“Olympic Responsibilities”
Romans 12:1-8
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 24 August, 2008
Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time
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 We have Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh. Nastia Liukin and Shawn Johnson. Dara Torres. Usain Bolt. ...And, of course, Michael Phelps! Ben has taken to going around the house saying “Phelps-Phelps-Phelps-Phelps-Phelps,” not because we have been watching every single swimming event, which we haven’t, but because his name is everywhere! His mother returned to her job as a principal at Windsor Mill Middle School this past week, and she needed a police escort to get there. How many middle school principals have paparazzi following them?!
Suddenly we have a whole cadre of celebrities, people whose Olympic abilities amaze us. For these few short weeks we are able to talk about sports that we barely knew existed. Water polo?! Since when do I know what a “4x100 relay” is or know what you’re talking about if you say “he won the 800.” Since when do I know that a diver needs to keep her knees tucked and what constitutes “too much splash” when she goes into the water? ...And since when is a swimmer an international celebrity?!
During the Olympics, something happens to our world. We become transfixed by people who can do things we didn’t even know were possible. We become interested in activities that weren’t even a blip on our radar screen a few weeks ago. And suddenly “world wars” are played out on the track, or the volleyball court, or in the swimming pool. What was, maybe even last week, an “arms race” suddenly becomes a foot race, where the winner doesn’t get to blow up the world but instead gets a gold medal placed around his neck while his opponent goes home empty-handed...but very much alive.
The Olympics are surrounded by politics, yes. We must contend with the human rights record in China and whether or not world leaders should support the decision to host the Olympics in Beijing. We must contend with cheating, doping scandals, all of the human stuff. But mostly we just watch the amazing talents of the athletes and the camaraderie among contestants from around the world. I love that the biggest basketball star in the world, Kobe Bryant, is in awe of the swimmer, Michael Phelps.
“For as in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members of one another. We have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us.”
Olympic athletes are extreme examples of “gifts that differ according to the grace given to us.” I look at how some of these athletes move and contort their bodies and wonder how on earth they are doing it. I think to myself, “God certainly didn’t bestow that gift upon me!” Yet as my jaw drops and my eyes blink in awe, watching one athlete or another do some ridiculous feat or another, I realize something. I may not be able to fly through the air on “the uneven bars” or do a “triple backward twist” off the diving board, but there are probably things I can do that these ridiculously talented athletes couldn’t do. As I said, Kobe Bryant is in awe of Michael Phelps, so even Olympic athletes can’t do everything. How many of them could preach a sermon every Sunday, I wonder? How many of them have studied Russian (the Russian athletes don’t count). And, I wonder, how many of them can quote the movie “The Princess Bride” backwards and forwards?! Yes, there are things I can do that maybe even the greatest Olympic athletes in the world can’t do!
This is true for every one of us. You might not be able to win a gold medal swimming “the 200,” and you might not feel comfortable preaching a sermon every Sunday. But God has bestowed upon you gifts that are all your own. Anna is a butcher. My fingers are too clumsy to cut meat. Lois is “a tech person.” I can’t watch when Ben fixes my computer because I get so nervous. Danny does landscaping. I am a terrible gardener. Each of us has gifts and these gifts are, of course, not limited to our jobs. Indeed, the gifts of which Paul speaks in our reading from Romans are spiritual gifts: prophecy, ministry, teaching, exhortation, leadership, and compassion. These are gifts that I have witnessed in many of you.
It is with these gifts, and other “gifts of the spirit,” that we are to serve God and one another. Paul speaks here of “living sacrifice,” and by this he means that we devote ourselves to serving God. We do this, in part, by the ways in which we serve the church. These days, the greatest “sacrifice” that people make for the church is time, and I encourage you to make that sacrifice. For some, it is a sacrifice to even get out of bed on a Sunday morning, after working six days a week, sometimes late into Saturday night. But church, and the service of God, require more than Sunday morning. They require making time for God, making time to pray, read the scriptures, attend other church events, such as Bible study, pancake breakfasts, funerals and weddings, and birthday parties, perhaps joining the church council, mowing the church lawn, helping out elsewhere. You don’t have to go to every single one of these events or do everything in the church. I understand, too, that some of you work jobs where you don’t have much control over your schedule, and your boss does not care if you have church responsibilities. I believe God understands this too (your schedule, not your boss). But unless you absolutely have to be somewhere else, you can make time for church.
Making yourself a living sacrifice for God also requires using our God-given gifts. This doesn’t mean you have to bake a 5-layer cake every time you sign up to “Treat,” even if God has graced you with that particular gift...and we would really enjoy it. But it does mean that you have to use your God-given gifts to serve God and one another. Being a Christian, and being a member of the Church, is a high calling. We are all recipients of God’s grace, yes, regardless of who we are, where we are on life’s journey, or whatever we may or may not have done in our lives. But even though God loves the worst sinners among us, God calls upon us to serve.
Most Olympic athletes make enormous sacrifices for their sport. They sacrifice having a normal childhood (and adulthood), so that they can practice nonstop. They sacrifice friendships, time with their families, eating a piece of that delicious 5-layer cake, sleeping late, taking a day off. Some of these sacrifices are healthy; others are not. But if a 19-year-old gymnast can sacrifice her entire life to the sport, I think we can handle sacrificing more of our time and energy to the Church.
Take time to discern what gifts God has given to you, and use those gifts for all they’re worth. There is something in this church, and in the wider church, and in the world at large, for every single one of us to do. There are ways to serve God that every single one of us can do. You don’t have to be an Olympic athlete to be a member of this church. But you do have Olympic responsibilities. By the grace of God we have all been given the power to serve. Let’s get to it.
Now let us pray.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Sermon 08/17/08 (Isaiah 56:1, 6-8)
“A House of Prayer for ALL Peoples”
Isaiah 56:1, 6-8
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 17 August, 2008
Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
 The church in which I was raised was built in a style called “praying hands.” It is essentially an A-frame building, but the two sides are curved upwards, in order to look like two hands joined in prayer, like this: [demonstrate]. The church was perhaps built that way to remind all who saw it and entered of these words from Isaiah: “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.”
Unfortunately, Isaiah’s words are too often forgotten by those viewing and entering that “praying hands” church in Fargo, and by those in “houses of prayer” throughout the world. Our churches too often become “houses of division,” “houses of suffering,” “houses of injustice” -- even, in some cases, “houses of violence.” Prayer shrinks to the back of the church’s priorities, as we deal with all our “human stuff”...without remembering how we have been called to handle it.
The first fall from grace is easy. We simply forget to pray. Sure, we pray every Sunday morning a few times during church, and we might even pray daily at home, but as a church we spend a lot of the rest of our time taking care of business rather than taking care of the business of prayer. We worry about the roof. We wonder how the bills will get paid. We express concern that the doors were left open after an evening meeting. We hold planning meetings for new programs. We talk. We organize. We talk some more. Granted, all of this stuff is important. A church with a building needs a roof over its head. The 12-step meetings that take place here in the evenings are an important outreach ministry. In this modern day, we cannot escape the world altogether, and as such we are considered a “nonprofit organization,” which carries with it certain legal responsibilities. If we are to keep our ministry going, we need to stay afloat financially. But the God of Isaiah calls us back and reminds us of our primary purpose.
We are, first and foremost, a house of prayer. We are a sanctuary, where we, and others, should be able to come and...pray. We are a gathering place place for holy fellowship -- not just idle chitchat. We are a gathering place of communion -- not just eat-and-run. We are a place of discovery, of wonder, of amazing grace. We are the church.
When we forget to maintain our houses of prayer, we forget the “requirements for membership” and this causes us both to fumble in our own responsibilities as “members of the house of prayer,” and to exclude those whom God would have us embrace. The first verse of this scripture describes very clearly the “terms of membership.” If we want to be a part of this holy club, we are to maintain justice and do what is right. As one preacher points out, why would anyone, especially the foreigners and outcasts God calls us to embrace, want to belong to the community of God if that meant facing injustice, and if right relationships did not exist there? Still, we too often ignore that part of our membership clause, or covenant. We fight amongst ourselves. We want to shut others out. Acts of violence -- physical, emotional, or spiritual are committed within the very church community. Keep in mind that the Catholic church is not the only denomination that deals with abuse.
We hurt one another in simpler ways too. I have heard more backbiting and exclusiveness in churches than just about any place else. I feel blessed to belong to a church that, for the most part, maintains good relationships with one another. Still, messy conflict occasionally pops up here too, and it is not always resolved in the most just manner. If I have not seen much messy conflict since I’ve been here, I have no doubt that it has been present in the past, or that others have come to this place because of injustice experienced in other “houses of prayer.”
When we forget to maintain our houses of prayer, we begin to forget other things too, like embracing the outcasts among us, inviting the “foreigners.” We like things to be the way they always have been, and to allow those outcasts or foreigners in would be to become vulnerable to -- heaven forbid it! -- change!! Or downright difference!
We know that others have been excluded throughout the ages too. For many centuries, the mentally ill were demonized, and they faced exclusion and often violence as a result. The physically ill were called “sinful” and blamed for their illnesses. Women who practiced the healing arts, who did not go to church as often as they should, or who were simply different were called witches and burned at the stake, whether they were followers of Christ or not. And in more recent centuries, the physically disabled have been excluded by “houses of prayer” -- St. Mark’s included. My guess is that St. Mark’s was built at a time when people didn’t even consider that having no wheelchair access, no accessible restrooms would be necessary in order to become a “house of prayer for all peoples.”
The Church has excluded people in other ways as well. Church conflict not only breaks hearts; it sometimes downright shuts people out. I know of a church that has faced such conflict in recent years that a large portion of the members are no longer welcome inside the church. They have become outcasts as a result of the conflict, and tensions run high. Every time a church faces schism, someone is being unjustly excluded from the house of prayer.
The United Church of Christ advertises itself as the church that accepts everybody, and indeed the denomination as a whole is, I believe, very welcoming. The “all the people” Steeples ad shows a wide diversity of people, and I have seen all of those diversities represented in UCC congregations. But we need to be careful that we are walking the walk, not just talking the talk.
The church I served in Sacramento, California was the product of racial segregation. While that church was formed decades ago, Sunday morning remains the most segregated hour of the week in this country and the United Church of Christ is not immune to the problem. The fact that that church in Sacramento is 60% African American and 35% white is a huge anomaly.
Not all UCC congregations are Open and Affirming, and those of us that carry the official designation do not always carry out the mission behind it. We might welcome gays and lesbians and transgendered folks but exclude others.
...It is easy for us to speak of historical and modern-day exclusions by blaming others. We speak with sadness of the racism that excluded many people several decades ago and continues to exclude too many today. We speak with horror of the witch hunts, the mistreatment of the physically and mentally unwell. We speak with disgust about the mistreatment and exclusion of homosexuals. We speak with anger of churches that allow conflict to shut out people of God from their houses of prayer. It is so easy to blame. But what are the ways in which we do not “do what is right”? Who do we exclude? Which foreigners would we prefer to keep foreign? These questions are not ones for which I expect an immediate answer. It is my hope that we will think about them deeply, over time, and then respond over and over by making our sanctuary a house of prayer for all people.
Let us not profane the Sabbath by getting too caught up in our daily business that we forget our primary purpose, to be a house of prayer. Let us not profane this space by excluding those who are different from us. Let us not act with the injustice that we have seen throughout the ages. Let us be a house of prayer for all peoples. And now let us pray.
Isaiah 56:1, 6-8
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 17 August, 2008
Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
 The church in which I was raised was built in a style called “praying hands.” It is essentially an A-frame building, but the two sides are curved upwards, in order to look like two hands joined in prayer, like this: [demonstrate]. The church was perhaps built that way to remind all who saw it and entered of these words from Isaiah: “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.”
Unfortunately, Isaiah’s words are too often forgotten by those viewing and entering that “praying hands” church in Fargo, and by those in “houses of prayer” throughout the world. Our churches too often become “houses of division,” “houses of suffering,” “houses of injustice” -- even, in some cases, “houses of violence.” Prayer shrinks to the back of the church’s priorities, as we deal with all our “human stuff”...without remembering how we have been called to handle it.
The first fall from grace is easy. We simply forget to pray. Sure, we pray every Sunday morning a few times during church, and we might even pray daily at home, but as a church we spend a lot of the rest of our time taking care of business rather than taking care of the business of prayer. We worry about the roof. We wonder how the bills will get paid. We express concern that the doors were left open after an evening meeting. We hold planning meetings for new programs. We talk. We organize. We talk some more. Granted, all of this stuff is important. A church with a building needs a roof over its head. The 12-step meetings that take place here in the evenings are an important outreach ministry. In this modern day, we cannot escape the world altogether, and as such we are considered a “nonprofit organization,” which carries with it certain legal responsibilities. If we are to keep our ministry going, we need to stay afloat financially. But the God of Isaiah calls us back and reminds us of our primary purpose.
We are, first and foremost, a house of prayer. We are a sanctuary, where we, and others, should be able to come and...pray. We are a gathering place place for holy fellowship -- not just idle chitchat. We are a gathering place of communion -- not just eat-and-run. We are a place of discovery, of wonder, of amazing grace. We are the church.
When we forget to maintain our houses of prayer, we forget the “requirements for membership” and this causes us both to fumble in our own responsibilities as “members of the house of prayer,” and to exclude those whom God would have us embrace. The first verse of this scripture describes very clearly the “terms of membership.” If we want to be a part of this holy club, we are to maintain justice and do what is right. As one preacher points out, why would anyone, especially the foreigners and outcasts God calls us to embrace, want to belong to the community of God if that meant facing injustice, and if right relationships did not exist there? Still, we too often ignore that part of our membership clause, or covenant. We fight amongst ourselves. We want to shut others out. Acts of violence -- physical, emotional, or spiritual are committed within the very church community. Keep in mind that the Catholic church is not the only denomination that deals with abuse.
We hurt one another in simpler ways too. I have heard more backbiting and exclusiveness in churches than just about any place else. I feel blessed to belong to a church that, for the most part, maintains good relationships with one another. Still, messy conflict occasionally pops up here too, and it is not always resolved in the most just manner. If I have not seen much messy conflict since I’ve been here, I have no doubt that it has been present in the past, or that others have come to this place because of injustice experienced in other “houses of prayer.”
When we forget to maintain our houses of prayer, we begin to forget other things too, like embracing the outcasts among us, inviting the “foreigners.” We like things to be the way they always have been, and to allow those outcasts or foreigners in would be to become vulnerable to -- heaven forbid it! -- change!! Or downright difference!
We know that others have been excluded throughout the ages too. For many centuries, the mentally ill were demonized, and they faced exclusion and often violence as a result. The physically ill were called “sinful” and blamed for their illnesses. Women who practiced the healing arts, who did not go to church as often as they should, or who were simply different were called witches and burned at the stake, whether they were followers of Christ or not. And in more recent centuries, the physically disabled have been excluded by “houses of prayer” -- St. Mark’s included. My guess is that St. Mark’s was built at a time when people didn’t even consider that having no wheelchair access, no accessible restrooms would be necessary in order to become a “house of prayer for all peoples.”
The Church has excluded people in other ways as well. Church conflict not only breaks hearts; it sometimes downright shuts people out. I know of a church that has faced such conflict in recent years that a large portion of the members are no longer welcome inside the church. They have become outcasts as a result of the conflict, and tensions run high. Every time a church faces schism, someone is being unjustly excluded from the house of prayer.
The United Church of Christ advertises itself as the church that accepts everybody, and indeed the denomination as a whole is, I believe, very welcoming. The “all the people” Steeples ad shows a wide diversity of people, and I have seen all of those diversities represented in UCC congregations. But we need to be careful that we are walking the walk, not just talking the talk.
The church I served in Sacramento, California was the product of racial segregation. While that church was formed decades ago, Sunday morning remains the most segregated hour of the week in this country and the United Church of Christ is not immune to the problem. The fact that that church in Sacramento is 60% African American and 35% white is a huge anomaly.
Not all UCC congregations are Open and Affirming, and those of us that carry the official designation do not always carry out the mission behind it. We might welcome gays and lesbians and transgendered folks but exclude others.
...It is easy for us to speak of historical and modern-day exclusions by blaming others. We speak with sadness of the racism that excluded many people several decades ago and continues to exclude too many today. We speak with horror of the witch hunts, the mistreatment of the physically and mentally unwell. We speak with disgust about the mistreatment and exclusion of homosexuals. We speak with anger of churches that allow conflict to shut out people of God from their houses of prayer. It is so easy to blame. But what are the ways in which we do not “do what is right”? Who do we exclude? Which foreigners would we prefer to keep foreign? These questions are not ones for which I expect an immediate answer. It is my hope that we will think about them deeply, over time, and then respond over and over by making our sanctuary a house of prayer for all people.
Let us not profane the Sabbath by getting too caught up in our daily business that we forget our primary purpose, to be a house of prayer. Let us not profane this space by excluding those who are different from us. Let us not act with the injustice that we have seen throughout the ages. Let us be a house of prayer for all peoples. And now let us pray.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Sermon 08/10/08 (1 Kings 19:9-18)
“Hang Up and Pray”
1 Kings 19:9-18
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 10 August, 2008
Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
 When I take the bus I am surrounded by noise. The bus itself rumbles and rattles. Outside the windows cars and trucks zoom by, people honk their horns, sirens scream. Inside the bus people talk with one another, play music (even though they’re not supposed to play it audibly), and I hear every cell phone ring tone imaginable. I have no idea how people can have an actual phone conversation, because there are times when it’s almost as loud as a rock concert in there.
Riding the bus in the city is an extreme example, but we live in a noisy world. We are “turned on” twenty-four hours a day. I see fewer children playing outside -- they’re inside playing video games that beep and clack. (Of course, if they were outside playing they would be blissfully noisy too.) At the grocery store, parents are busy talking on their cell phones rather than talking to their children. When it comes to news, we prefer to see it on TV or watch videos on the Internet rather than just read a newspaper. When we go jogging (or do anything else) we have to listen to music on our headphones. We tune in constantly, so we can tune out the rest of the world.
It’s no wonder that hearing loss is afflicting people at younger and younger ages. ...When it comes to hearing the voice of God, however, we have always been a little hard of hearing. When we are in the midst of crisis, we want some big sign that God is listening. We want something obvious, something loud.
In the movie “Bruce Almighty,” the main character, Bruce, is having a terrible week. He’s late to work, his car is vandalized, he loses a promotion and then his job. Angry at God, wondering if God is listening, Bruce screams, “You want me to talk to you?! Then talk back! Give me a signal!” He proceeds to drive past a street sign that says “Alert. Caution.” Oblivious, Bruce cries, “Please, send me a sign!” Bruce proceeds to drive past an entire truck full of road signs, with words such as “Stop” and “Yield” printed on them. Still oblivious, Bruce yells, “I need a miracle, I’m desperate! Please reach into my life! Let me see a little wrath! Smite me, O mighty smiter!” ...Bruce then runs smack dab into a light pole. He literally had to be smacked in the face in order to feel listened to by God, and even then it took some serious convincing before he believed it was God who was speaking.
This morning’s scripture from the first book of Kings sets us up for such a scenario. We don’t expect subtlety from God here. In the passages before today’s reading, Elijah calls on God to show Godself with fire, and God does so. -- Not subtle. -- So, when Elijah is told to wait on Mount Horeb because the Lord is about to pass by, we expect that the Lord will make the Lord’s presence known in a big way. Indeed, along comes a big wind! God must be in the wind! ...But God is not in the wind. Then a tremendous earthquake! That must be God! But it is not. Finally, a roaring fire! But that isn’t God either. God isn’t in any of the not-so-subtle “signs” here. Instead, God is in the “sheer silence,” sometimes translated as the “still small voice.”
One doesn’t really have to pay attention if God shows up in a violent storm, a raging fire, or an earthquake. The loudest bus ride or the most engrossing video game, or the most important cell phone call would be forgotten if God made Godself known in such a dramatic way. Sometimes God does. In the book of Exodus, that’s how Moses experienced God on Mount Sinai: fire, smoke, earthquake, and noise. (Exodus 19:18-19) Sometimes it seems that God smack us upside the head with a 2x4 to get us to listen. But at other times God is more subtle. God shows Godself as “sheer silence,” the “still small voice.”
We need to be ready for those times. We need to find that silence. We need to allow ourselves that silence. We need to turn off our phones, our televisions, our Ipods, our motor-mouths, our non-stop doing, get out of the city if necessary, and just sit with God. We need to find a quiet place, silence even our minds, and seek God in the silence. It is a wonder that we can get any praying done at all, considering the lives we live.
What will we see, what will we hear, when we wait for that still small voice? The following story is told about Mother Teresa: She was once asked by an interviewer what she said to God when she prayed, and she answered: “I don’t say anything. I just listen.” When the interviewer asked what she heard God say, Mother Teresa replied: “He doesn’t say anything. He just listens. And if you can’t understand that, I can’t explain it to you.”
Listening for God’s voice, paying attention, does not guarantee that we will hear anything. It does not mean that God will suddenly begin chatting with us, telling us exactly what we think we need to hear, guiding us with wise words, comforting us in the same language used by our best friend. We are told in the scripture that God came to Elijah in sheer silence, but then God is quoted as talking to Elijah, asking him what he’s doing, telling him what to do. We are not told, however, that the sheer silence, the still small voice, suddenly became audible. There is nothing to indicate that the silence of God’s presence changed. We are told only that Elijah saw and heard God. Perhaps, then Elijah just knew God was asking him what he was doing, and in his heart Elijah knew what he must do now.
This makes it sound easy. Wait for God, God will come to you silently, God won’t necessarily speak to you but you will know what to do. After all, this is what happened to the Prophet Elijah in the First book of Kings, chapter 19! Of course, we know that it is not always that easy. Even if we are able to turn everything off, find the silence, and listen for God’s voice while keeping our own mouths shut, we might not hear anything. We might not even really experience God being there or guiding us without words. We might feel that our efforts are worthless or wasted. But here’s the thing. If you are living a life of faith, chances are God is speaking to you. If you are striving to be more like God’s Son, Jesus Christ, chances are God is speaking to you. If you are caring for others and reading the word of God, chances are God is speaking to you. You might not hear God’s voice. You might not discern words. You might not even sense that God is guiding you. But you are being guided nonetheless. As long as you are even attempting to find that sheer silence, chances are God is guiding you in some way.
If your life is a constant stream of noise, then find a way to turn it off. Find time to meditate, to pray without words, to just listen. And once you have done this, once you have found the ability to concentrate solely on God, then let go. Know that God is there is the silence and don’t worry if you cannot hear God shouting at you. In the silence, God will find you whether you think you have found God or not.
Now let us pray.
1 Kings 19:9-18
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 10 August, 2008
Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
 When I take the bus I am surrounded by noise. The bus itself rumbles and rattles. Outside the windows cars and trucks zoom by, people honk their horns, sirens scream. Inside the bus people talk with one another, play music (even though they’re not supposed to play it audibly), and I hear every cell phone ring tone imaginable. I have no idea how people can have an actual phone conversation, because there are times when it’s almost as loud as a rock concert in there.
Riding the bus in the city is an extreme example, but we live in a noisy world. We are “turned on” twenty-four hours a day. I see fewer children playing outside -- they’re inside playing video games that beep and clack. (Of course, if they were outside playing they would be blissfully noisy too.) At the grocery store, parents are busy talking on their cell phones rather than talking to their children. When it comes to news, we prefer to see it on TV or watch videos on the Internet rather than just read a newspaper. When we go jogging (or do anything else) we have to listen to music on our headphones. We tune in constantly, so we can tune out the rest of the world.
It’s no wonder that hearing loss is afflicting people at younger and younger ages. ...When it comes to hearing the voice of God, however, we have always been a little hard of hearing. When we are in the midst of crisis, we want some big sign that God is listening. We want something obvious, something loud.
In the movie “Bruce Almighty,” the main character, Bruce, is having a terrible week. He’s late to work, his car is vandalized, he loses a promotion and then his job. Angry at God, wondering if God is listening, Bruce screams, “You want me to talk to you?! Then talk back! Give me a signal!” He proceeds to drive past a street sign that says “Alert. Caution.” Oblivious, Bruce cries, “Please, send me a sign!” Bruce proceeds to drive past an entire truck full of road signs, with words such as “Stop” and “Yield” printed on them. Still oblivious, Bruce yells, “I need a miracle, I’m desperate! Please reach into my life! Let me see a little wrath! Smite me, O mighty smiter!” ...Bruce then runs smack dab into a light pole. He literally had to be smacked in the face in order to feel listened to by God, and even then it took some serious convincing before he believed it was God who was speaking.
This morning’s scripture from the first book of Kings sets us up for such a scenario. We don’t expect subtlety from God here. In the passages before today’s reading, Elijah calls on God to show Godself with fire, and God does so. -- Not subtle. -- So, when Elijah is told to wait on Mount Horeb because the Lord is about to pass by, we expect that the Lord will make the Lord’s presence known in a big way. Indeed, along comes a big wind! God must be in the wind! ...But God is not in the wind. Then a tremendous earthquake! That must be God! But it is not. Finally, a roaring fire! But that isn’t God either. God isn’t in any of the not-so-subtle “signs” here. Instead, God is in the “sheer silence,” sometimes translated as the “still small voice.”
One doesn’t really have to pay attention if God shows up in a violent storm, a raging fire, or an earthquake. The loudest bus ride or the most engrossing video game, or the most important cell phone call would be forgotten if God made Godself known in such a dramatic way. Sometimes God does. In the book of Exodus, that’s how Moses experienced God on Mount Sinai: fire, smoke, earthquake, and noise. (Exodus 19:18-19) Sometimes it seems that God smack us upside the head with a 2x4 to get us to listen. But at other times God is more subtle. God shows Godself as “sheer silence,” the “still small voice.”
We need to be ready for those times. We need to find that silence. We need to allow ourselves that silence. We need to turn off our phones, our televisions, our Ipods, our motor-mouths, our non-stop doing, get out of the city if necessary, and just sit with God. We need to find a quiet place, silence even our minds, and seek God in the silence. It is a wonder that we can get any praying done at all, considering the lives we live.
What will we see, what will we hear, when we wait for that still small voice? The following story is told about Mother Teresa: She was once asked by an interviewer what she said to God when she prayed, and she answered: “I don’t say anything. I just listen.” When the interviewer asked what she heard God say, Mother Teresa replied: “He doesn’t say anything. He just listens. And if you can’t understand that, I can’t explain it to you.”
Listening for God’s voice, paying attention, does not guarantee that we will hear anything. It does not mean that God will suddenly begin chatting with us, telling us exactly what we think we need to hear, guiding us with wise words, comforting us in the same language used by our best friend. We are told in the scripture that God came to Elijah in sheer silence, but then God is quoted as talking to Elijah, asking him what he’s doing, telling him what to do. We are not told, however, that the sheer silence, the still small voice, suddenly became audible. There is nothing to indicate that the silence of God’s presence changed. We are told only that Elijah saw and heard God. Perhaps, then Elijah just knew God was asking him what he was doing, and in his heart Elijah knew what he must do now.
This makes it sound easy. Wait for God, God will come to you silently, God won’t necessarily speak to you but you will know what to do. After all, this is what happened to the Prophet Elijah in the First book of Kings, chapter 19! Of course, we know that it is not always that easy. Even if we are able to turn everything off, find the silence, and listen for God’s voice while keeping our own mouths shut, we might not hear anything. We might not even really experience God being there or guiding us without words. We might feel that our efforts are worthless or wasted. But here’s the thing. If you are living a life of faith, chances are God is speaking to you. If you are striving to be more like God’s Son, Jesus Christ, chances are God is speaking to you. If you are caring for others and reading the word of God, chances are God is speaking to you. You might not hear God’s voice. You might not discern words. You might not even sense that God is guiding you. But you are being guided nonetheless. As long as you are even attempting to find that sheer silence, chances are God is guiding you in some way.
If your life is a constant stream of noise, then find a way to turn it off. Find time to meditate, to pray without words, to just listen. And once you have done this, once you have found the ability to concentrate solely on God, then let go. Know that God is there is the silence and don’t worry if you cannot hear God shouting at you. In the silence, God will find you whether you think you have found God or not.
Now let us pray.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Sermon 08/03/08 (Matthew 14:13-21)
“A Miracle of Sharing”
Matthew 14:13-21
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 3 August, 2008
Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
 Somebody is always hungry somewhere. For years we would see the distended bellies and sunken eyes of Ethiopian children all over the news. Now Ethiopia is back on the famine list. In 2005 there was a great deal of coverage on the famine in Niger. Haiti, which has suffered from extreme poverty for decades, is unable to feed its children. When the cyclone hit Myanmar, and the earthquake hit China, food aid was a long time coming and hunger was the result. In our own country, the recession is forcing more people to decide between shelter and food.
Periodically news outlets will broadcast stories on hunger. For a few days or even a few months there will be a great deal of coverage on one hunger crisis or another. This past spring, when it became clear that America was heading toward a recession, I saw several stories on American food banks and the fact that their supplies were being depleted. A few months ago I saw a couple of articles and maybe a TV program on the return of famine to Ethiopia. I’ve seen a few things about how rising food prices and drought in several places are increasing the hunger problem.
When these stories pop up, we see the pictures, read the articles, pray for a while, vow to give more and waste less. ...Then the news goes back to its usual variety of stories on politics, the war, the economy (i.e., the fact that fewer people are buying SUVs and the house market isn’t great). Meanwhile, people go on starving to death. In 2005 it was estimated that one in four children in Niger died before the age of five. I don’t know if statistics there have improved (Niger hasn’t been in the news a whole lot lately), but there are other places in the world with at least that atrocious a mortality rate.
...So many people starving in a world that produces more than enough food for everyone...
“Taking the five loaves and the two fish, [Jesus] looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full.”
This morning’s miracle story from the Gospel of Matthew seems like an answer to the prayers of our hungry world. If only Jesus could arrive at the food lines in Ethiopia and multiply the scant supplies, creating enough for everyone! If only Jesus could show up in India and feed the deathly poor there! If only Jesus could go to the school lunch lines in the United States and make enough to provide three square meals for hungry school children! ...All he would need would be a few pieces of whatever food was available, and everyone would be comfortably fed! In the miracle of Christ’s grace the dying children of Niger, who otherwise will almost surely die even if food does arrive soon, would be restored to healthy life. The struggling schoolchildren would regain concentration and go on to get good educations and escape the cycle of poverty. Life would be restored to a wounded world! ...If only Jesus were here.
Granted, in his telling of the feeding of the five thousand, the author of Matthew never indicates that the crowds were dying of starvation. Still, we are told in Matthew’s version that Jesus had just been among the people curing their sick, and from what we know of Jesus’ ministry and the culture in which he lived, the people in the crowd were most likely living at some level of poverty. Their bellies may not have been swollen from acute starvation, and they may not have been near death, but they were likely hungry. So, Jesus had compassion on them and shared a meal with them. Why can’t he be here to have compassion on us? To reach out to the billions of hungry people of the modern day?!
It does seem, at times, that humankind was, in some ways, better off during “biblical times.” When we are facing family illness, we wish that Jesus were here to make our loved one live. When we are watching people starve across the world and in our own communities, we wish Jesus was here to feed the five million. However, I wonder if these longings are really an appropriate answer to the suffering of our world. Are our gospels really about quick fixes by a miraculous Jesus Christ? The miracles of Jesus are part of the story, yes. But I believe the good news of our gospels moves beyond the quick fix of a Jesus who can simply “zap” things better.
I have already noted that there is more than enough food on this planet to feed everyone...yet people remain hungry. Why is that? Is it because Jesus is not here to multiply a few loaves and fishes...or is it because we have not learned to share what we have?! Is the miracle of this morning’s gospel that Jesus said “Abra cadabra!” and suddenly multitudes of food appeared... or is the miracle that the people shared with one another?
When I see newscasts of famines in far off lands, or even starvation in my own city, I feel helpless. I wonder how I can help. I send in my donations to church organizations and I write letters to politicians begging for them to do something, and I donate a few cans to the food pantry, but I feel like anything I do will be little more than a drop in the bucket. Yet, here I am, living in a two-story house with air conditioning and a solid roof over my head. I can have three meals a day -- or more -- if I want them. I don’t have a lot of money (at least not in American capitalist terms), but I can basically afford my health care, my rent, food, and even the books I devour. I am alive. I say that I give what I can, but I could always give more. I live well, while others starve. I even sometimes waste food, while others starve. I live the American life.
So, what would happen if I, and everyone else who is surviving well, began to share what we had? What would happen if corporations and restaurants stopped wasteful practices; what would happen if nations began truly giving what they had, erasing debts, feeding the five thousand...or five million...or five billion...before worrying about their own profits? We would have a miracle greater than Jesus feeding a few thousand people in a crowd. We would have a holy miracle, a miracle of humanity. We would have loved one another as Jesus taught us so many times to do.
I doubt that one sermon will get you -- or me -- to suddenly give up the life that you live. I realize that we are in a recession. I realize that gas is expensive and milk is expensive, and prices are going up as income is going down. You might not be living quite as well as you were last year. It is possible that you really can’t give any more than you are already giving. You may, indeed, be receiving aid rather than giving it right now. But think long and hard about where your finances actually are. Many of us are living better than we are willing to admit. If you possibly, possibly can, I implore you to donate a few more cans to the food pantry. Give a few extra dollars in your morning offering (a portion of your offerings goes to the wider UCC, which works on hunger relief, among other things). Reach out to your fellow human beings, not just because you want to get rid of some old food or heavy change, but because you love humanity as Christ loves us. Give of yourself, lovingly, prayerfully. This is communion. Now let us pray.
Matthew 14:13-21
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 3 August, 2008
Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
 Somebody is always hungry somewhere. For years we would see the distended bellies and sunken eyes of Ethiopian children all over the news. Now Ethiopia is back on the famine list. In 2005 there was a great deal of coverage on the famine in Niger. Haiti, which has suffered from extreme poverty for decades, is unable to feed its children. When the cyclone hit Myanmar, and the earthquake hit China, food aid was a long time coming and hunger was the result. In our own country, the recession is forcing more people to decide between shelter and food.
Periodically news outlets will broadcast stories on hunger. For a few days or even a few months there will be a great deal of coverage on one hunger crisis or another. This past spring, when it became clear that America was heading toward a recession, I saw several stories on American food banks and the fact that their supplies were being depleted. A few months ago I saw a couple of articles and maybe a TV program on the return of famine to Ethiopia. I’ve seen a few things about how rising food prices and drought in several places are increasing the hunger problem.
When these stories pop up, we see the pictures, read the articles, pray for a while, vow to give more and waste less. ...Then the news goes back to its usual variety of stories on politics, the war, the economy (i.e., the fact that fewer people are buying SUVs and the house market isn’t great). Meanwhile, people go on starving to death. In 2005 it was estimated that one in four children in Niger died before the age of five. I don’t know if statistics there have improved (Niger hasn’t been in the news a whole lot lately), but there are other places in the world with at least that atrocious a mortality rate.
...So many people starving in a world that produces more than enough food for everyone...
“Taking the five loaves and the two fish, [Jesus] looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full.”
This morning’s miracle story from the Gospel of Matthew seems like an answer to the prayers of our hungry world. If only Jesus could arrive at the food lines in Ethiopia and multiply the scant supplies, creating enough for everyone! If only Jesus could show up in India and feed the deathly poor there! If only Jesus could go to the school lunch lines in the United States and make enough to provide three square meals for hungry school children! ...All he would need would be a few pieces of whatever food was available, and everyone would be comfortably fed! In the miracle of Christ’s grace the dying children of Niger, who otherwise will almost surely die even if food does arrive soon, would be restored to healthy life. The struggling schoolchildren would regain concentration and go on to get good educations and escape the cycle of poverty. Life would be restored to a wounded world! ...If only Jesus were here.
Granted, in his telling of the feeding of the five thousand, the author of Matthew never indicates that the crowds were dying of starvation. Still, we are told in Matthew’s version that Jesus had just been among the people curing their sick, and from what we know of Jesus’ ministry and the culture in which he lived, the people in the crowd were most likely living at some level of poverty. Their bellies may not have been swollen from acute starvation, and they may not have been near death, but they were likely hungry. So, Jesus had compassion on them and shared a meal with them. Why can’t he be here to have compassion on us? To reach out to the billions of hungry people of the modern day?!
It does seem, at times, that humankind was, in some ways, better off during “biblical times.” When we are facing family illness, we wish that Jesus were here to make our loved one live. When we are watching people starve across the world and in our own communities, we wish Jesus was here to feed the five million. However, I wonder if these longings are really an appropriate answer to the suffering of our world. Are our gospels really about quick fixes by a miraculous Jesus Christ? The miracles of Jesus are part of the story, yes. But I believe the good news of our gospels moves beyond the quick fix of a Jesus who can simply “zap” things better.
I have already noted that there is more than enough food on this planet to feed everyone...yet people remain hungry. Why is that? Is it because Jesus is not here to multiply a few loaves and fishes...or is it because we have not learned to share what we have?! Is the miracle of this morning’s gospel that Jesus said “Abra cadabra!” and suddenly multitudes of food appeared... or is the miracle that the people shared with one another?
When I see newscasts of famines in far off lands, or even starvation in my own city, I feel helpless. I wonder how I can help. I send in my donations to church organizations and I write letters to politicians begging for them to do something, and I donate a few cans to the food pantry, but I feel like anything I do will be little more than a drop in the bucket. Yet, here I am, living in a two-story house with air conditioning and a solid roof over my head. I can have three meals a day -- or more -- if I want them. I don’t have a lot of money (at least not in American capitalist terms), but I can basically afford my health care, my rent, food, and even the books I devour. I am alive. I say that I give what I can, but I could always give more. I live well, while others starve. I even sometimes waste food, while others starve. I live the American life.
So, what would happen if I, and everyone else who is surviving well, began to share what we had? What would happen if corporations and restaurants stopped wasteful practices; what would happen if nations began truly giving what they had, erasing debts, feeding the five thousand...or five million...or five billion...before worrying about their own profits? We would have a miracle greater than Jesus feeding a few thousand people in a crowd. We would have a holy miracle, a miracle of humanity. We would have loved one another as Jesus taught us so many times to do.
I doubt that one sermon will get you -- or me -- to suddenly give up the life that you live. I realize that we are in a recession. I realize that gas is expensive and milk is expensive, and prices are going up as income is going down. You might not be living quite as well as you were last year. It is possible that you really can’t give any more than you are already giving. You may, indeed, be receiving aid rather than giving it right now. But think long and hard about where your finances actually are. Many of us are living better than we are willing to admit. If you possibly, possibly can, I implore you to donate a few more cans to the food pantry. Give a few extra dollars in your morning offering (a portion of your offerings goes to the wider UCC, which works on hunger relief, among other things). Reach out to your fellow human beings, not just because you want to get rid of some old food or heavy change, but because you love humanity as Christ loves us. Give of yourself, lovingly, prayerfully. This is communion. Now let us pray.
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