Sermon for May 5, 2019

Living Sanctuaries

Preached by Pastor Matt Braddock

May 5, 2019

“Have the people of Israel build me a holy sanctuary so I can live among them. Exodus 25:8 NLT

One of them, an expert in religious law, tried to trap him with this question: “Teacher, which is the most important commandment in the law of Moses?” Jesus replied, “‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Matthew 22:35-39 NLT

Prayer, all singing:

Lord prepare me to be a sanctuary

Pure and holy, tried and true

With thanksgiving, I’ll be a living

Sanctuary for you.

Build a sanctuary for me so I can live among them. This is what God asks of Moses. Build me a home. A sacred place. Up until this point, the Jewish people prayed to God in fields, by bodies of water, in deserts next to burning bushes, on mountains, or wherever they felt moved to pray. Now the prayer experience changes. God says, “Build a sanctuary for me, so I can live among you.” The people are afriad their connection to God might fade as they move onward to the promised land. They want assurance that God will always be with them. For some reason, the people are not capable of understanding that God is everywhere. So, God instructs them to build a mikdash— that’s the Hebrew word for sanctuary. “Build me a mikdash, “to serve as a tangible of God’s presence. The sanctuary was a symbol of the covenant relationship between God and the people. The Israelites needed reassurance that God would be with them always. And God wanted there to be a reminder that the people had responsibilities The sanctuary reminded the people to love and serve God, to continually listen to and obey the commandments. God’s presence is meant to be felt in living a life of compassionate justice.

But the word “sanctuary” took on an additional meaning in the early centuries of the church. In ancient Rome, criminals and debtors could flee to Christian churches and receive asylum from Roman authorities. This practice continued in various ways throughout the Middle Ages and into the sixteenth century. Sanctuary seekers found refuge in a church, the sacred space of worship, because such a holy place was unfit for violent seizure.  The spirit of compassion and care was at the heart of the sanctuary from the beginning.

“Build me a sanctuary, a mikdash”, God says. What would it mean for us to create a place of refuge? A living sanctuary? This question is fiercely relevant today as America grapples with this word in a new context: sanctuary cities and sanctuary congregations in light of the current policies of family separation, detention and deportation which the current presidential administration has doubled down on. It’s relevant as ever now that we learned another child has died in detention under the so-called “care” of the federal government. Consider this roster of policies, which—taken together—aim to remove non-white people from America or prevent them from entering:

·         The Muslim ban, about which Justice Sonia Sotomayor wrote, “Taking all the evidence together, a reasonable observer would conclude that the proclamation was driven primarily by anti-Muslim animus.”

·         Rescinding Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for more than 300,000 people who fled violence  and disaster in Haiti, Sudan, Nicaragua, and El Salvador. In his ruling blocking the administration’s decision, U.S. District Judge Edward Chen said there were “serious questions as to whether a discriminatory purpose was a motivating factor” and as to whether it was based on “animus against nonwhite, non-European immigrants.”

·         Seeking to add a citizenship question to the 2020 census, which has been revealed as a blatant attempt to reduce the political power communities.

·          Reducing the number of visas available for immigration, with a particular focus on reducing family-reunification immigration.

·         Interfering with asylum procedures on the southern border by processing only a handful of asylum claims each day legal points of entry, making asylum seekers wait in Mexico while their at cases are being considered, and attempting to deny people crossing the border between ports of entry the right to seek asylum.

·         Threatening to end birthright citizenship via Executive Order.

The Sanctuary Movement began in response to a surge of refugees from Latin America seeking asylum in the U.S. in the 1980s. Facing an unwelcoming federal government, faith leaders and groups began to organize and act on their own. In 1982, Southside Presbyterian Church in Tucson, AZ became the first of more than 500 congregations to declared itself a public sanctuary.  By April 1987, this number would include at least 60 synagogues. The movement eventually succeeded in changing U.S. asylum law, so it did not discriminate against Latin Americans. With President Trump’s moves to cancel protections and step up deportations, the New Sanctuary Movement is once again stepping up to the plate to protect immigrants and their families, counter xenophobic and false messaging, and advance the cause of a multicultural America. As of January 2019, more than 1,100 faith communities have declared themselves part of the New Sanctuary Movement. In fact, Christ Congregational Church is part of the sanctuary movement through the Congregational Action Network. Just this past week, several us from CCC had a phone conversation with members of Cedar Lane UUA, a congregation which is actively hosting Rosa, a woman living on the church’s property in intentional sanctuary.

By the way, guess what the Jewish sanctuary movement is called. Mikdash. Mikdash … Sanctuary … reminds us of the holy work we do when we act as allies to immigrants, standing against xenophobia and hate, and for the preservation of families and communities.

“Build me a sanctuary, a mikdash”, God says. How can we continue to be sanctuary … the sacred place … the place that reminds us of God’s sacred presence among us … a place of refuge … a place of safety … a place to encounter holiness and care?

Some of us have been talking about whether CCC can become a place of physical sanctuary to a person. We have a long way to go before we get to that point, but I am open to the conversation. In the meantime, I have to suggestions.

First, we can get involved in helping Rosa and the members of Cedar Lane UUA with physical needs. The congregation offers ongoing training and orientation for those who want to help. Much like we do with Shepherd’s Table, I would like to see a group of CCCers who regular help with meals, physical needs, security, or whatever else is needed to help sustain and protect Rosa.

The second thing we can do is help with accompaniment. Citizen allies, particularly faith leaders or other community leaders, can escort immigrants to their ICE check-ins. In addition to bolstering the immigrant’s confidence and self-worth, their presence can sometimes change ICE’s decision to arrest. If an arrest is made, the accompanying ally can at least provide information to the arrested person’s family and friends. We found this to be a very effective strategy when advocating for Coach Fofo.

Accompaniment is a way of showing love and honor. It is one of the ways we can help fulfill the greatest commandments: You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: Love your neighbor as yourself.

These are ways we become living sanctuaries. We recognize that God does not live inside walls of ornate, expensive buildings. God dwells among us. When we accompany someone to an ICE check in, it’s as if we remind them, and us, that God is a living sanctuary, alive in the divine image present in all. When we open our doors to the immigrant, the refuge, the so-called “stranger” we remind them, and us, that lavish hospitality is an act of holy courage. When someone sets out on the way and others accompany them, they give honor to the Divine Image by not letting them go alone.

Prayer, all singing:

Lord prepare me to be a sanctuary

Pure and holy, tried and true

With thanksgiving, I’ll be a living

Sanctuary for you.

“Lord, prepare us to be a sanctuary— pure in our devotion to Your love and holy in our commitment to obey Your call; tried in the challenges of this world and found to be true to Your character. With thanksgiving, we’ll be a living sanctuary for You and Your people.”

https://reformjudaism. org/creating-mikdash-then-and-now

https://sojo. net/articles/lord-prepare-us-be-sanctuary-city

https://www.truah. org/resources/mikdash-a-jewish-guide-to-the-new-sanctuary-movement/

Sermon for June 2, 2019

Gun Violence: A Meditation

Twelve people were killed and four injured when a longtime city-government employee opened fire on his co-workers at a municipal building in Virginia Beach, Virginia, on Friday — the deadliest mass shooting in the U.S. this year. America’s latest mass-shooting massacre began a little after 4 p.m. on Friday at one of the buildings that make up the Municipal Center in Virginia Beach. The gunman, a 40-year-old municipal employee, came armed with two .45-caliber handguns, at least one of which he had equipped with a sound suppressor, and extended-capacity magazines. Yet again, we are waking up to realize how gun violence affects us all.

We are a nation at war with ourselves. Every day, 100 Americans are killed with guns and hundreds more are shot and injured. The effects of gun violence extend far beyond these casualties—gun violence shapes the lives of millions of Americans who witness it, know someone who was shot, or live in fear of the next shooting. Nearly two-thirds of gun deaths are suicides. As with all wars, children are the most innocent victims. Firearms are the second leading cause of death for American children and teens and the first leading cause of death for Black children and teens. Nearly 1,700 children and teens die by gun homicide every year.

For those who are waiting for a political solution to this war, we know it’s not going to happen soon, if at all. What has been Congress’ response to this unrelenting loss of life? Congress has failed to pass any meaningful gun control measures. Under the pretext of protecting the rights of gunowners, politicians allow the firearm industry to be largely unregulated. When our Congressional representatives ignore human suffering to do the bidding of the gun lobby in exchange for campaign dollars, they are making an idol of the gun.

It’s not just Congress. What poverty of spirit causes American to so glorify our guns – in movies, on television, in video games, on the streets of our neighborhoods? We must expose the half-truth of “Guns don’t kill people. People kill people.” Guns do kill people. Guns kill our children with devastating regularity in this country. Guns kill our neighbors. Guns kill co-workers. Gun kill.

Over the years, we have come to accept guns as part of life. But there’s a difference between a sporting and hunting culture – where the use of guns is limited, licensed and regulated – and a gun culture, where the distribution of weapons of mass murder can be bought, sold, and traded with little oversight, with patchwork regulation, and with an over-riding fear that we will be accused of somehow violating the rights of citizens when we ask common-sense to prevail.

Since gun violence won’t be solved politically, there must be other ways to fight this war. Gun violence must become a faith issue. The greatest commandment says we are to love God. The second greatest commandment says we are to love our neighbors as ourselves. Can we truly love and trusts God or do we love and trust our guns? Why are people of faith and conscience not protecting the sacred trust of children’s lives as vehemently as Congress protects the gun lobby? How can we stretch our arms wide towards God’s goodness when one hand is grasping a gun? How can we depend only on God when next to our hearts we’re wearing a weapon? As people of faith we must stand witness to the destructive power of gun violence. We must say we will rely not on guns, but on God. We will affirm not guns, but life. We will bless not guns, but our common humanity. We must hold up a higher value saying that our children’s lives are a sacred trust and that human life is more important any gun.

For those among us whom gun violence is a policy issue, may God grant you light and wisdom, and help us all to support your efforts

For those among us whom gun violence is a real and present danger, may God grant you sheltering presence, and help us all to understand and address this burden.

For those among us who are healers and others who deal directly with the aftermath of gun violence, may God grant the responders strength in turmoil, and help us all to support their work

For those among us who mourn victims of gun violence, may God grant the mourners comfort, and help us all to better support them in their grief and cries for justice

For those among us who have experienced gun violence, may God grant healing to the shattered, and help us all to recognize the trauma and its cost

God. keep us ever aware of the wonder of humanity and of threats to the sanctity of human life. Teach us to recognize the effect of gun violence on so many of our nation’s children. May we never be lazy in the work of peace or complacent in our relative safety. May we honor those who have died in defense of our ideals. And may we acknowledge threats, some of our own making, to those ideals. Grant our leaders wisdom and forbearance. May they govern with justice, compassion and clear knowledge of the cost of gun violence. Shine your wisdom through the gloom. Heal us and our local, national and global communities. Lead us toward homes free of affliction and strife, bodies and spirits free of gun violence. Help us to be the change we hope to see. Soon and in our lifetimes.

If you want to learn more and get involved, here are two opportunities:

1.     Today, Bob Tiller will be one of the presenters at an event called Gun Violence: The Public Health Impact. It’s from 2-4 at Riderwood in the Celebrations Room at Town Center. You can talk to Bob after worship about the details.

2.     In the bulletin, you will see an event next Saturday at 10 AM: Disarm Hate Unity Walk and Block Party. It will take place at the Downtown Silver Spring Civic Center Pavilion. If you are interested in representing CCC at an interfaith table, making signs, or being part of the event, please let me know.

Today, I’ve handed out some orange hearts as you came in the door. I invite you to take a moment to write the names of those you are thinking of today who are affected by gun violence, the names of those for whom we pray protection, the names of our children who deal with this in their schools every week, the names of the dead and their families who mourn. During communion, I will invite you to bring your hearts forward and attach them to the easels in the front of the sanctuary and we will hold these names together in prayer.

Sermon for April 21, 2019 | Easter Sunday

Then they Remembered

April 21, 2019 | Easter Sunday

Preached by Pastor Matt Braddock

At the crack of dawn on Sunday, the women came to the tomb carrying the burial spices they had prepared. They found the entrance stone rolled back from the tomb, so they walked in. But once inside, they couldn’t find the body of the Master Jesus. They were puzzled, wondering what to make of this. Then, out of nowhere it seemed, two men, light cascading over them, stood there. The women were awestruck and bowed down in worship. The men said, “Why are you looking for the Living One in a cemetery? He is not here, but raised up. Remember how he told you when you were still back in Galilee that he had to be handed over to sinners, be killed on a cross, and in three days rise up?” Then they remembered Jesus’ words. Luke 24:1-8

Easter begins with remembering. Or maybe Easter begins with forgetting. I’m glad, because I have been forgetful lately. I forget what I was going to say. I forget why I walked into a room. I forget important family events. Details are slipping my mind lately.

If you could be granted a superpower of memory, would you choose to remember every day of your life? Would you want the kind of mind that could recall details on command? I can’t believe how quickly time has gone by in my own life. I think I’ve been thinking about loved ones I’ve lost and find it inconceivable how long it’s been since they died. My cousin reminded me about our grandfather the other day. James Hudson was a mysterious man to me. He never said too much, but when he did speak, we listened. He nicknamed all his grandchildren, and he called me Big Ike. I’ll never forget the time he caught my cousin and me on the roof of his barn. When we finally came down, he was ready for us. He said, “Big Ike, if I ever catch you up there again, I gonna kick and blister your behind.” I believed him. His care could be ferocious. He was also a stubborn man. Every carpet and blanket in his house had cigarette burns, due to his bad habit of falling asleep while smoking in bed. Mostly, I remember him sitting at the head of the dinner table for hours, listening to the chatter and laughter of his family, smoking cartons of cigarettes (True Blues), drinking coffee with two saccharine tablets, eating Velveeta and smoked sausage, and looking impassive.

I’m sure there’s more to remember, but my recollections of him are fading. Sometimes I wish I had a better memory — to know that the past is not gone, that the people are not gone.

I read a fascinating story about a woman who cannot forget anything about her life. She remembers every single detail since she was fourteen years old. Give her a date, and she can tell you the day of the week it was and what she did. Give her a historical event in her lifetime and she’ll tell you what she was wearing and what the weather was. She describes her life as a split screen TV with the present running on one side and the past on the other. In an interview she said, “Some memories are good and give me a warm, safe feeling. But I also recall every bad decision, insult, and excruciating embarrassment. Over the years it has eaten me up. It has kind of paralyzed me.” I don’t know if I want that superpower anymore.

Speaking of memories, last week, I reached out to an UCC acquaintance who is not a member of the Connecticut State Assembly. Back in the day, she was the co-director of a UCC Summer camp where I volunteered. I congratulated her on the new position, and after some small talk she wrote, “I'll always remember you crossing camp in a Cher wig and long skirt.” I did not remember that. It sounds like something I’d do, but I did not remember.

I wondered how many people hold memories of me that I don’t recall. So, I went to Facebook and typed, “Would you share a memory you have of me? I'm doing a project on remembering, and I'm curious about a story you remember about me, especially from childhood, high school, and college years (but anyone can share). Thanks!” Knowing full well the risks, I hit send, and waited for the responses.

Here is what people remember: I have a habit of singing unsuitably loud at others in public places. People remember me wearing random costumes – because you now know how much I like to dress up. Sometimes the loud singing and dress up go together. People remember getting talked into half-baked exploits by me. I tend to be kind and helpful. A bit o Sometimes funny. Sometimes brash.

Some stories I had totally forgotten – events that were significant to others but had faded from my view. Here were the memories I was most interested in. One of my favorites came from Rita, a community friend in Connecticut who was known to enjoy a glass of wine or two. In one of my many attempts to lose weight, I talked her into doing Weight Watchers with me. Back then, you would get a daily allotment of points for all the food you were going to eat. Every food had a point value. Anything consumed, like a glass of wine, would get subtracted from our daily total. Rita wrote, “You and I sat together at a Weight Watchers meeting. Later that day, I had a small fire in my kitchen. I was pretty shook up watching all those firefighters going inside. As I stood outside in the middle of all the fire trucks and their flashing lights, I looked up the street and saw you get out of your car and come rushing toward me. You were the minister for the firefighters in town and had gotten the call about the fire. You gave me a big hug and whispered in my ear, ‘Don’t worry. Red wine is only two points!’”

This is all to say, I’ve been thinking a lot about memories, because Easter begins with remembering. Or maybe Easter begins with forgetting. Think of the women going to the empty tomb to prepare the body of Jesus for final burial. They have a thousand reasons to be jaded, exhausted, beat down, and burned out. They have every reason to be stuck in the stupor of pessimism. They are so wrapped up in grief, they don’t recall what Jesus said – that he would suffer, and die, and be raised up on the third day.

In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus predicts his death three times. He tells his 12 disciples exactly what will happen to him. Each time, Jesus’s closest followers, the men who follow him day in and day out, the men who learned from his teachings and witnessed miracles, the men don’t get it. They cannot understand, and they are too afraid to ask for an explanation.

Fast forward to the empty tomb. Two men appear, but they are not like the other men we’ve met. They repeat what Jesus said earlier in the Gospel, “He is not here. Remember how he told you when you were still back in Galilee that he had to be handed over to sinners, be killed on a cross, and in three days rise up?” Do you know what different this time? This time … this time! … the reminder is not to the men. The reminder is given to the women. Then they remember. Then the miracle of Easter happens. Easter begins with remembering.

The story of the resurrection of Jesus is the core recollection of Christianity. It reminds us of God’s power over death. It reminds us of the empire’s loosening grip over life. It’s a story that demands all perspectives be heard: a diverse chorus of voices all singing a common song. The story and the song begin with women remembering.

Remembering is a political act. Communities make different decisions about what we remember, about how we tell the stories of the past. One group’s story of triumph may be another’s story of trauma. One’s joy may be another’s pain. It changes based on where we stand — whether we have power or fight for power; whether we are thriving or surviving; fighting, fleeing, or resisting.

Let’s go back to my grandfather. I have another memory of him I didn’t tell you about. When he died of a sudden heart attack from his decades-long diet of Velveeta, smoked sausages and cigarettes, he also left my grandmother $5 million in debt. Secrets came to light about businesses gone bad, failed investments, and hidden affairs. The banks started to close in, wanting their money. Our devastation and trauma filtered every memory we had of grandpa. We could not hide our confusion and fear. The story of my grandfather’s memory was dominated by our anger and disappointment. We were so wrapped up in grief, we forgot the good things he did. People do this all the time in all parts of life. It especially happens in communities. Those in charge try to shape the story.

Maybe you’ve heard it said that history is written by the winners. Domination requires deliberate mis-remembering. Certain details get celebrated and others get buried. Wins become larger than they truly were and losses to become minor setbacks. Those who control the story decide what to keep alive and what to lay to rest; what to dwell on and what to let go of; where to focus and when to block things out.

In our political lives, domination desires the oppressed to forget. If domination prospers on forgetting, then memory is form of resistance. Memory challenges the forces that romanticize the past or believe that progress alone unlocks a more just future. The corrupt commanders, the proud plunderers, the terrible tyrants, and the immoral manipulators of the world take comfort in the knowing that people easily forget their misdeeds. In these times of impunity and injustice, remembering is be an act of resistance.

History is written by the winners. History is also told by survivors. On that first Easter morning, it’s the women who resist and remember. It’s the women who arrive to make sense of the carnage of Good Friday. Cleaning and preparing a corpse was the work of women who came to re-member a body torn in a grisly public act of torment, a body killed as a symbol of the Empire’s intention to destroy any thought of resistance. Simply showing up at the tomb mark the women as followers of someone tortured and killed by the state -- never a safe move! It’s women who are willing to risk the danger of exposure. It’s women who will not allow the empire to establish the “official” state memory of the event of Jesus’s death.

When they arrive at the tomb and nothing is as they expect it to be. Before the women have any time to process the trauma of having their loved one’s body stolen, they receive a reminder of the very words Jesus told the men over and over again. The women get it. This time, they are healed of their trauma. This time, they become the first people to share a new memory -- not Rome’s story of domination … not the men’s story of failure … it’s a new story of life, and love … a story of new beginnings and new growth. It’s a story we remember today: We remember that God’s love can never be entombed. We remember how we see love overcome hatred. We remember how good can overshadow evil. We remember how courage can take the place of fear.

We have a thousand reasons to be jaded, exhausted, beat down, and burned out. We have every reason to be stuck in the stupor of pessimism. We can get so wrapped up in grief, we forget what Jesus said. But Easter won’t die. In an empire so zealously committed to crucifixion, God relentlessly reminds us how in the ravages of trauma and the hierarchies of power, God’s voice refuses to be silenced. Amid the hatred and fear that puts innocent people in the grave, God’s story refuses to yield to the domination of death. Easter begins with forgetting. Or is it remembering? In a diverse chorus of voices, all in common song, we remember this impossible mystery: Jesus is risen. Remember?

Sources:

https://www.them. us/story/deray-mckesson-on-the-other-side-of-freedom

https://www.centralsynagogue. org/worship/sermons/detail/memory-the-importance-of-forgetting-yom-kippur-5776

https://politicaltheology. com/memory-and-the-risen-christ-luke-241-12/