that makes us interesting, well-rounded people.
Selfless behavior is immoral when it prevents you from knowing your own intrinsic and equal value as a human being. What kind of love asks you to discount your Self for the sake of the other? What kind of love asks you to deny your needs? Where’s the mutuality? Where’s the trust? Is that what Jesus wants from the woman who washes his feet? Is this the kind of love God wants from us? That God has for us? Selfless love? No! There is no such thing. Everyone wants to be desired. Everyone wants to feel needed. Selfless love may seem ideal, but it eventually denies partners what they need—to be desired and needed as equals.
I know plenty of people who give selflessly of themselves and feel rejected by those they love. What kind of love is that? As long as we feel rejected, we cannot love fully.
I know people who have been manipulated by others in the name of serving God. If God appears to us as an unhappy recipient of selfless love who gives according pleasure and condemns according to wrath, we cannot love perfectly.
If we can be in touch with the true spirit of agape, our imperfect relationships can change. Like the woman who washes the feet of Jesus, we can share in extravagant kindness and complete forgiveness – a love so true that once we feel it, we can’t stop sharing it.
I’ve been thinking about agape in terms of another word: Namaste. Even though it is commonly used as a greeting, Namaste also expresses spiritual meaning. Namaste means “the divine in me blesses and honors the divine in you.” It’s agape – love in action. Imagine a despised, deprived, seemingly subservient woman of ill-repute washing the feet of Jesus as a servant. Imagine the scandal. Imagine the shame. Imagine the system that perpetuates and her posture. And imagine Jesus saying, “She has done nothing wrong. This nameless woman has shown agape. The divine in her just blessed and honored the divine in me.” Imagine if WE could do this. Instead of discounting ourselves to bolster another, we could say, “Love is known when we give and take as equals. The divine in me blesses and honors the divine in you.”
I will be the first to admit, I am not skilled at showing this kind of love. I feel it all the time, but I have a hard time expressing it. Some of you here at CCC have picked up on that. To be honest, for me, having a persona of selflessness can be an easy way to deflect agape. If I can serve you, then I can hide my own discomfort with receiving love. So I want to tell you all about my learning and my commitment about love in action.
Just like you, life has brought me pain. There are times when I l’veet down my guard and then felt like others took advantage of my vulnerability. I came to CCC hurt by other churches, feeling disillusioned and betrayed. I told myself there was no way I was going to allow that to happen again. Those experiences reinforced a guarded exterior that does not show how I am really feeling inside. It has become such an automatic response, I don’t always know I’m doing it.
Here’s what I’m learning: I have trained myself to be so emotionally non-responsive, I can forget that others need to experience a wider range of emotions from me. I have something to receive from others as well as something to give.
Here’s what else I’m learning: I am learning to trust again. I’m learning to allow what I honor as the divine in you here at CCC to uncover and honor that which is divine in me. I am learning what it means to be mutually giving and receiving as a pastor and a congregation. You have helped me to do some of this, and today I want you to know I’m ready to take the next step.
When Pastor Amy was here with us, she served as an emotional buffer for me in many ways. Amy is such an emotionally generous and warm person, I could let her field many of the emotional issues that felt challenging to me. We do not have that anymore. I am your pastor. And we need to learn together how to do agape. I’m willing if you are. You know what I need from you? I need straightforward information about your needs. I need to know how you are feeling, and how you perceive my response when you express it. And I need to learn how to receive what you have started to give me after two years together: appreciation, support, friendship, and trust.
It’s the beginning of agape. In the words of Fulton Sheen, love is a mutual self-giving which ends in self-recovery. It’s what God wants for all of our relationships. Agape means that each and every one of us is created in the image of God, co-workers with God in struggling for the liberation of humanity and for a world order that respects each one’s dignity. God loves us so powerfully, and God wants to love another person or creature through us. That’s what I yearn for in my own life. It’s what I want for each of you. Healing power stirs us. We can affirm God. We can affirm our own being. We can affirm others from whom we are estranged. To love this love is to love God. And if you can love God, then you may also be able to accept Life and love it. Because Life accepts you; life loves you; and life wants to reunite you with itself.
Sources
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/2012/05/330/#sthash.k4k1Wg2v.dpuf
http://www.religion-online.org/showchapter.asp?title=375&C=14
http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/maybe-its-just-me/201008/self-loathing-and-the-paradox-selfless-loveq
http://philosophyfaculty.ucsd.edu/FACULTY/RARNESON/Courses/HAMPTONselflessness.pdf
One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to have dinner with him, so Jesus went to his home and sat down to eat. When a certain immoral woman from that city heard he was eating there, she brought a beautiful alabaster jar filled with expensive perfume. Then she knelt behind him at his feet, weeping. Her tears fell on his feet, and she wiped them off with her hair. Then she kept kissing his feet and putting perfume on them.How many times have we heard it? All you need is love! Love makes the world go ‘round! Love is a wonderful thing! Love will find a way! If we just have love enough, everything will be OK! Really? SUPER! Now on to reality. I’ve met people who live their lives believing no one loves them. They think, “Nobody understands me. Nobody cares about my pain. No one cares if I live or die.” Even in marriages and partnerships, we can feel like the one we love no longer understands us. I think of a couple I once knew, let’s call them “Mark and Beth.” Mark and Beth fell in love after college. Their eyes sparkled for each other. Their steps were light. They felt that unique, special attraction for each other. They got married, believing they would forever supply each other with a permanent sense of self-worth. As time went on, Mark expected Beth to be as accepting and forgiving as she was when they were dating. Beth expected the same from Mark. The sparkle dimmed. They began to feel disillusioned, even betrayed by one another. They replaced affirmation with sarcasm and ridicule. They each expected unconditional love and selflessness from the other, and each failure to do so was another brick in the growing wall between them. Mark and Beth recently celebrated their 15th wedding anniversary. Although they have shared many years together, they experience very little real love.
When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know what kind of woman is touching him. She’s a sinner!” Then Jesus answered his thoughts. “Simon,” he said to the Pharisee, “I have something to say to you.”
“Go ahead, Teacher,” Simon replied.
Then Jesus told him this story: “A man loaned money to two people—500 pieces of silver to one and 50 pieces to the other. But neither of them could repay him, so he kindly forgave them both, canceling their debts. Who do you suppose loved him more after that?”
Simon answered, “I suppose the one for whom he canceled the larger debt.”
“That’s right,” Jesus said. Then he turned to the woman and said to Simon, “Look at this woman kneeling here. When I entered your home, you didn’t offer me water to wash the dust from my feet, but she has washed them with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You didn’t greet me with a kiss, but from the time I first came in, she has not stopped kissing my feet. You neglected the courtesy of olive oil to anoint my head, but she has anointed my feet with rare perfume. I tell you, her sins—and they are many—have been forgiven, so she has shown me much love. But a person who is forgiven little shows only little love.” Then Jesus said to the woman, “Your sins are forgiven.”
The men at the table said among themselves, “Who is this man, that he goes around forgiving sins?” And Jesus said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” Luke 7:36-50
In some ways we are all frustrated lovers, wanting to be understood but feeling alone. We want to love and be loved, but we can feel incompetent, inadequate and insecure. Some will say, “If I can only do something to make myself more likeable or desirable . . . if only I can be successful . . . if only I can make myself more beautiful . . . if only I can be more self-sacrificing to serve another, THEN all our relationship problems will be solved.”
We know all about imperfect love. We have examples all around us. Today, we are going to look at an example of different kind of love in the story we just heard from Luke’s gospel.
Jesus reclines at a table. He’s at dinner with some of the movers and shakers in the neighborhood – the important people. Suddenly an uninvited guest comes in -- a woman with (ahem) a reputation. She follows a common practice of the lower servant class, not only washing Jesus’ feet which are dusty from walking with sandals on dirt roads, but washing them with her perfume and drying them with her hair. The important people object. But Jesus says this woman has more right to be there than many others. He says, “This woman had more sins forgiven than others so she is being extravagant with her love.” The writers of the Greek New Testament have a word for his kind of love: agape.
Some of us have heard this word before; agape. We are told it means unconditional love, or selfless love, like the love God has for us. I have a problem with this definition. The idea of selfless love perpetuates a dangerous idea. Is the woman who washes the feet of Jesus showing selfless love? At first glance, we see a woman subordinate herself to Jesus, as if being a woman is of secondary value to the community. We see a system in which women and men must remain divided by sexism, racism, economic injustices and imperialism.
We still live in that system. We expect women, especially mothers, to be selfless saints who give up their dreams in order to fulfill the needs of others. Some men and dads are expected to do it, too, but it’s preached strongly to women. Often these goodly "saints" are revered by those whom they serve because of their caring ways. What better way to promote this useful servitude than by continually commending self-sacrificers as "moral," "saintly," "devoted," and "virtuous"?
It turns out, people who act out of selfless love may in be in danger of losing the very Self they ought to be developing. And, they may end up hurting the people for whom they care. Think about it. If a moral saint is spending all her time feeding the hungry, healing the sick and raising money for OXFAM, and packing peanut butter sandwiches for the homeless, then she’s not taking time to read a good book, go for a brisk walk, or enjoy the smell of warm wet earth after a passing Summer thunderstorm. If a moral saint is giving all of himself to save the world, he has no time to be an artist, or a good parent, or a skilled listener. There’s no chance for a truly selfless person to have the time or moral permission to develop the skills, talents and personalities that makes us interesting, well-rounded people.
Selfless behavior is immoral when it prevents you from knowing your own intrinsic and equal value as a human being. What kind of love asks you to discount your Self for the sake of the other? What kind of love asks you to deny your needs? Where’s the mutuality? Where’s the trust? Is that what Jesus wants from the woman who washes his feet? Is this the kind of love God wants from us? That God has for us? Selfless love? No! There is no such thing. Everyone wants to be desired. Everyone wants to feel needed. Selfless love may seem ideal, but it eventually denies partners what they need—to be desired and needed as equals.
I know plenty of people who give selflessly of themselves and feel rejected by those they love. What kind of love is that? As long as we feel rejected, we cannot love fully.
I know people who have been manipulated by others in the name of serving God. If God appears to us as an unhappy recipient of selfless love who gives according pleasure and condemns according to wrath, we cannot love perfectly.
If we can be in touch with the true spirit of agape, our imperfect relationships can change. Like the woman who washes the feet of Jesus, we can share in extravagant kindness and complete forgiveness – a love so true that once we feel it, we can’t stop sharing it.
I’ve been thinking about agape in terms of another word: Namaste. Even though it is commonly used as a greeting, Namaste also expresses spiritual meaning. Namaste means “the divine in me blesses and honors the divine in you.” It’s agape – love in action. Imagine a despised, deprived, seemingly subservient woman of ill-repute washing the feet of Jesus as a servant. Imagine the scandal. Imagine the shame. Imagine the system that perpetuates and her posture. And imagine Jesus saying, “She has done nothing wrong. This nameless woman has shown agape. The divine in her just blessed and honored the divine in me.” Imagine if WE could do this. Instead of discounting ourselves to bolster another, we could say, “Love is known when we give and take as equals. The divine in me blesses and honors the divine in you.”
I will be the first to admit, I am not skilled at showing this kind of love. I feel it all the time, but I have a hard time expressing it. Some of you here at CCC have picked up on that. To be honest, for me, having a persona of selflessness can be an easy way to deflect agape. If I can serve you, then I can hide my own discomfort with receiving love. So I want to tell you all about my learning and my commitment about love in action.
Just like you, life has brought me pain. There are times when I l’veet down my guard and then felt like others took advantage of my vulnerability. I came to CCC hurt by other churches, feeling disillusioned and betrayed. I told myself there was no way I was going to allow that to happen again. Those experiences reinforced a guarded exterior that does not show how I am really feeling inside. It has become such an automatic response, I don’t always know I’m doing it.
Here’s what I’m learning: I have trained myself to be so emotionally non-responsive, I can forget that others need to experience a wider range of emotions from me. I have something to receive from others as well as something to give.
Here’s what else I’m learning: I am learning to trust again. I’m learning to allow what I honor as the divine in you here at CCC to uncover and honor that which is divine in me. I am learning what it means to be mutually giving and receiving as a pastor and a congregation. You have helped me to do some of this, and today I want you to know I’m ready to take the next step.
When Pastor Amy was here with us, she served as an emotional buffer for me in many ways. Amy is such an emotionally generous and warm person, I could let her field many of the emotional issues that felt challenging to me. We do not have that anymore. I am your pastor. And we need to learn together how to do agape. I’m willing if you are. You know what I need from you? I need straightforward information about your needs. I need to know how you are feeling, and how you perceive my response when you express it. And I need to learn how to receive what you have started to give me after two years together: appreciation, support, friendship, and trust.
It’s the beginning of agape. In the words of Fulton Sheen, love is a mutual self-giving which ends in self-recovery. It’s what God wants for all of our relationships. Agape means that each and every one of us is created in the image of God, co-workers with God in struggling for the liberation of humanity and for a world order that respects each one’s dignity. God loves us so powerfully, and God wants to love another person or creature through us. That’s what I yearn for in my own life. It’s what I want for each of you. Healing power stirs us. We can affirm God. We can affirm our own being. We can affirm others from whom we are estranged. To love this love is to love God. And if you can love God, then you may also be able to accept Life and love it. Because Life accepts you; life loves you; and life wants to reunite you with itself.
Sources
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/2012/05/330/#sthash.k4k1Wg2v.dpuf
http://www.religion-online.org/showchapter.asp?title=375&C=14
http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/maybe-its-just-me/201008/self-loathing-and-the-paradox-selfless-loveq
http://philosophyfaculty.ucsd.edu/FACULTY/RARNESON/Courses/HAMPTONselflessness.pdf
Monday, June 10, 2013
Sermon for June 2, 2013
pistis
I was working as a chaplain in a Boston hospital, visiting various patients on my roster. One woman’s face sticks with all these years later. I don’t remember her name anymore, but I remember her face. She was a senior, sitting in a gloomy hospital room with the curtains drawn -- staring at the floor through thick goggle-like eyeglasses that made her eyes look comically large. There were no lights on. No music. There were no get well cards in the room, no flowers, no indication that there was anyone who cared she was there. When I talked to her, she said that her only child, a son, did not talk to her anymore. Her body had failed. As existence deteriorated slowly, she was convinced it was because she did something wrong and was being forsaken by her family and her God. She had a question for me: "Why doesn't God heal me? I’ve asked for forgiveness. I’ve tried to do the right thing. I have faith. I pray and pray, but I don't get better. I once heard a minister say if I had enough faith, God would answer my prayer. What more can I do?" And she began to sob in the dark corner of her hospital room.
I have met many more people her since that encounter in the hospital; people who suffer in sorrow because they believe something about God's miraculous power that just does not square with their experience. A convincing clergy person, an earnest friend or a bestselling book has proclaimed, “If you only have enough faith, you will have complete physical healing. If you only have enough faith you will experience financial recovery. If you only have enough faith, your relationships will flourish.” Those statements put the responsibility squarely on the shoulders of the sufferer. It’s YOUR fault God does not grant your heart’s desire. If you are not living a healthy, prosperous life, then YOU are doing something wrong.
Listen closely in certain circles and you will hear it. It’s called prosperity theology. We used to call it the name-it-and claim-it gospel, or the blab-it-and grab-it gospel. As one preacher in this movement says, “If you need a healing, you can’t sit back and wait for God to drop it down on you. You have to do what it takes so you can rise up in faith and take what rightfully belongs to you . . . But if you read the Word with traditional eyes, not believing the promises are for you, you disqualify yourself from receiving those promises. It takes faith—believing in God . . . to transform your situation.” That we can quantify faith as “enough” or “not enough” doesn’t make sense. We are asked just to take it on faith.
What is this faith, though? For some, the definition of faith goes something like this: Faith is believing the unseen as the truth. Faith is hoping for, expecting and seizing something for which there is no proof.
Here is my problem with this definition. It sets up a system of haves and have-nots, insiders and outsiders, those who get something from God and those who don’t. The underlying assumption is that those who have enough belief in God’s unseen power and miraculous promises get blessed. If God is not blessing you, then you don’t believe correctly. Faith becomes a matter of pursuing personal happiness, almost as if it’s an inalienable right. It justifies the disease of unchecked individualism, which sees faith as a matter of personal belief rather than community action.
Is that what the church is for, to ensure individual happiness? To ensure prosperity for the believer? Because I thought Christ set up the church to help mend the torn fabric of humanity. I thought our job is to reestablish created goodness. I thought Jesus teaches us to take care of relationships that are most in need of healing and people who are most in need of care.
I want to offer a different definition of faith. Let’s listen to the Gospel of Luke and think about what faith might look like if it brought freedom instead of guilt.
The Greek word for faith used here is pistis. For you philosophers out there, it’s where we get the word epistemology. The original Pistis was one of the good spirits who escaped Pandora's box and fled back to heaven abandoning humankind. In the ancient Greek myth, Pistis, Restraint and Charity abandon the earth, leaving humanity to be overrun by their evil hungers. The original meaning of pistis meant “trust in others.” Pistis doesn’t mean belief, it means trust! "Faith" implies a relationship of trust and allegiance and not just acceptable beliefs.
The Roman Centurion knows all about trust and allegiance. His training and religious oaths prepared him for a life of obedience to orders. The Centurion knows about authority. He speaks and people obey. He recognizes authority in Jesus, too. But there is a difference in the power of Jesus. Military might can’t heal the sick or raise the dead. An army can't heal a faithful servant. Imperial power can’t gain the affections of a people. It can only control with fear. Jesus' power is not like the power wielded by Rome or any other empire. Jesus' power heals people and communities. It brings the powerful down from their thrones and lifts up the lowly. It turns the world upside down and inside out. The fact that a Centurion — a violent, brutish, instrument of military occupation—can trust in Jesus’ empire destabilizing power is the very essence of faith. Trust sees the world with God's eyes. Trust opens us to the possibility of a world renewed by God's love.
The miracle of this story is not just the healing of a sick slave. What’s miraculous to me is an outsider, moved by compassion, yields trust to a restorative power. And Jesus says “Yes!” Jesus offers healing as if to say, “You trust me? Well you know what, Centurion, I trust you, too! I have faith in you. Change is going to come just like this. God will not be restrained by the boundaries we draw around one another. God will surprise us. God's love extends even to those whom society deems unworthy of such a gift. This has happened before, and it will happen again.”
We can leverage our power to control others through fear and domination, or we can leverage our power to repair the word. Here is where I put my trusting faith: Jesus has faith in you and me. Jesus trusts us to be those who mend.
In a world of indifference to those on the margins, Jesus trusts us to pay attention.
When people in power turn to violence and anger to solve problems, Jesus trusts us to be peacemakers.
When our loved-ones struggle with invisible pain, Jesus trusts us to be a community of embrace.
When beauty is hidden, Jesus trusts us to marvel at the treasures God has created each of us to be.
When equality is compromised, when fear threatens to separate us, when it looks like faith, restraint and charity have flown into the heavens and left humanity to suffer at its own hands, Jesus trusts us, as communities of love and hope, to make a difference, to help restore the fractures of the world, a day at a time, an act at a time, for as long as it takes to make it a place of justice and compassion
where the lonely are not alone;
the poor not without help;
where the cry of the vulnerable is heeded
and those who are wronged are heard
Jesus trusts us. And we trust God. We trust that in our worst moments a wave of Light will break into our darkness. We will sense a voice saying, “You are loved. You are accepted. Now rise.” I trust that when my name is called to come forward, I will have the kind of trust to say yes and to the holy work that the Divine Spirit invites me to do.
Sources:
http://www.chestnuthillpres.org/sermons/2003/may18_sermon.html
http://lectionarytales.org/2013/04/21/june-2-2013-luke-71-10/
http://day1.org/4886-an_unexpected_faith
http://biteintheapple.com/42/
http://www.ntwords.com/trust.htm
http://www.kcm.org/real-help/article/take-your-healing-faith
I was working as a chaplain in a Boston hospital, visiting various patients on my roster. One woman’s face sticks with all these years later. I don’t remember her name anymore, but I remember her face. She was a senior, sitting in a gloomy hospital room with the curtains drawn -- staring at the floor through thick goggle-like eyeglasses that made her eyes look comically large. There were no lights on. No music. There were no get well cards in the room, no flowers, no indication that there was anyone who cared she was there. When I talked to her, she said that her only child, a son, did not talk to her anymore. Her body had failed. As existence deteriorated slowly, she was convinced it was because she did something wrong and was being forsaken by her family and her God. She had a question for me: "Why doesn't God heal me? I’ve asked for forgiveness. I’ve tried to do the right thing. I have faith. I pray and pray, but I don't get better. I once heard a minister say if I had enough faith, God would answer my prayer. What more can I do?" And she began to sob in the dark corner of her hospital room.
I have met many more people her since that encounter in the hospital; people who suffer in sorrow because they believe something about God's miraculous power that just does not square with their experience. A convincing clergy person, an earnest friend or a bestselling book has proclaimed, “If you only have enough faith, you will have complete physical healing. If you only have enough faith you will experience financial recovery. If you only have enough faith, your relationships will flourish.” Those statements put the responsibility squarely on the shoulders of the sufferer. It’s YOUR fault God does not grant your heart’s desire. If you are not living a healthy, prosperous life, then YOU are doing something wrong.
Listen closely in certain circles and you will hear it. It’s called prosperity theology. We used to call it the name-it-and claim-it gospel, or the blab-it-and grab-it gospel. As one preacher in this movement says, “If you need a healing, you can’t sit back and wait for God to drop it down on you. You have to do what it takes so you can rise up in faith and take what rightfully belongs to you . . . But if you read the Word with traditional eyes, not believing the promises are for you, you disqualify yourself from receiving those promises. It takes faith—believing in God . . . to transform your situation.” That we can quantify faith as “enough” or “not enough” doesn’t make sense. We are asked just to take it on faith.
What is this faith, though? For some, the definition of faith goes something like this: Faith is believing the unseen as the truth. Faith is hoping for, expecting and seizing something for which there is no proof.
Here is my problem with this definition. It sets up a system of haves and have-nots, insiders and outsiders, those who get something from God and those who don’t. The underlying assumption is that those who have enough belief in God’s unseen power and miraculous promises get blessed. If God is not blessing you, then you don’t believe correctly. Faith becomes a matter of pursuing personal happiness, almost as if it’s an inalienable right. It justifies the disease of unchecked individualism, which sees faith as a matter of personal belief rather than community action.
Is that what the church is for, to ensure individual happiness? To ensure prosperity for the believer? Because I thought Christ set up the church to help mend the torn fabric of humanity. I thought our job is to reestablish created goodness. I thought Jesus teaches us to take care of relationships that are most in need of healing and people who are most in need of care.
I want to offer a different definition of faith. Let’s listen to the Gospel of Luke and think about what faith might look like if it brought freedom instead of guilt.
After Jesus had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people, he entered Capernaum. A centurion there had a slave whom he valued highly, and who was ill and close to death. When he heard about Jesus, he sent some Jewish elders to him, asking him to come and heal his slave. When they came to Jesus, they appealed to him earnestly, saying, “He is worthy of having you do this for him, for he loves our people, and it is he who built our synagogue for us.” And Jesus went with them, but when he was not far from the house, the centurion sent friends to say to him, “Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; therefore I did not presume to come to you. But only speak the word, and let my servant be healed. For I also am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and the slave does it.” When Jesus heard this he was amazed at him, and turning to the crowd that followed him, he said, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.” When those who had been sent returned to the house, they found the slave in good health. Luke 7:1-10The Gospel of Luke often puts Jesus in encounters with outcasts to make a point. For instance, in Luke’s very next story in chapter 7, Jesus visits a widow and raises her dead son to life with a touch. The widow is a social outcast. Touching dead people is defiling. That doesn’t stop Jesus. He raises them both to new life. He eats with sinners and tax collectors! He cures people with diseases and plagues and evil spirits! In Luke’s gospel, detested Samaritans become good Samaritans! In today’s reading, the outsider is a Roman Centurion. He’s a warrior. He represents the worst of what Roman Empire has occupation has to offer. He hurls spears and javelins skillfully and strongly. He has expert knowledge in how to fight with the sword and shield. The popular perception of many centurions was that they were brawny, not too brainy, and often abusive. Here we have a Roman soldier, the backbone of the Roman army, displaying faith in Jesus. Jesus says he’s never seen anything like it. But what is it, really? Is the Centurion’s faith courageous hope in a reality with no proof, or is something else going on here?
The Greek word for faith used here is pistis. For you philosophers out there, it’s where we get the word epistemology. The original Pistis was one of the good spirits who escaped Pandora's box and fled back to heaven abandoning humankind. In the ancient Greek myth, Pistis, Restraint and Charity abandon the earth, leaving humanity to be overrun by their evil hungers. The original meaning of pistis meant “trust in others.” Pistis doesn’t mean belief, it means trust! "Faith" implies a relationship of trust and allegiance and not just acceptable beliefs.
The Roman Centurion knows all about trust and allegiance. His training and religious oaths prepared him for a life of obedience to orders. The Centurion knows about authority. He speaks and people obey. He recognizes authority in Jesus, too. But there is a difference in the power of Jesus. Military might can’t heal the sick or raise the dead. An army can't heal a faithful servant. Imperial power can’t gain the affections of a people. It can only control with fear. Jesus' power is not like the power wielded by Rome or any other empire. Jesus' power heals people and communities. It brings the powerful down from their thrones and lifts up the lowly. It turns the world upside down and inside out. The fact that a Centurion — a violent, brutish, instrument of military occupation—can trust in Jesus’ empire destabilizing power is the very essence of faith. Trust sees the world with God's eyes. Trust opens us to the possibility of a world renewed by God's love.
The miracle of this story is not just the healing of a sick slave. What’s miraculous to me is an outsider, moved by compassion, yields trust to a restorative power. And Jesus says “Yes!” Jesus offers healing as if to say, “You trust me? Well you know what, Centurion, I trust you, too! I have faith in you. Change is going to come just like this. God will not be restrained by the boundaries we draw around one another. God will surprise us. God's love extends even to those whom society deems unworthy of such a gift. This has happened before, and it will happen again.”
We can leverage our power to control others through fear and domination, or we can leverage our power to repair the word. Here is where I put my trusting faith: Jesus has faith in you and me. Jesus trusts us to be those who mend.
In a world of indifference to those on the margins, Jesus trusts us to pay attention.
When people in power turn to violence and anger to solve problems, Jesus trusts us to be peacemakers.
When our loved-ones struggle with invisible pain, Jesus trusts us to be a community of embrace.
When beauty is hidden, Jesus trusts us to marvel at the treasures God has created each of us to be.
When equality is compromised, when fear threatens to separate us, when it looks like faith, restraint and charity have flown into the heavens and left humanity to suffer at its own hands, Jesus trusts us, as communities of love and hope, to make a difference, to help restore the fractures of the world, a day at a time, an act at a time, for as long as it takes to make it a place of justice and compassion
where the lonely are not alone;
the poor not without help;
where the cry of the vulnerable is heeded
and those who are wronged are heard
Jesus trusts us. And we trust God. We trust that in our worst moments a wave of Light will break into our darkness. We will sense a voice saying, “You are loved. You are accepted. Now rise.” I trust that when my name is called to come forward, I will have the kind of trust to say yes and to the holy work that the Divine Spirit invites me to do.
Sources:
http://www.chestnuthillpres.org/sermons/2003/may18_sermon.html
http://lectionarytales.org/2013/04/21/june-2-2013-luke-71-10/
http://day1.org/4886-an_unexpected_faith
http://biteintheapple.com/42/
http://www.ntwords.com/trust.htm
http://www.kcm.org/real-help/article/take-your-healing-faith
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