Sermon for June 5, 2016

UCC Beliefs: All Are Welcome

Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be answerable for the body and blood of the Lord. Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment against themselves. 1 Corinthians 11:27-29, NRSV

I can imagine there are some people in our church for whom taking communion was shrouded in fear. If you took communion, and your soul was not in a state of grace, look out! For while, I went to a church where the minister put a lot of emphasis on being worthy to take the Lord’s Supper. “Had I thoroughly repented of my sins? Was I even worthy to take communion?” I received the message loud and clear from my church: unrepentant sinners were not welcome at the table of the Lord. Only those who were “right with Jesus” were invited. The text I just read from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians was quoted as proof. It was never clear, however, how I could know for certain that I was “right with Jesus” or what makes a person worthy. Moral purity, which I believed was the requirement for being worthy, was an ever-receding horizon that I never felt  I could reach.

Paul writes to a Christian community torn apart by various factions. Some members of the church in Corinth consider themselves superior to others. They are wiser, more spiritually gifted, more socially acceptable, and they have more money.  They look down on others whom they see as less. They take all of the good pews at church. At the church potluck suppers, they go first in line and take all of the best food. They grab all the homemade fried chicken for themselves (which was probably lovingly prepared by one of the people who was seen as less wise, led, spiritual and less acceptable). Those who are poorer get stuck at the end of the line and eat whatever is always left over at potluck dinners – probably the ancient equivalent of greasy green bean casserole cooked in that gray sludge.

At their potlucks, the Corinthian church also serves communion. But their meal reinforces social hierarchies that divide the community against itself. While some to revel in excess, others get nothing. The rich confuse their economic power with moral superiority. The rich exercise their privilege and humiliate the poor in the process. Paul says that the vulnerability of the poor church members -- their weakness, illness, and death -- serves as a judgment against the rich for their failure to “discern the body of Christ.”

It’s an odd phrase to me, “discerning the Body of Christ.” Let’s think about it for a minute.

There are all types of people who have been excluded from communion -- those who have been historically branded as sinners. The UCC believes something different. All are welcome. All are invited. Period.  Discerning the body is about becoming vulnerable enough to unite with those have been excluded from communion.  As far as I’m concerned, we are worthy to receive communion when we refuse to participate in faith-based exclusion – we don’t make one person’s salvation dependent upon another person’s condemnation. Our union with God is not based on the moral superiority of a powerful few, but with how we receive God’s gifts and experience Jesus in the most improbable people.

How do we know if we are doing it right? Paul has another interesting phrase. He tells the Corinthian Church to to examine themselves.  The word “examine” comes from the Greek word dokimos. Dokimos is related to our English word “decent”. To understand what Paul is saying, we have to understand how money worked in Paul’s day.

In the ancient world there was no banking system as we know it today, and no paper money. All money was made from melted precious metal, which was poured into molds and allowed to cool. When the coins cooled, money makers shaved off the uneven edges to make them smooth. Some money makers went too far and practiced something called clipping -- shaving off an extra portion of the precious metal coin for profit.  Over time, the precious metal shavings could be saved up and melted into bullion or used to make new coins. 

Some money changers had integrity. They refused to accept underweight money. They put only genuine, full weighted money into circulation. Such men were called "dokimos" or "approved".
Paul uses a form of that same word when he talks about eating at the communion table. Be dokimos, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup. We must be dokimos, checking and double-checking our integrity, asking, “Is our celebration trustworthy, excellent, and pleasing?” If we are not dokimos, if we are not circulating with integrity, then we eat and drink judgment on ourselves.

We eat and drink judgment on ourselves when anyone is excluded by the so-called morally superior members among us.

We eat and drink judgment on ourselves when we reserve the best for ourselves and don’t share with others.

We eat and drink judgment on ourselves when the pursuit of false purity dupes us into thinking that we get to tell God who is in and who is out, or who is first and who is last.

The great preacher Fred Craddock  told about the first church he served in the eastern Tennessee hills, not too far from Oak Ridge.

When Oak Ridge began to boom with atomic energy, that little bitty town became a booming city just overnight. . . . People came in from everywhere and pitched tents, lived in wagons. . . . Our church was not far away. We had a beautiful little church—white frame building, one hundred and twelve years old. After church one morning, I asked the leaders to stay. I said to them, “Now we need to launch a calling campaign and an invitational campaign in all those trailer parks to invite those people to church.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think they’d fit in here,” one of them said. “They’re just here temporarily, just construction people. They’ll be leaving pretty soon.”

 “Well, we ought to invite them, make them feel at home,” I said.

We argued about it, time ran out, and we said we’d vote next Sunday. The next Sunday, we all sat down after the service. “I move,” said one of them, “I move that in order to be a member of this church, you must own property in the county.” Someone else said, “I second that.” It passed. I voted against it, but they reminded me that I was just a kid preacher and I didn’t have a vote. It passed.

When we moved back to those parts, I took my wife to see that little church, because I had told her that painful, painful story. The roads have changed. The interstate goes through that part of the country, so I had a hard time finding it, but I finally did. . . . there, back among the pines, was that building shining white. . . . The parking lot was full … And out front, a great big sign: “Barbecue, all you can eat.” It’s a restaurant …  The pews are against a wall …  the organ pushed over into the corner. There are all these aluminum and plastic tables, and people sitting there eating barbecued pork and chicken and ribs—all kinds of people. I said to [my wife] Nettie, “It’s a good thing this is not still a church, otherwise these people couldn’t be in here.”

In the UCC, we don’t like to talk about who doesn’t belong. We don’t prefer language like insider and outsider. Everyone belongs. All are welcome. No matter who you are or where you come from, you are welcome here. That’s what gives our communion table legitimacy. That’s what gives our Table integrity.

Our table has integrity when people of all races, cultures, ages, abilities, sexual orientations, gender identities, and people of all spiritual, emotional wellbeing find welcome here, as they would find welcome by Jesus.

Our table is trustworthy when those who have been excluded by other religious traditions know that divisions can be overcome and all have a home here.

Our table is pleasing when the last come first, and the first serve the last.

Our welcome is extravagant when we our celebration is marked by justice, peace, and mutual, self-giving love.


Sources:
https://www.rci.rutgers.edu/~lcrew/dojustice/j337.html
http://www.firstcongoappleton.org/blogs/notes/2014/01/30/open-communionopen-church/
http://www.ucc.org/beliefs
http://www.ucc.org/worship_communion

Sermon for May 29, 2016

UCC Beliefs: United & Uniting

"My prayer for them is not for them alone, but for ALL who hear my message...that ALL of them may be one.”  John 17:21

When Supreme Court Associate Justice Antonin Scalia died, we heard a lot about his robust conservatism. I was most touched to hear the stories of his friendship with Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg.  The justices, who were often polar opposites on the bench, managed to form an unlikely friendship. At his funeral, Justice Ginsberg referred to Justice Scalia as her “best buddy.” When talking about their lifetime appointments, Scalia once said, “If you can’t disagree ardently with your colleagues about some issues of law and yet personally still be friends, get another job, for Pete’s sake.” And Justice Ginsberg once said about Their friendship, “As annoyed as you might be about his zinging dissent, he’s so utterly charming, so amusing, so sometimes outrageous, you can’t help but say, ‘I’m glad that he’s my friend or he’s my colleague.’ ”

How hopeful to remember that people can disagree and still be friends.  Hey, maybe they learned this in church! Because, at our best, that’s what we do here every week. We don’t always agree. We don’t always like what others say or do. But we can be friends. This idea is actually a core belief in our church’s identity. The UCC understands itself as a “united and uniting church.” Why, do you suppose we would use both these words – united and uniting?

One of the key features of our churches is a belief in the self-government of local churches. Since there is no hierarchy in the UCC, a local congregation is the basic unit of church life. But even at the local level, we don’t always feel like a united church. We struggle and differ with each another over all sorts of issues, many of which have come up over the past few weeks: The priority of mission, the appropriate portion of our music budget, the care of our facilities and grounds, our need for staff, our ministry to our children and youth, increased outreach and service, commitments to the wider church, the purpose and use of our endowment, and the use of our assets. Sometimes different people have different visions of how we operate as a local church. And yet … and yet … we manage to gather together every week in our work and worship. Some mysterious force draws us together beyond our struggles.

Disagreement and division are nothing new to the Christian community. Managing our differences is tiring and disheartening (at least it is to me).  We will always have issues on which we disagree. That does not mean we are not united.

The UCC has a fierce commitment to unifying people, even people who are about as far apart as you can imagine. Some quick UCC history: Four distinct groups from four distinct parts of the world somehow managed to form the United Church of Christ in 1957. We call these four groups, or four streams, the Congregational, Christian, Reformed, and Evangelical churches. The leaders and members of those distinct communions did not agree on everything. Yet, they came together. They found unity. The 1957 Basis of Union states, “In all our expressions of that faith we seek to preserve unity of heart and spirit with those who have gone before us as well as those who now labor with us.”

Unity is still a part of who we are today. The UCC is still out there, uniting with more and more people – uniting in mission, uniting in peace and justice efforts, uniting across national and international boundaries, and uniting with other faith traditions.

So, what’s going on here? Why would local church members like us at CCC be us willing to meet together week after week when we don’t always agree? Why would a denomination like the UCC work so hard to bring more diverse experiences and points of view into our faith and life?

The UCC believes that God calls us – as our very top priority - to pull people together, to seek and celebrate similarities rather than differences, even when that’s the hardest thing to do.

Those four distinct streams that merged into one, the Congregational, Christian, Reformed, and Evangelical churches, never could have united if they first had to hammer out some sort of common doctrine or dogma. If they formed a four-way ad-hoc committee to hammer out a common statement of faith before they could unite, the union never would have happened.  Instead, they focused on their common mission. They chose to emphasize their actions of love, mercy, and justice in the world. The UCC is committed to bringing people together –different, differing, disagreeing and even disagreeable people. We live out Jesus’ prayer for unity in John 17, “My prayer for them is not for them alone, but for ALL who hear my message...that ALL of them may be one.” John 17:21 may be the most important scripture passage in the UCC.

Unity does not mean we all need to believe the same thing, or sign the dotted line of a creed before we become a member. We cannot be a united and uniting church, and, at the same time, insist that everyone believe the same way.  Our unity has nothing to do doctrine. The UCC is far more concerned about feeding the hungry, taking care of the poor, and working toward justice for all people, regardless of their beliefs, their religion, or their nationality. To put it another way: In essentials, unity; in non-essentials,diversity; in all things, love.

I really think that what pulls us together each week, what makes us united and uniting, is not about what we choose to agree and disagree on. We gather because, despite all that, we need each other. We are broken, hurting people who want to heal our broken, hurting world. We know we can gather together with our brokenness, our sin, and our hurt … we can remember God does not just love the good, pious, faithful parts of us that we share at coffee hour, but also loves the grungy, grumpy, disheveled, and disordered parts of us as well.

Only in our brokenness is our true love revealed.  Only when we are fully known, can we be fully loved.

United and uniting, in love. On a practical level, it means, also, that we must value each another with such care and affection that we always treat one another with respect, honesty, and kindness.  It means that we speak directly to one another – not indirectly through others or in hiding behind one another’s back.  It means we must have the courage, confidence, and respect to relate openly and kindly to one another – never through gossip and back-biting.  It means we are intentional about our care and treatment for one another. It means fostering a community of healing in which everyone exists to support others in our brokenness. The modern-day mystic Joan Chittister call it “mutual obedience”. She says:

Mutual obedience --
the willingness to listen
to the needs
and the hopes,
the dreams and the ideas
of those around us
rather than promote our own
by ignoring
everyone else's--
is surely the foundation …

It is what we need
to be able to think newly
because we think
with the others
about their ideas
rather than simply
about our own.

It is the way we come to learn
respect and reverence,
for the insights of others
are meant to become
the foundation
of the next step
on our own path …

“Obedience to one another”
is the strength of community,
the brilliance of community,
the voice of community
in the midst of which
we can now hear
the voice of God.

In 2015, in what the news called “The Miracle at Quecreek,” nine miners were trapped for three days 240 feet underground in a water-filled mine shaft “decided early on they were either going to live or die as a group.” The 55 degree water threatened to kill them slowly by hypothermia, so according to one news report “When one would get cold, the other eight would huddle around the person and warm that person, and when another person got cold, the favor was returned.” As one miner said, “Everybody had strong moments. But any certain time maybe one guy got down, and then the rest pulled together. And then that guy would get back up, and maybe someone else would feel a little weaker, but it was a team effort. That’s the only way it could have been.” They faced incredibly hostile conditions together–and they all came out alive together.

What a picture of being united and uniting. Not uniformity, but mutual care and attention. Mutual commitment to the survival and flourishing of one another so that we not just come out alive, but we do it together. We are all different, diverse, and we even disagree, and we still find ways to articulate and live out our common identity as followers of Jesus. We do it in a thousand different ways. Let our unity be one like the seas that salt a thousand shores.  Let our unity be one like the wind is one, though whisper, though rush, though roar.  Let our unity be one like a symphony orchestra is one as it plays a thousand different notes at the strokes of a conductor’s baton. Let our unity be one like the birds are one, though they sing a thousand songs.  Let our unity be one as our prayers are one, though voiced in a thousand tongues.  Let our unity be one, as light is one, though made of a thousand hues of the spectrum.  Let our unity be one as God’s love is one – God’s love for a thousand times a thousand times a thousand people, known and unknown. Let our unity be one as God’s love is one God is one: Creator, Christ, and Spirit.

SOURCES:
http://www.christchurchgp.org/worship-music/sermons/division-and-unity
http://firstuccgaylord.org/docs/2016.04.24.ThreeThingsILoveUCC.pdf
http://www.emanuel-ucc.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/May-8-2016.pdf
http://www.slate.com/blogs/the_slatest/2016/02/14/read_justice_ruth_bader_ginsburg_s_touching_statement_on_scalia.html
https://www.washingtonpost.com/posteverything/wp/2016/02/13/what-made-scalia-and-ginsburgs-friendship-work/

Sermon for May 22, 2016

UCC Beliefs: The Triune God

I still have many things to tell you, but you can’t handle them now. But when the Friend comes, the Spirit of the Truth, she will take you by the hand and guide you into all the truth there is. She won’t draw attention to herself, but will make sense out of what is about to happen and, indeed, out of all that I have done and said. She will honor me; she will take from me and deliver it to you. Everything the Father has is also mine. That is why I’ve said, “She takes from me and delivers to you.” John 16:12-15 (The Message, modified)

When I have conversations about CCC, and the United Church of Christ in general, there is one question I get more than any other: What do we believe?

My answer: It’s complicated.

On one hand, we are not the kind of people who like to impose our beliefs on other people. When you come to a church like CCC, there is no doctrine to which you need to ascribe. We are not going to read the Apostle’s Creed and ask you to sign on the dotted line with your affirmation to be a member (I know churches that do ask their members to do that, though). For some people who came here from creedal religious traditions this can be difficult. If you were brought up Catholic, your experience was ordered by church dogma that has been passed down for centuries. If you were brought up Presbyterian, the church was governed by creeds and confessions, which are standards of faith and practice, subordinate only to scripture itself. We don’t have that in the UCC. Our spiritual ancestors were English separatists who fled from the creedal traditions and abusive authority that they thought oppressed the human conscience. In the UCC we have no centralized authority or hierarchy that can impose any doctrine or form of worship on its members.

On the other hand, we listen closely to historic creeds and confessions. We think they have something to say to us today. It’s just that we believe they are testimonies of faith, not tests of faith. It’s more important for us to live together in covenant than it is for us to believe the same things. In other words, our church is held together by people coming together in agreement on who God calls us to be a community, not on what we believe about a particular creed or statement of belief.

Like I said, it’s complicated.

But we do believe things in the UCC. In fact, we believe in the Trinity. “We believe in the triune God: Creator, resurrected Christ, the sole Head of the church, and the Holy Spirit, who guides and brings about the creative and redemptive work of God in the world.” I lifted that right from the UCC webpage.

Do you know what the “Trinity” is? Can you describe the Trinity?  Could you tell someone else what the Trinity means? Most times, it has no significance in our daily lives. I have yet to be stopped on the street and asked to defend the doctrine of the Trinity. It has never come up at a family holiday meal.  I’ve had to talk about other difficult things: racism, environmental catastrophe, bad politics, and why bad things happen to good people. I’ve never been asked to defend the Trinity.

In traditional language, the Trinity refers to God as Father, Son, & Holy Spirit – three specific “persons” who share one “essence”. We proclaim it every Sunday when we sing the Doxology, whether we use the traditional language or inclusive language; Creator, Christ and Spirit. Every Sunday, we bear witness to a belief, a reality beyond words, even if we don’t quite know what it really means. And like a lot of things we cannot fully explain or understand, we use stories, and parables, and metaphors to try to get it to make sense.

Legend has it that St. Patrick used a shamrock to teach about the Trinity –three identical leaves with a common stem.

Another metaphor is that the Trinity is like the Sun. Just as looking directly at the solar disk of the Sun is to risk injury to eyes, so it is that the Heavenly Sovereign should not be taken lightly. Just as the Sun’s light illuminates the world, so has Jesus enlightened the world through his life and teachings. Just as the Sun’s heat enables life on Earth, so does the unseen activity of the Holy Spirit give life.

Another metaphor is water, which can take the form of liquid H2O that irrigates farmlands, steam that powers engines, and ice that forms majestic glaciers. As H2O has the same molecules but takes on different forms,  so it is with God – three persons, one substance.

Or, imagine God as an egg. You have the yolk, the shell and the white part. All the same egg, but very different from one another. The shell is not the yolk, the yolk is not the white, you get the idea.

Some relate the Trinity with metaphors of birth. God, the creator, gives birth to Christ the eternal Word. The Spirit is the midwife of the new creation, who receives the word and give it to the world, nurturing and strengthening it along the way. This is how I understand what Jesus says in John 16. Jesus shares everything with the One he calls God the Father. The Spirit takes the work of Jesus, sent to us by God, and delivers it to us.

Of course, each one of these metaphors is associated with a historic heresy of the early church. Many teachers were denounced, ostracized, and excommunicated. If the UCC was around back then, we would have taken them in as members. At any rate, if you want an explanation of the Trinity, then pick your heresy. Or else affirm an untenable orthodoxy.

If I was going to be an early church heretic, I might pick a theology called “modalism”. Modalism said God is a single person who, throughout in three modes or forms; Or you could think of it as God revealing God’s self by wearing three different masks or personae; sometimes as Parent/Creator, sometimes as the Christ, and sometimes as the Holy Spirit.

God the Creator generated worlds within worlds from amoebas to zebras, genomes to galaxies, from the universe to the multiverse.

God the Christ walked among us to show compassion in the grace and grit of human life and demonstrate the power of suffering love, wholeness, and salvation.

When we experience the work of God the Creator and God the Christ in life-transforming ways, when we have visions of a more just, humane, compassionate world and find the courage to put those dreams into action, that’s the work of the third person, God the Spirit.

That’s my heresy. You pick yours. The key here is that we do believe something. We may not always be on the same page. I don’t require you to parrot my beliefs to be part of the church. And I don’t allow anyone to bind my conscience. What we can do is affirm the basics.

It’s not just that we believe it. We think we need to live it out. In our church, we believe the idea of God as Trinity should have some transformational effect on how we live our lives together as a community at work in the world. That work begins with loving, healing relationships.

God is not one single, solitary, self-sufficient monarch on a throne issuing orders that must be followed. If God is a Trinity, God’s being is love. God’s being is community, and the different persons are dependent on one another. That’s why we try to use different kinds of language for God, when we pray, when we sing hymns or when we write all those words in the bulletin. It’s easy to get stuck with just one image, or one word even. If you get stuck thinking of God as the old grandpa in the sky – or a mean judge waiting to punish you, or an absentee parent, then the doctrine Trinity helps shake us out of that sludge.

The Trinity helps us embrace diversity in ways that honor God and one another. The Trinity is a way to help us understand what it means to have unity in the midst of diversity. Like God, we all take on different forms. Some of us have a passion for peace; others, a passion for political freedom. Some of us have a passion for life and its sacredness, others, a passion for forgiveness and mercy. Some of us have a passion for a literal interpretation of the Bible, others a passion for a more open interpretation of the Bible. Some have a passion for evangelism, others, a passion for justice. We are diverse, but of one substance. We are all created out of love and meant to relate to one another in love. Love is the essence that connects those three persons of the Trinity. And love connects is as we look for common ground and universal threads that bring us together without demanding that we all be the same.

We were created to be a wondrously variegated church, a delightfully diverse community, a people of differences and of relationship. Look around at who the Spirit has brought here. It’s incredible. Go forth and discover more of those marvelous differences. And may God, Creator, Christ, and Spirit be in each one of our relationships with each other.

Prayer: God … Mother and Father; Savior and Friend; Spirit and Teacher, Unity and Trinity; Lover and Judge; Wind and Whisper; Liberator and Captivator; Lamb and Lion; Suffering Servant and Almighty, enable us, to celebrate our oneness in you and the shared inheritance of your world. Prosper our work as we seek to build bridges of love, understanding and cooperation, that, transformed and renewed by your Holy Spirit, we will be no longer strangers to one another. Together, as diverse members of your world, we always give you glory. Amen.


Sources:
http://uccatv.weebly.com/uploads/2/2/1/0/22105038/053115sermon.pdf
http://drybonesarise.blogspot.com/2008/10/sermon-for-october-5-2008-world.html
 

Sermon for March 27, 2016 | Easter Sunday

Finally getting around to posting my sermon from Easter ...

What Are You Clinging To?
John 20:1-18

“Stop clinging to me.” It sounds like something my kids say to each other all the time. “Stop touching me!” one kid cries. “I’m not touching you,” the other kid says, inching a finger as close as possible to the first kid without actually making skin contact.

 “Stop clinging to me.” I’ve been known to say it to me kids when they are hanging on me like a fabric softener dryer sheet and I need a little space.

Jesus said it too. “Stop clinging to me. I haven’t yet ascended to heaven.” At first it sounds like a scene from He’s Just Not That Into You. To most of us, clingy means suffocation. Neediness has a familiar face: the close friend who asking for reassurance and advice 15 times a day. The spouse who is afraid of rejection and won’t make a decision for fear of disapproval. The buddy who will never decide what you should do for fear of hurting your feelings. The child who was told, “You’re fragile, you’re weak, you need someone powerful to look after you.” The partner who says, “You’re going to the store by yourself? You’re going to leave me here alone? You can’t do that — here, I’ll drive you.”

Sometimes, a clingy person clings because of a fear that if a loved one leaves, she or he will never return. In some ways, that’s exactly what’s going on in John’s account of the resurrection. In a stunning plot twist, Jesus returns from the grave and appears to Mary. In John’s Gospel, Mary is devoted to Jesus. She just loves him. You can imagine how crushed she is when Jesus is killed. Just when Mary thinks Jesus is gone forever, he appears. The love of her life, who was gone forever, is back and stands in front of her. Mary grabs onto Jesus. She clutches him tightly. She’s never letting Jesus out of her sight again. Having found Jesus, beyond her wildest hopes, she does not want to lose him again. And then Jesus says, “Mary, stop clinging. Don’t hold on to me. I am returning to my home. You think I have returned, but actually I have not yet left.”

I think I get where Mary is coming from. It’s actually a very human response. We all cling. We all want to hold on to pleasurable and get away from pain. It’s not a bad thing – it’s actually how we learn to survive. But clinging can become unhealthy. Our desire for pleasurable experiences can grow to be compulsive, and compulsive clinging has its costs. We can get trapped by the things we thought were bringing us pleasure. Constant clutching is exhausting. When we fasten to something that was supposed to make us happy and it ends up causing pain, clinging can turn into frustration and anger.

Harmful clinging can consume us with another person – we begin to think our happiness relies on being in relationship to another at all costs. We can also cling to an object - how many people do we know who strive to find happiness by accumulating possessions and status? We can cling to an experience and try to re-create an event from the past. We can cling to beliefs, even when they don’t fit us anymore. Think of the messages people taught us that aren’t true: Life is supposed to be easy! Life is supposed to be fair! Bad things are not supposed to happen to me! I should be further ahead in life! I’m not supposed to be ill, sick, dependent! God doesn’t let good people suffer. Other people should appreciate me more! I should be better, smarter, braver, more loving, more perfect! Even when we don’t believe these messages anymore, it can feel scary to think that if we let go of our worn beliefs, there may not be a satisfying alternative. All of this clinginess has a tightness, a severity, about it.

For example, suppose I’m craving a chocolate cake. I fixate on the thought that chocolate cake will make me happy right now. Even though it is 11 at night and I should be going to bed. Even though there is not a morsel of chocolate in my house. I want that cake. The more I tell myself I shouldn’t get it, the more I want it. Next thing I know, I’m in the car, driving to 7-Eleven, and buying not a delicious cake, but an old brownie that was cling wrapped sitting by the cash register since 5 in the morning. I get into my car and rip into it. I already known it’s not what I wanted. Even while I’m eating it, I’m not tasting it. I’m not enjoying it completely. I’m suffering. I’m criticizing myself for eating something so nasty in a parking lot at 11 PM. I’m comparing the taste of this awful processed convenience store food to my past experience of a delicious chocolate cake. I’m mad at 7-Eleven for selling this awful thing. I’m mad at myself for going to such great lengths to eat something I don’t want. I’m planning how to get something better next time. Cravings have a way of taking over our lives and causing suffering.

Our lives here on this earth are brief. Nothing about our lives is permanent. Everything is in a constant state of change. It can be so scary to face change, we start collecting things, or people, or experiences. We want this, or we need that. For a time we may get what we want. But, from the very moment we get them, it is only a matter of time before we lose them. Loss brings suffering.  Whenever we hold onto a person out of fear; whenever we cling feverishly to an object, or an aspiration, or a memory; whenever we hang on to a prior experience or tired belief out of fear, we suffer.

Let’s get back to Mary and Jesus. Is Mary clinging to a wrongly-constructed view of Jesus?  Maybe Mary clings to what she wants to believe instead of what’s really happening? Perhaps her idea Jesus is different than who Jesus said he is. And what if we do the same thing? We want to manage Jesus. We want Jesus to conform to our needs. We want him to affirm our assumptions. If we can keep Jesus in close, we know exactly where to find him when we want to know that he is on our side in our religious conflicts.  We know where to find him when we need him to justify our moral debates. And even though we say we don’t, we want him in our politics, too. We build an image of a Jesus who is always on our side and backing us up.

And then Easter comes and tears our assumptions apart. The presumption and pretention. The righteousness and religiosity. The craving and the clinging. Jesus appears and says, “Stop holding on to me. Stop clinging to that image you made up. Let go of the Jesus you think you know. Stop demanding that God be your fix.” Easter reminds us that even our ideas about God can lead us away from God. We must walk lightly among our desires.

There alternative to compulsive clinginess is called detachment. Some of us might have a hard time with this word. It makes us think of someone who is aloof and unapproachable. Detachment is a virtue we think judges should have. We want human resource managers and mortgage brokers to be detached.  We tend to think of detachment as a cold virtue which many of the most lovable people we know don’t possess.

In Christianity, detachment means emptying ourselves from self-centered fear. Detachment is letting go of the many things that we cling to. It is loosening our grip on anyone or anything that use to fill our inner emptiness. Detachment means learning how to be whole by letting go.

Think back to my hypothetical chocolate cake fiasco. Imagine the same scenario where I crave  a chocolate cake. What happens when I detach myself from the idea that I need it, or that I can’t live without it? If I can stop clinging to the fantasy I constructed, I can think clearly about whether I really want to eat a cake. And if I decide to drive to 7-Eleven and get the Hostess Pudding Pie at 11 PM, I can decide to eat it peacefully, tasting every bite without craving for more or being dissatisfied because it isn't as good as I expected. When we stop clinging in unhealthy ways, life becomes more interesting.  We are able to open up to what's happening in each moment.

Detachment means breaking our emotional connection to the many things that we tend to clutch so tightly and loosening our grip. Detachment means we learn to make choices out of freedom and not out of fear. When we stop clinging, when we detach from the fears that drive us to cling and suffer, we begin to get in tune with God’s priorities. When we detach ourselves from our fears, we begin to love others for who they really are and not who we want them to be. When we detach from our fears, we begin to rejoice with the joys of others, we begin to honor others needs, we begin to love strangers, and even enemies. When we let go our need to protect carefully-constructed beliefs and our tenacious religious agendas, then we become servants of the world, promoting peace and justice, extending friendship to other faiths.

What are you clinging to?

Sources:
·          http://www.eckhartsociety.org/resources/meister-eckhart-and-prayer-talk-2-being-detached
·          http://rowanwilliams.archbishopofcanterbury.org/articles.php/1626/the-archbishops-easter-sermon-2003#sthash.SCndBSav.dpuf
·          http://www.existentialbuddhist.com/tag/clinging/
·          “Detachment” in The New Westminster Dictionary of Christian Spirituality edited by Philip Sheldrake

Sermon for March 13, 2016 / Lent V

Love

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 Jonathan.” Mark and Jonathan 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 lived together as partners, believing they would forever supply each other with a permanent sense of self-worth. As time went on, Mark expected B Jonathan eth to be as accepting and forgiving as he was when they were dating. Jonathan 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. Although they have shared many years together, they experience very little real love.

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 John’s gospel.

Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” John 12:1-18

Jesus reclines at a table. He’s at dinner with Lazarus – one of Jesus’ best friends. In the previous chapter of John Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. That’s a big deal. Time for a party.  In comes Mary, one of Lazarus’ sisters. She has a reputation for doting on Jesus all the time while the other sister, Martha, is working away in the kitchen. When Mary sees Jesus, 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 way John tells the story, Jesus realizes it is  a way to prepare his body for burial. A dead body is surrounded with spices and perfumes when it’s buried in a hot Mediterranean tomb. But there is more to the story. Mary also pours this perfume out of sheer devotion. In Jesus’ time, a women would not unbind her hair, let it fly, and use it as a towel. Mary didn’t really care what others thought. She needed to share her love. It reminds me of when two people are captivated with each other–they are in a world of their own. They rejoice that the world sees their love. Or have you ever seen a child who is free and uninhibited? She just loves what she’s doing at that moment, no matter who is watching. That’s Mary. At that moment, it was only Mary and her love.

I do want us to be careful here. We should see some problems in a story where a woman subordinates 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, 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? 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 love, our imperfect relationships can change. Like Mary washing the feet of Jesus, we can share in a love so extravagant, so complete, so true, that once we feel it, we can’t stop sharing it.

I’ve been thinking about love 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 love in action. Imagine a seemingly subservient woman who mimics a woman of ill-repute washing the feet of Jesus as a servant. Imagine the scandal. Imagine the shame. Imagine the system that perpetuates her posture. And imagine Jesus saying, “She has done nothing wrong. This nameless woman has shown love. 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. Having a persona of selflessness can be an easy way to deflect love. If I can serve you, then I can hide my own discomfort with receiving love. So I want to tell you all about my own learning and my commitment about love in action.

Just like you, life has brought me pain. There are times when I’ve let down my guard and then felt like others took advantage of my vulnerability. 5 year ago, 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. I trained myself to be so emotionally non-responsive, I can forget that others need to experience a wider range of emotions.  I have something to receive from others as well as something to give.

Here’s what else I’m learning: I’m learning to allow what I honor as the divine in you 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. And my sincere hope is that you are able to risk the same with me.

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. Love 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 love God. We can love our own being. We can love 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 that, too. 

Sermon for March 3, 3016

Interview with the Father

as recorded by Matt Braddock

presented on March 6, 2016

This morning I would like to present to you the transcript of an interview I had with the Father from the parable of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15. The interview took place a number of weeks ago in the outskirts of a town called Fons Argenteus. I have his full permission to offer his remarks to you this morning.

Matt: Sir, let me begin my thanking you for your willingness to grant me this interview.

Father:It’s my pleasure. Now that I’m getting a little older, I can take some time off from farm work now and then. I’ve got the boys to keep things running smoothly.

Matt:  So, both of your sons are home now. Last we heard about you there was a big party at your place when your youngest came home.

Father:  Yeah, that was some party. Not everyone enjoyed himself though, if you know what I mean. Anyway, that was years ago. The boys seem to have ironed their differences out a bit.

Matt: I never got your name, by the way. I don’t want to call you Dad.

Father: The name’s Alvin O’Heem. Just call me Al.

Matt:  Al O’Heem. Catchy name. Al, tell us what was really going on when your youngest son left home.

Father:  Oh, it seems so long ago now. He was about 20 years old. Not married yet. We had a nice family business here. I guess he just got sick of it all. You know how kids are. He wanted his share of the business–not an unusual request. I thought maybe he was going to take his money and go off to school or set himself up with his own business. The way we work it is like this: the law says that my oldest son gets 2/3 of the business when I die, and the youngest gets the remaining 1/3. But, once the son takes the money, he has no more legal claim. In other words, I gave my youngest his share, and it was just expected that he wouldn’t come back later and say, “Hey dad, how ‘bout takin’ me back in?” Once you take your share of the money it’s like cutting ties once and for all.^[1]

Matt:   That’s interesting. He was just supposed to take his money and then do the best he could with no further expectations. Then, I understand, he squandered it and came running home. And then you took him back in.

Father: Well, the law says I can cut the ties. But he’s my son, you know. You should have seen him when he came home. You should have smelled him! His eyes were sunken inside dark black rings. His face was cadaverous. He smelled like a summer latrine. He was living worse than the animals on my farm.

Matt:   Did he tell you what he did with the money?

Father: I didn’t need the details. Like I said, I could smell him from a mile away and my imagination filled in the particulars. I guess it didn’t take him long to blow through the cash. Our country was going through a deep recession at the time. Stock options were plummeting. Inflation was high. Jobs were scarce. So, he landed a job feeding hogs. Can you believe it? Our law says that there is a curse upon a person who feeds pigs. We aren’t even supposed to touch them. He made himself unclean just to survive.

Matt:  Couldn’t he just take a shower?

Father: Funny! You know what I mean. In our customs, touching unclean animals makes us unclean. He wouldn’t have been able to worship in the temple. People would have to avoid him on the streets. The way he smelled, people would want to avoid him. He must have been lonely.

Matt:   And he came to his senses?

Father:  I guess so. I’m sure he felt bad over what he had done. I mean the boy had everything he needed, and he wasted it. He knew it, too. That’s the beginning of repentance, isn’t it?^[2] You see what you’ve done wrong...you see what a mess you can make out of your life, and turn around and walk home.

Matt:    So, you took him back. Weren’t you disappointed in him?

Father: I take no responsibility for what he did with his money. I gave him the freedom to do as he pleased with his share of the money. I was just so happy to have him home. I hadn’t heard from him for so long. I was sure he was dead. I remember sitting in my chair after lunch, looking over the books, and one of the servants came running up to me and said, “Mr. O’Heem, your son is home,” and I said flatly, “I thought he was out plowing in the fields. I didn’t know he went anywhere.” The servant was senseless with excitement and he said, “No, your youngest son, sir. He’s coming down the road right now.” I left my bookkeeping and looked out the window, and I just can’t tell you what I felt. You know how it feels when someone dies and once in a while you wish that person was right back at your side, but you know it’s not going to happen? Well, here was my wish coming true. All I remember is that I ran to him, and I was crying. I ran as fast as I could. When I got to him, my boy fell on his knees. He started mumbling about being sorry, and sinning against me, and shaming the family honor. And he wanted me to hire him as one of my servants.  I couldn’t stand it. I scooped that boy up, and threw my arms around him, and I held him in my arms and I kissed him and I said, “I don’t know what you’ve done. I don’t know where you’ve been, but all is forgiven. I thought you were dead, but you came back to me. Welcome home.” I had the servants clean him up and get him the best suit and shiniest shoes they could find and put them on him. We butchered the best stall-fed steer I had, and we had a party.

Matt:  Your oldest son wasn’t too happy about all this, was he?

Father: You heard about that, did you? I had a servant run out to the field and tell him that his brother had come home. Some time went by and I didn’t see him, so I went out to the barn. There was my oldest son sitting on a bail of hay with his fists on his cheeks, pouting. I said, “Son, aren’t you coming to the party?” He grumbled, “No, I’m not.” So I asked him, “Why not, Son?” And he said, “Listen here, Pa. All these years I’ve been here, and I’ve tried to be the perfect son. If you said, ‘Go plow the field,’ I did it. If you said, ‘Chop some wood,’ I chopped it. I went with you to worship every week. I got a badge for ten years of perfect attendance. I’ve been good to you here, and I just don’t understand how it could be when this creature, this son of yours, comes home, after wasting your money and living with harlots, you kill the fat calf for him.” I didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t even refer to his brother by name. He called him “this son of yours.”^[3] I could smell contempt as he hissed those words.

Matt:   Where did this business about harlots come from? You never said anything about your younger son running around with women.

Father: Well, that’s just the thing. No one ever said anything about that. My oldest was so pathetic. All I can surmise is that my oldest son thought his brother was doing what he would have been doing if he had been out on his own. My oldest just gave himself away. By judging his brother he passed judgement on himself.

Matt:   It sounds like your oldest son was really the lost one.

Father:  You got it! It’s almost as if he was going through the motions of hard work and obedience to me, but in his mind he was the one wasting his life. Every time he went to the field, he was thinking about how much fun he could be having if he was in his brother’s shoes. Little did he know you don’t have to run away from home to waste what you’ve been given. So I told my oldest son, “You know, everything I have is yours. Don’t waste the gifts you have here right in front of you. Now that your brother is home, I can’t help but to rejoice. He was lost, and now he’s found. We thought he was dead and now he is alive.”^[4]

Matt:   I’ve always wondered what happened after that. I mean, the version of the story we have leaves us hanging. Did your oldest son come to the party? Did he see your point? Or did he stay outside and sulk?

Father:  Well, that’s personal family business. I don’t really want to tell you that part. You will just have to draw your own conclusions.

Matt:   Let me ask you this, then. Did you love one son more than the other?

Father: I just love them. There is no quantity to it. I’m ready to give it out freely to both my sons. It’s their choice to accept it. I’ll tell you this, though, I was intensely concerned for my lost son. I had almost given up hope. I had decided long ago that if he ever came back to me, I would just wrap my arms around him and remind him how important he is to me. My oldest son, the uncompromising critic, well, I love him too. But he’s different. He’s respected. He’s smart. He knows how I like things done. He said it himself; he is faithful in worship and obedient to do everything I ask. Whatever he wants, he gets. The difference is this: I love that oldest son of mine so much, but he just doesn’t know it. He sees his brother as dirty and thriftless. And he thinks I’m at fault for being too quick to forgive and accept. My oldest just doesn’t see that I offer the same to him. If only he could stop looking down at others and take a hard look at what he really needs. He’s just as lost, but he can’t see it.

Matt:   Al, part of what I hear you saying is that some people work so hard at being perfect that they forget what’s really important.

Father: You could say that.

Matt:  Do you have any advice for my listeners based on your experiences? Some strategies or techniques would be really helpful here.

Father:  That would be nice! However, you’re not going to get techniques from me. I’m not going to give you your three-point sermon outline this week, pastor. All I can tell you is what I’ve experienced as a father. If you focus on the how-to’s all the time, you’re going to miss out on what’s really important. You will be like my oldest son -- so worried about doing it right that you forget what you’re doing it for.  What’s most important is your growth and becoming the person God made you to be. For some reason my youngest son got it, and my oldest^[5] son–well, he didn’t.

Matt:  Al, did you ever meet Jesus?

Father:  Yeah, he stopped by the farm to shoot the breeze a few times. A nice guy, the Rabbi. Has quite a bunch of guys following him around. He makes you a little uncomfortable sometimes, but that’s not all bad. I suppose that’s you how grow. Yeah, I told him about my sons, and he said he could use my story. He said something about the Pharisees who were getting all riled up about him eating with unclean, despicable sinners. It doesn’t seem to me that the Rabbi saw folks that way. It seems he was just trying to get people who called themselves spiritual to really act that way. But do you know what? That guy just loved everyone, no matter what. I can understand that! It’s a shame he had to die the way he did. Once in a while I hear a rumor that the Rabbi was crucified because he spoke in parables. Challenge can make people angry or scared. People love answers, you know.^[6]

Matt:       I do know. I’m one of them. Well, Al, thanks for your time. I think people will really appreciate what you have to say.

Father:   Yeah, I’d love to talk to you all day, but we’ve got some work to do.

---

^[1]Clarence Jordan and Bill Lane Doulos, Cotton Patch Parables of Liberation (Scottdale: Herald, 2001), 54-55.

^[2]Joseph A. Fitzmeyer, Luke XX-XXIV, AB (New York: Doubleday, 1985), 1085.

^[3]Jordan, 55.

^[4]Jordan, 56.

^[5]Edwin H. Friedman DD, “An Interview with the First Family Counselor” (Bethesda: Friedman, 1994), 12.

^[6]Friedman, 21.

Sermon for February 21, 2016

“Being, Doing, Relating”

“So why do you keep calling me ‘Lord, Lord!’ when you don’t do what I say? I will show you what it’s like when someone comes to me, listens to my teaching, and then follows it. It is like a person building a house who digs deep and lays the foundation on solid rock. When the floodwaters rise and break against that house, it stands firm because it is well built. But anyone who hears and doesn’t obey is like a person who builds a house without a foundation. When the floods sweep down against that house, it will collapse into a heap of ruins.” Luke 6:46-49

A few days ago, I was talking with someone about the worst job I ever had. I paid my way through seminary by fixing boat propellers at a shop in South Boston. It was hard work. In those days, to fix a bent propeller blade, one worker would hit it with a sledge hammer while another worker held the prop against a cast iron pitching block. Guess who had to hold the prop in place for the guy with the hammers. It was a backbreaking, dirty, painful job, with a lot of sore fingers.

It could be worse! British man Jon Hanson had what he describes as the worst job in his entire life: quality control on cat food. He described several tests he had to perform. Test 1: Bury face in a huge tub of cat food and sniff it to make sure it's fresh. Test 2: Plunge arms in it up to the elbows and grope for bony bits and take them out. Test 3: Scoop up huge dollop of it, smear it flat on surface and prod it with fingers to test how much gristle is there. Uggghh!

Some jobs are obsolete now. Some of you may remember when there were icemen and milkmen who delivered goods to your doorstep. Today, less than half of one percent got milk deliveries.

Remember switchboard operators? Switchboard operators used a "cord board" to connect callers by plugging incoming lines and metal pegs into the corresponding hole on the board to connect with the correct caller. Long-distance callers were routed through operators, but with only a limited number of lines. If all circuits were busy, operators took the caller's number and called them back when a line was available. Now, with the advancement mobile phones and long-distance plans, there are fewer operators. Now we have customer service representatives.

Even show business is hitting a professional slump. Thanks to reality TV, talented actors are becoming unnecessary. These days, if you can launch your acting career and rise to success quickly, you must try to fizzle out quickly so that you are eligible to participate in the next season of “Kickboxing with the Stars.” Film actors are in equal jeopardy. As digital animation gets better, humans will be replicated on screen with computer generated animation. It won’t be long until studio execs realize that a digital version of Angelina Jolie, slightly altered for legal purposes, will work for free. Not only that, but CyberAngelina won’t have weird demands, like a dressing room scented with gardenia and 2 liters of organic Peruvian yak’s milk.

There’s another job in a slump: The work of the Church. Across the country, congregations of all sizes and denominations are struggling with issues of faith and finance as the tough economy grinds on. Churches scour their budgets for wasteful spending. While the collection plates no longer overflow, churches see an increase in requests for support. In the past, houses of worship did OK during recessions, even as other institutions struggled. But the magnitude of the last financial meltdown still affects places of worship. Eight years after the sub-prime mortgage crisis, many churches are putting plans like  mission spending, staff hiring, and construction projects on hold in order to balancing the budget.

Churches are not known for their ability to adapt to change. While the world around us transforms at lightning-fast speeds, churches are often satisfied to maintain traditions. The expectation is that churches don’t need to change. Churches expect others to change when they walk in our doors. We like to think of ourselves as a safe haven from the world around us. A place of timeless tradition. A place of peace. A place where the novelties around us are kept at bay.

It sounds good, but in reality, it doesn’t work. To upcoming generations, our obsolete attitudes can sound grumpy and irrelevant. Kind of like my Mémé. As a kid, I had a 100-year-old great grandmother. We called her Mémé. I remember her knitting while watching professional wrestling on TV and sucking on root beer barrel candies. And her way of showing love by yelling at you until you cried. She lived in the basement of my grandparent’s house, and I was afraid of her. All were afraid of her. Mémé had an anxiety-inducing presence. The worst words one could ever hear was, “Matt, please take this to Mémé’s room,” as my grandmother handed me a tuna fish sandwich for delivery to my great-grandmother’s lair. If I heard those words, a chill would run down my spine. It was easier to avoid her.

Sometimes I wonder if the churches are becoming Mémé to a new generation. Are churches seen as old-fashioned, mean-spirited, rigid or fearful places that are best avoided? To play a role in American life, to do our part in the renewal of American Christianity, mainline churches like Christ Congregational Church need to ask ourselves if we’ve lost the ability to inspire new generations with the gospel of God’s love.

I have heard some culture watchers say that the Church is a generation away from extinction. The first time I read that, my knee-jerk reaction was denial. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. This can’t be! The Church is forever.” As I thought about it some more, I began to see the power of these words. God is forever. Jesus left the future of the Church in our hands. The future of our faith depends on our ability to pass it on.

Some churches see their context and decide that they need a new way to BE. Instead of opening their doors and expecting people to come to them, some churches have decided to take church to the people. I’m talking about traditional, protestant churches like ours. They realize that they have a God-sized task: to bring God’s good news to the next generations. To use Jesus’ metaphor from Luke’s gospel, these churches are building a house on a solid foundation. They seek to do God’s will in the world by looking outward and practicing their faith in a public way. They build a firm foundation by carrying out the teachings of Christ.

Other churches build themselves on shakier footings. Some churches think the solution to the shifting sands around them is to get more people to do more stuff. They focus on getting people to serve on church boards. They think that if more people serve as part of the governance of the church, if more people understood what it takes to keep the place going, the church will become a solid, healthy organization. Sometimes this strategy works. Many times it does not. Some people find meaning serving on church boards. Others face burnout, sabotage, and frustration. Some people serve the church with energy and love. Others are turned off when it seems that church members are protecting their interests. They ask, “Where’s the common goal? What’s the God-sized task? What’s our God-sized vision?”

Here is a good indication that you are serving the church for the wrong reasons. If you are doing something out of guilt, then you are spending your energy in the wrong place. If you are doing something because there's no one else to do the job, then you are spending your energy in the wrong place. If you are doing something to please people or because you are afraid to say NO, then you are spending your energy in the wrong place. If you are doing something for power and prestige then you are spending your energy in the wrong place.

You can always tell when people are doing things for the wrong reasons. You can see it in their energy level. Just ask my kids. If I say to my kids, “Can you pick up your rooms and then come downstairs and drink a glass of milk and eat a plate of broccoli?” they move as slow as herd of snails traveling through peanut butter. Ask my kids to eat broccoli, and they suddenly lose their appetites. Five minutes ago, they were famished. Faced with a side dish of broccoli, they lose the will to live. While my kids are pushing their slimy broccoli around the plate, pretending to eat it, I will mess with their minds. “Who wants desert?” I’ll offer. Notice how the energy changes. Nothing feels better than broccoli amnesty! Now kids are laughing. Their appetites come back. There’s a party at the Braddock house. They have new hopes. New goals. New vision. It’s exciting and refreshing.

I know, I know, broccoli is good for you. I know, it’s the king of lo-carb veggies. It’s full of vitamin C and antioxidants and calcium. But I don’t know a lot of people who get excited when told, “Eat your broccoli. It’s good for you.” This sounds more like a threat. It sounds like something my Mémé would say to make me cry.

New times demand a different attitude from the church. No more boiled-over broccoli when we have the sweetness of God’s love to offer. We need a God-sized task. We need God-sized vision. We need God-sized energy. Energy is ours, not when we hoard our strength, but when we devote ourselves willingly and joyously toward living out the Good News. Faith and energy go hand in hand. If you have deep faith in what you are doing, you can move mountains. Energy is always highest when one’s cause is just.

Do you know what? This is actually a great time to be in the church! I refuse to let the Church to grow obsolete or extinct. How about you? Can we show others the love of God? Can we communicate the love of Christ to a world that’s waiting and hungry and starving to know God’s delicious presence? Will we use our energy, intelligence, imagination, and love to lead the church in this time of transition? Can we use our money to fulfill a God-sized task? In your own life, what keeps you from being all that God is calling you to be? What keeps our church from reaching out and communicating the love of Christ? These are in many ways hard times for the Christian church. But they can also be the best. The promise of the Scriptures says that no matter how difficult life is, God is good. Our good God has some good work for us to do, and the energy to do it.