“Prayers Beautiful and Otherwise”
Romans 8:26-39
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 27 July, 2008
Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
 You know, I realized the other day that I have been a little too easy on you this past year and a half. So, here it is: Time for a pop quiz! How many of you know how to pray? I want a detailed description of the proper way to pray, a listing of the “perfect prayers” that you use on a daily basis...and you’d better be using all the right words! ...Or else!
...Alright, I’m teasing. Any minister who claims to know the “right” way to pray, and says that her or his parishioners do not, has an ego problem, in my opinion. So, no pop quiz today. That said, let’s talk about prayer.
There are numerous examples of “proper praying,” prayers we have come to admire, and even books on “how to pray correctly.” Of course, we start with scripture: prayers we find in the Psalms and the words we have come to know as the Lord’s Prayer. We have the mystics and theologians of history, such as Teresa of Avila, St. Augustine, and Reinhold Niebuhr. Niebuhr’s famous “Serenity Prayer” (“God, give us grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed, courage to change the things that should be changed,” etc.) has become world-famous.
Then there are the books. I have a book of women’s prayers. I have a book called _Earth Prayers_1, another book called _Prayers for Healing_2, and a number of other books that contain beautifully-worded prayers from the Christian tradition and other faiths. When one enters the religion section of any bookstore, one comes across many books on prayer: how to do it, what to say, why we pray, etc. There’s even a book called _Christian Prayer for Dummies_3!
The prayers of our religious ancestors, some of our modern-day religious leaders, the beautiful words of our scriptures, and the plethora of books and articles that tell us the “right” way to pray (and sometimes what will happen if we don’t pray the “right” way) all add up to a rather daunting deterrent to prayer. “I don’t know how to pray!” we fear. “I can’t think of any pretty words to say to God, so God won’t bother to listen to my prayers. I’d better start just repeating all those pretty prayers I’ve heard...or maybe I shouldn’t bother praying at all. What’s the use? I’m never going to get it right!”
Those of you who maintain active prayer lives might scoff at what I have just said. But these fears are real -- among children, among people new to faith, and perhaps especially among those who are in the middle of a life crisis, who feel their once-deep faith is being shaken by the world that appears to be crumbling down around them.
In preparation for this Sunday, I read an article by a woman who is currently a UCC pastor. She spoke about her Catholic childhood, how she longed to be spiritual and prayed every night, but nothing ever seemed to happen. It seemed to her that God never responded, so she figured she was just praying wrong.4
Sometimes it does seem that way. In the midst of crisis, after bad news or personal struggle, we have difficulty hearing the voice of God. Sometimes we blame that on the ineffectiveness of our prayers. But, as we learn from this morning’s lesson from Romans, God is there.
"The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit..."
In other words, God hears our prayers even when we cannot speak them. The Spirit embraces us, even when we are too weak to embrace the Spirit.
I find these to be some of the most comforting words of scripture. They remind me that, while prayer life is important, and while there certainly are beautiful examples of word-filled prayers, the words of prayer that we speak are less important than the response of God. That response will be present even when words fail us, even when we are so shaken that our prayers get no further than “Oh, God....”
These wordless prayers are the kind that the dying can utter when their minds are no longer coherent. These wordless prayers are the kind that our own shocked selves can utter when we are unable to form words in the midst of crisis. These wordless prayers are the kind that those in the latter stages of dementia can utter when they can no longer find words. They do not, perhaps, carry the poetic language of the mystics. They are not, perhaps, “the right way to pray,” according to some of the books. But the Spirit still intercedes, knowing our prayers before we know them ourselves.
How does this “Spirit intercede” for us? Like that Catholic-child-turned-UCC-minister wrote in the article I read, when we pray we often wait for something tangible to happen.5 Sometimes our prayers are as frivolous as wanting our favorite sports team to win -- in which case we long for God to intercede by helping our team to win! As children (maybe even as adults) we pray that we won’t have to eat brussels sprouts for dinner again! ...So, we expect that we will have a sumptuous meal of all our favorite foods placed before us, in response to our plaintive prayer to God. But (hopefully) more often, our prayers are made out of a deep need for the presence of God. “Gracious God, please help my loved one to get well again.” “Dear God, please be with my friend as she travels. Bring her safely home.” “O God, bring peace to our torn world. Let the war be over.” “Loving God, please let me be able to find food and shelter this week.”
Whether we are praying for the Orioles to win or an end to the war in Iraq, we know that God does not always respond the way we want God to. As we are well aware, the Orioles don’t always win (sigh), we still have to eat our vegetables... and our loved ones do not always get well. Our friends do not always make it safely home. The economy is getting worse. The war isn’t over yet.
If God hears our prayers even when we do not speak them, then how is God responding?! There are those who will say that God has some deeper purpose in not making those we love well again, in making us eat our vegetables, in improving the economy this second, in “causing” the real tragedies that break our hearts. I have difficulty believing that. But what I do believe is that the key to the Spirit’s intercessions for us, in response to our unspoken prayers, lies in the last words of this morning’s scripture passage:
"For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Our God does not always respond tangibly to our prayers. Our God does not always respond with the cure for cancer, the end to violence, a Willy-Wonka-magical way of getting vitamins without “leafy greens” -- as much as God might want those things too. But God responds by never leaving us, by ever embracing us, by loving us like no other.
When we are alone, we know that love is the most important thing there is. Knowing that God will not leave us when we are in the midst of our loneliest moments, when we are having “bad thoughts,” when we are shaking with illness or pain. Knowing that God is present with the alcoholic homeless man just as God is there with the alcoholic executive. Knowing that God is present with the ailing family man, just as God is there with the healthy woman who has no family. God intercedes for us, God responds to us, by embracing us with the most important healing implement we know: the kind of love that will not fail no matter who we are no matter what we do, no matter where we are in life, no matter how we pray. Nothing can separate us from that love, from the Spirit’s presence.
Now, let us pray, however we are led to do so.
--
1. Elizabeth Roberts and Elias Amidon, ed., _Earth Prayers From Around the World: 365 Prayers, Poems, and Invocations for Honoring the Earth_ (New York: Harper Collins, 1991).
2. Maggie Oman, ed., _Prayers for Healing: 365 Blessings, Poems, and Meditations from Around the World_ (Berkeley: Conari Press, 1997).
3. Richard Wagner, _Christian Prayer for Dummies_ (Indianapolis: Wiley Publishing, 2003).
4. Rachel M. Srubas, “Pray As You Can,” Christian Century, July 12, 2005: 19.
5. Ibid.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Sermon 07/13/08 (Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23)
“Choosing Your Soil”
Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 13 July, 2008
Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
 As you know, I am a proud North Dakotan. I grew up in the city, but I would spend summers playing on my ancestral farm near Enderlin, about an hour’s drive from Fargo. My grandmother grew up there, my father spent summers playing on The Farm as a child, and now the farmhouse is occupied by cousins. I feel a closeness to that place, in the spirits of relatives I have never met and in the swaying prairie grasses and sky as far as the eye can see. It is a sanctuary more beautiful than any created by an earthly architect, a cathedral without walls.
My experience of the prairie and my agricultural roots have deeply influenced the way I read this morning’s scripture about the sowing of seeds. While I realize that first century farming in the Middle East was a tad different than twentieth century farming in North Dakota, the agricultural thread that connects my Biblical ancestors with my familial ancestors runs deep.
During a family reunion on The Farm several years ago, we held a church service on that farmhouse deck. I preached beneath the rustling trees, and my cousins sang a duet from Godspell that is based on the scripture we heard this morning. When they sang, “We plow the seeds and scatter the good seed on the soil,” I cried, thinking both of the lesson from Matthew that we have just heard, and of my ancestors “plowing the seeds and scattering the good seed” on the North Dakota soil that surrounded us. I felt that connection to the soil that was an important part of Jesus’ lessons and that was daily life for those who came before me.
But what can we get from all this talk of seeds and soil, aside from this heartwarming sense of connection to God’s Creation and the hard work of our farming ancestors (if we have them)? What can we get from Jesus’ words, aside from a sense that farming must be awfully hard and often discouraging work, if so many of the seeds just wither and die? While the agricultural life was important to Jesus, who lived in an agricultural society, most of us realize that this scripture is not just about the hopes and frustrations of farming. But what is Jesus talking about, if not just seeds and soil?
This morning’s parable is often understood as an allegory. An allegory is, according to Webster’s Dictionary, “a literary (or other) device in which one thing is used to symbolically illustrate an idea or principle.”1 In the case of this parable, the seeds are said to represent people of varying degrees of faith. The “seeds that fell on the path” are those without faith. Those which “fell on rocky ground” are said to be people whose faith is fickle, and who turn from their faith the moment things get rough. Their faith “has no roots,” as it were. The seeds that fell among thorns are said to be those who fall to sin, or who are brought away from their faith by temptations. And, of course, the “seeds that fell on good soil and brought forth grain” are said to be those whose faith is strong and fruitful. I have heard different versions of the allegory, but they always have something to do with the seeds of the parable representing people or situations that lead to varying degrees of faith.
Yes, the scripture itself “explains” the parable as just such an allegory. However, most modern scholars believe that these words of explanation were not spoken by Jesus himself but were added later by the author of Matthew. Maybe, just maybe, Matthew’s explanation is what Jesus had in mind. However, I don’t think so.
There are several reasons why the traditional allegorical interpretation bothers me. First of all, as one scholar puts it, “this allegorical interpretation is dissatisfying, because it suggests that those who are sown in the good soil are simply lucky; they produce fruit because they have not had to struggle with the temptations of this world or face tribulation and persecution.”2 Grace is sort of left out of the picture, and faith becomes something flimsy and prone to the whim of the wind. Those who “fall on rocky ground” but are able to dig deep roots of faith are not considered, nor are the ones who escaped the thorns of temptation -- or whatever thorns were choking them. The strength of humankind -- and God -- to pry and to pray our way out of those “agricultural difficulties” life tosses us are not visible in the allegorical understanding of this parable. But if this is not what the story means, what is Jesus’ point?
The job of the preacher is not to get into Jesus’ head, and I can’t even pretend to do that. I can only tell you the Word of God that I see in the words of Jesus, the interpretation that I see amidst the puzzle of the scripture. And in this scripture I find much aside from the time-honored interpretation.
What if the seeds and/or the different soils are different times in the lives of each one of us? Few, if any of us have always “fallen among good soil” and lived the easy life (or constantly faithful life) at every moment. Just so, few, if any of us, have faced rocks or thorns at every moment -- even if we sometimes believe that our lives consist of nothing but hardship.
I know from my own experience that my faith can falter when I am in the midst of that rocky soil, or the thorns of life. “Where is God?” I wonder. “Is God even there?” Most of us, if we admit it, have had periods of doubt amidst those rocks and thorns. Many of us have felt the thorns of temptation -- and not always resisted them. As human beings, we are not perfect. We fall along the path, we choke among the thorns, we are buried under the rocks sometimes. But this does not mean that we’re dead and done for. It is by the grace of God that we emerge from those times and are once again planted on that good soil.
I return to The Farm of my ancestors. As my cousin Emmy opened our worship service on that summer day, she spoke of how my great-grandfather would begin every day in the fields with prayer. He would stand amidst the waist high wheat and turn his heart toward God. Although my great-grandfather was a man of great faith, he, too, had times of rocks and thorns. Farming, itself, is difficult, and while his farming methods were different, and one might say, more advanced than those of Jesus’ time, he faced the same difficulties of the parable on the fields that he cultivated. His life outside farming was not easy either, and there were times when he faced depression, hardship. But by the grace of God he emerged from those times. He was the sower, but so, too, was he the seed, and in his 90-odd years he faced birds, thorns, rocks... and fruitful soil.
Perhaps this morning’s scripture is about each one of us -- not so much about the discouragement of the thorns and rocks, but about the grace of God that gets us through those times. So now, as my great-grandfather did no matter what his crops were yielding or no matter where his faith was, let us pray.
--
1. “Allegory,” Webster’s II New College Dictionary, 2001 ed.
2. Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew (Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching) (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993) 153.
Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 13 July, 2008
Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
 As you know, I am a proud North Dakotan. I grew up in the city, but I would spend summers playing on my ancestral farm near Enderlin, about an hour’s drive from Fargo. My grandmother grew up there, my father spent summers playing on The Farm as a child, and now the farmhouse is occupied by cousins. I feel a closeness to that place, in the spirits of relatives I have never met and in the swaying prairie grasses and sky as far as the eye can see. It is a sanctuary more beautiful than any created by an earthly architect, a cathedral without walls.
My experience of the prairie and my agricultural roots have deeply influenced the way I read this morning’s scripture about the sowing of seeds. While I realize that first century farming in the Middle East was a tad different than twentieth century farming in North Dakota, the agricultural thread that connects my Biblical ancestors with my familial ancestors runs deep.
During a family reunion on The Farm several years ago, we held a church service on that farmhouse deck. I preached beneath the rustling trees, and my cousins sang a duet from Godspell that is based on the scripture we heard this morning. When they sang, “We plow the seeds and scatter the good seed on the soil,” I cried, thinking both of the lesson from Matthew that we have just heard, and of my ancestors “plowing the seeds and scattering the good seed” on the North Dakota soil that surrounded us. I felt that connection to the soil that was an important part of Jesus’ lessons and that was daily life for those who came before me.
But what can we get from all this talk of seeds and soil, aside from this heartwarming sense of connection to God’s Creation and the hard work of our farming ancestors (if we have them)? What can we get from Jesus’ words, aside from a sense that farming must be awfully hard and often discouraging work, if so many of the seeds just wither and die? While the agricultural life was important to Jesus, who lived in an agricultural society, most of us realize that this scripture is not just about the hopes and frustrations of farming. But what is Jesus talking about, if not just seeds and soil?
This morning’s parable is often understood as an allegory. An allegory is, according to Webster’s Dictionary, “a literary (or other) device in which one thing is used to symbolically illustrate an idea or principle.”1 In the case of this parable, the seeds are said to represent people of varying degrees of faith. The “seeds that fell on the path” are those without faith. Those which “fell on rocky ground” are said to be people whose faith is fickle, and who turn from their faith the moment things get rough. Their faith “has no roots,” as it were. The seeds that fell among thorns are said to be those who fall to sin, or who are brought away from their faith by temptations. And, of course, the “seeds that fell on good soil and brought forth grain” are said to be those whose faith is strong and fruitful. I have heard different versions of the allegory, but they always have something to do with the seeds of the parable representing people or situations that lead to varying degrees of faith.
Yes, the scripture itself “explains” the parable as just such an allegory. However, most modern scholars believe that these words of explanation were not spoken by Jesus himself but were added later by the author of Matthew. Maybe, just maybe, Matthew’s explanation is what Jesus had in mind. However, I don’t think so.
There are several reasons why the traditional allegorical interpretation bothers me. First of all, as one scholar puts it, “this allegorical interpretation is dissatisfying, because it suggests that those who are sown in the good soil are simply lucky; they produce fruit because they have not had to struggle with the temptations of this world or face tribulation and persecution.”2 Grace is sort of left out of the picture, and faith becomes something flimsy and prone to the whim of the wind. Those who “fall on rocky ground” but are able to dig deep roots of faith are not considered, nor are the ones who escaped the thorns of temptation -- or whatever thorns were choking them. The strength of humankind -- and God -- to pry and to pray our way out of those “agricultural difficulties” life tosses us are not visible in the allegorical understanding of this parable. But if this is not what the story means, what is Jesus’ point?
The job of the preacher is not to get into Jesus’ head, and I can’t even pretend to do that. I can only tell you the Word of God that I see in the words of Jesus, the interpretation that I see amidst the puzzle of the scripture. And in this scripture I find much aside from the time-honored interpretation.
What if the seeds and/or the different soils are different times in the lives of each one of us? Few, if any of us have always “fallen among good soil” and lived the easy life (or constantly faithful life) at every moment. Just so, few, if any of us, have faced rocks or thorns at every moment -- even if we sometimes believe that our lives consist of nothing but hardship.
I know from my own experience that my faith can falter when I am in the midst of that rocky soil, or the thorns of life. “Where is God?” I wonder. “Is God even there?” Most of us, if we admit it, have had periods of doubt amidst those rocks and thorns. Many of us have felt the thorns of temptation -- and not always resisted them. As human beings, we are not perfect. We fall along the path, we choke among the thorns, we are buried under the rocks sometimes. But this does not mean that we’re dead and done for. It is by the grace of God that we emerge from those times and are once again planted on that good soil.
I return to The Farm of my ancestors. As my cousin Emmy opened our worship service on that summer day, she spoke of how my great-grandfather would begin every day in the fields with prayer. He would stand amidst the waist high wheat and turn his heart toward God. Although my great-grandfather was a man of great faith, he, too, had times of rocks and thorns. Farming, itself, is difficult, and while his farming methods were different, and one might say, more advanced than those of Jesus’ time, he faced the same difficulties of the parable on the fields that he cultivated. His life outside farming was not easy either, and there were times when he faced depression, hardship. But by the grace of God he emerged from those times. He was the sower, but so, too, was he the seed, and in his 90-odd years he faced birds, thorns, rocks... and fruitful soil.
Perhaps this morning’s scripture is about each one of us -- not so much about the discouragement of the thorns and rocks, but about the grace of God that gets us through those times. So now, as my great-grandfather did no matter what his crops were yielding or no matter where his faith was, let us pray.
--
1. “Allegory,” Webster’s II New College Dictionary, 2001 ed.
2. Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew (Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching) (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993) 153.
Eulogy for Tawney Remmel --07/09/2008
Eulogy for Tawney Remmel, Jr.
Psalm 23
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Service at Rucks Funeral Home, Baltimore, MD
Wednesday, 9 July, 2008
----
 Tawney Remmel was not a person that you got to know real well. He was quiet and unassuming, and even as his health problems mounted, he did not complain. During worship at St. Mark’s, he used to sit at the back of the sanctuary and just smile. He usually left right after church without attending fellowship time, and he didn’t talk much on his way out the door. But before worship he would play the organ for us, a prelude of several hymns. I think this was his way of speaking, his way of being in communion with the congregation.
Mr. Remmel, as we knew him, once told me how he came to attend our little church, St. Mark’s United Church of Christ. He said he used to walk past the church on his trips through the neighborhood, and he promised himself that one day he would go in. About a year after he began walking past us, he attended worship for the first time, and he kept coming back. When his health began to deteriorate he came less and less often, and by the time of his death we had not seen him for many months. However, he was never far from our thoughts. We lifted him up in prayer every Sunday, and several members expressed sadness that we were no longer able to enjoy his organ playing.
Despite his quiet demeanor, Tawney touched the people around him. He had that little smile that somehow reached out and said, “You are a child of God.” He acted out that love when he would help those less fortunate than him. He would give the shirt off his back if he saw someone in need, and his health problems were less important to him than the wellbeing of others. Even when his body was falling apart he could lift other people up.
I believe Mr. Remmel’s tremendously giving nature stemmed from his deep faith in God. He had I don’t know how many Bibles and devotional books, and he read them all. He expressed his faith quietly, as he did everything, but little things he would say would indicate to me how strong his faith was.
Tawney continued to smile that gentle smile throughout his illnesses, and I always thought that projected great strength. But I think it also expressed his deep faith that his suffering would eventually give way to peaceful embrace in the arms of God. Now that time has come. Now he no longer has to deal with the dialysis, kidney problems, heart problems, and the long list of other illnesses that plagued him. Now, for perhaps the first time in many years, he is truly comfortable. He doesn’t have to smile despite physical discomfort. He can smile and express the true peace he has finally found.
Those of us who are left behind will miss him, and that’s natural. Even as God embraces Tawney, God also embraces his friends and loved ones as we grieve. God holds us close, even as God embraces Tawney in that final embrace. But God also lifts us up with the words of Scripture.
Mr. Remmel embodied the 23rd Psalm. The Lord was truly his shepherd. Even when he walked through the darkest valleys of his illness, he feared no evil; he was comforted by his faith in God. But now that table that God was preparing has been set with a bountiful feast (buttered popcorn and all), and Tawney can dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Let us find comfort in the words of the Psalm, let us find thanksgiving in our memories of Tawney, and let us pray.
Psalm 23
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Service at Rucks Funeral Home, Baltimore, MD
Wednesday, 9 July, 2008
----
 Tawney Remmel was not a person that you got to know real well. He was quiet and unassuming, and even as his health problems mounted, he did not complain. During worship at St. Mark’s, he used to sit at the back of the sanctuary and just smile. He usually left right after church without attending fellowship time, and he didn’t talk much on his way out the door. But before worship he would play the organ for us, a prelude of several hymns. I think this was his way of speaking, his way of being in communion with the congregation.
Mr. Remmel, as we knew him, once told me how he came to attend our little church, St. Mark’s United Church of Christ. He said he used to walk past the church on his trips through the neighborhood, and he promised himself that one day he would go in. About a year after he began walking past us, he attended worship for the first time, and he kept coming back. When his health began to deteriorate he came less and less often, and by the time of his death we had not seen him for many months. However, he was never far from our thoughts. We lifted him up in prayer every Sunday, and several members expressed sadness that we were no longer able to enjoy his organ playing.
Despite his quiet demeanor, Tawney touched the people around him. He had that little smile that somehow reached out and said, “You are a child of God.” He acted out that love when he would help those less fortunate than him. He would give the shirt off his back if he saw someone in need, and his health problems were less important to him than the wellbeing of others. Even when his body was falling apart he could lift other people up.
I believe Mr. Remmel’s tremendously giving nature stemmed from his deep faith in God. He had I don’t know how many Bibles and devotional books, and he read them all. He expressed his faith quietly, as he did everything, but little things he would say would indicate to me how strong his faith was.
Tawney continued to smile that gentle smile throughout his illnesses, and I always thought that projected great strength. But I think it also expressed his deep faith that his suffering would eventually give way to peaceful embrace in the arms of God. Now that time has come. Now he no longer has to deal with the dialysis, kidney problems, heart problems, and the long list of other illnesses that plagued him. Now, for perhaps the first time in many years, he is truly comfortable. He doesn’t have to smile despite physical discomfort. He can smile and express the true peace he has finally found.
Those of us who are left behind will miss him, and that’s natural. Even as God embraces Tawney, God also embraces his friends and loved ones as we grieve. God holds us close, even as God embraces Tawney in that final embrace. But God also lifts us up with the words of Scripture.
Mr. Remmel embodied the 23rd Psalm. The Lord was truly his shepherd. Even when he walked through the darkest valleys of his illness, he feared no evil; he was comforted by his faith in God. But now that table that God was preparing has been set with a bountiful feast (buttered popcorn and all), and Tawney can dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Let us find comfort in the words of the Psalm, let us find thanksgiving in our memories of Tawney, and let us pray.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Sermon 07/06/08 (Zechariah 9:9-12)
“He Commands Peace”
Zechariah 9:9-13
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 6 July, 2008
Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
 It is always difficult to preach around the Fourth of July during a time of war. When the war is as controversial as the War in Iraq, the task is especially troublesome. Something has to be said, because the war is on everyone’s minds, but our country is divided. I know that there are differing views about the war within this very congregation. That said, the task of the preacher is never to be pro-war. Preachers have certainly sung the praises of one earthly war or another (including the current one), and Christians waged their own war during the Crusades. But it is my strong belief that a preacher cannot, having read the scriptures, give praise for war. This does not mean that the preacher cannot pray for men and women serving in our armed forces. It does not mean that the preacher cannot have a “Support the troops” sticker on his or her car. It does not mean that the preacher cannot kiss her or his loved ones good-bye if they go off to war and lovingly greet them if, and when, they return. It does not mean that good ministers cannot serve as chaplains in the military. But I cannot understand how a preacher, having read our Holy Scriptures, can be pro-war. “You shall not kill.” “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house.” “Love your neighbor as yourself.” And, in the words from this morning’s Old Testament reading, “He shall command peace.”
Let me refresh your memory about the first reading we heard this morning::::: [scripture is reread]
We are familiar with this text because it is quoted in the Gospels of Matthew and John in describing Jesus’ triumphal entrance into Jerusalem on what we call Palm Sunday. However, the text originally referred to a regular (though great) earthly king, not the divine Prince of Peace who we now worship.
When taken in that original context, it is an interesting scripture to read during an election year. Hopes are always high during political campaigns that the candidate we support will make not only our country, but the entire world, a better place. There are, perhaps, even stronger hopes for the upcoming election than usual, considering the war, the economy, the environment, and all the other major crises that are on the minds of Americans right now.
It’s tempting to use the Prophet Zechariah’s words to say, “Our next president will do all of the wonderful things that the prophet tells us!” Partisan politics do not belong in the pulpit, but if world leaders are either Christian or Jewish I hope that they will read the words of Zechariah and take them to heart. Muslims, too, revere the words of the prophets that we know, so these words apply to them too. ...What would happen if political leaders throughout the world were to command peace to their people? Is it naive to hope that presidents and prime ministers will someday sit down and actually read the words that they say they consider scripture?! I fervently oppose having a Bible-thumping president in the White House. It is never the president’s role to tell other people what to believe. But that does not mean that I do not expect our elected leaders to draw on their faith when leading their country.
Since that does not seem to be happening, let us ourselves, as humble Christians look at the words of Zechariah. We live in a democracy. We have the right and the responsibility to vote for the people who we believe will make the best decisions.
As I was looking for commentary on this text, I stumbled across an essay on the Internet in which the author, as I am doing, spoke about Zechariah’s words in the context of the American 4th of July. Theologian Daniel Clendenin speaks about how strange the images of Zechariah would have been to the original listeners.1 A king comes, riding on a donkey?! As another scholar pointed out, the expected mode of transportation would have been a war horse. Yet here, the king comes in peace, “humble and riding on a donkey.” He is clearly a powerful ruler and yet he destroys the military armaments along his path. Strange images indeed.
Scholars aren’t sure the exact time period depicted in chapter nine of Zechariah, but it may have been during the time of Alexander the Great, when the Greeks were marching down the Syrian-Palestinian coast around 330 B.C.E.2 As our own Alexander knows from her studies, this was not a particularly peaceful time. The people of this place and time were very familiar with war. So the prophet’s description of this peaceful ruler would have been unusual.
Clendenin speaks of the disconnects contained in such a message, when one is speaking to a war-torn world. The notion of peace is great, sure, but what about us? Isn’t our national survival at stake? Shouldn’t we wait to talk about peace until the war is over? (Um...does that make any sense? No, of course not, but it is a commonly held view now and it may have been then too.)
Not only do we have the issue of a peaceful, humble earthly ruler. There is the issue of an all-embracing God too. As one author puts it, “[Is] the God of a defeated nation a false God?”3 Too often, citizens of a country claim God as their own property. God is here for us. God is here for our protection. God wants us to win. God bless America. The rest of the world doesn’t matter.
In 2005, French intellectual Benard-Henri Lévy traveled extensively throughout the United States and reported his findings to the Atlantic Monthly. Upon visiting the Willow Creek megachurch near Chicago, he reported his impressions: “a God without mystery; a good-guy God; almost a human being, a good American.”4 Both Daniel Clendendin and I worry that Lévy may be right. We have appropriated God as our own. But the Bible does not mention our country or the American people anywhere. As Zechariah proclaims it, and as Psalm 145 tells us, “The Lord is good to all.”
The world portrayed by Zechariah is different from the world in which we live, and Zechariah knows it. It is a world for which the Israelites could, and we can, hope. It is a world in which God does not belong to one nation, and it is a world in which political leaders are humble and command peace. It is a world in which peace itself is considered victorious. This is clearly not the world in which we live, and I would venture that it is not the nation we celebrate on the 4th of July. But it is a world for which we can hope and toward which we can reach.
God bless America, yes. But God bless the whole world. No exceptions.
Now let us pray.
--
1. Clendenin, David, “A King on a Colt? Zechariah’s peace poetry,” http://www.journeywithjesus.net/Essays/20080630JJ.shtml, accessed on 07/05/08
2. Fred B. Craddock, John H. Hayes, Carl R. Holladay, and Gene M. Tucker, _Preaching Through the Christian Year: Year A_ (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 1992), 351.
3. “Praise to God’s Chosen,” by Larry Broding http://www.word-sunday.com/Files/A/14-a/FR-14-a.html, accessed on 07/05/08.
4. Clendenin
Zechariah 9:9-13
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 6 July, 2008
Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
 It is always difficult to preach around the Fourth of July during a time of war. When the war is as controversial as the War in Iraq, the task is especially troublesome. Something has to be said, because the war is on everyone’s minds, but our country is divided. I know that there are differing views about the war within this very congregation. That said, the task of the preacher is never to be pro-war. Preachers have certainly sung the praises of one earthly war or another (including the current one), and Christians waged their own war during the Crusades. But it is my strong belief that a preacher cannot, having read the scriptures, give praise for war. This does not mean that the preacher cannot pray for men and women serving in our armed forces. It does not mean that the preacher cannot have a “Support the troops” sticker on his or her car. It does not mean that the preacher cannot kiss her or his loved ones good-bye if they go off to war and lovingly greet them if, and when, they return. It does not mean that good ministers cannot serve as chaplains in the military. But I cannot understand how a preacher, having read our Holy Scriptures, can be pro-war. “You shall not kill.” “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house.” “Love your neighbor as yourself.” And, in the words from this morning’s Old Testament reading, “He shall command peace.”
Let me refresh your memory about the first reading we heard this morning::::: [scripture is reread]
We are familiar with this text because it is quoted in the Gospels of Matthew and John in describing Jesus’ triumphal entrance into Jerusalem on what we call Palm Sunday. However, the text originally referred to a regular (though great) earthly king, not the divine Prince of Peace who we now worship.
When taken in that original context, it is an interesting scripture to read during an election year. Hopes are always high during political campaigns that the candidate we support will make not only our country, but the entire world, a better place. There are, perhaps, even stronger hopes for the upcoming election than usual, considering the war, the economy, the environment, and all the other major crises that are on the minds of Americans right now.
It’s tempting to use the Prophet Zechariah’s words to say, “Our next president will do all of the wonderful things that the prophet tells us!” Partisan politics do not belong in the pulpit, but if world leaders are either Christian or Jewish I hope that they will read the words of Zechariah and take them to heart. Muslims, too, revere the words of the prophets that we know, so these words apply to them too. ...What would happen if political leaders throughout the world were to command peace to their people? Is it naive to hope that presidents and prime ministers will someday sit down and actually read the words that they say they consider scripture?! I fervently oppose having a Bible-thumping president in the White House. It is never the president’s role to tell other people what to believe. But that does not mean that I do not expect our elected leaders to draw on their faith when leading their country.
Since that does not seem to be happening, let us ourselves, as humble Christians look at the words of Zechariah. We live in a democracy. We have the right and the responsibility to vote for the people who we believe will make the best decisions.
As I was looking for commentary on this text, I stumbled across an essay on the Internet in which the author, as I am doing, spoke about Zechariah’s words in the context of the American 4th of July. Theologian Daniel Clendenin speaks about how strange the images of Zechariah would have been to the original listeners.1 A king comes, riding on a donkey?! As another scholar pointed out, the expected mode of transportation would have been a war horse. Yet here, the king comes in peace, “humble and riding on a donkey.” He is clearly a powerful ruler and yet he destroys the military armaments along his path. Strange images indeed.
Scholars aren’t sure the exact time period depicted in chapter nine of Zechariah, but it may have been during the time of Alexander the Great, when the Greeks were marching down the Syrian-Palestinian coast around 330 B.C.E.2 As our own Alexander knows from her studies, this was not a particularly peaceful time. The people of this place and time were very familiar with war. So the prophet’s description of this peaceful ruler would have been unusual.
Clendenin speaks of the disconnects contained in such a message, when one is speaking to a war-torn world. The notion of peace is great, sure, but what about us? Isn’t our national survival at stake? Shouldn’t we wait to talk about peace until the war is over? (Um...does that make any sense? No, of course not, but it is a commonly held view now and it may have been then too.)
Not only do we have the issue of a peaceful, humble earthly ruler. There is the issue of an all-embracing God too. As one author puts it, “[Is] the God of a defeated nation a false God?”3 Too often, citizens of a country claim God as their own property. God is here for us. God is here for our protection. God wants us to win. God bless America. The rest of the world doesn’t matter.
In 2005, French intellectual Benard-Henri Lévy traveled extensively throughout the United States and reported his findings to the Atlantic Monthly. Upon visiting the Willow Creek megachurch near Chicago, he reported his impressions: “a God without mystery; a good-guy God; almost a human being, a good American.”4 Both Daniel Clendendin and I worry that Lévy may be right. We have appropriated God as our own. But the Bible does not mention our country or the American people anywhere. As Zechariah proclaims it, and as Psalm 145 tells us, “The Lord is good to all.”
The world portrayed by Zechariah is different from the world in which we live, and Zechariah knows it. It is a world for which the Israelites could, and we can, hope. It is a world in which God does not belong to one nation, and it is a world in which political leaders are humble and command peace. It is a world in which peace itself is considered victorious. This is clearly not the world in which we live, and I would venture that it is not the nation we celebrate on the 4th of July. But it is a world for which we can hope and toward which we can reach.
God bless America, yes. But God bless the whole world. No exceptions.
Now let us pray.
--
1. Clendenin, David, “A King on a Colt? Zechariah’s peace poetry,” http://www.journeywithjesus.net/Essays/20080630JJ.shtml, accessed on 07/05/08
2. Fred B. Craddock, John H. Hayes, Carl R. Holladay, and Gene M. Tucker, _Preaching Through the Christian Year: Year A_ (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 1992), 351.
3. “Praise to God’s Chosen,” by Larry Broding http://www.word-sunday.com/Files/A/14-a/FR-14-a.html, accessed on 07/05/08.
4. Clendenin
Sermon 06/29/08 (Matthew 14:22-33)
“Baptized in Faith”
Matthew 14:22-33
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 29 June, 2008
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
 Two clergy who had been in the town many years decided to welcome a new colleague, Rev. Oscar, by taking him out fishing one morning. Out in the boat, Rev. George reeled out his line, which immediately caught on a log. Without batting an eyelash, George walked out across the water, unhooked his snagged line, and walked back across the water to the boat.
A few moments later, Rev. Andrea threw out her line, and it caught on an old boot just below the water. Immediately, she stood up, walked across the water, and unhooked her line.
Rev. Oscar tossed out a line, and it too got caught. He had been astonished by the faith of his colleagues, and decided to demonstrate his own faith as well. He got out of the boat and immediately sank in over his head.
As the Revs. Andrea and George hauled the sputtering Oscar into the boat, Andrea whispered to George, “Maybe we should have told him where the rocks are.”
...All joking aside, picture the scene of this morning’s gospel story: In the midst of a stormy sea, the disciples see a figure walking across the water toward them. “Is it a ghost?” they wonder in fear. No, it is their beloved Jesus -- and as far as we can tell from the story, he is not walking on rocks beneath the water but is walking on the surface of the water itself. He calls to Peter, and by faith Peter begins to walk toward him on the water...until his trust falters, and he sinks.
The story of Jesus and Peter walking upon the water is striking. We see, as his disciples would have, that Jesus is something truly special. Depending on how you look at it, the story either demonstrates that Jesus has great powers of his own, or it shows his own tremendous trust in God his Parent, to save him from the waves. As we would expect, the very human Peter does not have faith as strong as that of his teacher, Jesus. He starts out alright, walking across the water at Jesus’ beckoning. But when he sees what he perceives to be the danger of the water all around him, his heart sinks...and so does he. It is too difficult for even Jesus’ disciple to trust him when the seas become too stormy.
So it is with us. Most of us, I hope, are willing to admit that we are not Jesus and that we do not have faith so strong that it would exceed Peter’s. Even the strongest of faith -- even Christ’s first disciples -- have moments of faltering, moments of doubt. When the storms of life began to slam us, we begin to shrink in our fear, and we lose the ability to trust ourselves, our loved ones, and the Christ who lifts us up. These fears are legitimate. They are part of our human nature, and we know that things will not always turn out the way we want. Sometimes we will sink. Sometimes we will lose our loved ones, or our jobs, or our own health and well-being. Those of strongest faith still endure the storms and the hardships of life -- they still have tragedy, they still have pain, they still have fear. But notice what happens at the end of today’s gospel:
When we read this story, we tend to focus either on the miraculousness of Jesus walking on the water, or on Peter’s perceived lack of faith. But at the end of the story, what happens? Peter cries out to Jesus, and he is rescued from the horror of being alone and sinking in a stormy sea! As Biblical scholar Douglas Hare puts it, “In the depth of the crisis, when all seems lost, [he remembers] to call on the Savior and finds his grace sufficient for [his] needs.”1 Even after Peter’s moment of doubt, when he cries out Jesus reaches out to him and lifts him up.
Now, we know from our own experiences that we, too, sometimes lose faith, and even when we cry out for Christ to save us, our lives do not always become easy. We are not always saved from the storms themselves. But when we remember that Christ is present with us in the storm, we are saved from the worst aspect of our troubles: being alone. We might still suffer, we might still grieve, but we will not do so alone when we remember to call on Christ’s name in the midst of the crisis. We will be lifted up by one whose strength and presence is boundless.
I hope that you will allow me to use the example of one who is among us this morning. In a few moments, we will celebrate the baptism of the newest addition to our church family, Gabriela. At two months old, Gabriela has endured the trauma of birth, and she endures the daily “traumas” of hunger, discomfort, and the need to be held. As is the case with every healthy baby, her life essentially revolves around a daily routine of “eating, sleeping, and pooping.” She has not yet become aware of the dramas of life in the way that we “old folks” know them. She is, we imagine, blissfully unaware of the kinds of pains we endure. She lives in total trust of her mother and other family members, who comprise almost the entirety of her world. She has not, we imagine, learned to notice the storm -- unless it is her growling stomach or dirty diaper. She has not learned to doubt that her family will answer to her every need and will save her from whatever storms come her way.
But we know that she will learn these things. In time, like the rest of us, she will face stormy seas. She will face struggle. Even if, as we pray, she lives a good and healthy life, she will face times of difficulty and trouble. So, what good will faith do her? Why trust in God?
We welcome Gabriela into the church today and promise to raise her in faith, because it is our hope that when she faces those storms she will know that she is not alone. She will know that there is One to whom she can cry out, and who will be present with her in the midst of it all. We pray that she will never lose her ability to trust in the One in whose name we bless her today.
We hope that in the inevitable moments of her doubt, she will remember to cry out to God. And now, in our own trust, in our own cries to God, let us pray.
--
1. Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew (Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching) (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993) 170.
Matthew 14:22-33
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 29 June, 2008
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
 Two clergy who had been in the town many years decided to welcome a new colleague, Rev. Oscar, by taking him out fishing one morning. Out in the boat, Rev. George reeled out his line, which immediately caught on a log. Without batting an eyelash, George walked out across the water, unhooked his snagged line, and walked back across the water to the boat.
A few moments later, Rev. Andrea threw out her line, and it caught on an old boot just below the water. Immediately, she stood up, walked across the water, and unhooked her line.
Rev. Oscar tossed out a line, and it too got caught. He had been astonished by the faith of his colleagues, and decided to demonstrate his own faith as well. He got out of the boat and immediately sank in over his head.
As the Revs. Andrea and George hauled the sputtering Oscar into the boat, Andrea whispered to George, “Maybe we should have told him where the rocks are.”
...All joking aside, picture the scene of this morning’s gospel story: In the midst of a stormy sea, the disciples see a figure walking across the water toward them. “Is it a ghost?” they wonder in fear. No, it is their beloved Jesus -- and as far as we can tell from the story, he is not walking on rocks beneath the water but is walking on the surface of the water itself. He calls to Peter, and by faith Peter begins to walk toward him on the water...until his trust falters, and he sinks.
The story of Jesus and Peter walking upon the water is striking. We see, as his disciples would have, that Jesus is something truly special. Depending on how you look at it, the story either demonstrates that Jesus has great powers of his own, or it shows his own tremendous trust in God his Parent, to save him from the waves. As we would expect, the very human Peter does not have faith as strong as that of his teacher, Jesus. He starts out alright, walking across the water at Jesus’ beckoning. But when he sees what he perceives to be the danger of the water all around him, his heart sinks...and so does he. It is too difficult for even Jesus’ disciple to trust him when the seas become too stormy.
So it is with us. Most of us, I hope, are willing to admit that we are not Jesus and that we do not have faith so strong that it would exceed Peter’s. Even the strongest of faith -- even Christ’s first disciples -- have moments of faltering, moments of doubt. When the storms of life began to slam us, we begin to shrink in our fear, and we lose the ability to trust ourselves, our loved ones, and the Christ who lifts us up. These fears are legitimate. They are part of our human nature, and we know that things will not always turn out the way we want. Sometimes we will sink. Sometimes we will lose our loved ones, or our jobs, or our own health and well-being. Those of strongest faith still endure the storms and the hardships of life -- they still have tragedy, they still have pain, they still have fear. But notice what happens at the end of today’s gospel:
When we read this story, we tend to focus either on the miraculousness of Jesus walking on the water, or on Peter’s perceived lack of faith. But at the end of the story, what happens? Peter cries out to Jesus, and he is rescued from the horror of being alone and sinking in a stormy sea! As Biblical scholar Douglas Hare puts it, “In the depth of the crisis, when all seems lost, [he remembers] to call on the Savior and finds his grace sufficient for [his] needs.”1 Even after Peter’s moment of doubt, when he cries out Jesus reaches out to him and lifts him up.
Now, we know from our own experiences that we, too, sometimes lose faith, and even when we cry out for Christ to save us, our lives do not always become easy. We are not always saved from the storms themselves. But when we remember that Christ is present with us in the storm, we are saved from the worst aspect of our troubles: being alone. We might still suffer, we might still grieve, but we will not do so alone when we remember to call on Christ’s name in the midst of the crisis. We will be lifted up by one whose strength and presence is boundless.
I hope that you will allow me to use the example of one who is among us this morning. In a few moments, we will celebrate the baptism of the newest addition to our church family, Gabriela. At two months old, Gabriela has endured the trauma of birth, and she endures the daily “traumas” of hunger, discomfort, and the need to be held. As is the case with every healthy baby, her life essentially revolves around a daily routine of “eating, sleeping, and pooping.” She has not yet become aware of the dramas of life in the way that we “old folks” know them. She is, we imagine, blissfully unaware of the kinds of pains we endure. She lives in total trust of her mother and other family members, who comprise almost the entirety of her world. She has not, we imagine, learned to notice the storm -- unless it is her growling stomach or dirty diaper. She has not learned to doubt that her family will answer to her every need and will save her from whatever storms come her way.
But we know that she will learn these things. In time, like the rest of us, she will face stormy seas. She will face struggle. Even if, as we pray, she lives a good and healthy life, she will face times of difficulty and trouble. So, what good will faith do her? Why trust in God?
We welcome Gabriela into the church today and promise to raise her in faith, because it is our hope that when she faces those storms she will know that she is not alone. She will know that there is One to whom she can cry out, and who will be present with her in the midst of it all. We pray that she will never lose her ability to trust in the One in whose name we bless her today.
We hope that in the inevitable moments of her doubt, she will remember to cry out to God. And now, in our own trust, in our own cries to God, let us pray.
--
1. Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew (Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching) (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993) 170.
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