Sermon for February 2, 2014

The Life of Justice
February 2, 2014

What can we bring to the Lord?
    What kind of offerings should we give?
Should we bow before God
    with offerings of yearling calves?
Should we offer thousands of rams
    and ten thousand rivers of olive oil?
Should we sacrifice our firstborn children
    to pay for our sins?
No, O people, the Lord has told you what is good,
    This is what is required of you:
to do what is right, to love mercy,
    and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:6-8

Audio version - click HERE

Have you ever heard someone say something like this: “There’s so much pain in the world. I suppose someone’s got to address it, but why should I have to do it? My hands are quite full right now, what with working 60 hours a week and my family commitments and all. Besides, I’ve worked hard to get what I have. Why shouldn’t be able to enjoy it?” That’s what might be called the “I’ve Got Mine” theory of social justice: I’ve got mine; let someone else take care of the world’s problems. It’s not much of a social justice theory, but I hear it a lot.

How about this one as an alternative? “Yes, I know. The world is full of injustice and all. It needs to be corrected, but that will take a better person than I. It will take a Martin Luther King, Jr., a Gandhi, a Mother Theresa. Maybe all three rolled into one. I can’t to that; I’m just an ordinary sort of person” That’s the Great Healer Theory of social justice: It takes a few great people to make a difference, and since I’m not a great person, I’ll wait for one to come along and follow that one. In the meantime, there’s not much I can do. Again, not much of a social justice theory. But I’ve heard it.

A variation on this theory is this: “There’s so much to do I wouldn’t know where to begin. I need someone to tell me. In the meantime, all I can do is wring my hands.” That one at least has the merit that it does not pretend to be anything but an excuse for not getting involved. Still, it has little to do with social justice. And it won’t heal any of the pain the world.

Of course, we can always use guilt as a way to motivate people into action. Churches are good at this. “How can you possibly just stand there and do nothing? The world is falling to pieces all round you, from famine to racism. And if you don’t do anything about it, you are as guilty as those who perpetuate the pain, because your inaction allows the pain to continue and grow.” I know you’ve all heard some version of this. I’ve even preached it on occasion. It Guilt really can motivate people. But there has to be something better, something that really will motivate people to get involved and touch the world with the loving compassion that Jesus demonstrated. This morning we will think about this as we listen to a word from a Hebrew Prophet.

We just heard from the prophet Micah. Here’s what’s going on. Micah imagines God and the people of Israel in the middle of a lawsuit. They have come to court to see who is at fault in their fractured relationship. God charges that the people of Israel have ignored the covenant. They have forgotten how God saved them from the land of Egypt and brought them to the Promised Land. In choosing not to remember their own history of bondage and the struggles leading up to liberation, the people grow indifferent. Israel comes up with a defense. “What can we bring before the Lord to make up for what we’ve done? Maybe God would be happy if we took a valuable yearling calf and sacrificed it. No, God, you will want more. Maybe we should raise the value by sacrificing not one, but a thousand rams, and then smother it with rivers of precious olive oil. Then will you be pleased, God? What if we sacrificed our firstborn children to pay for the sins of our souls? Then would God forgive? Tell us the cost, and we will pay.”

The urgent cries of Israel don’t sound very different than our own laments today. We mess something up and we have a compulsion to clear our consciences. We want a sign that God still loves us. We cry, “God, what do you want from me. What can I do to make up for what I’ve done? Will you be happy if I promise to go to church every Sunday for a month? How about a year? What if I make good on my stewardship pledge? I’ll even put a little extra in? Then would you be pleased, God? How much do I need to give in order to secure your love? Do I need to find the people and things that are most valuable to me and offer them to you, Lord? Then would you forgive? Tell me the cost, and I will pay.”

So, what does the Lord require?

Micah gives a surprise answer. God doesn’t want stuff. God wants you. God doesn’t require sacrifice of physical objects. God wants your heart. Micah says that if you want to make it right then do justice, love mercy, and walk in humility with your God. Let’s think about this for a minute.

First God says do justice or do what is right. In Micah’s day, most of the county’s leaders were caught up in their own comfort and prosperity. But Micah saw the suffering of the general population. He knew that justice would not come from the state or the power structure. Justice rises from people who dare to envision dynamic alternatives to their current unjust conditions. To do justice is not a romantic ideal nor an abstract concept. Rather, justice means hard work. A life of justice asks us to work together, to analyze the present unjust system and to find ways to change the system. Justice is able to disrupt, dismantle, break down, disarm, and transform the world when we dare to see what is really happening without growing cynical. Living a life of justice means being willing to risk seeing another person’s suffering as our own.

Doing justice is hard because it means that life has to change. And many of us have a strong allergic reaction to change of any kind. Many also have a strong revulsion to the church getting involved in politics. I want to address this for a moment. The important decisions in our time – whether there will be peace or war, safety from terrorism and random shootings in public spaces, racial equality or discrimination, homophilia or homophobia, food or famine, economy parity or disparity – all these are, in part, political decisions. Not every political issue of the day demands a stand from the churches. I don’t think churches should pursue political goals that are self-serving. I hate to see Christians try to legislate their convictions into state and federal law. I love to see Christians speak up and act up on behalf of the poor and disadvantaged, to fight for housing for low-income families, for decent health care for the aging, for fair treatment of all people. In these times that are neither safe nor sane, I love to see Christens put it all on the line, knowing that we can expect minimal support from the culture around us. Anyone can love the healthy, the successful, and the glamorous. There’s little dignity or courage in that. God calls us to a higher standard—to love and serve the world with compassion; to understand that when one suffers, we all suffer. When one person is given dignity, we are all brought a little higher. So, we DO justice. Think of those two words together -- justice as a verb. We don’t think justice. We don’t hope justice. We don’t pray justice. We DO justice. We DO.

Micah also mentions kindness. Showing kindness means choosing to recognize and respond to the needy among us. In his book, The Power of the Powerless, Chris deVinck writes about his brother Oliver who was severely handicapped, blind, and bedridden. No one was sure whether Oliver was aware of the world around him, although he did eat when he was fed. Though he lived to be over 30, feeding him was like feeding an eight-month-old child. He required 24-hour care, which his mother gave him until the day he died. Chris remembers it like this:

When I was in my early 20s, I met a girl, and I fell in love. After a few months I brought her home for dinner to meet my family. After the introductions and some small talk, my mother went to the kitchen to check the meal, and I asked the girl, “Would you like to see Oliver?” for I had, of course, told her about my brother. “No,” she answered. She did not want to see him. It was as if she slapped me in the face. In response I mumbled something polite and walked to the dining room. Soon after, I met Rosemary—a dark-haired, dark-eyed, lovely girl. She asked me the names of my brothers and sisters. She bought me a copy of The Little Prince. She loved children. I thought she was wonderful. I brought her home after a few months to meet my family. The introductions. The small talk. We ate dinner; then it was time for me to feed Oliver. I walked into the kitchen … and prepared Oliver’s meal. Then, I sheepishly asked Roe if she’d like to come upstairs and see Oliver. “Sure,” she said, and up the stairs we went. I sat on Oliver’s bed as Roe stood and watched over my shoulder. I gave him his first spoonful, then his second. “Can I do that?” she asked with ease, with freedom, with compassion. So I gave her the bowl, and she fed Oliver one spoonful at a time. Which girl would you marry? Today Roe and I have three children.

If we want to live in God’s forgiving grace, then we walk in kindness, meeting the needs around us with the ease, freedom and compassion of God.

Micah also mentions humility.  Humility means recognizing that the universe doesn’t revolve around us. In fact, it means serving others in a way that doesn’t even draw attention to the good deeds we do. It means that we do acts of justice and kindness with quiet simplicity.

As we think about the life of Pete Seeger and mark his passing, I’m reminded of humility. Pete Seeger’s death leaves a void that must be filled with new voices. Clear voices. Committed voices. Determined voices. I wonder who will take up the guitar, the banjo, or the microphone; camera, pen and tablet to speak, sing, write, shout in a clear humble voice – who will remind us about love, and peace, and justice, and freedom. Who will be the new leaders? One of the tributes I read recalled Pete Seeger leading a march with the Occupy Movement in 2010. He was quoted as saying: "Be wary of great leaders. Hope that there are many, many small leaders." That’s humility, right? It’s not about the big grand scheme, as much as the long obedience in the same direction.

Justice. Kindness. Humility. Honestly, it would be a lot easier to buy God off.  The life of justice is risky and uncomfortable. It refuses to back down in the face of evil. It never relents shining the light of grace into the worst places in the world.

In the spirit of starting with small leaders, and for those whom this is new, let me suggest some first steps in living a life of justice, kindness and humility:

Write a kind or encouraging letter, perhaps to someone who is struggling with a decision, or a failure, or disappointment. Or write notes of encouragement to those who are fighting the good fight in our area, against all odds.

Volunteer to help at a food bank or Shepherd’s Table.

Guard the reputation of another person. Refuse to take part in discussions that focus on fault-finding or gossip, or discriminatory joking.

Ask yourself, “Am I doing something that oppresses someone else? Have I taken advantage of another person?" By examining yourself, you will be able to see the injustice around you.

Take a stand. All around is there is racism, sexism, and other forms of discrimination. You have the power to make a difference in Christ’s name. Even a small one. Come join us on Lawyers Mall in Annapolis aon Feb. 17 to lobby for Transgender Equality. Learn about mass incarceration with us next week. Join one of our Peace in the Middle East events. We have lots of opportunities for eduction and service!

And remember, God doesn’t want stuff. God wants you. God has shown us what is good, and what is require of us. DO justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly with God.

Sermon for January 26, 2014

Help, My Husband Has Fallen
Audio version - click here

The Lord is my light and my salvation—
    so why should I be afraid?
The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger,
    so why should I tremble?
When evil people come to devour me,
    when my enemies and foes attack me,
    they will stumble and fall.
Though a mighty army surrounds me,
    my heart will not be afraid.
Even if I am attacked,
    I will remain confident. Psalm 27:1-3

Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: "Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned." From that time Jesus began to proclaim, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near."

As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea for they were fishermen. And he said to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people." Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him. Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. Matthew 4:12-23

One day, as a seamstress was sewing while sitting close to a river, her thimble fell into the river. When she cried out, the Lord appeared and asked, "My dear child, why are you crying?" The seamstress replied that her thimble had fallen into the water and that she needed it to help her husband in making a living for their family.

The Lord dipped a hand into the water and pulled up a golden thimble set with sapphires. "Is this your thimble?" the Lord asked.

"No,” said the seamstress.

The Lord again dipped a hand into the river and pulled up a golden thimble studded with rubies. "Is this your thimble?" the Lord asked.

"No,” said the seamstress.

The Lord reached down again and came up with a leather thimble. "Is this your thimble?" the Lord asked.
"Yes,” admitted the seamstress. The Lord was pleased with the woman's honesty and gave her all three thimbles to keep, and the seamstress went home happy.

Some years later, the seamstress was walking with her husband along the riverbank, and her husband fell into the river and disappeared under the water. When she cried out, the Lord again appeared and asked her, "Why are you crying?"

"Oh Lord, my husband has fallen into the river!"

The Lord went down into the water and came up with George Clooney. "Is this your husband?" the Lord asked.

"Yes," cried the seamstress.

The Lord was furious. "You lied! That is an untruth!"

"Forgive me, Lord,” said the seamstress. “It is a misunderstanding. You see, if I had said 'no' to George Clooney, you would have come up with Brad Pitt. Then if I said 'no' to him, you would have come up with my husband. Had I then said 'yes,' you would have given me all three. Lord, I can’t take care of all three husbands, so THAT'S why I said 'yes' to George Clooney!

We can’t really blame that poor woman, can we? Most all of us have been in that spot. We make up a little lie, a delicate deception, to protect ourselves.  It’s what we do to help us feel more secure when our world seems unsteady, when our place in the world seems precarious. Have any of us ever spent more than a couple of minutes considering how simple it would be to cheat on our taxes and fool the government in order to benefit financially? Is there anyone you know who has ever been less than completely honest on a resume for a choice job they are pursuing?

Our spiritual ancestors understood this impulse. One of the first stories in our Scriptures is Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. They eat forbidden fruit and then lie to God in the hope of finding some security; wanting the light of wisdom in a world that darkened when they began to doubt God.

It’s a scenario as old as human time – one that we see played out in cartoons and sitcoms. A person with a moral dilemma has a decision to make. Then the battle for the conscience begins.  A figure in a red suit, with barbed tail and pitchfork, appears in a poof of smoke on the person’s shoulder. The devil on the shoulder tells the decision-maker to follow one’s indulgences. The figure is called a Shoulder Imp.  If you grew up watching Tom and Jerry cartoons, you might remember Jerry has a Shoulder Imp, a wicked version of himself with green fur and horns who tempts Jerry to make Tom’s life even more miserable. Disney’s dog Pluto has one, too. The Shoulder Imp symbolizes the moral darkness within all of us. While it is often cartoonish in appearance, it is always a dangerous and ultimately self-destructive force.

Believe it or not, Judaism has a version of the shoulder imp. It’s known as the yetzer hara. The Evil Impulse. Yetzer hara is not a demonic force that pushes a person to do evil. It’s more like an impulse toward pleasure or security. It is the seat of our selfishness, our ego, and our hatred. If left unchecked, it can lead us to the shadows.

For some ancient Rabbis, the job of humanity was to eliminate this inclination. Evil Impulse was seen as a form of idolatry. Evil Impulse represent our suspicion that this life is all there is. We become afraid and want to build monuments to ourselves and our families. We want these monuments will survive us so our legacy lives on. For some, this is also the definition of idolatry. Idolatry is the desire to create and worship human monuments, rather than God. Some teachers blamed Evil Impulse and idolatry for the destruction of the Jewish Temple and the exile of the Jewish people.  When some Rabbis imagined the Messianic Era, a time when the world as it is turns into the world as it should be, they wrote that God will, “bring the evil inclination and slaughter it in the presence of the righteous and in the presence of the wicked."

Other Rabbis took a more moderate approach. It is said that two thousand years ago, a group of Rabbis encountered the Evil Impulse, yetzer hara, amidst the destruction of Jerusalem. Knowing that the evil impulse was to blame for the devastation of their Holy Temple, they grabbed it and wrestled it into a chamber pot where they held it captive. While some were ready to destroy the yetzer hara, one Rabbi said. “Who knows what will happen if you destroy it? Hold it for three days and see what happens!” The Rabbis waited patiently for three days and then began scouting the city. Immediately, they noticed that the world was beginning to rot away. People stopped doing business. Chickens stopped producing eggs. Families stopped building houses. They knew what they had to do. They let the Evil Impulse go, knowing that the world could not be sustained without it.

Judaism acknowledges that the engine of the world is not humanity’s quest toward good but rather our selfishness.  As poet Don Marquis wrote:

A fierce unrest seethes at the core of all existing things.
It was the eager wish to soar that gave the gods their wings.
There throbs through all the worlds that are this heartbeat hot and strong.
And shaken systems, star by star, awake and glow in song.

His poem goes on to suggest that if it weren’t for this unrest, if not for an urgent desire for change, for growth, the universe would grind to a halt. We humans have within us a perpetual hunger for more. It’s this hunger – this greed – that is responsible for every creative act. We want things that we don’t already have. We want things that we don’t need. We want to insert ourselves into spaces where we don’t already exist. It’s why we have children. It’s why we build things, learn things, and try new things. It’s why we try to crawl and walk, why we get married, why we get divorced. It’s why we fight for freedom, break records, take risks, and make New Year’s resolutions. The yetzer hara is trouble for us because we’ve been taught to erase it from our lives, while at the same time it is at the very root of life. Our impulses for personal advancement, our need for bodily satisfaction, the desire to leave your husband in the river in an exchange for George Clooney, may bring problems into the world, but these same desires also move it forward. Sometimes, the Evil Impulse, this carnal, selfish urge in us, gives the push we need to create our most full selves.

Consider this example. In one situation, you treat a person with an average amount of compassion but your compassion is genuine. In another situation, you treat a person with unparalleled kindness, but you have secret motives like wanting the other person to like you or wanting to feel good about yourself. Which is better? According to Sages, the answer is to embrace the selfishness. Go with the less-than-perfect motivations. Why? Because the end result is better. And so Rabbis instructed their students to push away the Evil Impulse with the left hand while bringing it near with the right.

Of course, if it is left unchallenged it will destroy us. So there’s a balancing force. In Hebrew it’s called yetzer hatov. The Good Impulse. Yetzer hatov pushes us to do good in the world. It inspires us to do charity. It is the engine of compassion. It is the instrument of our loving kindness.

I want us to consider that the moral life is not so much about making distinctions between good and bad motives. It’s about balance. There can be too much Evil Impulse, but there can also be too much Good Impulse. People who always act out of selfless love may end up hurting the people for whom they care. Think about it. If a moral saint is spending all her time marching for social justice, healing the sick and packing peanut butter sandwiches for the homeless, then she’s not taking time to read a good book, play a game with her kids or go enjoy God’s creation. 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 and relationships that make us interesting, well-rounded people. So, the goal of the moral life is balance – that middle way between pure selfishness and solitary saintliness.

I’ve been talking about Evil Impulse and Good Impulse. There are all kinds of other metaphors we use to make the same distinction. For instance, we talk about walking upright and being low. “She's an upstanding citizen. He's on the up and up. That was a low thing to do. He’s the meanest, dirtiest, most low-down varmint in the West.”  To remain upright, one must be strong enough to "stand up to evil." These are moral categories.

Another way to talk about the moral life is with the metaphors of light and darkness.  We see it in the writings of Dr. King: Every one must decide whether to will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness. The Psalmist insists, “The Lord is the light of my salvation. Whom shall I fear?” Or as Matthew says, quoting the prophet Isaiah, “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.” Light and darkness function like Good Impulse and Evil Impulse. They help us see that the need for security and safety are part of the human experience. Understanding that humans are often motivated by fear, will we shine and arise above oppressive patterns of behavior? Understanding that we have the desire to build monuments to ourselves, what will we build on behalf of God’s justice-loving realm?

In Matthew’s text, Jesus has just been baptized and then he battles the devil in the wilderness. We will circle back to the temptation of Jesus in a few weeks from now. Let me say here, I don’t think Jesus battled an actual cosmic Satan. I think it’s the yetzer hara, the carnal mind, the Evil Impulse. In the wilderness, Jesus decides what kind of Messiah he has come to be – what kind of kingdom he’s going to create. Now he’s ready for ministry. His first sermon is on a text from Isaiah: "The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned." Then Matthew goes on to tell us, "From that time Jesus began to proclaim, 'Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.'"

Of course, if we are willing to be part of this new era, we have to admit there is such a thing as sin. There is darkness. There are times we are motivated by selfish gain and brought low by ambition. There are times when Evil Impulse gets out of balance and out of control. I don’t know about you, but the sins that really affect me are the times when I betray love and fellowship: “I didn’t notice. I didn’t care. I forgot. I lied to you…” Jewish mystics had a term for sins like these: cutting the shoots. The plants in the garden of life belong to God. Uprooting them, tearing greedily at their leaves, destroying their growth, poisoning them off, these are sins against both life and God. I know that when I cut the shoots of relationships and community, I feel lost. I want to do better. I want humanity to do better. What can we do for the good? What healing can we contribute to the world? As we recognize that we can be flawed people with uncertain motives, can we turn and find some hope?

As I’ve been hammering home over the past few weeks, the word “repent” means “to turn”. Turning to God means offering our whole selves, the good and the bad. We follow God with our virtuous inclinations as well as our selfish, difficult impulses. Turning to God means confessing the mistakes of the past. It means apologizing to those we have wronged. We can turn to connect with our true selves, our best selves. We can turn and show love to another. We can turn and treat someone with compassion. We can turn listen to their concerns, open our minds and hands to their plights. We can turn give them space in our busy lives. We can turn to heal the wound in the other person. We can turn and consider how we can give more, care more, heal more, repair more and love more. And maybe, just maybe, even if our motives are not wholly pure; even when we act out of pride, selfishness, or sycophantism; even if there are glimmers of the yetzer hara in our actions; even if we, at times, are still attracted to the darkness, maybe, just maybe we have still brought more love, more compassion, and more presence than if we had not acted at all.

Sources:
https://www.facebook.com/cbebk/posts/487541964659073
http://ralphmiltonsrumors.blogspot.com/2008/01/sermon-helps-for-sunday-january-27th.html
http://girardianlectionary.net/year_a/epiphany3a.htm
http://villains.wikia.com/wiki/Shoulder_Imp
http://imaginenosatan.com/Volume%203/3-5.html
http://www.mindspring.com/~dbholzel/1006.html
http://www.nnls-masorti.org.uk/page.php?ID=215
http://www.wwcd.org/issues/Lakoff.html
http://www.livescience.com/5511-saints-sinners-find-moral-balance.html

Sermon for January 19, 2014

Then Jesus Turned

The next day [John] saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, "Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, 'After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.' I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel." And John testified, "I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, 'He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.' And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God."

The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, "Look, here is the Lamb of God!" The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, "What are you looking for?" They said to him, "Rabbi" (which translated means Teacher), "where are you staying?" He said to them, "Come and see." They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter's brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, "We have found the Messiah" (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, "You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas" (which is translated Peter). –John 1:29-42

Jesus has just been baptized in the Judean wilderness. As I mentioned last Sunday, by allowing himself to be baptized by John, Jesus has identified himself as a revolutionary who launches a new reign of peace. The Roman Emperor is not the only son of god in town any more. There is a new Son of God, and associates his reign is symbolized with peaceful animals. The dove of the Holy Spirit rests on him. Jesus is the Lamb of God who rescues people from domination.

The idea of a lamb of God goes back to Moses and the Passover. Remember all those plagues from the Book of Exodus? In the Passover story, The God of Israel keeps trying to convince Pharaoh to let the people of Israel go. Just when we think Pharaoh is going to give in, he changes his mind. So God sets up a final, terrible plague. All of the firstborn children across Egypt will die, with one provision.  All Israelites who smear the blood of a sacrificial lamb on their doorway will be saved when the angel of death comes. God provides a way for the firstborn to live. A lamb of God will set Israel free from their slavery in Egypt. From that day forth, a lamb will become a symbol of freedom.

Fast forward a few centuries. The people of Israel are in bondage to a different empire. Rome oppresses Israel with violent military occupation and heavy taxation. The Jerusalem Temple system is in collusion with Rome, using religious law to keep people subservient. Fresh from the waters of baptism arises Jesus, the Lamb of God, who will show the power of God and set people free from captivity. John the Baptizer says, “Look, this is the one I was talking about. This is the one you’ve been looking for. He is the Lamb of God. He has come to deliver you. He is the true Passover Lamb.”

So, Jesus is on a mission. Preach, teach, heal, and establish the peaceful, compassionate Kingdom of Heaven. He is walking in the direction of his destiny. Then something happens. One day, two disciples of John the Baptizer call out to Jesus, “Hey Teacher, where are you staying?” Pay attention to what happens next. Does Jesus keep walking -- “Sorry, guys, I can’t talk right now. I got a revolution to get to”? Does Jesus ignore them – “I don’t have time for this right now . . .”? No, two men ask Jesus a question and Jesus does something quite amazing. The text says he turns. Jesus turns.

The author of the gospel uses a Greek word that means to physically turn or spin around. But it can also mean a change of heart -- to change or convert  (στρέφω). The act of turning has the power to redirect a person's destiny. It affects the whole life of the soul.

Jesus turned.  Here’s why this is so amazing to me. We usually think of conversion as something we do.  But, right here, the Word of Life converts all of his energy into two young men. He interrupts his march from the wilderness in order to respond to include some questioners. Abraham Heschel once wrote, "No word is God's final word. Judgment, far from being absolute, is conditional. A change in [one’s] conduct brings about a change in God's judgment." I wonder if that’s happening here. The mission changes.  Jesus reveals a God of process. The plan is not set in stone. It unfolds with each step. With each stop. With each opportunity to turn.

The Rabbi changes his agenda. The Messiah turns. The Lamb of God has a change of heart. We need to hear this. Jesus turned. He changed direction. He reminds us that it is part of God’s nature to turn.  God hears us. God sees us in our most desperate places. God does not say, “Hey, life is tough and then you die. Too bad for you.” God turns. God joins us. God seems willing to change directions – to enter into the dust of our lives and ask, “What are you looking for.”

God changes. I have come to believe this as a firm part of my own faith. Many Christians want to deny that God actually changes. They say God is immutable. In other words, part of what makes God “God” is that God never changes. Some say God’s complete lack of change is one of the essential divine attributes, part of how God is different from the finite world.  God’s will is the same, yesterday, today and forever.

I have come to believe something different. God changes. God’s experience of the world is constantly shifting and growing. Each moment of our lives has a wealth of choices and possibilities. God’s aim for us is that each of those moments is filled with wholeness and beauty. But God does not know the future in advance. God doesn’t know what we will choose to do in each of those moments. God only knows the possibilities. When we turn away from God, we limit what God can do in our lives. But when we turn towards God, God turns even more to us. When we line ourselves up with God’s vision for our lives, we open new possibilities for divine action. The future is open, and God is present in every moment, seeking the highest possibilities for each and every creature.

Turning, conversion, change – these are all ways of stepping out of the way we’ve always done it, so we can live into God’s promise of redemption and release.

If I am right, if God turns for us, then can we turn for others? The general problem with turning is that while Jesus shows us how God turns for us, many of us refuse to do the same. The risks are too high. The costs are too great.  It takes too much sacrifice. Another way to talk about turning is the word “repentance.”  And repentance is not part of the normal order of things.

I hear some of this struggle in John’s Gospel. Jesus turns and asks the two young men, “What are you looking for?” They answer with another question: “Where are you staying?” Literally, “Teacher, where are you remaining?” The same Greek word for “stay” is repeated five times in this passage alone. Remain. Remain. Stay. Stay. Stay. The word can actually mean a few things: stay, dwell, lodge, rest, settle, endure, persevere, abide, and indwell. Dwelling is not the same as turning, right? Staying has to do with basking in God’s abiding presence. Turning involves facing God’s future. Staying has to do with stillness. Turning involves movement.

These two young men who question Jesus -- they want to know about staying. They want to know a little more about Jesus before accepting the call.  They asks about accommodations.

Jesus turns.

This is the song of the spiritual life -- finding the balance between remaining and turning; living in peace and safety or leaping into the unknown.  Shall we abide in God or turn and change direction? When should we stretch out in the hammock of God’s love and when should get up and follow the invitation to go where God is going and do what God is doing? There is a time and a place for each. It takes a lot of listening, and practice and failure to learn when to remain and when to change.

If we are looking for social change, then we can’t just stay, remain and abide. We can’t have revolution without turning. There is no justice without changing and repentance. We won’t have world peace without a change of heart.

Turning, conversion, change – these are all ways of stepping out of the way we’ve always done it, so we can live into God’s promise of redemption and release.

I’m reminded of this lesson as we remember the dream of Martin Luther King Jr.  King helped America begin to turn away from injustice by turning to non-violence. In 1963, King actually had his marchers sign a pledge of non-violence. Have you ever seen this? It says the following:

1.    As you prepare to march, meditate on the life and teachings of Jesus
2.    Remember the nonviolent movement seeks justice and reconciliation - not victory.
3.    Walk and talk in the manner of love; for God is love.
4.    Pray daily to be used by God that all men and women might be free.
5.    Sacrifice personal wishes that all might be free.
6.    Observe with friend and foes the ordinary rules of courtesy.
7.    Perform regular service for others and the world.
8.    Refrain from violence of fist, tongue and heart.
9.    Strive to be in good spiritual and bodily health.
10.    Follow the directions of the movement leaders and of the captains on demonstration.

Here is my two-sentence paraphrase: Change is in the air. Turn to God’s non-violent will, and God’s non-violent will circle back to you.  Nonviolence is based on the conviction that the universe is on the side of justice. Turning, conversion, change – these are all ways of stepping out of the way we’ve always done it, so we can live into God’s promise of redemption and release. Like the words of the Shaker song Simple Gifts:

When true simplicity is gain’d,
To bow and to bend we shan’t be asham’d,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.

As Dr. King reminded us, we can turn from hateful words and physical attacks and judge people on the content of their character rather than the color of their skin.

We can turn from the burden of hate or revenge and express anger in ways that lead to peaceful negotiation.

We can turn towards others and listen carefully, especially to those with whom we disagree.

We can turn towards those who have hurt us, and offer forgiveness.We can turn away from wasteful lifestyles that consume the earth’s resources and turn towards sustainability.

We can turn away from entertainment that makes violence look exciting, funny, or acceptable and cultivate community relationships.

We can turn from fears of inadequacy, and turn towards courage: Courage, to confront violence and injustice wherever we find it … Courage to challenge prejudicial jokes or remarks … Courage to challenge the purveyors and sponsors of violence … Courage  to work for gun control … Courage to fight for the new frontiers of equality, whether it be transgender rights in the workplace, food security for those who are hungry and getting their benefits cut, or immigration reform on our borders … Courage to put into practices the words and example of Dr. King, "to meet physical force with soul force." 

It all begins with a change in direction. A change of heart. We need to hear this.  Jesus turned. So can we.

Loving God, you sent Jesus to show us how to turn and live nonviolently.  Jesus, you turned listened carefully to everyone.  You turned and cared about the feelings of others.  You turned and forgave those who hurt you.  Your turned and paid attention to the people no one else cared about.  Jesus, send us your Spirit to help each of us be truthful whenever we speak, loving whenever we act, and courageous whenever we find violence or injustice around us. Amen.

Sources:
http://www.hebrew4christians.com/Holidays/Fall_Holidays/Elul/Teshuvah/teshuvah.html
http://www.scripture4all.org/OnlineInterlinear/NTpdf/joh1.pdf
http://day1.org/1078-what_are_you_looking_for
http://www.ipj-ppj.org/Reflections%20-%20Advocacy%20Suggestions%20-%20Lesson%20Plans/A%20Call%20to%20Discipleship%20--%20MLK%20Liturgies.htm
http://onefamilyoutreach.com/bible/John/jn_01_29-42.htm
http://www.tparents.org/Library/Unification/Talks2/King/King-630000.htm
http://www.shirhadash.org/rabbi/13/08/31/teshuvah.html

Why I Won't Shut Up About Racism . . .

Some people wonder why, as a middle-aged white guy, I talk about racism so much. Let me try to explain . . .

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. delivered a sermon at the National Cathedral, Washington, D.C., March 31, 1968. He said,

“It is an unhappy truth that racism is a way of life for the vast majority of white Americans, spoken and unspoken, acknowledged and denied, subtle and sometimes not so subtle – the disease of racism permeates and poisons a whole body politic. And I can see nothing more urgent than for America to work passionately and unrelentingly – to get rid of the disease of racism . . . I submit that nothing will be done until people of goodwill put their bodies and their souls in motion . . . We're going to win our freedom because both the sacred heritage of our nation and the eternal will of the almighty God are embodied in our echoing demands. And so, however dark it is, however deep the angry feelings are, and however violent [the] explosions are, I can still sing ‘We Shall Overcome.’ We shall overcome because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”­­

So, how do you think we’re doing? Is Dr. King’s dream realized? Yes, we as a society have made gains. Yes, our awareness has grown and there’s no turning back. Yes, people of goodwill, including those who forged the civil rights movement, HAVE put their bodies and souls in motion for equality. But, have we overcome? Is the will of Almighty God still heard in our demands for equality?

I want to believe that each one of us longs to live up to our own best hopes. We all desire a world of equality and even of healing, where the suffering of the past can be salved and the future can be built on new trust. But it takes a lot of hard work, doesn’t it? Like many progressives, I’d like to skip this work. I’d like my actions and good intentions to speak for themselves. I’d like to think that I’m beyond the need for examining racism in society. But racism troubles me. It affects ,my family. It's roots are buried deep in U.S. history. Talking about it is difficult.

When we address injustice in the world, we heal the world. This is a significant point for those religious liberals who tend to dismiss healing as a central part of religion. I think part of the purpose of religion is to heal the world; part of the function of religion is bring wholeness when we are damaged by the injustice of evil systems.

Someone recently sent this quote to me. It comes from Wendell Berry’s The Hidden Wound. Writing about racism as white man of majority, Berry confesses,

“. . . I write with the feeling that the truth I may tell will not be definitive or objective or even demonstrable, but in the strictest sense subjective, relative to the peculiar self-consciousness of a diseased man struggling toward a cure. I am trying to establish the outlines of an understanding of myself in regard to what was fated to be the continuing crisis of my life, the crisis of racial awareness – the sense of being doomed by my history to be; if not always a racist, then a man always limited by the inheritance of racism, condemned to be always conscious of the necessity not to be a racist, to be always dealing deliberately with the reflexes of racism that are embedded in my mind as deeply at least as the language I speak"

I highlighted that phrase at the end. It resonates with me -- the reflexes of racism. We've been conditioned, down to our synapses, to accept racism without even thinking about it. The good news is that we can learn a new reflex! We can be reconditioned! We can become aware!

If we want to  address society’s racism problems with prayerful action, we need to confront racism on systemic, institutional, and individual levels. For all the work we’ve done, racism lurks everywhere. I cannot think of one area of American life that is not touched by this ongoing evil.

According to census data, 26.6% of all Hispanic persons and 27.4% of all black persons are living in poverty. If we want to care of the poor, we will  end the poverty of racism.

Statistics from the U.S. Department of Justice indicate that black males are incarcerated at a rate 6 times higher than white males. There are over 2.5 times as many Hispanics in jail as whites. Many African Americans and Hispanics are less able to afford high quality legal services and they may be subject to discrimination in prosecution and sentencing. If we want to address the injustices of the penal system, we also need to address the injustices of racism.

African American women who have college degrees, who have insurance and who have good jobs actually have higher rates of infant mortality than white women who dropped out of school after eight grade, who don’t have high occupational status and who don’t have very good health care. Why is this? Some research says racism has a physiological affect that overloads the body. These affluent or middle class African American women experience so much daily stress from racism, their bodies can’t rest. Their blood pressure stays elevated at night. Their immune systems become compromised. Racism and discrimination are a public health matter. African Americans routinely get less access to health care and less quality care. If we want to heal our nation’s public health crisis, we also need to heal the disease of racism.

If we are going to talk about poverty and housing, then we need to talk about the environment to which they are linked. In the United States, lead poisoning continues to be the number one environmental health threat to children living in inner cities. Nationally, three out of five African Americans and Latino Americans live in communities with abandoned toxic waste sites. Some predict global warming will negatively affect poor American families who will have to spend even more on food and electricity, which already represent a large proportion of their budgets. If we want to care for the earth and her people, then we must eradicate the toxic racism that poisons our Home.

Speaking of homes, a recent study using data from the 100 largest U.S. metropolitan areas found that living in a predominantly African-American area, and to a lesser extent Hispanic area, is a powerful predictor of foreclosures across the nation. Predatory lending aimed at racially segregated minority neighborhoods led to mass foreclosures that fueled the U.S. housing crisis. If we want to help construct housing markets where all people in this land have a solid roof over their heads, then we also need to deconstruct racism.

What about our schools? Institutional racism is subtle, and often unintentional, but always potent. Many students of color do not have access to fully credentialed teachers or high-quality curriculum materials and advanced courses. The Southern Poverty Law Center reviews civil rights history curricula in standards across the country. Most states, unfortunately, get a failing grade. Last time I checked, sixteen states do not require any instruction about the civil rights movement. In another 19, coverage is minimal. If we want to solve our education crisis, then we also need to dissolve racism.

Dr. King knew that it was not up to God to deliver anyone from racism. God is not that kind of deity. Dr. King might say that you cannot wait for miracles. You have to march forward and seize them. He might say that the Reign of God will come it its fullness as soon as we open our eyes and truly see the many hues around us and the real challenges that come with awareness. We refuse to gloss over history but see the pain and hear the suffering of others. We seek to live not in a melting pot where all is formless and void, but in a place where all of our stories, languages and cultures are valued; where our wounds are healed by deliberate listening. We strive to know and respect our differences and make possible the highest expectations for humanity. We do the work of liberating ourselves from hatred beginning in the modest places of our longing souls and always reaching out with our words, our actions, our prayers, our love and our hands to all souls. ALL souls. This is how we can be made whole again. This is how the world can be made whole again and all her people one.

Sermon for January 12, 1014 / Baptism of Christ

Ready for the Revolution?

Jesus then appeared, arriving at the Jordan River from Galilee. He wanted John to baptize him. John objected, “I’m the one who needs to be baptized, not you!”But Jesus insisted. “Do it. God’s work, putting things right all these centuries, is coming together right now in this baptism.” So John did it. The moment Jesus came up out of the baptismal waters, the skies opened up and he saw God’s Spirit—it looked like a dove—descending and landing on him. And along with the Spirit, a voice: “This is my Son, chosen and marked by my love, delight of my life.” Matthew 3:13-17, The Message

The waters of baptism are subversive waters.

To subvert something is to overthrow it, but by indirect means. Subversion isn't a frontal assault; it's a stealth campaign. The prefix, sub, means "from below" and -vert comes from the Latin for "to turn." So to subvert something is to turn it from below; in other words, to turn it upside down.

The waters of baptism are subversive waters. If we dive into today’s text a little, we can see it. We can sense just how revolutionary baptism can be. To see it, we need to take note where Jesus’ baptism takes place – in the wilderness. Not in the city. Not in the center of power, but in the desert – the fringes of society. It’s where the social protesters and agitators led their followers in the first century – into the wilderness. John the Baptizer’s choice to gather his followers and preach in the wilderness means that he is stirring up some protest. The story carries an upside-down symbolism. By giving up their old ways and getting dunked in the Jordan river, John’s followers declare that God’s true power is emerging on the margins of the society.

And then here comes Jesus. Jesus joins the protest on the banks of the Jordan in the wilderness.

When I read Matthew’s version of Jesus’ baptism, I can’t help but to think of the connection of three words:

            The word repent, which literally means “to turn around.”
            The word baptize , which means “to submerge”; to plunge under.
            The word subvert, which means “to turn upside down.

To read John and Jesus’ revolutionary story correctly, we need to prepare for these three actions: we turn around; plunge into our own waters, chilly and cold; and we prepare to turn the world upside down. Let’s think about each of these a little bit more.

Repent

Repent comes from a Greek word that indicates a change of mind-set. When we repent, we adopt a new mindset that causes us to turn around and go in the other direction. Turning around creates a new way of relating to the world. Both John and Jesus opened their public ministries with this word: “Repent. Change your hearts and minds. The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.” At the wilderness waters of the Jordan, Jesus affirms repentance as part of the revolution.

The traditional understanding of “repent”, we are told, means to turn away from personal sin. I’m wondering, in this case, if repent means to turn away from political and religious systems that exclude and dominate others. If John the Baptist were here today, he might say something like this: “Your country has allied itself with God’s enemy. Your political system, regardless of your political party, has allied itself with God’s enemy. Your religious system has allied itself with God’s enemy. But I have good news. A new nation is close at hand. God has just inaugurated a new nation that’s not part of your current government; it’s not part of your religious system; it’s not controlled by your political parties. This nation will have a Ruler, and that Ruler will be the child of Almighty God. To be part of this new nation, all of your affiliations with the present world system must be completely severed. You must leave them behind. Come down here into this water, repent. Turn away from your ties with this world order.”

I think Matthew’s Gospel was written for early Christians who needed encouragement to keep the revolution going. Christians were viewed as radical outcasts . . . dangerous people who turned on the existing government. They claimed to be part of a new nation, not bound by geographical boundaries and geo-political governments or theocracies, but by their baptismal identity in Christ. You can see how this would be threatening. The Roman Empire won’t be able to tame this revolution for another 300 years through some subversion of their own.

When we become followers of Jesus, we make the choice to walk down a different road than what most of those around us are walking. For those on the wilderness banks of the Jordan River, being part of the God movement called the Kingdom of Heaven means turning away from a current world order that rules through war, fear, taxation and manipulation. When Jesus lets John baptize him, it is an attempt to overthrow the dominance of the current religious and political system. It’s not a revolution with weapons and warfare. It’s a change of hearts and minds. It’s an insurgency of inclusive love that begins with repentance. It’s a public declaration by people who want to turn away from the old order so that God to do something new.

Baptize

In the 21st century, the real question  may be, "Does Baptism mean anything at all?"  For many people, baptism is neither powerful nor significant.  It can feel like a worn initiation ritual of a bygone era, or an antiseptic event that’s been streamlined for the sake of convenience.  When we baptize our babies, we don’t often think about how we are inducting them into a revolution of love.

As I mentioned earlier, the word baptize literally means to submerge. In some ways, baptism is a death warrant. For Jesus and John, it was a literal death warrant. Submersion in the waters of baptism was an act of defiance that put old-order authorities on notice. Christians later talked about baptism as a way to put the old self to death so that a new self could emerge. We sometimes call death the great equalizer. Death comes to everyone, regardless of social status, race, gender, or life circumstance. Baptism was viewed much the same way. Everyone is equal in the waters of baptism. Racism, classism, sexism, ageism and homophobia are signs of the old ways that needs to die away. Those destructive behaviors need to be submerged and drowned in order for a new way of living to emerge.

Baptism breaks down the social walls standing between us. It can be seen as an act of civil disobedience. Baptism submerges us into a community that is broader than any nation state or religious system, uniting us with a message of inclusion, justice, and compassion.

Subversion

Subversion is another kind of “turning” – not turning away but turning upside down.  I’m guessing that many of us are not comfortable with this idea. Most Christians rarely consider themselves subversive.

The spiritual, “Wade in the Water,” reminds me of the subversive, world-flipping message of the gospel. Some say that the song was written as a signal to runaway slaves. Wade in the water means, “Use the river so the hounds can’t trace you. Tonight is the moment for flight; move swiftly; the reaction will be fierce.” Now that’s a subversive way to help people!

Based on the reflections of Walter Rhett from the blog BlackHistory360, I want to offer another interpretation. Rhett says that runway slaves did not need a reminder to wade in the water to throw off their scent. They already knew that well. The spiritual, “Wade in the Water,” sings about how to practice faith. Part of the real subversion of the song is that enslaved Americans took the religion of slaveholder. They made Christianity their own and reinterpreted it. Make no mistake, Wade in the Water is about freedom, but it’s about inner freedom as much as it is about legal or physical freedom. Enslaved Americans could wade into the water to find that unassailable place that could not be controlled by any human master. In the spiritual, if you want to find yourself, the first step is to walk into troubled waters.  You meet hardships with courage and steady faith. Gather now and get ready so that you will delivered by the gifts of grace that spring forth in dark times. So “Wade in the Water” is more than instructions for running away, which only a small number of border state slaves were able to do. It is a dramatic story of God’s ability to restore and redeem.

As the new church year begins, we here at CCC are going to wade into some troubled waters. Over the next few weeks, we are going to think about race and culture, class and power and privilege. We are going to prepare ourselves to continue to promote social righteousness. We are going to think about how the troubled waters swirling around us touch our hopes and fears and keep us from becoming a beloved community. We are going to explore what it means to be converted, to be subverted, to grow in the practice of our church covenants – especially our Anti-Racism covenant. The road toward a multi-cultural church goes through anti-racism awareness. Period. That’s our Jordan River, you could say. The road to multicultural community must pass through awareness of all the sources of privilege that lock injustice in place. That is the Jordan we stand before. We are invited to wade in the water, to claim the very real death struggle between old values that keep God in heaven and the world as it is.

The waters of baptism are subversive waters.This liberating gospel compels us into the world, confronting issues of race and gender, worship and spirituality, witness and mission, sin and salvation--scary stuff.  Instead of distracting ourselves by turning inward on each other ,often ignoring the hurt rampant around us, we can rise up and to carry out Jesus' revolution. Repentance. Baptism. Subversion. Revolution. In other words, let’s be the change we want to see.

Sources:
http://www.religion-online.org/showarticle.asp?title=2252
http://stillcircle.wordpress.com/2012/06/07/the-language-of-subversion-class-warfare-and-the-politics-of-envy-in-21st-century-australia/
http://young.anabaptistradicals.org/2013/10/09/pitfalls-and-proposals-for-the-post-christendom-reformation/
http://blackhistory360.wordpress.com/2011/02/18/decoding-wade-in-the-water/
http://www.tikkun.org/tikkundaily/2012/01/10/weekly-sermon-wade-in-the-water/

Sermon for December 29, 2013 / Christmas 1

Justice Replaced by Pity

After the scholars were gone, God’s angel showed up again in Joseph’s dream and commanded, “Get up. Take the child and his mother and flee to Egypt. Stay until further notice. Herod is on the hunt for this child, and wants to kill him.”

Joseph obeyed. He got up, took the child and his mother under cover of darkness. They were out of town and well on their way by daylight. They lived in Egypt until Herod’s death. This Egyptian exile fulfilled what Hosea had preached: “I called my son out of Egypt.”

Herod, when he realized that the scholars had tricked him, flew into a rage. He commanded the murder of every little boy two years old and under who lived in Bethlehem and its surrounding hills. (He determined that age from information he’d gotten from the scholars.) That’s when Jeremiah’s sermon was fulfilled:

A sound was heard in Ramah,
    weeping and much lament.
Rachel weeping for her children,
    Rachel refusing all solace,
Her children gone,
    dead and buried.

Later, when Herod died, God’s angel appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt: “Up, take the child and his mother and return to Israel. All those out to murder the child are dead.”

Joseph obeyed. He got up, took the child and his mother, and reentered Israel. When he heard, though, that Archelaus had succeeded his father, Herod, as king in Judea, he was afraid to go there. But then Joseph was directed in a dream to go to the hills of Galilee. On arrival, he settled in the village of Nazareth. This move was a fulfillment of the prophetic words, “He shall be called a Nazarene.” Matthew 2:13-23

When I read today’s text from Matthew, I feel anxious. When I saw this was the gospel text for the day, my stomach dropped. I don't know about you, but I didn't come here this morning, at the end of our holiday celebrations, wanting to hear a story about children getting murdered. We're here this morning to breathe in the last few breaths of the holidays, aren't we? We'll sing some concluding Christmas carols and enjoy the lights and decorations one final week. In the next few days, we'll raise a toast to the New Year, maybe take in a football game or two, visit with friends, enjoy the final days off, and then it will be back to reality. Back to work, back to school, back to the ol' grind. The bright lights of Christmas will be replaced with the colder, darker, wetter reality of winter in January. The holiday cheer that we might have absorbed will return to our usual fare of...what? What is your usual outlook? Is it one of cheer or sadness? Excitement or boredom? Peace or anxiety?

As I said, when I read today’s text from Matthew, I feel anxious. The intensity of the story scares me. Three traveling scholars, we call them The Magi, welcome the prospect of a new king, but the local monarch in Jerusalem, King Herod, isn’t so excited. He responds with the kind of violence we'd rather not think about, an over-the-top brutality we'd rather not pair with our holiday cheer.

Jesus is taken out of the country at this point of Matthew's story. But his safety is only for a season. His escape from violence is only temporary. We all know the climax of the story: eventually the powers and authorities will try to protect their influence by killing Jesus, too. So, as the poet W. H. Auden wrote:

The Christmas Feast is already a fading memory,
And already the mind begins to be vaguely aware
Of an unpleasant whiff of apprehension at the thought
Of Lent and Good Friday which cannot, after all, now
Be very far off.

The troubling part is that in the process of eliminating the Christ child, Herod has scores of other little ones killed. And there it is  . . . there’s the reality we go back to this week. There’s the kind of world we live in. We celebrate the birth of the Prince of Peace and then we return to a world of bloodshed where innocent children suffer and are killed every day. This is the point of the sermon were I am supposed to find a nice story that will help us to feel better and to make things alright. But there aren’t too many nice stories, are there? I know too many people who suffered as children, who were abused and neglected. There aren't any nice stories that make their pain all better. There isn't enough holiday cheer to swathe the reality.

So, what do we do? Even in the mist of such perverse violence, I believe there is some good news for us today. It has do with waking up to a whole new way of living – a new way that does not run away from violence but faces it.

I just mentioned the poet W. H. Auden. Auden wrote a Christmas oratorio entitled, For the Time Being. He wrote it during the dark times of World War II. His concern in the poem is not simply to speak of the Nativity of Christ, but also to think about its impact upon the mundane world of the everyday. In part of this long poem, King Herod is a cultural commentator who watches the twentieth century unfold. Herod skewers a Western culture that has become lost to spineless sectarianism. He is unhappy with people who have misplaced the ability to make decisions through rational consensus. While the historical King Herod may have been a vulgar and paranoid Roman puppet, Auden’s Herod is a proud and well-intentioned administrator who loves order. He fears that the infant, whom the scholars from the East are calling God, will replace objective reason and order with personal visions and social chaos. So he makes a decision. In Herod’s words, “Civilization must be saved even if this means sending for the military, as I suppose it does. How dreary. Why can’t people be sensible? I don’t want to be horrid.”

Auden's Herod decides that the Christ child must be destroyed, even if doing so means innocents must be slaughtered. Herod doesn’t want to kill, but he predicts what will happen centuries later if the Christ Child survives. He says, “Reason will be replaced by Revelation  … Justice will be replaced by Pity as the cardinal virtue, and all fear of retribution will vanish …”

Herod sits in his castle, making sure that everything is decent and orderly. His job is to ensure that life is rationally arranged. Into his balanced, structured world come three magi who turn it all upside down with the news that God has been born. If people follow this Christ child, then there goes order.  Decorum is out the window. The world will be filled with religious fanatics and people who look to their own individual faith to solve their problems instead of relying on rational and tested cures.

I suspect most of us, in our own way, can understand. We may have trouble with a vulnerable God who invites us to turn our life projects upside down and follow the Christ to an uncertain end. When those who stand for the old way of doing things, like Herod, are confronted with this strange and unsettling possibility, they strike out with all that they can muster. Herod becomes the symbol for all systems that refuse to change.

What are the options? We can accept life as it is and try to impose order on it, even if that means violence. We can block out anyone or anything that shakes up our world and be carried along with the tide of useless therapies and distrust of formal politics, skeptical of authority and prey to superstition. We can participate in political language that is corroded by fake pity and euphemism. We can strike out against those who challenge us. These are the ways of Herod. Each of them is a form of exclusion or elimination. It’s what Herod does to maintain his power and sense of balance. It’s what we do when we feel challenged. We exclude because we are uncomfortable with anything that disturbs our well-crafted identities. Exclusion and elimination expose a withered faith.

I love Auden’s phrase, “Justice will be replaced by Pity.” It is in that phrase where I hear some good news. The German political theorist Hannah Arendt described pity as a response to suffering heeded at a distance. Listen to that again; pity is a response to suffering heeded at a distance. If you pity someone, you don’t have to get involved. You can watch all the terribleness from a safe distance, cluck your tongue, and walk away if you so choose. You can say, “Oh, look at those poor, unfortunate souls over there,” while feeling fortunate or lucky that the same thing is not happening to you. Pity is easy.

 Justice is quite different. Justice is messy. Justice is difficult. Justice takes hands-on commitment to forge a more humane and compassionate world. Justice does not automatically flow from our pity. Justice is not satisfied with platitudes and double talk. Justice knows that when a person sees what is wrong in the world, it does not mean he or she will do something to fix it. Like W.H. Auden’s Herod, Good people do not always challenge the status quo. Upright people do not always speak truth to power or take personal action against that which keeps us from living into our fullest potential for the common good.

Pity creates awareness without action.
 Justice is awareness in action.
To quote another poet, Franz Kafka wrote:
You can hold back from
suffering of the world,
you have permission to do so,
and it is in accordance
with your nature,
but perhaps this very holding back
is the one suffering
you could have avoided

Next week, life goes back to normal, in all of its ordinary-ness. In all of its potential for terribleness. In all of its possibility for good. Whether we celebrate the warm companionship of the holidays or endure the flat stretches of life, Jesus, Emmanuel, God-With-Us, continually invites us to follow him into the difficult, messy, wonderful world of new possibilities for compassionate justice. It’s a world where we people of faith don’t look away from evil. We face it. In a world where justice is replaced by pity, We follow Jesus into a new world where pity is replaced by justice. Justice means that we are responsible for how our actions influence our society in its treatment of the "least of these.” The stranger. The outcast. Those who are lost. Those who are struggling.  As this Christmas season comes to an end and another new year comes upon us, I will be looking for ways to follow the Christ.

“In the meantime,” as Auden says in his Christmas oratorio:

There are bills to be paid, machines to keep in repair,
Irregular verbs to learn, the Time Being to redeem
From insignificance.  The happy morning is over,
The night of agony still to come; the time is noon:
When the Spirit must practice his scales of rejoicing
Without even a hostile audience, and the Soul endure
A silence that is neither for nor against her faith
That God's Will will be done, That, in spite of her prayers,
God will cheat no one, not even the world of its triumph.

Sources:
http://girardianlectionary.net/year_a/xmas1a.htm
http://www.ekklesiaproject.org/blog/2010/12/herod-rules/#sthash.ykCgnt9q.dpuf
http://southerncrossreview.org/44/auden-oratio.htm
http://www.religion-online.org/showarticle.asp?title=1285
http://assets.cambridge.org/97805216/59536/excerpt/9780521659536_excerpt.pdf

Meditations for December 22, 2013 / Advent 4

Two Advent Meditations on Joseph

The birth of Jesus took place like this. His mother, Mary, was engaged to be married to Joseph. Before they came to the marriage bed, Joseph discovered she was pregnant. (It was by the Holy Spirit, but he didn't know that.) Joseph, chagrined but noble, determined to take care of things quietly so Mary would not be disgraced.

While he was trying to figure a way out, he had a dream. God's angel spoke in the dream: "Joseph, son of David, don't hesitate to get married. Mary's pregnancy is Spirit-conceived. God's Holy Spirit has made her pregnant. She will bring a son to birth, and when she does, you, Joseph, will name him Jesus—'God saves'—because he will save his people from their sins." This would bring the prophet's embryonic sermon to full term:

Watch for this—a virgin will get pregnant and bear a son;
They will name him Immanuel (Hebrew for "God is with us").

Then Joseph woke up. He did exactly what God's angel commanded in the dream: He married Mary. But he did not consummate the marriage until she had the baby. He named the baby Jesus. Matthew 1:18-25 (The Message)

Meditation #1
It was a few days before Christmas. That morning, a woman woke up and told her husband, "I just dreamed that you gave me a diamond necklace for Christmas. What do you think this dream means?" Her husband replied, "Oh, you'll know the day after tomorrow."

The next morning, she turned to her husband again and said the same thing, "I just dreamed that you gave me a brilliant diamond necklace for Christmas. What do you think this dream means?" And her husband said, "You'll know tomorrow."

On the third morning, the woman woke up and smiled at her husband, "I just dreamed again that you gave me a stunning diamond necklace for Christmas. What do you think this dream means?" And he smiled back, "You'll know tonight."

That evening, the man came home with a small package and presented it to his wife. She was delighted. She opened it gently. And when she did, she found . . . a book! And the book's title? How to Interpret Your Dreams.

Advent is a season of dreams. What have you been dreaming about lately? Some of us are dreaming about wonderful potential. We're dreaming of new possibilities, new toys, and new beginnings. I hope all those dreams come true! During my regular sleep time, many of my dreams fall into two major categories. There are worried dreams and chase dreams. The worried dreams are the ones where I stand in a pulpit with nothing to say. Or I’m running an hour late and the worship service has been going on way to long and people are getting up and leaving, and I can’t get the buttons to my robe fastened, and everything is going wrong. In another dream I’m back in college and I show up to class unprepared, or I can’t register for the one class I need in order to graduate. I had a worried/chase dream combo last night. I was a tourist in Israel with a bunch of people. I parked a big red can by the side of the road and when I came back it was gone – stolen. The police would not help. They basically told me I should have known better. Somehow we all got back to the house were staying at – a house by the beach. Safe and sound -- except for the huge rain and wind storm and swelling waves that chased us inside and began pummeling the house and flooding us out. The wind must have been loud outside my bedroom window last night. A stray wire-haired dog in a purple collar showed up in my dream last night, too. Not sure about that part . . .

Sometimes my dreams are refreshing. I dream about reconciliation. I dream that my enemies and I are living at peace. I dream of flying through the air joyfully, or swimming like a dolphin. I dream of new opportunities. These are nights where my hope is renewed.

What are these strange stories that bounce along our brain waves when we sleep? We wake suddenly, and reality itself seems like a different world. Today's gospel lesson is about a dream -- the dream of Joseph. Not Mary's dream, but Joseph's dream. Today we get to consider his point of view. Joseph dreams something wonderful. And scary. God will enter the world in human form. God will be born to Joseph’s fiancée, as crazy is that is to understand. Joseph has some serious trusting to do! Joseph has to trust that the voice of God is speaking to him in his dreams. Joseph has to trust Mary is telling the truth about how she got pregnant. Joseph has to believe in sacred dreams and then choose to align himself with God’s aims for the world.

I want us to consider a gift that we can give others this season. It’s the gift of trust. It’s the gift of believing in sacred dreams. One of the greatest gifts you can give is to have faith in someone else. Believe in the sacred dream of the person you love. Believe in the sacred dream of your husband. Believe in the sacred dream of your wife. Believe in the sacred dream of your children. Believe in the sacred dream of your hero, your leader, your friend. Believe in their dreams! Believe in sacred dreams this Christmas, and Jesus can be born again. Believe in dreams this Christmas, and God can appear.

Meditation #2
Joseph. Tradition  says he is a decent man. A righteous man. A good man facing an impossible choice. A man wanting to do the right thing. But what is the right thing? Joseph is a man caught on the horns of a dilemma. Does he stay faithful to a woman who looks like she has been cheating on him, or follow religious law and call of the wedding? He is torn between his family duty to Mary and his religious duty to law of God. When he hears Mary is pregnant, Joseph does the best he can. He resolves to let her go quietly, not make a big deal over this pregnancy so she doesn’t have to face the law’s punishments for pregnant unmarried women. And then, in the midst of a restless sleep, the angel of God comes to Joseph and invites him to take Mary as his wife and to name her child, and to claiming the child as his own. We know the story. Joseph says “yes”—yes to God. That’s often where the story ends.

But there’s so much more to Joseph’s yes to God. In naming Jesus, Joseph adopts him as his own and raises Jesus in the ways of God’s people. Joseph will watch over Jesus. He will listen in the night. He will worry about him. He will do all he can to keep that baby safe. Joseph will love Jesus and teach him his trade. Think of it. Think of the role Joseph played in Jesus’ life. Imagine what Jesus learned from Joseph.

Imagine the two of them at the carpenter’s bench . . . Joseph teaching Jesus how to use tools . . . Joseph telling stories from the Bible, sharing the parables of old . . . singing the psalms . . . singing of a father’s love. Imagine Jesus watching Joseph . . . maybe seeing how Joseph treats the people others ignore . . . perhaps noticing Joseph’s kindness . Maybe Jesus is aware of how Joseph goes out of his way to make others feel welcome. Maybe Jesus sees the tenderness Joseph shows to Mary.

Imagine Joseph telling Jesus stories about the Romans. We can almost hear him muttering about the way the Romans treat the Israelites — the heavy taxes, the hillsides crowded with crosses, the arrogance of Rome’s unlimited power. Imagine Joseph planting in Jesus a passion for justice. Imagine him sharing his longing for peace with Jesus. Think of it. Think of the role Joseph played in Jesus’ life.

And think of the role Jesus played in Joseph’s life. Think of how Joseph’s yes to God rearranged his own life; think of the richness it brought him; think of how that yes to God stretched Joseph into new possibilities, new relationships, and new ways of being in the world.

In this season of dream, God comes to us just as God’s angel came to Joseph. God invites us to take God’s a new promise into our homes and into our hearts. God calls us to live into the fullness of God’s dream for us. God stretches is to accept new realities – new perspectives that we may have never considered before. God gives each of us an opportunity to say yes—to say yes to God. How will we respond?

O God, this Christmas-tide, nurture in us the song of a lover, the vision of a poet, the questions of a child, the boldness of a prophet, and the courage of a disciple. Come God, and give birth to a new creation in our hearts. Let something essential happen to us: something like the blooming of hope and faith, like a grateful heart, like a surge of awareness of how precious these moments are.